I've realized after reminiscing over many trips abroad, across the US, and just trying to get to--well--any destination, that I get lost--a lot. Even my GPS seems to play these sick games where she sends me all over creation--just for fun! I will save my conspiracy theory on how my GPS is plotting to kill me for another day though.
Getting lost blows, but in my world--which most of the time doesn't even seem believable--some pretty memorable stories have come out of it.
Megan Gets Lost in Europe: Part I.
When I was 19 I decided to live out this fairytale and moved to the countryside in France with my boyfriend. We lived at Le Petit Chateau de Sainte Colombe (I don't think this name is long enough) in the Loire Valley. It was a gorgeous B&B that his Meme owned, surrounded by lush landscape and vineyards. Living in the countryside in France was in fact a dream come true--until I had the bright idea to venture across Europe by train--by myself.
Shit got weird.
My old man lives in Prague, so I decided to go visit him since it wasn't that far away. The boyfriend stayed behind to tend to the sheep or whatever the hell he was doing. Anyway, I don't know if the train system is always messed up or it's just when I'm traveling, but the trip was fucked from the get go. My petit ami gave me a ride to the train station and weird--the train was running three hours behind. I had several connections to make, so thus started the two hour drive into Paris to make my next train.
Made the train, woohoo! And my 24 hour adventure began. A few hours into the train ride I realized that perhaps bringing food or I don't know--money--in case I got lost would have been smart...
Now that I am older and a little wiser I've learned a few things about traveling as a female. One, you should always carry cash because turns out using your credit card to buy everything is an American thing. Two, bring a cell phone. Three, you are a sitting duck and every Tom, Dick, and Pierre will eye fuck you--and could possibly try that in the literal sense. Four, never rely on the train systems in Europe, ever.
I was pleased with myself that I managed to get off at the right stop (I think it was 12am) and get onto the correct train that was actually on time! I don't know when I time warped into the 1800's, but I found myself on some dark, grungy locomotive cart by myself. I tried to sleep for a bit, but found the bench and luggage I was on wasn't exactly posturepedic. Yes, I laid on top of my luggage because the weather looked like an 80 percent chance of robbery. I must have dozed off for a bit because when I woke up it was light out and we were at a station in CZ. I don't know what time it was because I also didn't have a watch, but we were at this station for quite some time. I decided to get out and ask someone where the hell I was. My step mom had taught me the word for "main station" in Czech--I've since pushed this word from my mind. I asked a conductor looking man if that's where I was. He convinced me I was in fact at the main station. I lugged all my stuff off the train at 6am--I was three hours early!
I had a few euros I'd been saving and bought some coffee for me and this homeless man that wouldn't leave me the hell alone. I sat--for a few hours--waiting for this damn exchange office to open because I had $20 American and could seriously use some food and a phone card. I finally exchanged my money, bought a phone card and a nice gift for my step mom. I called my dad and he said, "where are you?" and I replied, "I'm at the main station, where are you?" he said, "everyone has gotten off the train and I don't see you." *light bulb went off* I was at the main station in the wrong goddamn town!
My dad instructed me to get back on the next train and get off at the main station in Prague--made a lot more sense than Pilsen, the town I got off on. Although they make a damn good beer. Anyway, I went to buy a ticket with my credit card--the lady looked at me like I was an idiot--fail. I reached in my pocket to gather all the money I had left. I was one euro short. FML.
I swear it was by the grace of God that I reached in my pocket again and a euro mysteriously appeared--I had just enough money to buy a ticket. I got on the next train and finally had a meltdown. I was tired, lonely, hungry, lost. All I wanted at that moment was my boyfriend, some familiarity, someone who spoke English, and perhaps a fucking sandwich. I arrived in Prague a few hours later--it was a miracle.
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