Bergerac and Bloody Bloody Trains

Our departure from Les Couges has been delayed by the man returning the dishwasher, which he took away for repairs last week.  But we finally return the car in Bergerac and check into our funny little hotel for a night.  We want to spend a day in this city before leaving regional France for the big smoke.  We eat our sandwiches, made while dishwasher reinstalled, overlooking the town square and then walk around.  As expected, another beautiful French city.

 

 We wondered at the price of that……..

And went down to the ever glorious Dordogne River.

Dinner at L’Imparfait, where we had our rushed lunch with Di and Garry recently,   gave us great service but a disappointing choice of dishes.  A significantly more limited menu than that of the luncheon one, but good food nonetheless.  Back in our room, the only means of privacy from the street, is an electric roll-a-door.  Cherrie comments that she has never slept in a car port before.

We get to the railway station 40 minutes prior to our departure for the first train to Libourne where we then change for the direct train to Paris, which gets us in at 3.30pm.  But nothing in France is easy and the trains have proven to be very unreliable.  Our train is cancelled, due to a strike.  We are offered a seat on a bus, departing here in a little under three hours, to Bordeaux where we are then offered a second class ticket (meaning nowhere to put luggage) five hours later to Paris, arriving at midnight.  We indicate that this is completely unacceptable to us and beg for an alternative.  “Ah, oui, madame”….”Tomorrow”  she says, but no guarantee that the trains will be running tomorrow.  We are offered a refund on our first class tickets with the offer to find our own way to Paris.  After much banter, we are left with no choice but to accept the first offer.  So we sit on the wooden bench in Gare Bergerac to wait 2 ½ hours for our bus to Bordeaux.  Because we have a large suitcase each, and because baggage rooms are no longer available at French railway stations (for good reason) we will have to sit with them for another five hours at Bordeaux.  Train travel in France sucks.  If you’ll pardon the obvious pun, this event rather puts Bergerac on the nose.

While we are waiting, Cherrie makes her way to the toilet.  This is on the platform and requires 40c change for entry.  She puts the coins in, the door opens, Cherrie enters, door closes but not fully and in the semi dark Cherrie hunts for the light.  She finds a button and presses it.  This releases a flood of water from all four sides, resulting in a drenched floor and a pair of drenched jeans.  Cherrie escapes the toilet, realising that because the door was not latched the computer thought she had exited and the efficient cleaning system kicked into place.  No relief for Cherrie though, if you know what I mean.

So we get on the bus, elbowed sideways by 12 year old university students but we can give as good elbow as we get and sit together.  The 55 seat bus stops at EVERY railway station between Bergerac and Bordeaux.  Now, this requires traversing narrow streets in small towns, and attempting to knock off wing mirrors like it was a national sport.  Perhaps it is, and to think it is one we could have engaged in willingly over the past weeks.

We finally get to Bordeaux. I go to the information counter to see if there is any way we can get an earlier train to Paris.  “Ah oui” I am told “no problem, there is a train in one hour and another in two hours”.  “Great” I say, can we please have two seats on the train in one hour?”  “No Madam, there are no seats available” “Then the next train please” I implore.  “No Madam, there are no seats available, but you can stand all the way if you like”.  It’s a 5 hour trip.  I don’t like.  So, we take a table at the coffee shop which has hosted us so often recently, and settle in for 5 hours.  I wonder when they will kick us out?  Train travel has not been kind to us in France and we will hesitate to do it again.

The friendly café at Gare Bordeaux is nice to us, because we keep spending money on coffee we don’t want and we sit there for 5 hours.  I have been keeping a vigilant eye on the board and notice that it seems that a new train has been added, to depart 15 minutes after our 7.30pm train.  A trip to the ticket office and a blessed English speaker confirms this is the case and finds us two first class tickets on that train.  This means we will have confirmed seats and somewhere in the carriage to store our luggage.  The train leaves on time and we arrive in Paris at midnight.  A long wait in what seems a never ending queue for a taxi, which eventually delivers us to our hotel, just as well  we had advised them earlier with regard to our late arrival.  Exhausted, after a 15 hour trip from Bergerac to Paris, we flop into bed.  At least we are here, in the city of lights.