Day 72: Hitch Hiking to Toulouse

The open road!

Europe has a new roadside attraction – a fool on the side of the road with his thumb out, doing a dance. Let me tell you about my first hitch hiking experience.

Hitch hiking has always been a forbidden fruit for me. My parents warned me about picking up hitch hikers and told me to never hitch hike. "You never know what type of person you're going to meet," they said. They might stab you. While I wasn't afraid of getting stabbed, I was slightly nervous as I walked towards the highway. Little did I know, I was about to meet some beautiful people.

My hitch hiking career began with a severe lack of knowledge. After saying goodbye to Zoë I hopped on the tram, headed to what I thought was the right location. I knew that I needed to be by the highway to Toulouse and in a spot where a car could pull over.

Zoë still looks cute, even when she's tired and in a hurry.

As I began, I was feeling good. This was new and exciting. My nervousness mixed with my excitement as I repeated the French phrase Zoë patiently taught me. "E'st que vous allez a Toulouse?" Decked out in full traveler regalia, I danced on the side of the road.

Who wouldn't pick this up?

The universe rewarded my hour of dancing with two cars. Unfortunately they were both headed in the wrong direction. I found out that I was at the entrance to the highway that I needed, but the A9 headed North instead of South. Frack. Feeling discouraged and unsure of where to go I started the walk of shame, following the tram line back to the city center where I could take the train. I felt lame because I psyched myself up to hitch but without knowing how to get to the Southbound A9 my situation was hopeless. Walking along the tram line. I mentally consoled myself, "At least you got two cars to stop!" At that moment a miracle happened – I saw a sign for the A9 to Barcelona. Yee ha!

I followed the signs, walking down the road for about 45 minutes. When I tried hitch hiking by a bus stop and one of the drivers motioned for me to keep walking. So I headed towards a gas station which I thought might be a better place.

Resuming my hitch hiking shimmy, it wasn't long before I got my first ride. I was on my way. The intrepid traveler. Backpack hitching across Europe. I was doing this. Fun. Exciting. New. People. The Universe. France. Synch. He brought me to the Toulouse highway entrance.

People that stop for hitch hikers either genuinely want to help or skin you and stuff you in their trunk. Thankfully, everyone that I met while hitch hiking was friendly and helpful. All of the people that picked me up had hitched before so they wanted to help other hitchers. For example, this first dude I got in a car with gave me a big piece of paper so I could make a sign. Even the woman who dropped me off in the middle of the highway thought she was helping.

Having been deposited just passed the toll booth, I laughed to myself. This was an absurd situation. Cars slingshotted out of the toll booth like dragsters. I could feel the suction of huge transport trucks as they barreled down the road. I was standing on the side of a four lane highway where that woman dropped me. The chances of someone pulling over seemed slim. Holding my sign high and dancing I couldn't help but think, "I'm going to die here."

Hitch hiking is my new favorite way to get around.

I only waited a few minutes before a young, chain smoking manager of La Post, picked me up, and took me from Montpellier to Toulouse. He said he liked my hat. He runs a handful of post offices around Toulon and Marseille and is in charge of over 200 people. He was friendly and spoke enough English to have a great conversation. We chatted the whole time about ourselves, my travels, people, politics, the environment, differences between France and US, gun laws, language, hitch hiking, Sarkozy, French girls, music, work strikes – I even learned a bit more French. Our brains grooved as we rocketed down the highway towards Toulouse. We were there before I knew it; our two hour ride passed too quickly. Luckily his meeting had been delayed for an hour and a half. Bar!

One of the four bars we went to.

Actually, it was time to go to many bars. The next morning, my head asked me "why did you mix beer, rum, vodka, and pastis?" That's the kind of night we had. A good 'ol time. Two dudes hanging out, rambling on about this and that, pounding back the alcool. I called my CouchSurfing host to let him know that I would meet him in about an hour. That hour may have turned into three, but nonetheless, I got a ride to his apartment. Parting from my new friend was a bummer. He dropped me off and we went our separate ways. My way was a drunk climb over a fence to get into my host's apartment complex.

