Arras, Vimy (and a stopover in Paris) – Nov. 22-26

Thursday, November 22

I arrived back home from my volleyball games around 11pm and I checked the internet one more time to make sure the SNCF strike was not going to affect the trains I was planning on taking to get to Arras the next morning. I turned down the invitation of some friends on my floor to go to a bar downtown, explaining to them that I needed to shower and pack my bag for the train that I'm taking at 5:30 in the morning.

I took my time.

At 2 in the morning, Rachael and Malissa get back from the bar and come knock on my door. I’m still up, and since I tell them that I was planning on getting up at 4am anyway, they decide I don’t need to sleep and that they’ll keep me awake with stories from the bar until I have to leave for the bus in a few hours.


Friday, November 23

At 4:30 in the morning, I grabbed my bike and headed to the bus station in the dark and in the rain--one of the only rainy days Aix has seen this year. I got to the train station and had to wait outside in the dark, freezing cold, wind, and rain for a seemingly very long ten minutes because the station doesn’t open until 5:10. Once inside, I couldn't buy my ticket either because the machines don’t accept Canadian visa cards. I decided I'd buy it from the man on the train, but knowing it'll be a little more expensive. Rats.

I heaved my bike onto the train and headed to find the controller. “Sorry miss, bikes aren’t allowed on the TGV’s. We’ll have to kick you and the bike, or just the bike, off at the next stop,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. I let out a sigh despairingly, and explained that on all the trains I’ve been in, there has been a room or an area to place bikes so they’re not in the way or a security hazard to passengers. Apparently, that’s not the case for TGVs. He notices my accent, asks me where I’m from and explains to me that bikes should usually be dismantled and put in a special bag before coming on the TGV, but that he won’t fine me the 45€ this time. I love being Canadian. I still hadn't bought my ticket, but he said he’ll let me do that later.

After finding a really awkward between-car seat, and attempting to contort my bike into a position that will not be in the way of the aisle, the controller came back to me with a giant kit of some sort in his hands and proceeded to ask me if I know first aid. It was 5:50am, and with the controller looking over my shoulder, I was cleaning, disinfecting, and steri-stripping a vertical gash on the forehead of a guy about my age who had walked into the train door as it was closing. Brilliant. After he’s all patched up, he invited me to coffee as “the least he can do for helping him”. In the middle of my explanation that I should really stay seated with my bike, the controller chimed in with “oh no, it’s okay, I’ll watch your bike in the mean time.” Fan-freaking-tastic. Small talk and hot chocolate on a train going 300km/h at 6 in the morning. Awkward.

Three hours later, I arrived in Paris and needed to change train stations. Since the strike was going on with the metros even, I decided to hop on my bike, and explore a bit on my way to the other station (while also looking for a bike store to buy one of those bloody bags I supposedly need to hop on another TGV). The one-hour TGV I took from Paris to Arras did indeed have a place at the very end of the train where I could put my bike safely. I made it to Arras, hopped on my bike, and explored the city while waiting for the Vimy guides to get off work so I could meet them at their place. It got dark and cold really fast. Makes me happy that I’m living in the South. I had an awesome night laughing and catching up with friends from the Hill in Ottawa.



Saturday, November 24

Vanessa didn't work today, so we woke up and headed to the massive market they have in the city. They have EVERYTHING—from clothes, to fruits and veggies, to 3-feet wide pans of paella, to live chickens and rabbits.


We went home, ate lunch, and relaxed a bit. Muqing and Laura (the Italian girl who came with her when she stayed with me) showed up with one of their friends. They’re studying in Lille—about half an hour away. They headed to the Vimy site, but I decided to go the next day, on a Sunday, when everything else is closed and all of the guides are working. However, when I discovered that Brie, another guide, and her brother were driving out there with the car he rented, I took advantage of the ride, but only had time for Colleen’s guided tour of the tunnels before the site closed for the day. Really interesting stuff.




