Le Grande Voyage

Well I’ve started my movements to Marseille after a bout of fieldwork in Greece, a quick flurry of properly learning to dive in the Red Sea, and some frantic to and fro-ings to Swansea to collect my things. As with all these things not everything fitted into the car and I ended up having to leave a pile of things for collection by a friend. Still I was glad to have a day at home to sort through all my stuff before packing for Marseille.

For the moment I am keeping a diary (thanks Ruth) of my movements on the way to and around Marseille. How long it will last I don’t know, possibly until it stops feeling like a travelling holiday and starts to become reality. Anyway I thought the best way to keep all you readers updated was to post excerpts from it onto this blog and take it from there. I haven’t really advertised this blog to date, so you may have come across it by surprise. Happy reading of the archives! I suspect there will also be a series of frenchisms added to the text which may or may not be actually correct… but they seemed right at the time.

Travelling to Marseille or Le Grand Voyage

And so it begins.

The time has come to move on, to start a new job and a new life in France.I am excited about going to Marseille, but I’m having trouble convincing my body of this. There was certainly a considerable reluctance to leave the house this morning, rather like that shown by anxious divers. Combined with that the regular sneezing when I drink alcohol at the moment would suggest I’m stressed. I’ll get over it I hope.

I hope I’ve made the right choices with what to pack, not forgotten anything essential and taken nothing needlessly. Some would argue that the climbing harness and shoes, set of speakers and even a laptop were unnecessary… All in all I probably have 30-35kg of luggage.

Departure (from St Pancras) 2 minutes early under sunshine and cloudy skies. I’ve been collared by a lady from Ipsis Murray conducting a survey on board the train. All the usual questions about what you think of the train and station and where you are travelling to. I hope they have to create new codes for some of my answers!

Ha! Technically I’ve already crossed the border and am in French diplomatic territory despite being on the outskirts of London still and stopping at Ebbsfleet on the way.

I had also forgotten I got food on board (travelling first class as you do ;))! I can’t have the wine at the moment but pasta with pesto, pate on fresh bread, potato salad, carrot cake, orange juice and a cup of tea goes down very well. It rather settles the nerves. (Into the tunnel). It is nice to feel pampered and to have extra legroom. It makes you relax in a way that you don’t get on the airlines in cattle class.

Amazingly muddling up French phrases in my mind has made me laugh. I think I’m crazy, as if that is anything new.

Ah good, announcements (on the TGV from Lille to Marseille) are in French and English!

There is also something distinct about every country (or county for that matter). Things I have noticed so far – architecture (of course), motorway signs are much bigger and above your head than in the UK, and the shape of roads near a village. I think the absence of fences or hedges (further inspection suggests they rely on ditches) beside the lanes make them more open.

Landfill site, followed by farmland and a buzzard, followed by a quarry. There aren’t apparently many patches of woodland here (in the middle of France)… as promptly we went through a large patch of deciduous woodland – mainly oak and birch.

18:00 – This area, I guess would be middle eastern France, is much hillier with the ground rising and falling and more trees than northern France. A deep wooded valley with only a small river in the bottom would be good to explore.

British trains will feel slow after le TGV.

The lady (opposite me) and I have been communicating with hand signals. I’m sure I could do French, but it is the quiet coach and I lack confidence, of course!

Lyon Part Dieu station – Someone smoking on the platform, I suspect it was a quick sneaky fag before the train departs. It was, he moved fast when the whistle went.

On the outskirts of Lyon – Funky allotments. Better than erecting your own garden shed, each pair comes with a shed building back to back, complete with a red tiled roof and a veranda. You’d have to see it to get the full image, but wow! Ah, now a new bunch of allotments. These are only second-rate ones further out from the centre. They were again a pair of buildings, but with a boring/enuyeax felt roof. What makes both sorts special is the veranda on the front with (in many cases) plants growing up them.

Finally found the hostel. The road I wanted was marked on the map at the station but absent from those around the town, and I got the direction wrong. As I walked around several blocks searching fruitlessly I got hotter and more frustrated. Eventually I walked into a local police station and asked for directions in English. Very thankful to be here now and we’ll see what tomorrow brings.

To be continued (as they say, written on the third day from leaving the UK) but probably not so lengthily ;).