Thank goodness, everything worked out. A perfect way to end a day that I will never forget. My host, Aras gave me a warm welcome around 22:30 with a bowl of grilled mushrooms in stroganoff sauce. I was way too drunk to dwell on my distaste for mushrooms but they were delicious. We chatted while I ate, but afterwards I crashed almost immediately. I had a long day. Once again, proving that investing my trust in the good graces of strangers always makes life interesting.

Au revoir!

Day 65: Musical Montpellier

I hope y'all had a lovely weekend. My time in Montpellier has been overflowing with new experiences and new friends. The weather has been beautiful, like fall, with temperatures around 10ºC (50ºF). Experiencing Montpellier with such beautiful weather has been a treat, especially in contrast to sleeping in the snow.

There's something about the vibe in Montpellier which I enjoy very much. It's a clean city with a lot of youthful energy. People are friendly and it's small enough to be cozy and to bump into your friends, but big enough to be fresh and interesting. My host was telling me about the many concerts here and incentives for students to be active in the community.

In Montpellier I have met a handful of new CouchSurfers. My host, Ophélie is open minded, warm hearted. She welcomed me into her life by bringing me to a theater practice, introducing me to her wonderful friends, and teaching me how to cook classic French food. Staying at her place was a nice balance between relaxing and exciting. It was the first sofa that I slept on in weeks, I was elated to have a comfortable night's sleep. Her room mate, Emilie is charismatic and bubbly. The two of them are a ton of fun!

Their current theater production is based on lip syncing old songs.

Michel, the director shows these young guns what's up.

A cozy theater.

A few days ago, I went out exploring and music followed me throughout the city. The first place I went, the Saint Pierre Cathedral, had a music school next to it. I think that the funky tunes emanating from the building helped me absorb the beauty of the cathedral. In a park there was a hip lookin' dude jamming on the smallest saxophone I had ever seen. I also grooved to a guy playing the accordion, along with a few other people – musical Montpellier!

Saint Pierre Cathedral in Montpellier!

This guy was so funny with his cat.

Some random dog was barking his brain off at the cat.

The cat was not pleased!

An amazing sky right before sunset.

I found a toy shop with various French Tarot decks... neat!

While wandering Montpellier, carrying the English/French dictionary that I bought in Avignon has been enjoyable. I feel like I'm a secret agent, decoding important messages. OK, maybe I'm not that cool, but I am dramatically increasing my efforts to learn French. I've been able to get by with English without a problem (it's almost boring!). I should be taking advantage of this time abroad to become as fluent as I can. I've been reading Benny, the Irish Polyglot's blog Fluent In 3 Months to take advantage of his language hacking tips. The ability to communicate with locals on a familiar level is good motivation, especially because I just met a girl.

Speaking of locals, I also met this CS guru named Andrei who's the most active in the community out of anyone that I've seen. Before coming to Montpellier I sent him a couch request. On Thursday I headed over to his house for vegetarian sloppy joes. His table was full of other Couchsurfers and we hooked down joes and slung stories. Andrei and another girl were from the US so we had a special dessert. Root beer floats! Watching the Europeans' expressions as they timidly sipped the concoctions was priceless. Thankfully they didn't like them so I helped them out :).

It's like on Survivor where they pay $100 for a hamburger.

They smuggled the root beer all the way from New Jersey.

Always a fun time with the CouchSurfing community!

Andrei was planning a hitchhiking trip for the weekend to a cabin in the mountains, about five hours north of Montpellier. I unsuccessfully tried hitchhiking once, so I was excited to learn from experts. We talked about his experiences hitching. He's been doing it for years in many countries, through all times of day and night, in any sort of weather. We planned to start Saturday morning. I left his apartment root beer coma'd and more excited to hitch than ever!

