Le Mans, France: I'm an Old Dude; I've Done a lot of Shit, Kid

Despite my morning debacle with the trains I made it to Le Mans otherwise relatively unscathed. From there, it was supposed to be simple. Merely take the tram down to the station stop, go collect my tickets, and proceed via tram to the campsite. HA! In France, nothing is that simple. But first, let me summarize the entire Le Mans experience with two points: (1) Le Mans is freaking amazing- if you get the chance absolutely go; and (2) if you can, go with some friends but ABSOLUTELY go with a car. 

The first point should be self explanatory and obviously the point of this post is to elaborate on it. To the second point, essentially the entire procedure is designed for those with a car in mind. If you're arriving on foot: don't. Seriously, it is a massive pain in the ass. Allow me to elaborate. I arrived at the train station and everything was groovy. I even had a moment to snap a shot of the regular portion of Le Mans before boarding the tram.

As mentioned, everything seemed relatively straightforward at first. Take the tram down to the last stop- proceed to the expo, collect my tickets, and then take a tram/trolley down to the campsite. No sweat. Well, the first problem arose as the "last stop" prescribed by the website was in fact different from the last site operated by the tram which put me out well south of the MMArena. After talking to one of the girls at that entrance it was clear I needed to backtrack up the hill and around quite a bit to the left before reaching the road that would eventually lead me to the Expo.

In all I ended up walking for well over an hour (and having to ask numerous people for directions despite having it mapped out on google maps) to finally find the Expo where I could pick up my tickets. I then stood in line for 15+ minutes to collect my tickets only to be told that the line I needed to be in was one over. OK, whatever. Finally, I scored the tickets- one for the campsite, the one I would actually use, and the (likely) useless spare. 

I asked the girl at the reception how to get down to my campsite without a car and she said "oh you don't have a car?" and gave a frown of disapproval. No, I just went for a 5 mile run and then hauled this massive 50 lb pack into the welcome tent, working up this sweat just to ask you that question. Of course I don't have a car professor! So she told me, and foolishly I believed her, that I just had to leave the welcome area and proceed a bit down the road where a shuttle bus would pick me up.

When I got to the designated spot I realized two things: (1) it is a long freaking way down to the campsite from here; and (2) there were zero shuttle buses running from here to my campsite on that day. Curse you Expo tent woman!! So, after walking for probably an hour and a half I was facing another at least hour walk from the Expo down to my campsite. It should be clear to you already, dear reader, why it is especially important to have a car at Le Mans- but never fear, more reasons will emerge. So, I set off on foot. I did manage to get a good photo of the famous Ferris wheel during the daytime.

When I finally arrived at the campsite I happened to get incredibly lucky. Since I didn't have anyone else with me, or more importantly a car, it was vitally important to secure a campsite where I would, at minimum, feel safe leaving my valuables. As I've found in my travels thus far, whenever you are faced with adversity, the general outcome is more likely than not better than it would have been should things have come to pass as originally intended. I call this the "Ashan Paradox" after the man who tipped me to it way back in Madrid. 

In this case the Ashan Paradox held true. As I wandered through the campsite wondering just what in the heck I was going to do, I saw some guys hoisting up an American Flag along a fence. I made a direct line for them and asked (demanded) if I could camp with them. It turned out to be perfect- all 6 of us had no cars. It was 3 Canadians, each with their own tents they had acquired in Amsterdam for 20 euro apiece, and two young-fellas from Cali who were sharing a tent. In all, it was a 5 tent-mega-plex.

After getting all set up, the Canadians went off to track down some supplies from the nearest grocery store. Not wanting to miss the qualifying, the two other Americans and I hung out and first watched the special Aston Martin Qualifying Session which yielded some interesting results including an engine explosion right at our turn viewing area.

Later in the evening we met our next-door neighbors, some really awesome Brits from Brighton: Adam and Dave. Despite their names, I wanted to call Adam Giovanni Ribisi as he looks just like him. And even more impressively, Dave reminded me quite a bit of Captain Jack Sparrow. And neither of those comparisons are in any way negative. In fact, it only made me more impressed with their personas as they were clearly doing their own thing. Obviously Hollywood has locked onto something here with the fellas from Brighton.

