First Excursion: Annecy, France

I have never spent this long in a city for a consecutive period of time. To those of you who have, more power to you. I’d like to know how you do it because it is exhausting. At least for Abby and I it is, because this weekend we decided to plan a spontaneous trip to Annecy, a medium sized town located in the south-east of France, where we could relax, enjoy nature, and see some green for the first time in weeks.

As lovely as that sounds, getting there didn’t end up being as simple and picturesque as we thought it would be.

The running began as we made our way out of our apartment building. We were so excited to have planned this whole trip and be able to start some real exploration that we sprinted with excitement to the metro station down the block, giggling wildly the whole time.

After taking line 4 to Saint-Michel, we had to switch to the RER, which is essentially a larger, faster, pickier, and more confusing metro. All the stops have such similar names that in our rush to be on time, we inevitably got on in the wrong direction. By the time we figured that out and went back to the station we started at, the next train to get to the real train wasn’t for another 28 minutes! This left us super behind schedule, to the point where we would only have 3 minutes upon arrival to the to the gigantic Austerlitz Station, to which we have never been and know nothing about, to catch our train with our nonrefundable tickets. Panic luckily turned into endurance, as we sprinted out of the RER to street level to use that 28 minutes to try to flag down a cab that would take us to the Austerlitz. If anyone was wondering, the red lights on Parisian taxis mean they are full. We learned this pretty quickly, as all of the ones that passed were lit red.

Thus we had to abandon this task to run back to the one from 28 minutes ago that was going in the RIGHT direction. We were losing hope fast but our running was only getting faster and more desperate. Keep in mind, missing this train meant losing over 100 euros of precious train and hostel money, and we were not about to let that happen. That said, we were totally okay with looking like two crazy American girls who had no idea what was going on, alternating between panting, laughing, and shouting directions at each other so we could go on our goddamn vacation already.

By some miracle, the universe aligned and we made it to Austerlitz and found our train in the nick of time. Keeping suit with my naturally late self, I was the last person to set foot on the train. The door literally almost shut on my backpack on the way in. In any case, Abby and I weren’t able to get seats next to each other because it was packed and we didn’t actually know how that worked. So I was in car 19, “couchette” 61. It was like one of those little train rooms from harry potter where you get a private area and the door shuts, except these were stacked with six tiny beds for the overnight train. I’ve never been so grateful for such a tiny bed and an even tinier bottle of water. It’s like they knew about the running.

Now, you’d think my troubles would be over at this point. You caught the train right? Well, as soon as my head hit the pillow it dawned on me that I had no idea how I was going to wake up to get off at the right stop. I am the heaviest sleeper in the world. Do people come around and tell you when the train is stopping? How does everyone else seem so calm about this?? What if Abby doesn’t get off at the right stop? Did she remember how to pronounce it? We didn’t even have French phones to call each other if we accidentally went to Switzerland.

As daunting as this was, I fell asleep quickly from exhaustion. By the time I woke up, everyone in my little cabin was gone. I scrambled to find my black shoes and black socks in the pitch-black room, and tracked down the nearest trainman I could find. He ended up being right outside my door, and probably taking notice of my panic ridden face and disheveled demeanor, asked if I needed help. I managed to spew out some sleepy French to ask him what the next stop was. He replied, Annecy in ten minutes.

Literally what are the odds. Thank you universe. Thank you trainman.

I got off the train, Abby and I met grins, and we telepathically concluded that we had witnessed yet another miracle. We were equally convinced the other would be in Switzerland. After our mini celebration, we headed off with content into the town where we’d be spending our picturesque getaway/countryside extravaganza.

Except that it was dark and rainy and cold. We got lost for a while, and walked passed a scene of the town that we saw on Google images. Apparently, things don’t look as nice in real life as they do on Google. This theme continued as we walked past the mountains that characterize the beauty of Annecy. At least we thought we did. We couldn’t tell because it was so cloudy and hazy. Our little miracles were getting farther away and I was starting to feel like maybe all that running we did may have not been worth it.

Thankfully, we found refuge in a cute breakfast place near an outdoor food market. The croissants and hot chocolate warmed our spirits, and we were able to face the day with more optimism - believing that the haze would clear and we could find proof that we made the right decision to spend our weekend here.

Before long, the sun came out as we made it to the old village, which was lined with medieval-style colorful homes and churches, paved with cobblestone streets, and overlooking breathtaking mountains and rolling green hills. This was it. Everything that had happened to get us to that moment was all worth it. It sounds cheesy I know, but honestly it made me not take any step I took or image I saw for granted. It’s something I can take with my for the rest of this weekend, and really anywhere I set out to go. I guess things are always a bit brighter after thinking several times in a row that all hope is lost and everything is ruined.