Despite most of my Friday being eaten by a stubborn blog entry, in the afternoon Ophé asked if I wanted to go to a traditional French dance. How many ways could I say oui?

That night, Ophé, Antione, and I piled into her old VW and putted to the town of Sommieres where the Trad'hivernales Bal was being held. It was another beautiful night and stars shone brightly in the sky.

The room was packed with happy and hungry people.

As soon as we arrived, the community atmosphere was apparent. The dance was free to get in and everyone brought food, like a giant potluck. There were cakes, soups, cheeses, I even had a piece of anchovy pizza.

The entertainment was rather strange.

The environment was energetic. The large room was packed with people and there were performers running throughout the crowd. Men danced on stilts to the sound of a folk band. Ophé's family was there and we all hung out and enjoyed the food and atmosphere. When the volunteers started clearing the tables the dance was about to start.

Are you ready to dance?!

Throughout the night many bands played. When one band finished, I would venture to the other venue to see what was going on, there was always music to dance to. It was fun for me to see old traditional instruments being played. I saw a crazy looking instrument called the hurdy gurdy in the Accademia gallery in Florence. At the bal I experienced the hurdy gurdy in action. All of the bands were phenominal. The music was not only traditionally French but European in general. All of it was super fun to dance to.

A fun band playing on the floor with people dancing all around.

I really dig traditional French music.

Apparently this guy used to be a punk singer.

The first time I've heard a hurdy gurdy. Similar to bagpipes.

Doink!

Merci. Merci beaucoup!

For those of you lucky enough to experience my dancing, you can testify that I am the best dancer of all time. When I arrived I had no clue how to dance any of these dances. Thankfully the old ladies were eager to teach me. My favorite dances were the group dances because I got to dance with so many people. I kept imagining myself in an old village, dancing with the girls of the town. These dances were designed for introduction and interaction. One of the only dances that eluded my skills was the Mazurka. When this one came on, my dance partner did a weird little hop and gave me a look like "If you don't know how to do it already it's hopeless." The one that got away.

Antione, me, and my host, Ophé.

Maybe the girl I met is on the left :p

Everyone was smiling. The music, the atmosphere, the dancing all was perfect and it was reflected in people's faces. About half way through the night a girl came up to me and we started dancing. We hung out, talked, and danced for the rest of the night. Meow. I had such a good time that I got home at 4:30 AM. I needed to find a ride back to Montpellier but thankfully the first person that I asked was able to take me. Whew!

A bout of fireworks to cap off the night!

The next morning, I woke up magically at 9:30. Despite scrambling to pack my bag and meet up with Andrei and the gang, I missed out on the hitch hiking trip. I couldn't find the place where they were meeting up. Yesterday I realized that I was only one street away from the meeting spot. I enjoyed a delicious BBQ, nature walk, and ridiculous birthday party instead. Even without any of that, going to the dance was worth it. I had so much fun grooving to the traditional music and being among locals. Throughout my travels I want to learn more dances. When I get back to the States, who's going to dance with me?

Au revoir!

Check out the rest of the photos!

 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Day 62: Aix-en Provence and Avignon

Towel. Sleeping bag. Shoes. Check. Food. Water. Computer. Check. Hurriedly cramming my stuff into my bag, I rushed to leave. Natasha was waiting. She was late for class and it was my fault. As consequence of a poor night's sleep, I didn't wake Natasha up or prepare to leave on time so now I had to scramble. Run out the door – down eleven flights. Exchanging goodbye cheek kisses on the train station's marble apron, I could tell she was slightly irritated – an unfitting end to an enjoyable CouchSurfing experience. C'est la vie!

Goodbye Natasha, thanks!

With no way to withdraw money I spent my last €5 no the bus to Aix-en Provence. I parted from Marseille slightly stressed about my low funds, but enthusiastic about seeing two new towns. By some miracle, Dad managed to finagle Western Union's website into working so I had money to pick up in Aix.