That night we accompanied Adam and Dave (i.e. Giovanni & Cap'n Jack) to the main grandstands to watch the qualifying sessions. Wow. I really wasn't prepared for the magnitude that is the Le Mans experience. As the cars went by I did manage to grab a video of the experience. As it tends to get a bit repetitive, we decided to come up with our own Le Mans Qualifying Drinking Game. Here are the rules:

1. You must pick a car. If that car goes by you drink 1 and you assign 2 drinks.

2. Anytime a car goes into the pits you all yell "TO THE PITS!" and everyone drinks

3. Anytime the DeltaWing (or the current year prototype) goes by you yell "AAAAEEEYYY!!!" and everyone drinks.

4. Anytime a car goes for a weigh in, everyone compares their beers and the one with the lowest level has to finish theirs. 

5. (Since I was playing with Brits) Anytime a Corvette went by, I had to drink. Anytime an Aston Martin went by, they had to drink.
6. Anytime your car went to the pits (hard to discern from pit row) you had to kill your drink.

It was an outstanding game and really kicked off a tremendous weekend that would feature, well, more of the same. That night I snapped a great shot of the iconic Ferris wheel (see flickr) and even more cool, a carnival booth offering up a very unique set of prize rabbits.

The next afternoon we awoke a bit bleary eyed and Tazio, Jack, and I decided to check out the pit area during the infamous pit walk. Among the great shots we got, here is one of me with the eventual winner of the GTE AM: the # 50 Corvette. Go America!

The pits were insane, so many people... it was just a crazy (and awesome) environment. You'll have to see flickr for some of the other photos. Here is a shot of a mock up of the eventual winner- the Audi e-tron quattro #1 car.

After perusing the shops area, we ponied up the cash to check out the Le Mans Museum. At first I didn't want to spend the money but I'm glad I did. While I'm no gear-head or otherwise mega-car enthusiast, it's hard to not appreciate some of the amazing pieces of machinery that have come through this race. Hard to pick a favorite but I love the return of Bentley:

I also love this multi-terrain exploring vehicle. In the videos describing it, apparently multiple people had to follow it on foot with spare parts to keep it running. Looked very shirpa-esque. Despite the socio-political  implications, it was a serious machine.

After the museum, Jack, Tazio and I went off to the store in search of beer and eventually scored a handsome quantity. The only downside, however, was that there was no way to get it back to the campsite without an absurdly lengthy walk. So, at the grocery store we asked if they could call us a cab and they readily accepted. Meanwhile, we purchased our items which consisted of  my fronting for 52 Kronenburg beers as well as a bottle of rum. After buying our goods, much to our astonishment, the owner of the store informed us the taxi wasn't coming- but, in an equal turn of fate, offered to drive us back to our campsite himself. Now that is the proper French hospitality I had heard about- honestly I couldn't be more appreciative of him giving us a lift considering how sick he must be of tourists during the race.

But, it didn't go as entirely well as expected. About halfway to the campsite the traffic seized up due to Mad Friday, where everyone blocks up the road to do burnouts in their ludicrously expensive cars. So we ended up carrying all of these cases of beer approximately 35-40 minutes from the Ferris wheel back to the campsite. That may not seem so bad but storming around with 20 lbs of French beer strapped to each arm is quite the daunting task. All that said, by means of an aggressive rotation scheme, we were able to make it back to the campsite- all beers intact.

Which would be important since, despite all that effort, we would kill them all that very evening. Plus an additional 120 of Josh and Ali's beers... and a bottle of rum. Suffice it to say it was a wild mad evening. And it was pouring rain. Graciously Josh and Ali let us hang out under their tarp, however, unlucky for me water began collecting in the tarp and when the Canadians went to knock it off one side, the remainder on my side came tumbling down providing me with an unwanted and impromptu shower.

Here is a shot of the whole gang doing everything in their power to drink France out of beer. 

This was shortly before Tazio began taking swigs of rum and then decided to take a nap on the grass.

Haha, great times. The next morning we shakily emerged from our tents and began mentally preparing for the actual race. Being the idiot that I am, I had at some point in the prior evening engaged Josh in a gentleman's agreement. Specifically, we decided that upon the race start the following afternoon we would kick off the inaugural US vs. England 24 Hours of Le Mans Drink Off. And, yea, it was pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Just prior to the cars going off, we gentlemanly toasted each other with our first beer. The rules are simple: we go drink for drink and the last man standing wins.

