What Happened in France~ Part 7

   "This is definitely the first time that I can remember ever riding in an actual passenger train," I commented as the whine of the rails accentuated the swaying movement of the train car that we were sitting in. Mark shifted in his upholstered seat and looked out of the large windows into the bright, sunny day outside. "So theyas is France.." he mumbled with a smile. I looked around at the nearly empty cabin and wondered why they had booked an elderly lady in the seat next to me. The seating was arranged with four pink, cushioned chairs (two facing forwards and two facing backwards) surrounding a low, IKEA-quality table with a narrow isle for walking between the groupings. The sunlight streamed in the copious windows, revealing glimpses of the picturesque French countryside. I turned to glance at the frail woman who was only inches away from me, but who had said nothing so far. She quietly worked on a Sudoku puzzle, occasionally taking in the passing scenery. I wonder why she traveled alone... I thought. Sharron scrolled through her phone, trying to connect to a cell tower while talking to her parents via her data plan. "This SIM card cost me over 50 euros! I can't believe my phone isn't letting it work properly!", she exclaimed in frustration. "I'm just planning to use the WiFi calling option on mine while I'm here. It's not like there will be a lot of people wanting to talk to me. Besides, I'd like to take a break from all the tech usage for a while." I said, reflecting on how much I had been forced to use some app (or computer program) for one work or university related thing or another during my recent college years. "I'm bored," Mark declared over the screeching sound of a passing train on the adjacent track, "Any of y'all gawt some cards ur sumthin'?" I suddenly remembered that I had put some in my luggage before our initial departure, for just such an occasion as this, and went to retrieve it from the storage cabin area.

  When I returned empty-handed several minutes later, I had to explain to my traveling companions that my playing cards had somehow gotten lost, and that we'd need to find another way to pass the time. Mark suggested taking a nap and promptly leaned back against the headrest of his seat and closed his eyes in an attempt to doze through the remainder of our journey. "How are we going to know when we are at the right station? We have several stops before we get to Tours...", I nervously inquired of Sharron, who had been scrutinizing the map. "I think our stop is on the third station...it'll say this on the platform," she indicated the name of the Tours rail-station on the map with her finger. "Well, we just passed stop number one, only two more to go!" I was thankful for that information at least. There was no knowing for sure if our host family would be there to meet us or not, and whoever they were, there was no telling if they would recognize us when we finally got there!

   I continued to stare out of the window in wonderment at the passing scenery until we arrived at our destination. The reality of my location was only now beginning to sink in. It's like I know we're really here, but at the same time, it's hard to fully believe that we are actually here... I thought to myself in the quiet of the sunlit cabin. The sudden swaying of the train indicated the final stop. I tapped Mark on the shoulder to wake him up and looked out of the window on the far side of the cabin. "Yup! This is definitely our stop!" I announced before heading towards the baggage storage area. As I was lifting my heavy suitcase out from the metal rack where it had been placed at the start of our railway trip, Mark kindly offered to help (since he only had his backpack to carry) and brought it down the steps and across the tracks. We all stood on the platform for a moment before realizing that this deserted place was not our intended final destination. "What do we do now?" Sharron asked. The only practical solution was to ask for assistance, after which we discovered that there was a shuttle train that would take us into the actual Tours train station. Armed with further instructions, we started our way down the platform; Sharron dragging two pieces of luggage and a carry-on behind her, me with my carry-on over my back while wrestling with yet another piece of Sharron's luggage, and Mark with his backpack, gripping my ungainly suitcase.

   "I have got to pee!" I declared, my desperation showing as I searched in vain for relief, "There has to be some sort of WC around here somewhere...!" There wasn't. Before long, our shuttle appeared and we climbed aboard, our feet barely above the tracks on the low-budget version of a train car that we were now standing in. I stood there in utter misery for several moments before looking around and noticing a familiar white image of a male and female figure separated by a line. "Hey!", I nudged Mark, "I think that's a public bathroom stall in that corner!" "Ain't much to it", he observed before asking a nearby Asian girl if she knew if anyone was currently using it. She shook her head, and I hurriedly went to claim the as-yet vacant source of my bodily salvation. It is worth mentioning that while I was in the poorly constructed facility (that was comprised of not much more than an airline-style toilet), that the door would not lock, so I had to trust in my fellow-travelers to keep unsolicited visitors out until I was done. To add to my public embarrassment, the door/walls could not have been more than a few centimeters thick, and I was certain that every single person in that car could hear everything that was happening in my "private" stall. Mercifully, I was soon out of there and could not wait to vacate the seemingly over-crowded shuttle. I hope it's not going to be like this for the rest of the trip... 

  The ear-piercing shriek of the brakes indicated that we were now at our destination. After nearly two full days of traveling, very few hours of which involved sleeping, we were finally disembarking into Tours, France. As we stepped out into the uncertainty that lay ahead for the three of us, we said a quick thanks and goodbye to each other for all of the shared adventures that had led up to this point. Granted, the journey had been exhausting and full of challenges, but we had made it through the ordeal together, and felt a sense of closeness as a result of our time together.

