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Culture Shock on the French Railways - France, Europe

By: Krista White


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It is Sunday night. Rather than savouring what remains of my weekend, curled up in front of a good movie, I’m sitting in a train, biding my time until we start moving again. Delays are a frequent occurrence on the return trip from my parents’ home to my university abode. The intermittent rocking of the twelve-car cradle does not lull me. Every muscle in my body tenses against its tedium. Tonight I find myself thinking, even wishing, for a train ride that I took years ago. A memory that usually creates an unbearable churning sensation in my stomach, I now wish was once more a reality.

Wish for a past memory to be in the present
I spent three months of high school living in the south of France on a student exchange program. The following summer my parents and I returned to spend two weeks visiting with my new second family. We, of course, had a fabulous time, swam in the sea and lounged on the beaches in and around Nice. In fact, my mother didn’t just sit on the beaches; she brought half of them home. By the end of the trip, we had enough stones and shells to warrant buying an extra suitcase.

On our last full day, we set off to the train station with our fifty pounds of Mediterranean treasures, to catch a train to Paris before our flight home the following morning. We arrived with an hour to spare, settled to wait. We noticed a large tote board above the main entrance to the platforms listing all the departing trains. Every few minutes the board would flip forward, adding a new train to the end of the list, dropping the one at the front. We assumed this signalled the departure of the train at the top of the list. We didn't realize the “actual departure time” did not correlate to those scheduled, accustomed as we were to North American inefficiency.

We hadn’t been there long when our train’s information popped up in reassuringly bold letters at the end of the queue. I fumbled in my pocket and retrieved the bit of paper I had secured earlier. I took a deep breath as I read every line and matched it to what I saw overhead. I’ve missed enough buses and trains along the way to know that if I’ve checked my ticket twice, I need to check it once more. Relief set, all was in order.

We decided that to allow enough time to reach the proper platform, we should leave our squat by the door when our train was still listed three spaces back. We stamped our tickets and away we went.

We hoisted our seventy pounds of seaside discoveries down a flight of stairs, along a corridor and back up a new staircase. From a distance we spotted our platform with our train number up, and a TGV parked alongside. As we approached, the train slipped away, replaced by a rickety caboose that made so much noise, it might have had a coal-run steam engine. Simultaneously, the notice board changed to show a new destination, nowhere near the Paris Charles de Gaulle terminus we needed. After a sizeable delay owing to sheer confusion, my stomach began to twist with the knotting action of panic. Being the only francophone in the family, the task of investigating this odd occurrence fell to me. I approached the two Gendarmerie officers standing nearby, masking my Canadian accent as thoroughly as possible, asked if they could tell me where to find my train. “Zee tickette sayes nine hour ten. Eet eez nine hour fifteen. Zee train eez left,” they replied, tapping their wrists. The particular angle, which the corners of their mouths adopted while saying this, told me that my attempt at impersonating a local had failed.

After relaying this information to my companions, we set off at a rush down the stairs, up again to the ticket office, towing the hundred pounds of saltwater rocks behind. We had been clever enough in the first place to buy J28 tickets purchased between two months and 28 days in advance, at a fraction of the cost. As with all super-cheap-way-in-advance tickets, though, they were utterly non-refundable or exchangeable. But to our great relief, the ticket agent offered us a possibility. There was a train to Paris Gare de Lyon ten minutes later, the conductor allowed us to pay for a ticket upgrade.

Dragging our tide-pool rubble with us, we mounted, one last time, the steps to our platform. The train had already arrived and the conductor was conveniently in front of it. I hurriedly asked him if there was any room left and he, upon seeing my ticket, shook his head, pointed to the item’s large “NO CHANGES” stipulation. I pleaded, saying that we would pay the ticket difference. He conceded. We boarded and breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Later that night, as we sat in front of the Arc de Triomphe putting our few precious hours in Paris to good use, the stress of our ordeal was already pushed to the back of our thoughts. It’s just too bad that tonight’s four-hour delay in St. Mary’s, Ontario, couldn’t be so spectacularly rewarded. Though this may be one night when bed - if I ever get there - will seem like a reward.

Update on French trains
For anyone else travelling to France, the trains are still as annoyingly punctual as before. This, and the multitude of ticket and price options, makes for an efficient and enjoyable method of traversing the country - if you aren’t me! The J28 tickets that we bought are now called Prem's and are available for bookings made from two weeks to three months in advance. For the most part these are the cheapest option, if you can plan your trip that far ahead. The drawback is that they are extremely inflexible. Cancellations can only be made with four days notice, at a penalty of 30% of the ticket value.

For couples or families, there is the Decouverte a Deux option, which provides approximately twenty-five percent off for groups of two to nine passengers booked at once. A good option for younger travellers who plan to make several train journeys is the Decouverte 12-25 discount card. It costs about 43 euros and saves you fifty percent off ticket prices. It also offers discounts on Eurostar, for channel crossings, car hire and air travel. A one-way ticket from Nice to Paris should cost about 40 euros, with either the Prem's or the 12-25 card, depending on the day and time of travel. The full fare can be upwards of 100 euros.

An extra note for anyone planning to cross the channel, Eurostar tickets are often cheaper when purchased in England, so it is worthwhile looking into one-way fares, or buying a round-trip ticket, if you are starting in the UK.

Ticket information for French trains can be found on this website and at BootsnAll where bookings can also be made. Note that on busy trains, reservations may be required, which may entail an extra fee. Like with all travel, advanced planning and a flexible schedule will combine to make an affordable and easy way to get around, provided you show up on time.



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This article was published on BootsnAll on May 06, 2007

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