February 13th, 2011Chantepie, France
Today was officially the worst day of my trip so far and, in fact, the only bad day I’ve had. I suppose that is a decent ratio overall, even if in the moment it sucks. I don’t want to complain for an entire page because it’s annoying even to me and I also don’t want to delve into the self-pity stage. Basically, it happened like this. I woke up, well-rested, and had plenty of time to eat a healthy lunch, shower, prepare for my day and catch the bus at Calvaire (the closest bus stop).
Upon my arrival, the bus had already left early so I ran the entire way to catch the bus three stops further on the route. It had already passed when I reached it, so I started walking to where two other bus lines met that also went to the République; I had a rendez-vous with all of my friends there at 15h to go to the annual Breton festival together. This was good because I had no idea how to get to the festival. After walking almost two miles in the pouring rain in my dress and boots (because my pants were all still lost in the wash of Raymonde), I had soaking wet feet and I had missed the other two buses. On Sundays, each line only runs every hour, so it’s nearly impossible to line them up properly if you need to take more than one. I waited at the bus stop for 45 minutes until the next bus arrived; this took me into République. Unfortunately, I was an hour and a half late for my meeting and I had no idea where my friends had gone. Recall also that my phone was stolen two weeks ago and I still don’t have a bank account to get another phone because Raymonde signed my housing verification where I was supposed to and the papers were rendered irrelevant. Therefore, I had no way of contacting them.
The next hour was spent looking for the Office de Tourisme, in hopes that they knew where the festival would be, and then inside Le Quick with a tea and some fries as I waited for another 45 minutes for the next bus home. The wind had broken my umbrella, I had blisters on my feet, no idea where my friends were, no phone, was soaking wet and freezing and only had 8 Euros to my name. I finally made it home where my key didn’t work because Raymonde had left her keys in the keyhole on the inside so I waited for her to let me in whilst standing in the pouring rain. I couldn’t even form enough French to explain what happened; I just burst into tears and ran to my room. The cherry on top; Valentine’s Day is tomorrow and I’m in the city of love and romance pissed off, cold, wet and single. Parfait.
Upon my arrival, the bus had already left early so I ran the entire way to catch the bus three stops further on the route. It had already passed when I reached it, so I started walking to where two other bus lines met that also went to the République; I had a rendez-vous with all of my friends there at 15h to go to the annual Breton festival together. This was good because I had no idea how to get to the festival. After walking almost two miles in the pouring rain in my dress and boots (because my pants were all still lost in the wash of Raymonde), I had soaking wet feet and I had missed the other two buses. On Sundays, each line only runs every hour, so it’s nearly impossible to line them up properly if you need to take more than one. I waited at the bus stop for 45 minutes until the next bus arrived; this took me into République. Unfortunately, I was an hour and a half late for my meeting and I had no idea where my friends had gone. Recall also that my phone was stolen two weeks ago and I still don’t have a bank account to get another phone because Raymonde signed my housing verification where I was supposed to and the papers were rendered irrelevant. Therefore, I had no way of contacting them.
The next hour was spent looking for the Office de Tourisme, in hopes that they knew where the festival would be, and then inside Le Quick with a tea and some fries as I waited for another 45 minutes for the next bus home. The wind had broken my umbrella, I had blisters on my feet, no idea where my friends were, no phone, was soaking wet and freezing and only had 8 Euros to my name. I finally made it home where my key didn’t work because Raymonde had left her keys in the keyhole on the inside so I waited for her to let me in whilst standing in the pouring rain. I couldn’t even form enough French to explain what happened; I just burst into tears and ran to my room. The cherry on top; Valentine’s Day is tomorrow and I’m in the city of love and romance pissed off, cold, wet and single. Parfait.