After inviting all the guides, even those from the other house, to the crêpe night I was preparing as a thank-you for letting me stay with them, I picked up the supplies on the way back. I got started right away, and by the time I was done the first batch, there were already double the amount of people in the house. After finishing the second batch, more people had showed up, and after the third batch, Jean-Michel helps me make even more. It was delicious, and fun. With all the guides, security, brothers, boyfriends, friends, there were maybe just over twenty people. We had nutella, lemon, sugar, cinnamon crisped apples, cheese, and even peanut butter (which the guides had gotten from some of the veterans who stop by the site, because peanut butter is not something you find in France)!! We were all stuffed full of crêpes by the end of the night, and so playing airplane, games of risk, and seated chatting ensued.



Sunday, November 25

After sleeping in a bit in the quiet house, I hopped on my bike and rode the 15km (uphill and against the crazy wind) to the site. This time I actually made it to the monument.


It’s pretty impressive—much more so than the postcards or pictures I’ve seen. The explanations were even more interesting, and like most monuments, not a single detail was left out.



“On a clear day, you can see all the way to Belgium.”

After spending quite a bit of time in the freezing wind outside, we headed back to the Welcome Centre (which I was surprised to learn was about a 20-minute walk from the actual monument). Since every one of the guides works on Sundays, there are enough of them to cover when a couple of them go do some ongoing training. This just happened to be one of those ongoing training weekends, and Vanessa even managed to convince their boss to let me tag along. It was fantastic. Being on bike doesn’t get you too far when you’re in the middle of nowhere! We went to Mont St-Eloi to see the ruins of a cathedral, a church, and the cemetery from which the Unknown Soldier at the War Memorial in Ottawa was taken.




We returned to Vimy, and I took off on my bike to dry to beat the dark back to the guide house. The 15 km went much smoother on the downhill. The evening was spent eating pizza, fries, and flan, and watching a good hour of movie previews before deciding to watch an actual movie then head to bed. It’s only been three months since I’ve been here, but I didn’t recognize a single movie that was coming out in North America! I also haven’t watched TV since then, so it’s understandable.


Monday, November 26

‘Twas another day full of trains and chaos! I woke up, having said most of my goodbyes and thank yous the night before, but I said goodbye to Vanessa who had the day off, and left to grab my bike from in front of the house and head to the train station. When I saw my bike, it was still attached three times to the pole (I have the two locks that came with the bike, and my lock that I brought with me), but something didn't seem right. It looked more and more suspicious as I got closer, and then I realized that something was very wrong. There were spokes that were loose, some even kicked in, the piece that enables the front light to work had been completely contorted and bent beyond belief. The front brakes were messed up and the back brake wheel had been severely dented. The splash-guard was deformed so that it rubs against the wheel and makes a weird friction noise, and plastic around some of the wires was cut and the one thing that most affected the usefulness of the bike was the speed changer attached to the back wheel had been absolutely destroyed. Therefore, no matter how hard I pedal, there’s no resistance (unless I’m going up a huge hill) and I don’t move very far very fast. That’s kind of the purpose of having a bike.

I had a train to catch, so I didn't have time to deal with the bike problems then, but I know that now, on top of the convincing I’ll have to do to get my bike on the TGV’s back to Aix, I’ll still need to fix this bike. I almost cried, the damage was so bad. The whole day and even now, I wonder what on earth inspires people to see a bike and absolutely kick the crap out of it?! That is not a normal reaction. It’s not a very nice reaction. You have to be one stupid idiot to see a bike and think, “gee, that’s not mine, but I think I’m going to kick, punch, bend and distort everything I possibly can.”

I got in trouble again on the second TGV from Paris to Aix for having the bike with me. I played stupid again (well, the first time I didn’t PLAY stupid, I actually was—I didn’t know!). When the controller asked me if it was my bike, asked to speak with me outside the car, and then asked where I was from, he said to just sit down for now, and he’d come back to deal with it. I had a feeling he wouldn’t be back… and he wasn’t. I guess I could consider that part of my day “luck”--even though my bike looks like it was in a demolition derby. I was so thankful. Other than the hassles with the bike (I really wish I had just left it at home… but oh well, I know now for the next time), it was an awesome trip. I had a lot of fun catching up with fellow Canadians and seeing the Vimy site, and the city of Arras. I even got to see Notre Dame all done up for Christmas on the way back!