We then walked around past the Dunlop curves and set up at our first viewing area. From here I got a great video of all of the cars going by at the start (still trying to upload it- will link when done). We watched the race for a while from this spot, the most exciting element being the battle between the Aston and the Corvette for the GTE Pro division. They exchanged the lead several times which, in the US vs. England drinking game meant we each were taking consequential swigs. Fun day- and even better, just as the race kicked off the sun finally emerged blanketing us in warming rays. After a couple hours we headed to a second spot more or less on other side of the track. At this point we had exhausted our Kronenburgs and Josh and I were faced with drinking my last beers- the Koenigsbier. An 8% alcohol doozy of booze, which tastes bad cold but horrific warm. And warm was how I was serving it. 

After watching a bit more we decided to head back to the campsite and cook up something to eat. Back at the campsite Tazio and Jack undertook the arduous task of assembling all of our empty beer bottles into a beer mountain. The end result was impressive and they used no supports- just stacked the bottles up. Here is a shot of me with the tower if you want to count them up.

Josh fired up some excellent pork chops and after filling our bellies with meat and more beer, Tazio, Jack, Ali and I decided to check out the race in the dark (they race for 24 hours after all). It was at this point the greatest moment for the US (ok, maybe second after the Corvette winning GTE AM) of the entire weekend occurred: after almost 12 hours, Josh bowed out of the competition. Which means, the US is the champion of the first US vs. England 24 Hours of Le Mans Drink Off!! Go America! 

As this year's US drinking ambassador to Le Mans and reigning champion I want to thank all those who supported me in the past two and a half months on the road, especially my friends hosting the pub crawls- it's because you believed in me and encouraged me to push my limits that I was able to pull out the victory. I owe it all to you guys! And as anyone victorious in a drinking challenge would do, I naturally celebrated with a beer as we watched the cars whizzing past in the night.

Unfortunately I didn't quite have the energy to stay up for the entire 24 hours and so after some brief night viewing I crashed hard. The next morning it was time to pack it up and head on. Even though the race didn't end until 3pm, I had booked a 2:15 train because I heard that as soon as the race ends gypsies come through the campsites and steal anything that isn't nailed down. Since I didn't have a car to lock my belongings in, it was imperative that I get out of dodge. On our way out we swung back by the track and watched the remaining 30-some cars (out of 56 that started) go around. I got one good shot of the Corvette, go US!

Le Mans- what an event, what a party! I'm really glad I went but boarding the train to Paris I knew I was going to need a couple days to recover. I've got eight days there until my flight back to the states and there's a great likelihood I won't see much of the city in the first couple days, ha. In all, it's hard to believe Stint 1 is almost over. In just over a week I'll be on a plane home to see my nephew and marry off one of my best and oldest friends. Plus I'll have some time at the lake, see a few movies, play some golf, see friends and family, and eat lots of Mexican food. I'm really excited to get back, but I think once I'm back I'll miss the constant romping around. 

But never fear dear reader, on July 18 I'll be back kicking off Stint 2 with a crazy couple nights in Krakow and Prague and then it's off to London for the Olympics. In some respects I hope the world ends in 2012 because it's going to be tough to top this year.

Bordeaux, France: Loud Noises, Crazy Kittens & a Whole Heap of Wine

On my way up to Bordeaux I couldn't help but notice the immense number of vineyards we were blasting past. In between conversing with our new friends and polishing off the bottle of champagne, I wrote this note: "there are so many vineyards between Marseilles and Bordeaux that I wonder if France grows and makes anything other than wine."

As it turns out, my reflection illuminated more than I had anticipated. While France does indeed grow much more than grapes for wine, the country is largely an agrarian state. And, somewhat shockingly to me, it's because of EU farming subsidies that by and large provide the country with the lofty economic status it currently enjoys. This makes sense as for the life of me I couldn't discern that much difference between French and Spanish industry.

But the reason I note the vineyards is simple: Bordeaux is famous for its wines. As they say, when in Rome... uh do Roman things I guess. But when in Bordeaux, drink Bordeaux wines. Drink them with a steady passion and great gusto. And that's precisely what I did.

We last left off with a very bubbly Sarah and I stepping off the train onto the Bordeaux platform. From here I more or less knew where we needed to get to and we made our way via tram to Quinconces and proceeded from there on foot to the Gambetta tram station. From there I shot Bastien, the guy who was supposed to host me, a text and he met us at the stop and lead us to Pierre's. Pierre's place is right in the heart of the old district off Rue de Ruat. This being my first time Couch Surfing, and a bit of a unique situation since it was a different host and I was traveling with someone else, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. 

