I was looking out the window on the train and with no surprises, France is a magnificent country. The train passed by beautiful rocky mountains with patches of grasses, pure green grassy mountains, sparkling bright blue lakes, and grassy green fields.

“Ding Dong Ding Dong” a ringing bell signal came on after about four hours since the train departed. Some random mumbling message came on, and I couldn’t understand what they said. I asked the strangers who were sitting across me in French, and they explained to me that they announced that the train was running late, and I was going to miss the train in Toulouse to head to Bayonne. So, they directed us to stay on the train and head to Bordeaux and change trains in Bordeaux. UGH! Here goes another big chaotic turn!

I stayed on the train for another three hours until I reached Bordeaux. Because I didn’t know the name of the train path from Bordeaux to Bayonne as they don’t simply list “Bayonne” on the TV screen with the list of departures and they just list the major cities, I asked the stranger on the train and told me to look for the city called Irun or Heyeday. Well, duh, I should have already known that as I am familiar with those two well known Basque cities. As soon as I arrived in Bordeaux and got off the train with my heavy suitcase and duffel bag, I looked at TV screen for Irun or Heyeday and found Irun, but noticed that I had only FOUR minutes to catch the train. I zoomed down the stairs like a Superman and up the stairs to get to the other side of the track and then jumped on the train to Bayonne with a minute to spare before the train departed. Of course, I asked the people on the train if that train was heading to Bayonne, and a good number of people replied with kindness “Oui!” Whew! Imagine if I was on the wrong train, and I headed to the wrong direction?!

Within an hour and a half, I was in Bayonne. As soon as I got out of the train station, I breathed with a big relief to see all the familiar buildings, the white concrete buildings with wooden posts and shutters painted in red or green, of my favorite city.

Then there was a glitch. None of my friends were in Bayonne that night as my friend with MS was in the hospital, my guy friend was in Bordeaux for the weekend for school and his sister who was still home was unreachable by phone, I lost the holocaust survivor’s phone number, and one big fat liar told me that she was not in Bayonne. So, I just took a taxi to a hotel.

As soon as I got to the hotel, I e-mailed the holocaust survivor, and he immediately e-mailed me back with his address and his phone number and told me to come anytime the next day evening.

I was soo exhausted from the long difficult travel that I just collapsed in bed.