[Kate] Three Strikes, You're Out! (A Story of the Third French Strike We Encountered and How It Heavily Impacted Our Day)

Ah, the French.  Wonderful food, breathtaking art and museums, expensive fashion and fun streets.  And, apparently, it's the land of strikes.  In the last few weeks, three strikes have really thrown us for a curveball.  First a French air control strike cancelled our flight from Grenada to Paris (for more details, see my live report on the events here), and then the metro workers were striking when we arriving in Paris, so we couldn't take the metro from the airport to the apartment.  Instead we took a taxis, which took a while and cost us a lot more money.  And the third strike...well, here is the story:

My parents have friends that live in the suburbs of Paris, so we were planning to take the train out to visit them.  One train runs straight to a train station a five minute walk from their house, so we thought we were all set.  It was only a twenty two minute train ride.

SO (*clears throat to get ready to tell a depressingly long story*) we got to the train station (underground by the metro) and, as we were buying tickets, my mom saw a sign that said certain stops were not woking at present because of strikes.  And guess which one was included?  You guessed it, the one we needed to get off at.  But Mom asked one of the ladies behind the service counter, and she said that we could just get on the train, and it would take us to the correct stop, regardless of strikes.  Okay then.  We got on the train.

So as we were on the train, Mom and Dad looked intensely at the map on the wall.  They discussed it and finally realized that the train would stop well before our station.  Great (sarcasm used).

The map on the wall of the train stops.

Now a short intermission to provide some information.  Dad and Cannon had bought a soccer ball the previous day (we're here during the World Cup, so I guess soccer/football/whatever-you-want-to-call-it fever is in the air).  And we thought we could bring it to our friends' house, and maybe play some soccer/football/I-don't-know-what-to-call-it in their backyard.  And we had also bought a cake to give to their family that morning.  So Grace is walking around carrying a new soccer ball and Mom and I are taking turns holding the beautiful new cake in its orange box.

We got off at the train at the last stop it would go to and walked around the metro/train stop, trying to figure out was was going on.  Mom went to ask for help, and Dad and the kids spent a lot of time looking at various maps.  Finally (and I mean finally), we decided that if we took a certain train to the right stop we would be within walking distance of a bus station.  And then a bus could drive us to another train station, and from that train station we could take another train to the train station by our friends' house.

So, when they figured this out, we got on another train and made it to another train station, then started a short walk (five to ten minutes) to the bus station.  We then waited about five minutes and then got on the bus that arrived.

A picture from the inside of the bus.

So then we waited ... and waited ... and waited ... for forty five minutes we were on that bus, until finally we arrived at our stop.  We ran inside and tried to get through the ticket barrier, but our tickets weren't working.  Apparently they expire after two hours or something.  Anyway, someone behind the ticket counter let us in through a gate anyway (after waiting in line), but that had cost us precious time.

We raced up the steps, but literally as we got to the top the train we needed to be on started moving.  It left without us, leaving us stuck until the next train came.  How bad could that be?  I checked the screen.  Turned out the next train didn't arrive for another twenty six minutes.  And then it was delayed, so it was more like a half hour.  We were all kinda bitter at that point, having traveled for so long (traveling around Paris, we mean, but traveling around the world too).

Grace waiting at the station, with her trusty
soccer ball sidekick.

Finally the train arrived and after about a ten minute ride and we got to our stop, able to see our friends.

Remember how the original train that wasn't working because of the strike was supposed to get to our stop in twenty two minutes?  Well, all that traveling we did took OVER THREE HOURS. A hundred and eighty minutes!  That was annoying, to say the least...but at least that soccer ball got to see Paris. :)