But Bastien and Pierre were tremendous, exceptional really. They had just prepared dinner and invited us to partake. Then Bastien broke out his ukelele and played us some tunes. My favorites were his rendition of one of the Cowboy Bebop tracks and of course his cover of Radiohead's Creep but with the addition of "in my pants." Really funny stuff. After dinner and wine it was time to head to bed- it had been a crazy afternoon and even more fun night. Despite getting to bed at a relatively reasonable hour I found it difficult to get much sleep.

The next day we did the grand tour of Bordeaux. It was a bit rainy but, against the Mike Steele Law of Inverse Causality, I refused to purchase an umbrella. The first stop was the Cathedral, which I got a shot of amidst the rain. I have a better photo from when the sun finally broke later in the day.

After walking for a bit and scoring a memory card for Sarah we stopped for another crepe. This time Sarah went sweet (banana & chocolate) and I went with what should have been ham, onions, cheese, and pickles but turned out to be ham, cheese, and lettuce? Anyway it was good but nowhere near as good as the one the other day. Afterward we made our way to the Victory Plaza where there is a great arch and also one of the best places for happy hour.

Next we wandered around for a while until we happened upon Sacré Coeur, a totally under-hyped church (didn't even see it marked on my map) that I thought tremendous. I love the minarets.

We then strolled up the waterfront of the Garonne until we arrived at St. Michael. This is an impressive basilica with an even more impressive tower... sound like anyone you know? Ha! Sorry, I couldn't resist. Dirty jokes aside, the tower is spectacular but the area around St. Michael is a bit run down. Hey there! I said dirty jokes aside- get your mind out of the gutter dear reader! Anyway, we decided to get a couple bottles of cheap champagne for the remainder of the afternoon and then proceeded to the river.

The area surrounding the riverfront is really relaxing. We sat and chilled for quite a bit. Meanwhile, behind us someone set up a makeshift bicycle riding training course. It was something like 8 cones and the participants had to ride through a number of times to prove they could operate the "vehicle." It was really funny. I kept expecting one of them to careen out of control into the barrier to the river and generate a triumphant splashdown. But I shouldn't talk considering how bad my bike riding skills are at this point. Before heading on we snapped this shot at the Porte Calihau.

That's one of the really awesome things about Bordeaux- the architecture in the old town is strikingly uniform and there are a number of fantastic and ornate gates leading you in. After a long day of touring around we swung by Pierre's for a snack of baguette and cheese and some of our champagne. By this point it was time for Sarah to catch her train to Paris, so we made our bubbly way down to the trams and off to the train station. She was a great travel companion and I admire her gumption to follow a stranger to a random city in France on a whim. That's the sign of a true traveler!

Suddenly bereft of a companion I did what any man 2 1/2 months into an absurd European journey and a little bit tipsy would do: I put in the headphones, scrounged up a Konigsbier, and hit the streets- determined to enjoy the brief respite from clouds and rain while it lasted.

As I walked around I also decided that it would be a great gesture if I bought the ingredients and made dinner for Pierre since he rescued me from the depths of park-benchitude. So I snagged some pasta, tomatoes, sauce, zuchini, mozzerella, garlic, baguette, and (of course) wine on my way back to the apartment. Also on the way back to the apartment I stopped by and snapped some good shots of the Cathedral in the sun.

Back at Pierre's, subsequent to the meal, he decided we should climb through the skylight and up onto the roof of his apartment. While a bit tricky to get up there- wow, what a great idea. The roof provided some spectacular views of the sun setting over Bordeaux.

And the compulsory one of me looking bubbly and very excited:

After dinner we stepped out for a bit at an Irish pub where we ended up meeting Marc from the first night's dinner and his friend Valentine. I ended up trekking about the city with the latter two that night and ultimately enjoying a shisha and some of Val's own electronica music. A very relaxing end to a very fun day.

The final day in Bordeaux found me spending some time uploading pictures and working on the blog while Pierre's kitten Fistouille alternated between attacking my hands and feet and sleeping comfortably at my side.

Not wanting to spend the entire day indoors, I struck out for one final walk around town. I walked up along the river for several kilometers and then finally headed briefly west and then south. On my way back I got a great shot of the Monument aux Girondins with the cloudy and tumultuous sky.