Upon arriving in Aix-en Provence I had a small number of pesky problems to address. Fortunately, I have gotten rather efficient at orienting myself in new places. I've learned that whenever I get to a new town, follow signs to the town center, then follow signs for the tourism office. The staff in the tourism office is used to goons like me and are usually able to answer all of my questions and provide me with a map. Thankfully Aix was no different and soon I finished everything and picked up some cash.

Aix's main fountain in the town center.

It was a beautiful day to explore, the sun was warm shining and the sky was a clear blue. Wandering down a few streets I found a place to eat and go to the bathroom (oof!). Being a tad sick, a solid meal did wonders to make me feel better. During breakfast I read through the map the tourism office gave me and circled interesting sights.

I treated myself to a tuna sandwich and framoise (raspberry) tart.

This fountain was from a hot spring so the water was steamy.

A beautiful old courtyard.

Farmer's market!

Marseille made Aix look as shiny as Mr. Clean's forehead.

I saw this on a postcard so I recreated the photo. Voila!

No buildings like this in America.

Aix had a huge cathedral with a beautiful old set of organ pipes.

On the way to Cézanne's house.

The city was quaint and small. When I started walking around I was amazed at how small Aix is. It only takes about 15 minutes to walk across the entire town. I saw everything on my little map rather quickly. I was unaware that Aix is the hometown of Paul Cézanne. They're capitalizing all they can. Cézanne is immortalized by a bronze statue in the main square and his house has been converted into a museum.

Paul Cézanne – the master!

His house was surrounded by bushes. Birds enjoyed it.

Carrying my pack and being sick is a draining combination. Three hours in Aix-en Provence was enough for me so I made my way to the bus station. When I got to the station, it was 13:15 and I just missed the 1 o'clock bus to Avignon. The next bus was at 17:00, but I didn't care. I could use some down time. While waiting I read about acid gulping hippies, snoozed, and worked.

Night had fallen by the time I got to Avignon. Avignon's wall towered over me, lit up with lights it was beautiful. Entering the city was magnificent. I was greeted by two pools of water that shimmered with a cool blue light, like they contained pieces of the moon. As I walked down the main strip I wondered where I was going to spend the night.

Despite a scattershot of CouchSurfing requests, I couldn't find a place to stay. Earlier this morning, as I rushed out of Natasha's apartment, I quickly found a hostel which was right off of the main street. Upon finding the hostel, it looked more like a hotel. When I asked the man if they had rooms for €17 as advertised on HostelWorld, without a smile, he said "We're not in Morocco, rooms are €40." Luckily he was kind enough to refer me to an internet cafe where I found a camp ground just across the river. I bought a can of ravioli, bread, and chocolate pudding and went in search of the promised land. I found it without a problem, pitched my tent behind a bush, and that was that.

Avignon while crossing the bridge to my camp site.

The weather was so nice in Aix-en Provence that apparently the universe needed to balance itself out with some rain while I was in Avignon. My plans to wake up at 6 fizzled. I ended up leaving the camp ground at 10, thanks to a time spent writing a blog entry and a bout of rolling around. After 12 hours of sleep I emerged from my synthetic cocoon. I packed up my tent and strolled out of the camp ground, none the poorer.

Thankfully it was relatively warm.

Exploring Avignon in the rain was less than desirable but I made the most of it. Most of my day was taken up by publishing a blog entry, but I feel I got at least a small taste of Avignon.

Part of the city walls.

The French will grow grapes anywhere.

Ducks enjoying the rain.

Notre Dame des Doms

Who taught that elephant that trick?

Romantic little streets.

Rue de la Republique as I was leaving.

Bye bye Avignon!

Buh bye!

That night I caught the bus to Montpellier, where I met with my new lovely host, Ophé. She's great, but you will have to read my next post to hear me brag about her. Exploring two cities in two days was exhausting. I've enjoyed spending the past few days in Montpellier. Not having to carry my pack around is most excellent! For an update on Montpellier you'll have to tune in on Monday.

Au revoir!

Check out the rest of the photos!

 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .