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While Iwas enroute from Nice to Barcelona, I had about three hours to kill in Montpellier, France. When I first heard about this layover I was really excited. On my flight from Newcastle to Paris I read an article in the complimentary Ryanair magazine about how awesome Montpellier is and ended up feeling pretty bummed that I wasn't going there during my break. So when I was adventitiously given the opportunity to spend an afternoon in this glorious location, I was pleased as could be.
But, it wasn't really that great. First, I was really really hungry when I arrived in Montpellier and finding food was at the top of my priorities, but I turned the wrong way out of the station and ended up walking around a really desolate part of town. Eventually I back tracked to the station after some creepy guy starting trying to hit on me in broken english. I was ready to just eat some MacDoh, but there was no MacDoh in the train station. I ended up eating some random sandwich that was alright but definitely could not compare with a grease-laden Big Mac. After I bought this sandwhich, I went and sat on
the cafe's terrace, only to be greeted by the view of a large, luxurious McDonalds about 50 yards away. I was aggrevated, but I declared that I would make myself feel better by going to McDonald's anyway for a delicious McFlurry. And that McFlurry was delicious, let me tell you.
Something funny happened while I was enjoying my cold, creamy McFlurry. Some pissy looking teenage boy came into the area where I and two other women were sitting. The kid goes over to the women's table, starts to mumble something to them in French and sluggishly slaps a piece of paper down on their table. They say something and he goes away. I couldn't understand a word of what they had just said, but I figured the kid was trying to get money from them. I also figured that he would be hauling his mendicant self over to my table presently, and I was correct. He rolled his eyes at me, mumbled, put down the flyer on my table--not a very convincing bid. Normally when in a foreign country I try to be polite and sound sorry when I have to inform someone that I can't understand them, but
this kid sucked so I did without my manners. I bluntly said "I can't understand you." I didn't think he would know what I had said, but I thought he would probably get the point. But no. Instead of going away to leave me in peace, he just starts yelling at me in French while continuing to look supremely irritated. I continued to say "Yeah, I still don't know what you're saying." I did, however, manage to pick up one word that he was saying. Amongst the garble of unknown french words I managed to notice that he was repeating "toilette" alot. How this kid expected to raise money by doing something in connection with a toilet is still a mystery to me. Even more perplexing, though, is how he expects to ever get any money with that sour attitude of his. So, unknown french youth, here's a tip for you: Learn to be more ingratiating if you don't want to starve to death or resort to stealing (but I think that sort of lifestyle might require too much physical exertion for your liking).
And here's another funny story about some French guy who wanted my money. The
heh
but non merci to that annoying toilette kid. night before I left Nice I went to withdraw some money from an ATM. I go to the first ATM i see, and unfortunatley, there's some bum plopped down right in between two machines. Immediately I think "what an ass." Maybe that is an awful thing for a privileged-American-college-student-hanging-out-in-the-French-Riviera to say, but I'm going to stand behind that sentiment. Of course, as soon as my money pops out of the machine the bum starts asking me to give him some of it. I mean, I didn't know exactly what he said as he was speaking French, but when some dirty guy is sitting in between two ATM's it's not very hard to guess what conversational topic he is most likely to broach. I don't know very much french, but I learned a little bit in some random class I took in middle school and have a decent knowledge of how romance languages work. Additionally, I had picked up a few phrases during the past week while I was in France. This small pool of knowledge was sufficient for me to formulate a response to his entreaty that I thought would thoroughly close the issue. I told him (and I'm going
to have to type this out phonetically b/c I can't spell anything in French) "no par-lay voo frawn-say!" which means "you don't speak french!" heh.
Otherwise, the train ride from Nice to Barcelona was absolutely wonderful. The budding fields of Provence were idyllic, and I liked how they were covered with little bushes that looked like they had rickets. After Montpellier I came across a very forboding area of watery fields that were home to a few random flamingoes. How these flamingoes got into France, I don't know. I tried to take some pictures of them, but alas, the train was too quick. And borderlands near Spain were incredibly stunning: hillside villages and dramatic, rocky coasts.
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Robert
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I am going to be done in the morning. I finished my degree, but I'm going to delay law school for a year. Sorry I haven't been commenting, this semeter was terrible. I loved the guy up on a pole in the last entry.