No trip to Bordeaux would be complete without a wine tasting and Pierre came through in the clutch on my last night. First I met Marc and Val near Victory Plaza for a few beers and some very interesting conversation. Then we made our way to the wine tasting which was hosted at a brasserie a bit of a walk away from the Victory Plaza (I could never find it again if I had to). It was five euro for "tasting" of five wines but if you wanted more of any of the wines they would just fill up your glass. Best deal in France thus far. The guy hosting it looked a bit like a poor man's Brad Pitt. Which, if you're going to be the poor man's anything, you want it to be Brad Pitt. For you ladies:

In all, Val, Marc and I had a blast as you can clearly see from this awesome photo:

I also really love this one of the gang hanging out and this girl (wish I could remember her name) looking tres tres chic. I just can't get over how cool and French she looks.

Anyway, Pierre joined us and a gang of us proceeded back to Pierre's apartment for a nightcap or four all while listening to some great music. Thanks to these guys I have a new favorite artist: Chinese Man. And no, not just a random Chinese guy- although that would be awesome. It's an electronic artist churning out some fantastic beats. And as you may have guessed from the recent theme of this blog- it was a late late night.

Normally that wouldn't be a problem as I usually don't have a train or bus booked ahead of time or if I do they are late in the afternoon. On this particular occasion, however, I had booked a 6am train so that I could get to Le Mans by 10am- fully knowing it was going to take a monumental effort to get from the train station to the area to pick up tickets and then to the campsite. Well, as you might imagine after a night like that, I slept through my alarm for over 2 hours. I finally came to around 7:15.

Poor Pierre. I felt so bad- he had to listen to my alarm for so long while I was out cold. Not the way to treat a host. I'm so lucky he was so forgiving and I'm really glad I opted to cook dinner. He probably deserves 3 or 4 dinners and a crate of wine for all the nonsense I put him through. But he was super gracious and an all-around immensely generous host.

In any event, my goose was cooked with the train. I knew there was one leaving out around 8:30 that would put me in around 2pm (significantly longer voyage than the earlier train) but it was either that or get in at 6pm so I made a mad dash for the train station. Upon arriving (and contrary to what I had been told/heard elsewhere) I was unable to exchange my ticket for the train I had missed. Apparently you can change them prior but if the train has gone it's like an airplane ticket- worthless. So, that turned out to be a nice 70 euro lesson. When traveling this extensively and for this period of time these sort of things are inevitable so I wasn't really that upset. Very Phileas Fogg. Suffice it to say, however, any chance of coming in under budget is officially out the window at this point.

Bonus photo, the Bordeaux train station in early morning light. Imagine a tired shaky annoyed me taking this photo and you'll appreciate the general vibe.

Toulouse, France: Rugby, Crepes, & a Dashing Escape

If I were teaching a class on Toulouse I would start with, "Raise your hand if you know anything about Toulouse, France. Anyone? You in the back? Oh, you just need to use the bathroom, ok." And to be fair, you would have to count me among those completely ignorant of the charms of this city. According to Wikipedia, Toulouse is the fourth largest city in France, lies on the river Garonne, and is the center of the European Aerospace industry. Good to know. For me, Toulouse will always be known for rugby, crepes, and one very dashing escape.

When I arrived in Toulouse the skies were dreary and I had a thought I hadn't had in well over a month: I may need my jacket. The hostel I stayed in, owned and ran by a father and son, was fantastic- you even have your own kitchen in the room! Upon checking in they gave me a map, circled all the things I needed to do, and then the father proceeded to pour me a beer and make me finish it before I could get the keys to the room. Off to a good start.

I decided to take a stroll up to the grocery store and acquire some food and wine to try and eat cheap for a few days. On the way, I passed through a park which had a really cool Japanese garden. In the garden was one very commonly French thing and one big surprise. The commonly French thing was couples of various ages, sizes, and style sitting on park benches making out. The term "French kissing" was developed for a reason. The surprise was that all around these couples were high schoolers dressed in various costumes having some sort of cos-play battle. Right on.

After procuring some items at the store, I swung back by the hostel where I was informed there was a really big rugby match going on and that I could view it from the Capitole Square. Well, I thought, I might as well check this out. Holy moly. By "really big" what he should have said was Toulouse is playing Toulon in the championship game of the French Rugby League. The square was absolutely shoulder to shoulder with people. Totally out of random luck, I happened to wear the one black and red shirt I own ("Next Stop Shanghai" ha) and as the Toulouse team colors are red and black, I fit right in. 

The best part were the chants and songs being sung prior to the match getting going. At half-time I strolled up the block and took a snapshot of the streets with the city's famous Basilica St. Sernin looming in the background.

