The bus ride from Andorra to Toulouse was pretty uneventful. We didn’t ride in a regular “grey hound” style bus rather it was a mini-van style which suited me just fine. There were only three passengers including me so we all had plenty of room amongst us. As we drove through southern France I was surprised that it looked a lot like Texas accept it was greener, and by Texas I mean there was a lot of farming and a lot of hay making!
We pulled into the bus station and I hoped off and grabbed my backpack. Pierre, the guy I am couchsurfing with has given me specific instructions on where to go and what to do. I am to take the B line to Jean Jaures stop and then the B line to Jeanne D’arc and then bus 15 to the Tricou stop. He told me that it was super simple and I can’t screw it up, which makes me feel comfortable because this idea of public transportation is awkward for an American who has always ridden or driven in a personally owned vehicle.
However (comma pause for effect), I see no line A or line B anything! All I see is buses with numbers and none of those say 15 on them as well. I walk down the line making sure that there isn’t something I’m missing… surely there’s something I am missing. “You CAN’T miss it” keeps playing in my head over and over again and yet here I am MISSING it! I stop and ask a bus driver… now, luckily for me I downloaded a free travel guide app on my phone of France before I left Andorra (Thank you Wyn Wright for that idea, esp since I wasn’t planning on coming to France!) and the app showed me where both bus stops were so I just pointed at them.
This is when it happened… the driver looks at the map and a look of acknowledgment comes across his face… he looks at me… and with his index finger and his middle finger he lifts his hands and wiggles away… WALK?! Why didn’t I think about that myself?! The bus stop where I am to catch the number 15 bus is literally 4 or 5 blocks away. Of course I’ll walk that… I smile (as I feel stupid inside) and say thank you! He points me in the right direction and I am on my way. There rest from there was simple.
I end up at the Tricu bus stop and I give Pierre a call (sooo glad I brought my phone even if it does cost me 2 dollars a minute!). A few seconds later and a young guy barefoot on a skateboard shows up. He has sandy brown hair and a quarter inch light beard going. He maybe weights a total of 160 lbs but he’s a confident guy who carries about him a certain amount of relaxed happiness. I feel pretty stoked to be couchsurfing with him and we head up to his place. He’s also hosting a British gentlemen (I say gentlemen because that’s what they prefer to be called…us Americans just preferred to be called what we are… MEN!) named Tom.
Tom is a young guy as well and he too has sandy brown hair. He’s a tad bit taller than me and perhaps a bit slimmer but I think I could take him in a fight if I had to… of course I say that… we all know gentlemen don’t fight so it’s fairly obvious I could handle my own with him even though he seems to have a slightly stocky build.
We spend the evening slacklining and talking about the random things about our own cultures and how they are different. It’s nice to be talking English again and having people understand me. Pierre speaks very good English for somebody who never lived in an English speaking country. Tom and I later find out that both of our grandfathers served in the Army Air Force during WWII ( I left out the fact that Tom is half American) and I am to look up what unit mine served in when I return home.
The great thing about having people from other countries and cultures together is that we are allowed to give each other a hard time. For instance… I like to randomly tell French people, “you’re welcome!” Of course they always look at me a little puzzled and I say, “you know for the whole USA protecting your country thing… WWII… ring a bell? Ya… it was American troops I believe that helped defend France so you are welcome.” Of course most of the frenchies laugh but every once in a while you get a clever one like Pierre who chuckles and says, “and you’re welcome for your freedom too… the whole revolutionary war right?” BOOM! He’s got me! Well played sir well played!
The night goes on in what seems to be a blurr… me talking about all the great things America does, Tom talking about all the great thing Brit’s do and Pierre laughing at both of us! We ride bikes all over the city. “Bikes… pretty sure Americans invented bikes!” I say… Tom looks a little puzzled as if he’s trying to remember who actually invented the bicycle. “I’m pretty sure Europe had bicycles way before America…” “Nope…” I snap back… “we invented it… right after we invented Oxygen… yup… right after oxygen I’m sure of it!” “ahhh I see… you’re being sarcastic!” Of course I am being sarcastic brit… we didn’t invent the bicycle after oxygen… we invented water, and the moon, and trees AND THEN the bicycle.
Of course I don’t say these things I just laugh. Pierre starts laughing as well and say, “you and you’re American humor!” It’s good to see that American has it’s own everything… including humor! Before I know it we’re back in Pierre’s flat getting ready for bed. It’s a nice temperature with the windows open and I sleep well. The next day Tom takes me around town and I collect my bracelet, flag, and ticket to Barcelona and Tom takes the train to some other French city. I have a few hours to kill so I shag a seat at a nearby restaurant and sit. It’s amazing that I just met these two guys yesterday and I already feel as if we’re close friends. I have definitely received a solid French experience and consider myself lucky!
My waiter approaches me and I ask if he speaks English. He does… I grab a menu order some water and look it over. “have you decided?” he asks a few moments later… yes… yes I have… I point to the menu… he laughs, “you want French fries?!” why yes… I think I will have myself some French fries!