What Happened in France~ Part 6

    Oh my word! What is this all about? The sight that met my eyes as I descended unto the level below was startling to say the least, if not utterly intimidating. Three very physically fit men dressed in distinct uniforms of camouflage fatigues, were unmistakably on patrol in the area; their semi-automatic weapons held at the ready in front of them. Their sleeves were neatly rolled up to the elbows, berets were on their heads, and their combat boots clumped across the floor as their eyes scanned every face in the crowd for signs of possible hostility. I had never even heard about such measures being taken in France, not even during our pre-departure briefing from the university foreign affairs office. I did all that I could to keep myself from staring at the authoritative spectacle in front of me. "The train station office should be just beyond the line of ATM's." Sharron informed us, "We can get our tickets there and then wait for the next train to Tours." That was welcome news to the rest of us, who were still rather groggy and tired from the whole trip in general. As we moved in position to get in the queue for the ticket station, I looked around to take in my surroundings. Moving across the overhead balcony was another group of men grasping carbine weapons between their bulging muscles; this time they were dressed in dark blue and black SWAT-style uniforms, with Police Municipal prominently written in white letters across the backs of their Kevlar vests. Moments later I looked up again, this time in the other direction, only to see more uniformed men with weapons descending the narrow staircase (for employee use) to give the waiting area another patrol sweep. I wonder if they're the French version of the FBI... I now became overly self-conscious of my movements, and hoped that nobody wouldn't mistake my curiosity and exhaustion for "suspicious actions".

  Eventually, our little group got to the front of the line and was ushered into a small, but clean and brightly furnished room that resembled something of a help desk and a service storefront put together. As I had previously been elected the spokesperson for the group whenever possible, I moved forward to the desk where several professionally dressed women were standing and addressing customers needs. One of these women corrected me for going up to her so soon, and instructed me to take a number from a nearby distributor machine and wait until my number was called. Before I could ask if this number was allowed to be used for a group, or only for an individual, she gestured me away with a sweep of her hand and began chatting with the next customer. I made the executive decision that we only needed one for our whole trio, and promptly took a slip of paper with a number combination from the machine before going to the crowded indoor waiting area where Sharron and Mark were already waiting to inform them of the situation.
 
   Many long and impatient minutes went by before our number was finally called. I moved forward, suitcase in tow, while Sharron conscripted Mark to help with her excess luggage as they followed on behind me. We had to produce our passports and ID cards before being able to read out the destination details to the ticket agent, given to us by the program director only a week or so earlier. After clarifying that although we were indeed paying the fare separately, we would still appreciate getting adjacent seats, she handed us the large, rectangular billets while we swiped our credit cards one by one in payment of our passage. Moments later, we emerged from the quiet ticket station, and back into the bustling waiting area where we had previously been. "Do you see the time on this thing?!" Sharron almost had to shout above the noise around us. I looked at the departure time for the next train to Tours which we had just booked. "That's nearly six hours away from now!" I exclaimed in annoyance and dismay. "What are going to do in the meantime?" "I'm fixin' ta go out them doors to git myself another smoke!", Mark announced to the group, and proceeded to walk through the exterior doors only a few yards away from where we were standing. He soon returned with a uniformed airport/station employee, who ushered him into a nearby "smoker room" that was hidden away in a corner of the atrium. We laughed at Mark's embarrassment before finding an unused selection of sofas that we could claim by barricading ourselves in through careful construction of our luggage and carry-on pieces, once seated.

   An hour passed, during which I chatted some more with my companions, laughed at a few jokes that may not have been so funny in a less sleep-deprived state, and people-watched. Sharron looked up from her phone, "You know that you can sign in to their guest WiFi signal for 20 minutes at a time, right?" "Really? I had no idea! Do we need to make an account?" I pulled out my previously useless smartphone and unlocked the device. "I don't think so...", she said distractedly as she went back to studying the screen in front of her. I selected the guest option on the available WiFi menu, typed in a few personal details, and was taken to a "Bienvenue..." page with a 20 minute countdown timer. I immediately went to my email and typed a message to my mom to say that I had arrived safely, with a few other details about what was going on. Just as I was reviewing my text for any possible edits before sending it through cyberspace, I suddenly felt as though I was being watched. I looked up and was confronted by the gaze of a young soldier, his weapon only a short distance from my person. "Bonjour monsieur", I quietly pronounced despite my perturbed and muddled state of mind. He continued to glare for a moment at my upturned face, and then silently turned to look at the Middle Eastern couple reclining on the adjacent sofa. I wonder if they're looking for someone in particular and I just look like them by coincidence...I thought to myself after the alarm had passed. I looked over at Sharron, curled against the corner of the couch, dozing quietly in the lull of the moment. Mark had gone to explore his surroundings out of sheer boredom, and I decided that since I was apparently so safe in this place, it would be a good idea to rest for a bit myself. I leaned my head on the propped up suitcase that had my carry-on over it. We still had five more hours of waiting, four and a half hours at the least, before we could walk out of the nearby doors and unto the train platform to leave Charles de Gaulle airport behind us.