Back in the square, the crowd was reaching a fevered pitch in the closing seconds of the match. When the final whistle blew, Toulouse had won- they were the rugby champions! The square erupted. TOU-LOU-SE! TOU-LOU-SE! Fireworks went off and "We Are the Champions" began playing with the crowd singing along. It was an incredible environment. Some guys even set up an impromptu crowd surfing line.

The raucous crowd then began to disperse and head to the pubs for beers and in anticipation of the Germany v. Portugal futbol match for the Euro League. Needless to say it was a long fun evening of sports revelry, and would have probably been even more crazy had I spoke French and been able to chat with more random groups of people. In any event, it was a blast.

The next morning I decided to just roam around the city. It was a bit drizzly and dreary but I pressed on. As I walked I noticed the vast number of cafes and restaurants of all different types and origins. I was stunned by the diversity of offerings in Toulouse. Most of the city is done in a light-reddish brown brick which was ok but wasn't particularly that fond of. Perhaps it reminded me of NC State? One of the cooler parts of the city was strolling along the Garonne and crossing the bridges into the other side of the city.

Back in the main part of the city I stopped by the Cathedral which is a bit different than most of the cathedrals I've run across so far in my travels. It really only has one tower and a weird asymmetrical front. The sides actually reminded me a bit of First Pres back home.

But far more important than the scenery- all day I had been in search of a crepe. For some reason I just could not locate a creperie. Finally, I came across one in the relatively expensive area in the Plaza St. Georges. But I was cold and wet and really hungry so I sprung for an overpriced crepe and cafe au lait. The crepe I got was emmenthal cheese, sauteed onions, ham, and creme fraiche. It was pretty good but not sure if it was worth the 8 euro. The coffee was outstanding.

Quite full and a bit drier I headed back to the hostel where I met George, a Brit who was cycling his way from London to Barcelona. Given the weather he was rightfully soaked to the bone, and the only humane thing I could think to do to ease his suffering was offer him a beer. A bit later we were joined by Sarah, a new friend from Minneapolis by way of Wisconsin. She actually knew all of the places in Madison that I frequented while there for work- Great Dane, place with the German boots of beer, and the mac n' cheese pizza joint. Gotta love Madison. 

We were also joined by a very loud and obnoxious German guy who forced his way into the room and our conversations and was generally just exceptionally irritating. Thankfully very few Germans I've met are anywhere near like this. Anyway, I was actually fine with his ludicrous behavior until he started helping himself to my wine. And even then, I didn't really mind as it was for everyone. But, when he was pouring without paying attention and spilled it all over the table- that was it. He had to go. I was originally going to watch a Euro game with him but after that spillage nonsense, I decided to feign exhaustion so he would leave and then watch from the comfort of the room with a replenished wine store.

George and Sarah elected to take a stroll around the city and when they returned we finished our way through the wine chatting until the wee hours. The next morning George was off for his next stop and so Sarah and I decided to take a stroll down the canal. It was supposedly one of the more scenic things to do in Toulouse and I must say it didn't disappoint. First there a ton of really cool house-boats parked along the way including one that was an Asian spa. Whoa.

The canal runs south basically all the way out of the city and into other towns. Toward the end it starts getting really beautiful with maple trees lining either side of the canal. Also, the sun finally appeared!

On the way back, we stopped into a creperie which turned out to be much cheaper and better than the first one. This time the crepe was filled with emmenthal and chevre cheese, ham, and creme fraiche (mercifully no onions), and was accompanied by Normandy cider which was really good. Basically it's a hard cider (about 6%) that has a sweet clean taste and an earthy (almost like a roquefort cheese) aftertaste. Perfect for a hearty savory crepe.

Also on the way back I was able to snap a good shot of the Basilica, the largest Romanesque church in Europe. Pretty impressive. Apparently there is a great pipe organ but it wasn't open whenever I went by.

After our walk we went back to the hostel only to discover that Bastien whom I was supposed to be couch surfing with (basically just crashing on a stranger's couch) in Bordeaux had his roof collapse over the weekend and couldn't host me. This was 2 hours before I needed to catch my train to Bordeaux. No sweat, I can sleep on a park bench. But lucky for me, his friend Pierre had no couch-surfers and could accommodate me. Upon seeing that Sarah looked forlorn for all of her friends to be departing, I suggested she accompany me to Bordeaux. I sent Pierre a text (the phone already coming in very handy) and sure enough he had room for her as well. 

