No regerts.
A simple life with no surprises.
It’s surely an aspiration that vibes with modern living.
Whereas some of us enjoy a bit of uncertainty.
Surprises? Bring ‘em on! Challenges, even a bit of chaos sometimes.
Which is just as well given the final few days on the boat and the journey home.
Tuesday 27th. The penultimate day of my stay at Castelsarrasin.
Things had already kicked off with a restless night prior.
Volcanic diarrhea & hot sweats at 5am. Uh oh. Not good. For the next hour I drank water and…well…squirted a lot.
Ruru’s new toilet got a real road test I can tell you.
Any clues as to the cause?
Almost certainly the ice-maker. Bought last summer for the cold drinks. Forgot to clean it, and dragged it out over the weekend when the hot weather arrived. Probably full of lurking bacteria, or amoeba or something…
Facetimed Callie then headed back to bed to doze in discomfort & (fan-assisted but ultimately sauna-esque) heat for the rest of the 33C day.
Bit of a blur, that day.
Wednesday 28th. I woke feeling a little bit better.
Which was fortunate.
There was soooo much to do to prep the boat for a 4-5 month absence.
Shelves to attach in the bathroom.
Marie Kondo-ing the top deck of anything that wasn’t screwed down.
A supermarket run to Leclerc for Tunisian olive oil, Camargue salt, and a zillion different types of soap.
Flushing the tanks. Securing the doors and windows. Plus all the usual packing and putting everything away. And finally, handing over to Sebastien.
Finished up in plenty of time for the 7pm train.
But fair to say with the stomach problems and 35C heat into the mix, my health had gone downhill.
Absolutely buggered.
Also the gastric explosions had returned.
I had a one hour wait at Montauban on a scorching platform for the Paris night train.
The only public toilet at the station was broken.
Then the bloody night train was 30 minutes late.
Somehow I held on. The train toilet was broken too. Well, at least it was once I’d finished with it.
I shared a sleeper compartment with three people, with combined eccentricities that were worthy of a column.
But I had bigger fish to fry: 11 hours of trying to sleep while not shitting my pants. Through the course of half a dozen desperate nocturnal visits I discovered a bunch of other toilets along the carriage. It was a long & sleepless night.
Got in to Paris Austerlitz station at 7.30am Thursday.
Normally I enjoy arriving here. Not today.
Feeling quite poor.
Had a couple of coffees (bad mistake according to google).
Got some bowel-blocking stuff from a pharmacie.
Changed plans & ditched my cheap sweltering city hotel for an air-conditioned place out near the airport. Metro line 5 and an EX93 bus got me delivered to the door.
Six hours sleep in a soft comfy bed. Some ubereats. Another early night.
Friday 29th. Still feeling decidedly queasy. More bowel-blocking pills. The flight to Guangzhou left around noon. CDG Terminal 1 was chaos, with snaking queues of departing passengers all over the place.
The airport had implemented a new electronic immigration system at the beginning of May. The promise was a more streamlined process. The reality was a case-study in dysfunction.
Many people were stuck in queues as final boarding calls were made for their flights.
Meanwhile staff ran around the terminal finding laggards to shepherd through immigration and scanning.
Everyone looked haggard.
Like I said, chaos.
The plane felt like sanctuary.
Made the call to eat and be damned. The airline’s boeuf bourguignon and mash lunch was outrageously good for economy class.
Slept for rest of the 12 hour flight.
Spent all of the 17 hour layover at Guangzhou in bed.
Back on the plane at Midnight.
A rinse-and-repeat of the first leg.
Touching down on a gloomy Tāmaki afternoon, glad to be home.
Now, two weeks later I’m rested, recovered and starting to plan for September.
A sucker for punishment.
Which if you know me, will come as no surprise.
Well yes...
I’m sorry, I had to lol at parts of your discomfort. Great story telling! Xxx