NICE TIMES

NICE!!

Day 1: Thursday

6: 25 am: get to Tours train station, after not sleeping the whole night. I tried, but just

Couldn’t; I was wired. Completely exhausted.

6: 40: why is my train still not here? Check ticket, signs, realize MY train doesn’t leave

until 8: 12. Derrrrr.

8 :00: Nicole gets here!

8: 12: TRAIN TIME

8: 17: SLEEP TIME

After this it’s really just a blur: We get to the Paris station, change stations, and wait for the train. This really nice Spanish speaking couple walked with us and helped me find the help desk, because I needed to get a printout of my train ticket before we got on the TGV. The help desk guy was the kind of French person who gives all the other French people a bad rap; stuck up, unwilling to even try to be helpful, and intolerant of my less-than-fantastic French skills. He was a huge douche, basically. More on this important subject later. So eventually our train comes, and Nicole gets on and I am about to get on but THEN the conductor guy says that the train’s completely full and I need a reservation. I told him I had one, but that the guy at the desk said that I could just get on the train. The conductor told me he was wrong, and I had to wait for the next train. ARGH. So anyways, I got on the next train and made it to Nice, but man, it was SUCH an ordeal. Also the train I finally got on took waaaay longer than the one I was supposed to be on. ARG. The train ride wasn’t too bad though; I slept a lot and listened to this very friendly, huge, metal-looking French man talk to the two old ladies across the aisle from us about their various cats. It was pretty adorable, not going to lie.

When I (finally) got to Nice, I found the hostel, met up with Nicole, and we went and got dinner along the beach! We each had a drink, and maaaan they were strong. It was quite a silly dinner.

Day 2: Friday

Today we went to the beach. It was BEAUTIFUL; the shore was all pebbles, and the water was clear, and calm, and refreshing but not freezing. It was perfect. The hostel we’re staying at, Camelia something, cleans all the rooms between 11 and 3, so you’re not allowed to be in the rooms then. Sooo, we were at the beach during the hottest part of the day. For about four hours. You can see where this is going. Iiiiii was the biggest idiot, forgot sunscreen, and got burnt to a crisp! An unevenly tanned crisp, too. I look fucking ridiculous. Not only does this suck because, you know, I don’t really want skin cancer and harsh sunburns don’t exactly help that, but also because it HURTS LIKE HELL. And I look like a beach noob, all red in funny places. AND it meant that I pretty much couldn’t go to the beach the whole rest of the trip. I stayed clothed and in the deep shade, and I put on more moisturizer and sunscreen than is reasonable for one person to EVER need. In other news, while I burnt my legs, my tummy, the top of my back, and the sides of my upper arms, I did NOT burn: my face/ears; the backs of my legs; my boobs (toplessness was totally common and acceptable AND the beach wasn’t full of creepy old men woooo); two patches on my thighs, one on the left, one on the right, in completely different places; and my knees. What the hell? My knees? I mean, I can see my chest, I really only had them hangin’ out in the sun for about 15 minutes, but my KNEES? Knees. Seriously, it’s fukken weird. I do not understand. At all.

Anywaaaaays, after the beach, we wandered around shopping; I got this awesome dress from H&M for 30 euros. I think it is officially my France dress, because that is rather a lot more than I’d like to spend. For dinner I had fried rice and orange chicken from the most delightful little Asian takeout place by the train station after Nicole got her ticket for the next day.

That night, after dark, we went out to the lively bits of the city for a drink! We ran into this big plaza where there were some street performers dancin’ it up, and then we found the main restaurant/bar road. It was PACKED, not only where there the bars and cafes and everything spilling out onto the street, but there was this open air boutique-y market thing going on in the middle of the street, too! Obviously, no cars on this particular rue. We finally found a table at one of the bars. I ordered this delicious cocktail thing; blonde beer, pineapple juice, and strawberry…something (I didn’t know what the word on the menu meant) in a pretty glass. Refreshing!

Day 3: Saturday

Today we went to Monaco for the day! It was pretty fun; we walked along the boardwalk-equivalent that runs along the water, looked at the harbor, Nicole went swimming, we went window shopping, I nearly passed out from the heat (literally), Nicole got me to a café, and I recovered after some shade and water and a little food and about an hour of just sitting. I don’t know if my body is bad at regulating my temperature or something, or if I’m just completely out of shape, or if it’s low blood sugar stuff like my mummy when I haven’t eaten enough. Whatever it is, it sucks total ass. When we got back, we pretty much just crashed. Had bread and cheese for dinner. It was mellow, and just what I needed.

Overall, I think I like Nice better than Monaco. Monaco was beautiful, but Nice has more sincere character, if that makes sense. Monaco was just TOO touristy for me. Oh well, still worth it. They didn’t even check our tickets, too, so no day counted off my eurail! Wooooooo.

Day 4: Sunday

Today was just getting back to Tours. Oh, what a special hell today was. So remember douche bag from the Paris train station on day one? The one who said I didn’t need the reservations for the ticket I had? Well, apparently he did something to ALL of my ticket reservations! GREAT, MAN. YOU ARE TOTALLY THE BEST. I DON’T HATE YOU AT ALL. Basically, I couldn’t get on the train I was scheduled for AGAIN, and I actually ended up having to fucking BUY a ticket to Paris because everybody and their brother was traveling today, and thus there where no eurail seat left. There were practically no regular seats left either; I was actually super lucky to get back at all today. YERRRRRRGH. GRARGH. ERGH. GRRRRR. ARGH! DOUUUUCHE BAAAGGGGGG I HATTTE YOOOUUUUU.

So I should be in Tours in a few minutes now; I’m writing today’s entry on the train. I’m still bitter about stupid douche bag guy. What a COCK weasel anal WART DOUCHE bag JERK FACE.

AAAAAAGGGH.