So now it was decision time. We had spent the couple hours before I needed to depart for my train having "Toulouse tea," i.e. champagne, chocolate, and a comice pear- perfect since as soon as we got back it started pouring rain again. So, as you might imagine, it was going to be a bit of a tipsy escape from Toulouse. The escape was further compounded by the fact that by the time I got the green light from Pierre, it was about 15 minutes before I needed to leave and Sarah had nothing packed and had already paid for another night in the hostel. 

But by George if she didn't muster up the gumption, throw her stuff in a bag, drop off her key, and storm out of the hostel with me. Down at the train station we had to quickly procure her a ticket and then made our way to the platform just before the train arrived. 

As we had a bottle of champagne left over, we shared it with some friends we made on the train. As we pulled into Bordeaux it would be safe to say we were all feeling a bit bubbly. Nothing like coming in hot.

Marseille & Cassis, France: My French is Getting Better; We Started Speaking English

After Nice and the fun excursion to Naples where my sweat was thoroughly dried, it was time to make some serious inroads into France. First up on the docket: Marseille. I've always had a bit of a distorted view of Marseille as the version I picture is what I've gathered from my reading of Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. That is, I pictured a busy port town but with beautiful Mediterranean cottages dotting the cliff-side, giving way to gorgeous white sand beaches. Well, the port was spot on. The rest- a bit hit and miss. Cassis, a nearby beach and touristy town, was much closer to what I had anticipated Marseille to look like. Perhaps it did in the early 1800's.

But before we get to the fun, I got to experience my first proper French train ride. First of all, after training in Spain, Portugal, and Morocco, I had not anticipated how much trains would cost in France. Wow. Now I see why people spring for the rail passes. My two hour train ride from Nice to Marseille was almost 40 euro. Goodbye budget. On the train itself I witnessed two incidents of note. The first was an argument between a Frenchman of seemingly Arab descent and another Frenchman.

From what I could tell the other man made some comment about where the Arab Frenchman had put his bag and he took offense. From there an argument erupted and every time it would be about to settle down the second man would make some comment that kept re-angering Arab Frenchman. It appeared the comments were tinged with racism because he kept threatening to take off his suit and tie. Then when the other man finally left he turned to the woman in the seat behind him and made some gesturing and statements that basically sounded like "he wouldn't do that if my skin wasn't this color." Then, completely infuriated, he grabbed his stuff and chased the guy into the following car. Meanwhile the conductor just stood idly by as if that sort of thing happens all the time. Very odd.

Second, a guy attempted to board the train without a ticket and the conductor must have recognized him because he grabbed his bag in one hand and the scruff of the guys neck in the other and hauled him to the door. From the window of the train the first thing you see is his bag go flying from the door and land with a thud on the platform. The poor fellow is next to follow suit. Moral of the story- don't board a French train without a ticket. I guess he should be thankful we weren't moving.

I arrived in Marseille relatively early so I decided to take a walk and look for two things: (1) the tourism office as the hostel didn't have any maps; and (2) a place where I could buy a cheap prepaid French phone. Wandering around the city aimlessly I was able to take a couple of good shots.

My first impression of Marseille: wow this place is really big. Way bigger than I thought. My second impression: wow this place is really dirty. Right up there with Naples. Kind of surprising on both fronts. I'll be curious to see if Paris, which everyone describes as really dirty, is more or less trash-covered than Marseille. Apart from the litter, which from living in downtown NYC really doesn't bother me, I found the city overall very pretty. It's a wonderful place if you love shopping and really expensive food. The city itself is known for its bouillabaisse, a sort of seafood soup made with a bunch of seasonings including garlic and saffron. I really wanted to try it but the cheapest I could find it was for 30 euro and most places either made you call ahead or have at least two people. Bah!

Anyway, it reminded me of that scene from Our Man Flint where Flint is running around Marseille sampling bouillabaisse to try and track down the villains. I wish I could find a video to link but one doesn't seem to exist. But to describe it, he's basically going from place to place, ordering it, having one taste, standing up, paying the bill, and then exiting. From my experience, if you did that in real life in Marseille you would be broke. And still hungry. But most of the places to get bouillabaisse seem to be located around the port area which, as mentioned, is gigantic.

After wandering around more or less lost for several hours I never did find the tourism office (although I later realized I walked right past it twice). I did, however, acquire my French phone. 39 euros gets you the phone, a sim card, and 15 euros worth of text and talk credit. Pretty good deal- definitely what I would recommend if you are here and want to coordinate with friends in or around France. After procuring the phone, I retired to the hostel to attempt to read/write but was sucked into a lively evening of wine-induced conversation and revelry with fellow hostel guests.

