Trauma on a Train

With my time in beautiful St Malo rapidly drawing to a close, I had no desire to walk to the Citadel again (or anywhere else for that matter), Tomorrow morning I would be catching the high speed train back to Paris, and the long journey back to Australia would have begun.
The other important factor to take into account was that this evening would mark the highest tide for the entire month. Since my room had the ideal vantage point from which to observe this marvel of nature, I decided to spend my final night at the hotel.
After sitting on my terrace and watching the massive waves hit the seawall and reflect back into the incoming ones, my watch reminded me that I had booked a tables downstairs in the restaurant for 7 pm. When I arrived I was the only one there, but over the next 30 minutes or so, several others took their seats. It was then that I was witness to an incredible sight. No, I did not see a huge walrus thrown up against the windows by the waves. it was even more remarkable than that.
To my utter amazement I saw Richard and Karen Crawford walk in and take places at the table next to mine. Richard and Karen had been part of Group 2 on the recent ride, and I had already bade them farewell in Le Croisic. Since they are from Hobart, I did not know when, if ever, I would see them again.
After the initial surprise had dissipated, they went on to explain that I had told them about St Malo in one of our phone conversations and they had decided to come and witness it for themselves. Apparently I must have also told them which hotel I was planning to stay at. It certainly was a pleasant surprise to share a chat with them and recall some of the events of the past few weeks.
The next morning I packed my bags for the second last time and prepared for the train trip to Paris. Mark. Tim and I had all booked seats on the high speed TGR train to Paris Montparnasse and we were looking forward to a trouble free transit.
Well it started out pretty good. We all walked the 1.2km to the station and found that we could get on the train about an hour before it was due to leave. Even better was the fact that the carriage was only sparsely filled, and there was plenty of room for our luggage. "This was going to be so easy", I thought. The only scheduled stop was at the large regional centre at Rennes, then the train would fly at breakneck speed al the way to Paris. That was the plan, it was not the actuality.
The train left on time at 12.04 pm. then glided smoothly out of St Malo. It managed to reach Do de Bretagne, and then made an unplanned stop. Nobody seemed to know why, least of all the train staff. Time passed. Nothing happened. We sat and waited, eventually being told to get off the train and stand on the platform. Curiouser and curiouser. At least it wasn't raining. Many of the passengers took the opportunity as a perfect smoking opportunity, so up went clouds of smoke and toxic vapes. in the meantime we waited.
After some time of this ludicrous charade, the train moved out of the station. The somewhat concerning fact was that most of the passengers had left their luggage on the train. Since I am a cautious old man, I had dragged mine off onto the platform with me. After about 15 minutes the train reappeared on a different platform. We all climbed back on board, and it started moving again. We had been delayed ("en retard") for around 2 hours, but at least we were finally heading in the right direction.
The train finally rolled into Montparnasse Station at around 4.15 pm, just in time for peak hour traffic in Paris. We finally found an obliging taxi willing to risk jamming all of our luggage into his modest sized car and safely taking us to the Hotel Andrea in the Marais district.
Hotels in Paris are always something of a lottery, so I was rather relieved to discover that the hotel had a modern foyer, and an elevator. I was even more relieved when they managed to find our bookings on their computer. The relief came to something of an abrupt conclusion when we discovered just how tiny the rooms were. I have often joked about having a room so tiny that you had to go out into the corridor to turn around, except this room was so tiny that it didn't even have a corridor. The lift door virtually opened straight into my Lilliputian sized abode. The bathroom basin was right inside the door and I don't want to tell you how they had squeezed the toilet in. It certainly was not built for comfort. On the other hand, the place was clean, the bed was comfortable, and the location in the Marais was perfect. I only have to survive for 4 nights before I will be climbing onto the Emirates A380 to take me home again.Read more