After nine days of English museums and endless cups of tea, I found myself back at Heathrow and ready for a new adventure. The two-hour flight to France passed by in the blink of an eye and soon I was checking off another travel milestone: Visiting a country in which I do not speak the language. Before this summer I had only spent time in the US and Spain, so having a language barrier was quite a change of pace. Throughout my stay I perfected the basic phrases necessary for daily life and utilized the phrase “parlez-vous anglais ou espagnol?” (Do you speak English or Spanish?) like it was going out of style. Luckily enough, my new location was of such close proximity to Spain that many people with whom I conversed spoke some Spanish.
I flew into Toulouse and subsequently had a bit of a trek to make before arriving at my hostel. Though my research location was the tiny village of Tautavel in the foothills of the French Pyrenees, I had accommodation booked in Perpignan (the nearest city of substantial size to Tautavel). What started with a delayed flight out of London eventually concluded with a safe arrival in Perpignan, but the events in between were anything but boring.
After arriving in the Toulouse airport two hours behind schedule, I jumped on a bus outside the airport in pursuit of the train station. A helpful man on the bus used the five words of English he knew to direct me to the correct stop, then after running across the street to the station, another obliging stranger told me that the last train of the day to Perpignan was leaving in a half hour at 19:49.
- 19:20 – I took a number from the counter and proceeded to wait alongside 40 other people to purchase a ticket.
- 19:40 – The clerk was nowhere near calling my number and I came to the realization that I would most likely miss my train. There was no other way to make the journey that evening and I did not have accommodation in Toulouse.
- 19:41 – I noticed two machines in the adjacent room and ran over to try purchasing a ticket from them.
- 19:42 – After entering my trip specifications and selecting my fares, the machine rejected both my debit card and credit card.
- 19:45 – With no common language between us, I managed to get the woman behind me in line to buy the ticket on her credit card and then handed her the 35 Euros in cash.
- 19:47 – Ran in the direction of the trains and realized I had no idea what any of the signs said.
- 19:48 – Asked the first person I saw for directions. When he recognized that I had no time to figure it out myself, he sprinted with me through the maze of stairs to the correct platform.
- 19:49 – Twenty seconds after I jumped aboard, the train pulled away from the station.
Gare de Toulouse-Matabiau (Toulouse Train Station) Train from Toulouse to Narbonne
The highlight of my journey turned out to be an incredibly friendly Armenian dad, Seroja, who was assigned to the seat across from mine. Between the two of us we spoke five languages – English, Spanish, French, Armenian, and Russian – none of which overlapped. Throughout the ride he spoke in French, I responded in Spanish, and when that was not enough we used hand signals, drawings, and photos to fill in the gaps. Since he was also traveling to Perpignan and had to make the same transfer as me in Narbonne, he became my personal guide for the rest of the trip. We had a wonderful (though very basic) conversation about everything from family to language to Chicago. He didn’t speak English, but did excitedly respond with the words “Mafia” and “Al Capone” when I mentioned where I live.
In keeping with the theme of the day, the train stopped on the tracks to Narbonne and remained motionless for over an hour and a half. Everyone aboard missed their subsequent connections and the transport officials had to schedule a special late-night train for all of us headed to Perpignan. Later in the evening with the help of a Spanish-speaking police officer at the Perpignan train station, I eventually found my way to the hostel in the wee hours of the morning, located the key they the management had hid for me after I called from Seroja’s phone, and immediately fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
The journey from England to France took place with no shortage of challenges – which is just the way I like it. These days I’m actually a bit disappointed if a travel day passes without the need for any serious problem solving. What’s life without a bit of adventure?
Perpignan at Night Auberge Jeunesse (Youth Hostel)