The morning of day 2 I found a used map on the floor of the hostel and decided to use it to navigate a stroll past some of the city's main sights. First up was the Cathedral which is in a bit of an odd area down by the port and right in the middle of a construction zone. Nevertheless, it was an impressive structure and I particularly liked the alternating black and white stonework.

Next I made my way back around the port toward Notre-Dame de la Garde (ND dl G). One really cool thing about Marseille is that there are a ton of squares filled with bars and cafes where you can grab a coffee, snack or drink and just relax. This was one of the more impressive ones.

ND dl G is a basilica high up on a hill overlooking the city. So to get there, obviously, you have to climb the hill. The road up, aptly named Boulevard Notre-Dame, is significantly steep as indicated by the cars parked along it.

Once up at the top, the Basilica itself is very impressive. Utilizing the same black and white stonework as the Cathedral, it towers over the city; the golden statue atop the tower glistening in the sunlight. The inside is lined with white and red alternating stones which conjured up images of the board game Candy Land.

Perhaps more impressive than the Basilica itself are the views that can be had from its outlooks. For my obligatory photo of the day I decided to switch up my pose. Sometimes I'm shocked by how ridiculous I can look, haha. Behind me is the main port area and way in the distance you can see the Cathedral. Yes, it was a nice walk.

Also from ND dl G you can get a good view of the infamous Chateau d'If, the setting for Edmond Dantes miraculous escape from imprisonment in the Count of Monte Cristo. The sun was a bit in my eyes at this time so this picture might not be quite as good as I would have hoped but here it is in the middle of the islands just to the south of the city.

Next I decided to trek down to the eastern most part of the city where allegedly the beaches were to be found. Along the way I stopped in at the Jardin du Pharo which provided another excellent vantage point of the port. There must be thousands of boats docked here- just massive.

Finally, after about 6 hours of walking, I made it to the "beaches" of Marseille which, much like Nice, are really just rocks! Sigh. What happened to all the gorgeous white sand beaches of the French Rivera I've heard about?? You must need a yacht to get to them. By the time you reach these "beaches" you are basically outside of the city. I had actually walked past the last stop of the bus that takes you back to the port area so I had to retreat.

That night at the hostel was a quiet one. I decided to turn in relatively early and, pending nice weather, make the trek down to Cassis in search of a proper beach to lay on the following morning. The train ride out to Cassis is about an hour or so and the city itself is a tiny little port town tucked in alongside some really impressive cliff structures. In fact, you can shell out some clams and charter a boat to cruise you along to look at the cliffs. Some will even stop so you can go swimming/snorkeling. Since I was on a tight budget, I elected to just stay with the beach. But before you get down to the town and beach, you have probably a 40 minute walk from the train station. I actually loved the walk because you get to stroll through rows of poplar trees and past sweeping vineyards.

The town and port area itself are charming and really more what I was anticipating Marseille would look like. There are lots of cafes and restaurants along the waterfront but, much to my surprise, they were as expensive if not moreso than Marseille- perhaps because the town is a popular tourist destination. Thankfully, I planned ahead and brought a lunch of a baguette and some cheese from a nearby grocery store. Score one for the frugal.

But, what about the beach? That's what I came for. Well, it wasn't perfect and it was a bit small but it did have REAL SAND! Whoo hoo! So I tossed out my towel and soaked in some rays for a couple hours. I also ventured into the Mediterranean for a swim and discovered that the frigid waters seem pretty much universal.

After a couple hours at the beach, I swung in for one (very expensive) beer at the local cafes just to relax and then made my way back to Marseille. That night, a new friend Amy from Australia and I decided to check out the scene and had a few beers at the aforementioned square. One thing that is very different about France than Spain or Portugal is that bars close relatively early. By 2 am pretty much everything was shut down. A far cry from the 7-8 am "evenings" of Madrid, Porto, & Barca. After getting lost searching for a kebab on our way back, we finished off the Super Bocks I had managed to locate the night before and repaired to bed.

Overall I liked Marseille but it didn't really wow me. The food was good but everything was pricey. Spending 6 days along the French Riviera pretty much blew my budget out of the water- and I was eating and living cheap! Man I miss Spain/Portugal/Morocco prices! Anyway, the next morning it would be off to Toulouse, a city I knew nothing about nor had any expectations for. My favorite way to travel.