The automated ticket machine offered interesting choices for our overnight train journey to France. While I would describe us as adventurous, we do have our limits. Alekka and I opted for the regular couchette for 6 women in expectation of a quiet night.
It was a long trip with pauses in inhospitable places, but none so unwelcoming as the outskirts of Calais where new fences built by the UK now keep refugees from accessing the Chunnel.
Calais itself seemed pretty much as I remembered it from last time except that there were far fewer taxis. We hadn’t found much to eat along the way, and by the time we finally persuaded the only cabbie in town to take us to our Airbnb we were quite famished. Unfortunately the only restaurant in the neighborhood was closed for the night. Just when I thought that Alekka and I were going to have to split the snack-sized candy bar that one of our (non-promiscuous, thank you very much) compartment mates had given me, our kind hosts took pity and found us a delivery service. Whew. Who knew it was so hard to find something to eat in France.
I think our hosts now had us pegged as very hungry Americans because the next day they served us a gigantic breakfast. In fact, they brought us one every morning we were there.
Calais had a new public art project on display in the form of big yellow plastic animals. Not quite the Burghers of Calais, but we appreciated them.
We got plenty of exercise on the way to our volunteer work every day.
And in the end, no shortage of good French meals.