As any seasoned traveler knows, the path to the perfect trip is not without its speedbumps. As a traveler with as little seasoning as they come, I didn’t quite yet have this down, and had high expectations for how this week would go. This was a reality I had to face this week abroad.
Before the sun could cast its golden glow on the Florentine streets, I found myself at the dawn of a journey like no other I have ever experienced: my spring break to France.
Armed with a perfectly planned itinerary and a myriad of booked transportation, my best friend and I set out on an exploration of the wide-open south of France and later the swarmed streets of Paris.
I had to come to terms with the unpredictability of my trip before I ever left Florence. At five a.m. on Friday, we dragged ourselves and our suitcases onto the tram to the bus station on the edge of town. We knew we were going to be a few minutes late, but FlixBus was never on time.
We ran up the steps and pushed through the turnstile doors to see that our bus had already departed just four minutes after the arrival time. What were we supposed to do now?
Our only choice was to book last-minute train tickets to catch our next bus in time. After we missed the first train to Pisa and managed to get seats on the next one, I could rest a little easier.
From Pisa, we had another train to Genova. The train went right up the coast of west Italy and I had the best seat in the house to witness the bright warm sun reflect off the Mediterranean Sea onto the rocky shore and beige coastal apartments.
When the train wasn’t under the many tunnels that run through the European mountains and hills, I liked to focus on one little spot to catch glimpses of daily life in the places I was passing as fast as 400 km/h (about 200 m.p.h.).
I could see people on shoreside walks, having a morning smoke outside their window, and even a horse playing with a grey fedora like it was practicing for a circus routine.
We made it to Genova to then find out our bus was delayed 20 minutes, there is the FlixBus we know and often depend on.
I expected the transition from Italy to France to be much greater, almost magical. Not only did it feel very much the same at first, it then turned into northern N.H. From the bus window, I saw green mountains, pine trees, and a highway cutting through it all.
As we got closer to Nice, we were suddenly in the west. I saw palm trees, cacti and barren sandy hills populated with other funny-looking plants.
We did not have housing accommodations in Lyon where we were two days later. Our six-hour bus to Paris left at midnight– if that sounds unpleasant, it did to us too, but it was cheap. The problem we had was filling the next twelve hours with stuff to do until the bus without getting completely drained.
We walked many miles and saw many gorgeous sights, but it was still only about six p.m. when we sat down for a drink waiting for restaurants to open for dinner. The place we were in the patio of was called the Boston Tavern and it truly felt like home for a moment. It was then we decided we were not going to make the bus tonight, we needed to call it a night.
So, a full change of plans. We booked a hotel and an afternoon train ride for the next day to have somewhere to stay before dinner and a good night’s rest.
Traveling can be unpredictable and have its speedbumps. However, it can also be an exhilarating experience full of surprises and adventures. My trip to southern France is a testament to that. Despite missing our bus and having to change our plans, we were still able to make the most of our time. Having an unexpected night in Lyon in a nice hotel room bed readied us to tackle Paris.
Lillian Hendel can be contacted at
lhendel@kscequinox.com
