A Disastrous Start - I'm Not Sure I'm Going to Like Inter-railing

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As I hadn't quite paid off the debts that I had clocked up going round the world - oh for the State Bank Victoria - this trip was going to be courtesy of my flexible friend. That and the fact that it was going to be some time before I got my first pay-packet meant that I was going to be travelling on a serious budget. Apparently, it's a crime for inter-railers to have money, so I thought it shouldn't be a problem.

Before I left, I thought I would spend a night in London to see some old friends. We all met-up in Wimbledon, where one of them lived, and had a night of serious alcohol abuse.

Allan (who I had travelled part of the way around the world with) and a friend of his, Richard, were also game on for some Inter-railing and they would be travelling down in the morning from Wales. I called him during the evening to make the arrangements to meet at Victoria Station. This was a bit silly, as when I woke with a severe hangover in the morning, the whole conversation was just a drunken haze.

I got the tube to to Victoria and went to the Meeting Point in the station for 8.00am (well actually I was a little bit late), which was what I was fairly sure we had arranged. I gave-up at 9.00am and went to the European Ticket Office to get my Inter-rail ticket. It was then that I bumped into Allan, who was running around in a bit of a panic looking for me. They had booked onto the 9.15am train and associated ferry, which was just about to leave. There was not enough time for me to get my ticket and get on that train so it was "so long and fair well" and "I'll meet you in Paris". Given that Paris is a quite a large city, the odds on that actually happening were very, very remote. It looked like I would be travelling on my own after all.

I got the 10.00am train to Dover (there were no Eurostars then), which connected with the hovercraft, which sounded like a bit of an adventure. I checked my luggage in at Victoria, just like catching a flight, which was actually appropriate as the hovercraft crossings were called "flights". I suppose that this is technically correct, but I would have much preferred the kind of flight that gets you from London to Paris in an hour. It was still quicker than the ferry.

The flight took 35 minutes and I was in Boulogne. I collected my luggage and got on the train for Paris, which was already waiting in the station. We were all put in the first class section, which I wasn't going to question, and then it took another two hours to get to Paris.

When I arrived, the first priority was finding somewhere for the night. I had been given a leaflet for a hostel, so I made that my first destination. It was full. I then got back on the Metro to go to the main YHA hostel, which had 400 beds although there was of course the risk of having chores to do. That was full. Things were starting to get a bit worrying as it was getting quite late by now. I suppose that it was inevitable that arriving in one of the most popular cities in the world, late in the afternoon in the height of summer, it was a foregone conclusion that everywhere would be full. The YHA however very kindly booked me and two Italians, who were also getting a bit desperate, into another hostel. They gave us directions, which involved getting on a train into the Paris suburbs. It was miles away in a place called Athis Mons.

The map giving directions to the hostel left a lot to be desired. In fact it wasn't long before there was a small crowd of us wandering around wondering whether we had got off at the right station or not. It was in desperation that we eventually tracked it down to a small back street, much to everyone's relief given that it was starting to get dark.

Chilled at the bar for a while with a Brazilian guy called Carlos, who we had met also wandering around lost. He had been in England for three months learning English. So I had a bed for the night; a bed which I would have appreciated that bit more if I had known that it was one of the best night's sleep that I was going to get for some time.

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Photos

Big Ben
St Stephen's Tower, which houses Big Ben