I descended upon France like a D-Day Landing, so eager was I to arrive at the beaches of Hossegor after a four month surfing abstinence. Surfboard in tow, I navigated my way by rail up to Paris, through the metro system and across town, rushing to make my connection with the outbound overnighter to Bayonne. It was a miracle that I actually found it and with only a few minutes to spare. "Monsuier! Si vous plait" the conductor cried as I flew past in search of my carriage. You see, it's not enough just finding the right train here, you also have to find the right carriage, which may be any one of a dozen identical locomotives. Usually the carriage number is written in some form of hyroglyphics or neatly hidden from sight. Anyway the conductor
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