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  • Day 33

    Train travels

    September 25, 2017 in France ⋅ 🌧 19 °C

    With Brian still frustrated by our lack of a rental car, and Mary telling him to forget about it ("laissez tomber," as the French would say), we decided to explore the countryside by train. We'd heard that Limoux was an attractive place worth a visit, so we set off to the station and bought ourselves tickets at €4.25 each at the ticket office. Our local train arrived, and took us on the one-hour trip. While the train was certainly comfortable and quite modern, it was all rather quaint. It stopped three times en route, at fly-speck sized sidings which didn't even seem to have names, let alone proper station platforms. Limoux, our destination, was little better. The couple of dozen passengers got off, and we then had to walk across the railway tracks, behind the departing train, to reach the station itself. Nearly all the passengers then climbed on to a waiting bus and we, thinking that maybe it was a shuttle bus from the station to the town, tried to get on board too. The friendly bus driver indicated to us that he was going to someplace else, and he pointed us in the direction of the town centre.

    So, we headed off on foot, with lots of old buildings around us but nothing to tell us which direction we should be heading. There wasn't even a nearby church steeple in sight. Eventually we found our way to the town square, but probably because it was a Monday at least half the businesses were closed. To make matters worse the overcast sky looked quite threatening, so the town didn't look all that tempting to a couple of Australian pedestrians. We'd seen a sign to the tourist office and tried to follow it. However, there were no further directional signs to keep us on track. By asking a few locals along the way, we eventually found our way to the office, located on the very edge of the business district. The man there was very helpful, giving us maps and brochures. He agreed that the office was hard to find, and said that they'd been complaining for ages to the town authorities about the lack of signage. We were by no means the first ones to complain. Most things in France are done very well, but every so often they let themselves down.

    We then headed back to the town square about 500m away, and by the time we got there it was starting to rain. We had a bit of a look around but there really wasn't very much to see. The only good thing was that there weren't too many tourists - or locals, for that matter - wandering the streets. The tourist office man had told us that several of the town's attractions weren't open on Mondays, and even one museum which he'd said would be open proved not to be. By this time, the rain had really set in and had become quite heavy. Fortunately there were plenty of sheltered chairs and tables to choose from in front of the (closed) restaurants in the square, so we were able to keep dry. We weren't too confident though of staying dry while trying to navigate the kilometre or so back to the station. At least there were a good two hours before the next train out of town, so were in no great hurry. We'd decided though that we would catch that train home as there seemed little point in hanging around a bleak Limoux any longer than necessary. Very likely, on a fine warm day (preferably not a Monday) it's a very attractive place. We certainly weren't seeing it at its best.

    While sitting at our table, we got chatting to an English couple, similarly waiting for the rain to stop. They at least had the benefit of a car to get around in, but they told us that most of the local train and bus trips in the area cost only a nominal €1 each, and that included the €4.25 train trip which we'd done earlier that day. Evidently, there is a red coin in the slot machine at each station where one buys these cheap tickets. As remarked upon earlier, the French train system is spectacularly good, but then there are quirks which let them down. The lack of escalators at most stations is one major annoyance. Another quirk is the peculiar signage and numbering. When we were catching the train to Limoux that morning, the monitor directed us to Platform A. We could see directional signs for platforms numbered 1, 2 and 3, but no A. Eventually we discovered that the station did in fact have a Platform A. Why not simply call it Platform 4? Similarly, it seems that the numerous standard self-serve ticket machines dispense full-priced tickets, but if one is in the know then the same tickets can be bought from other machines for a fraction of the price.

    Anyway, after a half-hour or so wait, and to our great relief, the rain stopped. Even though our train wasn't due for another hour or so, we decided to head back to the station. There was no sign of a red ticket-dispensing machine, but when Brian asked the ticket office clerk for two €1 tickets, she readily handed them over. We'll know for next time. We were amused by the railway track with its waist-high weeds growing between the rails. It looked derelict, but our little train arrived spot on time and delivered us back to Carcassonne. Seeing the weather was so lousy, Brian had planned to trek up the hill from the hotel to the Mediaeval City and look for a few souvenirs to take back with us. He figured that the weather would have deterred the tourist hordes. However by that time the rain had restarted, so it deterred him as well.

    In an action-packed fun-filled holiday, this hadn't been one of our better days, but given that every day apart from this one had been fantastic, we've nothing to complain about. Plans are for the next day, our last full day before we head for home, to include a train trip to Narbonne. We didn't know what we would find, so were approaching it with some trepidation.
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