20 years ago today – Day 61

View Larger Map

Friday, May 3 – a train ride to Avignon

Here I am in lying in bed in France, bruises and all. The wind is still strong, but not as wild as last night. In a few hours we will be closer to Italy that Spain, and maybe beyond the wind. My right side is quite sore. The skin is not broken but there is some swelling. My right hand is still throbbing. I clean the wound with soap and water and apply fresh bandages.

We pack as fast as we can and skip breakfast so we can be at the station well before 8. I planned a budget of 140 francs per day (equivalent to 2600 pesados) but I am going to be hopelessly behind from the start. The train fare will be 165 francs each and the bikes an additional 100 each. The bikes will leave on a 2pm train since ours does not have a baggage car. Mike says we can return to the station after 10pm to pick them up or wait until tomorrow morning.

The wind storm is still raging along the French seaside. I am so glad to be out of it, but it reminds me of what I’ve just been through and it upsets me again. I focus on catching up on my journal instead of looking out the window.

At Perpignan, the French ‘capital’ of Catalonia, a group of high school students get on and we are asked to move to make room for them, even though none of the seats are “reserved”. This happens again at Montpellier, but this time it is a larger and more terrifying group of elementary students. We get off shortly after this, to wait at Nimes for 45 minutes to catch the connecting train to Avignon. Mike takes the risk and dashes off to the nearest bank to get a further advance on his Visa card.

The school children get to wait for the same train, crowding around me on the platform. Between the chilly, annoying wind and the noise of the children I can’t get any journal writing done. I watch as one of the supervising teachers applies a bandaid to a wounded finger of one of his children. My hand and rib cage throb a bit harder while I watch him.

I should be happy to that Mike might miss the train, but I am anxious. He finally makes it just as the train pulls in and we hurry in to get our seats. Two minutes later it rolls out of the station and we both breathe a sigh of relief. Minutes later it rolls into Tarascon, which isn’t on the schedule. We think nothing much of it until we reach the next station at Arles, and it strikes us that we are on the wrong train. We rush off in a panic expecting the worst, but the next train back north arrives only five minutes later. It is so crowded that we have to stand, but it is only for one stop and no conductor bothers us on the way.

The train station in Avignon has a hostel booking service for a couple francs and they find us a pleasant room with plenty of hot water at Hotel des Arts, a two minute walk from the station, at a comparable price to the one in Cerbere. (It feels weird to be walking instead of riding!)

We have the rest of the day to relax and meander around Avignon. It is a lovely town, quite unchanged from the time I was here six years ago. There are restored walls around the older part of the city, which includes the Palais des Papes where seven Catholic Popes resided in the 13th and 14th centuries. The square in front of the Palais is charming and picturesque, and most of the interesting buildings in the city face onto it or are close by. There is a permanent carousel and other rides set up in the square, but there is not much to see or do in town. One afternoon pretty much is all one needs to take it all in.

Being here makes to nostalgic for the food and wine I discovered on my first trip in '85. I make a trip to the supermarche to buy wine and a cassoulet from the Perigord region north of Toulouse, which I became fond of back then. Tonight, I enjoy a dinner and memories in my room.

Later in the evening, Mike suggests we go out to look for a gay bar. I remember a cozy one from before but can't find it anywhere. There is one called "l'Esclave" and another called "Boys Bar" but neither one is open at 10:30pm on this Friday evening. We have a couple beer at a local tapas bar and try again at 11.

Boys Bar is open by then, but almost empty. The beer here is expensive so Mike doesn't stay. I decide to linger a bit longer. The bartender, who I learn is also the owner, drags me over to meet some other patrons who have been wondering what I look like without my glasses. (I have been wearing glasses instead of my contact lenses in the evening.) I am happy to comply, just to meet some locals and have someone to talk to. I am introduced to Jean-Michel, Lucien (Lou-Lou) and Gerard. Gerard is gorgeous but straight and recently married to a Scottish girl who has not yet moved to France. He has the best English and acts as my translator from time to time. I chat with several guys this evening but no one is particularly interested in me, or me in them. By 2am the thick cigarette smoke is burning my eyes, so I say my goodbyes and leave.

PHOTO 1: strain station in Cerbere
PHOTO 2: leaving Cerbere
PHOTO 3: train station in Montpellier
PHOTO 4: train station in Arles
PHOTO 5: train station in Avignon
PHOTO 6: Hotel des Arts
PHOTO 7: Palais des Papes
PHOTO 8: Avignon night scene