Before the day even really starts, a story on the perils of hostels: when I went to bed last night, I was the only one in the room - I presumed some others would be arriving late. I was woken up by the reception-desk guy who told me I had to move to another room - a group of Germans had booked the whole room, and no-one thought to tell me about the change. Presumably the Germans called staff upon finding a stranger asleep in the room! So, I dressed, packed, moved to the new room where I woke a middle-aged Italian lady who apparently thought she had booked a private room.
Now on the train to Toulouse, and budget aside, looking forward to a private room tonight.
Thank all the heavens there aren't any hostels in Toulouse: it's forced me to get a hotel for the night, and it's a nice change from the patience-trying Paris hostels. Also - shock! - the owner praised my French, so brownie points for me.
Toulouse is lovely - lots of trees, pedestrian streets, pretty buildings - and less of a superiority complex than Paris, I'll bet. Cheaper too. I should stay longer. The scenery on the long train ride here was beautiful, especially after Limoges. Lots of forested rolling hills and precariously perched villages. It confirmed in my mind that Australia really is a) flat and b) devoid of people.
No comments:
Post a Comment