Sign Language

Posted by piphunt on June 1, 2010 in Adventures of Pip |

“Voiles sanc,” mmm…. 5-sanc-cinco- shit. I could feel the sweat dripping down my faces as I stuttered between staggered breathes. I held out five fingers.
“Calm down,” said the backpacking man in carriage 5, seat 42, on the 14:15 train to London St. Pancreas. “Train 5?”
“Yes, I think this is my seat,” I stuttered as I crumbled into my seat, sweaty and breathless. Lugging bottles of wine and scotch through Paris’ Gare de Lyon, Metro, and Gare de Nord was a little bit more difficult than I had expected. Especially when I’m legging it across the platforms, mind muddled between languages and thanking Jason for making me run with sandbags at Crossfit.
But now that I’m back on an English speaking train heading back to London, I seem a little confused about how to ask for help in my own language. Typical. I’ve spent so many days consulting my phrase book, counting on my fingers and communicating in hand signals that suddenly speaking in my own language is beyond me.
Even before I ran through three Paris stations my journey had not been smooth. I arrived at Albertville for the 9:15 train to Paris, with a change in Chambery. Not so luckily, I had bought my ticket on SNCFs website earlier that week, and had planned to pick it up at the station. My card was rejected, confirmation number was rejected, and my broken French.
“No, no. Machines only work with French cards. No American Express. No ticket.”
“But this is my confirmation number,” I explained pointing at the number in my planner.
“No. It does not work. You must buy another ticket.”
Awesome. 119 Euros and a new ticket later, I found myself on the second train of the day, anticipating my tight change of stations in a couple hours. Thank God I made it. Knackered, but nothing that a quick snack and comfy seat couldn’t cure. Luckily, I didn’t have to run quite as hard to catch my train from Paddington to Reading. 8 hours and 7 trains later, I made it to Theale station, meeting my mum and Aunty Lovedy just in time for a cup of tea.
Savoie is stunning, entrancing and delicious. I will happily move to Lac du Annecy, cycle, eat glace and drink wine. The lake has breathtaking views of villages, Annecy, and the medieval town of Dunigt on its shores. We stayed in Taulloires, rode around the lake and explored the cols (although I readily avoided the Col de Forclaz).
On the last night, my dad, Melody, and I, headed into the medieval village of Conflans for some Tartiflette, the regional speciality in Savoie. It is a raclette style dish made with Reblochon, the regional cheese. If you ever have the chance to try this dish, I highly recommend it, with a side of charcuterie and a glass of red wine of course.
My friend Tom Andrizon, who joined us Ameicans on the FWT in 2009, showed me around the lake on bicycles, with some cheese, wine, and grapes to follow. I can’t wait to return with my mum in September. A warm lake, rope swings, sailing, bicycles, and delicious food? ahh perfection.