1/20. Sunday. Travel day. also, Digital journals are my jam.

Digital journals are, apparently, my jam. After trying to journal on paper the first few days I am realizing that I just don't keep up with it. But give me a 2" x 3" keyboard and I'm in heaven. Alors, there it is.

*Disclaimer and apology: I will be sprinkling limited- and likely incorrectly spelled- French throughout the France entries. Our host, Will, has been encouraging it. If it offends your language sensibilities gloss over it or pronounce and giggle at the inventive and new terms I will no doubt write.
**Paper journals are great for budgeting and drawing.

Travel Day 1:
3:50am. Wake up in Iceland
4:30.   Catch the bus to the airport
7:40.   Catch the plane to Paris
11:55.   Announcement made in the airspace above Paris: there has been some snow in Paris this morning. I think to myself, that will be so picturesque for the train ride out to Bayeux- only avalable train scheduled at 4:10. No, Emily, it will not be picturesque. Why not? Welcome to the next part of the story.
12:35pm.   Land and disembark.
1:10.   Luggage in hand we go to information to see where we can validate our railpasses and buy our tickets to Bayeux. The line is short! It turns out it is also the wrong location. We are redirected.
1:25.   We arrive at the correct ticket line. There are 30+ people in front of us in line.  We wait in line for an hour and get out tickets. We are informed we must take a metro train to a stop, change, go and then walk between the metro and rail stations. Because of the snow, (there are maybe 4 inches of it) the roads are chaos.  Traffic, no possibilities to take taxis or busses.
2:30.   We, and two hundred of our soon to be very close friends, get on the first train. It's the only train that goes into Paris from the airport. It is also is the sole metro service for several other stops before it intersects another line. A lady has her forearm in my back. It is not possible to turn around. At each stop several people, who have no doubt but waiting for some time, turn their backs to the interior of the train, reach above the doors for leverage and crush the people inside ro make room for themselves.
3:05.  One stop to go before the first transfer. The train stops for 20 minutes. Only knowing perhaps 50 words of we're unsure of what is going on.
3:25.  Out of the train and scurrying to the next. It leaves in 8 minutes. Plenty of time! Unless you go to the wrong platform. Fun fact about certain Paris stations: if you go to the incorrect track you must go up and begin at the beginning.
3:32.   We run to the platform 30 seconds before it arrives.
3:45. We arrive at another station. We now must ascertain which train signs are the signs we need to get out of the station, across a plaza, and to the rail going out of the city. We are now jogging with giant backpacks.
4:05.  We make it to the station, it is delayed by 40 minutes. Nonetheless, we made it. A high five, a smooch, and a sandwich are in order. I use un petit peu of French when ordering. I give myself a second, interior high five.
4:50.  The train has not yet arrived. We are standing in another solid mass od humanity. We think we are strategically placed for getting on the train when it comes so that we can snag seats with our unconfirmed tickets. We are wrong.
4:55.  The mass of humanity surges forward. We think it's for another city, not ours so we dilly-dally staring at another screen. By the time we realize and move down the platform there are no seats anywhere. We squeeze into an entryway with 9 other people and our backpacks. We settle in for a ride that is scheduled to take 2 hours.
8:35.   We arrive in Bayeux.
8:37.  The kindness of the French sets in. We are in the station looking at a map of the town trying to figure out where our hotel is in relation to the station. A girl of 15 or 16 asks us a question in French. After a group effort of finding the hotel's road and a conversation in French, English and large hand gestures, she informs us that her father is coming to pick her up from the station and can give us a ride. Just what every parent wants, two weary, smelly backpackers following his daughter around. But after the first bit of incredulity and copious use of 'merci' on our part he seems relatively okay with it. They end. Up getting a bit lost and having to call someone for directions but in short order we are at our destination.
8:45.  We meet Wil, our host at La Tour Louise Guesthouse. He is kind and understanding about out arrival so far outside the posted check-in window of 4-7. As it is late and nothing is open he makes up a tray for us and brings it to our room. Bon soir, after all.
8:55.   We dig in to a meal of fruit, yogurt, baguette, brie, crisps, orange juice and sardines (My first sardines. NOT the same as the anchovies I was mistakenly anticipating. Minor drawback: they still have spines which have softened and often segment so that you can see a cross-section mid fish.).
9:30.   We go to sleep feeling full, cared for, and content despite the day's travels.