Tricky Travels

Tricky Travels

Sprinting off the bus we scurried across the sidewalks, down the stairs, and back up the other side. Even with our late bus, we thought we were going to make our train. Out of breath and dragging our suitcases up the stairs, we reached our platform at 6:51pm and quickly realized our train was pulling away. My three friends, Kayla W., Kayla C., Mackenzie, and myself were trapped in Tarbes, France on our way to London. Our bus that arrived half an hour late in Tarbes, that caused us to miss our train by one minute, was going to cause us to miss our flight and ruin our entire holiday break. 

The four of us were American students who were studying abroad in Pau, France for the moment. The girls had much more knowledge of French, and had been studying for years, while I had only a semester. A couple weeks before our holiday break we began planning what was supposed to be our best trip of our time abroad. We booked all of our flights and hostels, and we thought we were in for a simple trip. 

At the Tarbes train station we frantically began to speak, in French, to the men working to figure out how to get to Toulouse. The four of us were with two others who were supposed to be on the connection to Toulouse. After a little arguing with the station agents, they agreed to have a minibus pick us up and take us to Toulouse. Things were finally back on track, but we were now almost two hours behind our original schedule and were beginning to worry about making our flight. Everyone kept a positive attitude and kept telling themselves everything would work out and we would make our flight. We spoke with the other two people on their way to Toulouse and discussed our problem about making our flight and they both agreed that it was okay if we were dropped off at the airport first. 

After another forty five minutes of waiting, the minibus arrived. The two strangers with us began to ask the driver,  “Pouvez-vous arrêter à l’aéroport premier” (Can you stop at the airport first). He bluntly responded saying, “Ce n’est pas mon problème” (It’s not my problem), and told us he was dropping us all off at the Toulouse train station and returning to Tarbes. 

The longer we were on the minibus the more clear it became that we were not going to catch our flight. We began to panic, it was beginning to get late and we were going to be stuck in Toulouse for the night. Once again we stayed optimistic and started to think of ideas. I quickly remembered that my host father’s daughter studied in Toulouse. I began trying to get in contact with her in hopes we could sleep on the floor of her apartment for the night. After getting in contact with her we learned that she was currently in Berlin, but she gave us the information of her friend who she spoke with and explained our problem. Her friend, Claire, said she would figure out a solution. 

When we arrived at the Toulouse train station we started trying to decipher the metro map and figure out how we were getting to London. Claire offered for us to sleep at her place and help us arrange a way to London for the following morning. In Claire’s single room apartment we squeezed together, while searching for flights, trains and buses leaving the following morning. We soon realized that we had very few options for getting to London the next morning. We settled for a nine hour bus ride from Toulouse to Paris and a ten hour bus from Paris to London starting the next day at 8:00am. We promptly fell asleep after purchasing our tickets, with hopes for better luck the next day. 

We woke up at 6:00am Saturday morning to ensure we would make it to the bus station with plenty of extra time. With the two buses we had, the four of us were supposed to arrive in London Sunday at 7:00am, two days after our original plan. We had another flight from London to Cork, Ireland Monday morning at 8:30am and there was no way we were going to miss that flight. We had already paid for all of our accommodations and transportation in Ireland and would not receive any refund if we weren’t there. Aside from that, we refused to let our perfect vacation slip between our fingers. If nothing else, we were doing it for ourselves to prove nothing would stop us. After boarding the bus to Paris, it starting to seem as though things were beginning to look up. Nine hours of napping and watching downloaded episodes of T.V. shows on Netflix and we were on our way to Paris. 

Upon arriving in Paris it became a race against time. We had 3 hours to figure out exactly where our next bus left from and how to get there in one of the biggest cities in the world. Mackenzie, the most confident French speak with us, began speaking with an employee at the bus station about where our bus was leaving from and the easiest way to get there. She led us to another bus stop about fifteen minutes away, where we again spoke with another employee to determine if we were in the correct area. We were quickly informed that we were not and our bus was leaving from Charles De Gaulle airport. He also told us the easiest way to get there was by using the metro. 

Another half hour of our precious time was now wasted and we once again were rushing, to find the closest metro. On a Saturday night the dirty cigarette riddled Paris metro was even more chaotic than normal. We immediately realized that the Paris metro was a very complicated map of interconnecting lines with no way of knowing where you were. Mackenzie started speaking with another employee, while the other three of us stared at the metro map trying to decipher the way to the airport. Mackenzie got the tickets to the airport and we were on our way again. Running down the stairs trying to catch our next metro. After standing around waiting for our train to come we realized that the rail line we were told to use to get to the airport was under construction, and we would have to use a different one. We hopped on the next train and now had less than 2 hours to get to the airport if we were going to make our bus.

On what felt like the slowest metro ever, we met José a boy our age who happened to be taking the same bus as us to London. As the metro went on, we got to know José and learned that he was from Argentina but was studying and living in Paris. Another hour and a half go by and we’re still on the metro, now beginning to realize that we were going to miss our bus and once again needed to figure out how to get to London. Because the train line we needed to take was under construction, we were forced to take a different line as far as it went and switch to a bus after that would take us to the airport. By the time we arrived to Charles De Gaulle our bus had been gone for over 20 minutes. 

We were now stuck over an hour away from the city center with no where to stay for the night and no clue how we were getting to London. The four of us were frustrated. We again tried to remain positive even though it seemed as if the universe didn’t want us to make it to London. We focused our energy towards figuring out how to get to London discussing options of different flights, trains, and buses. José stayed with us offering as much help as he could. Though, it was now late on Saturday night and almost every bus was full and those that weren’t did not have enough room for four people. All of the flights were unbelievably expensive, and even the train was not a price we wanted to pay. Though, it was getting late and we once again had to make our flight out of London Monday morning at 8:00am. While discussing our options, José offered for us to stay the night in his Airbnb. He said it wasn’t far from the metro and would be easy to get around the following morning. It was about 11pm and we decided to buy train tickets for the next morning leaving at 8:00am, but we were then faced with our next problem. Where were we going to stay the night in Paris? Did we stay with José, an almost complete stranger, or did we pay a couple hundred euro for a hotel for only a couple hours?

We decided to take José up on his offer and sleep on the floor of his place. On the metro to his house we continued to talk to him trying to decide if it was a good idea or not. By the time we arrived to his Airbnb it was about 1:30am. In a large house, the five of us squeezed into José’s small  bedroom. We made due with two rock hard pillows and three thin blankets. By the time we were ready bed, it was past 2:00am. We agreed to wake up at 5:00am to make sure we made it to this train with plenty of time. 

Upon reaching the train station and boarding the train to London, it finally seemed like things were going to be okay and we were going to actually make it this time. We went through customs and boarded our train without a problem. Our determination and optimism was finally paying off. We were on our train to London and had avoided any arguing or fighting though a very stressful weekend.

After we had missed a bus, a train, and a plane we finally arrived in London on Sunday morning at 9:00am. A trip that should have taken around six hours had turned into an over forty hour nightmare with several ups and downs and many new experiences along the way. We made our flight to Ireland and finished our trip without another problem. If nothing else our journey improved our French, allowed us to meet kind strangers, and taught us how to use public transportation. We were able to stay positive and remain optimistic the entire trip, even with all of our problems. Traveling won’t always go as you plan, but staying openminded and never giving up will always deliver you to your final destination.