Train breakdown

Tuesday June 28, 2011                                    Day 363

We began cleaning the apartment, washing the sheets, mattress pad and towels and leaving all the bedding clean.

At 11:30, I left to go to Orange one last time, and Roger went to the grocery store to recycle all the batteries we have accumulated since our arrival. On the way to Orange, I dropped into the bakery we patronized for most of our stay here, and told the young lady there that we were leaving, and I shook her hand. She thanked me and wished us well. Orange went more smoothly than I had feared – the clerk was standing outside smoking a cigarette when I arrived, so we were alone in the shop. I explained what I wanted to do, and told her I couldn’t handle the phone tree because of my limited French. I also showed her the PUK number Mara had gotten for me. She said the PUK was not what I needed, and set about making a call. At one point the phone rang, and she had a phone in her left hand, held to her right ear, and another one in her right hand, held to her left ear. I grabbed my camera, but she finished the intervening phone call before I could snap a photo. A short time later, a jingle came across the cell phone and she told me it was unlocked. She gave me the codes she had used. Just at this time, Roger showed up, so our timing was excellent.

Roger discovered yesterday that his Montpellier hat pin had lost its medallion – he had no idea where, it was just gone. So we walked next to the shop where he bought it, and they sold him another one, giving him a one-Euro discount off the five-Euro cost. We then walked to La Coquille, the restaurant at which we had our very first meal in Montpellier. We felt the bookends would be appropriate – our first and last meals here at the same restaurant. We had the usual trouble getting our check, but otherwise enjoyed the meal. We returned to the apartment to finish packing and cleaning. It was hot, and the apartment has no air conditioning, so we stopped for breaks a couple of times. At one point, I left to take some clothing to Judi for a Red Cross donation, Judi being the friend who runs the English Corner Shop right around the corner from us. Also printing  *** told guy goodbye, shook his hand.

I wrote letter to SNCF asking for a refund of the monies paid for the tickets. I included the account number and information, asking them to credit the account from which the funds were drawn, as we will not be in Montpellier to receive a refund by mail, nor to receive any correspondence whatsoever. I enclosed the tickets, a copy of the electronic obituary of Daddy’s death, and a copy of my passport showing my name matching that in the obituary. It may well just be 420€ down the drain, but all we can do is try. We knew when we bought the tickets that they were non-refundable and, non-transferrable.

Francis came shortly before 5:00 and our checkout went smoothly. He was surprised that we had done the laundry – he had expected to take bedding and towels with him when he left, to bring them back clean the next day, as new tenants are expected on Friday. He promised to email us a copy of the final paperwork. We left about 5:30, with Francis helping us get our seven pieces of luggage down the three flights of stairs. Roger guarded the luggage while I went to the mailbox halfway up rue St. Guilem, and on the way back down, I paused in the bakery to tell the afternoon clerk there that we were leaving as well, and shook her hand. She also wished me well, and said to tell my husband the same. I then returned to the street in front of our apartment and joined Roger. We wrangled our seven bags down the street to the train station, arriving almost an hour early . . . and so we entered SNCF hell.

The plan was to take the train to Figueras, city and train stop just inside the Spanish border, where we would change trains and take a Renfo Spanish train into Barcelona. We got to Perapignan, which is one train stop from Figueras, and the train engine broke. An announcement came over the speaker telling us that we would have to detrain, and that buses would take us to Figueras. What the announcement didn’t tell us was that the buses would not get there for more than 2 hours. Silly us! We passengers expected to walk to the end of the platform and get on buses immediately. Instead, we stood or sat around for more than 2 hours. The young SNCF lady trying to handle the matter got a little too smug at one point, felt threatened by some of the passengers, and had to call security. Four SNCF security guards showed up and stayed until our bus finally left. The woman did not do a good job of dealing with the issues or the irate passengers. She shrugged a lot and had a simpering smile on her face that made many of us want to slap her silly!

The first bus arrived about 10:00, headed for Barcelona, and we had too much luggage to manage to snag a seat. The second bus arrived half an hour later or so and was reputed to be bound for Figureras, so we stood back. After 10 minutes or so, an announcement came through that it would go to Barcelona as well. I grabbed two small carry-ons and pressed forward while Roger manhandled the larger luggage around to the other side of the bus and loaded it on. There were several seats available, and I snagged a duo for Roger and myself. Finally! We had to go to Figueras first, of course, to drop of those passengers, but after that the bus was rather empty and Roger and I each had a pair of seats so stretch out in. We arrived at Barcelona Sants train station at 2:00 a.m. We were unable to orient ourselves with the map we had, and we finally went to the taxi stand and after a 10-minute wait, snagged a taxi to the hotel. We showered and plopped into bed, but I could not sleep until I went through my back exercises. Once they were finished I was able to drop off.