2014 EUROPE Paris to Nîmes, France 4 - Eurail Express

I felt sorry for those aged or disabled--no moving walkways, lots of up and down stairs, a long stretch to get from plane to Customs. We were huffing a bit ourselves when we finally arrived at Customs.

The officer was pleasant and even smiled as I said, "Merci" on my way through. We breezed through baggage inspection with the wave of an hand. Another helpful officer directed us to the arrivals area for our driver.

The distance between CDG airport (control tower photo above) and Gare de Lyon (Paris-Lyon railway station) was 20 kilometers (a kilometer equals .62 miles). As time was tight for this plane-train connection, rather than take the Paris metro system (with 2 transfers), we had pre-arranged on the Internet in the USA for a personal car to meet and transport us. That was a good thing because we found the metro drivers were on strike and service severely reduced that day.

When we arrived we expected to see a driver in white shirt and black suit displaying a sign with our last name. It was on our bucket list, to be met in this manner. It seemed opulent and made us feel a little richy-richy, even though we are not. We even had camera ready to take his photo. But alas no such thing. No sign, no driver, no car.

Thankfully a very nice fellow recognized our confusion, looked at our paperwork, and called the company for us. Because of the rainy weather, there were multiple accidents on the highway system and our driver was delayed. We hoped this was not a ruse of some sort on we trusting Americans. But, yahoo, about 20 minutes later our driver showed up.

Traffic WAS horrible and we were still unsure if we would make our plane-train connection. It was imperative, because we had no way to contact my aunt and uncle who were driving 30 miles to meet us at the Nîmes train station. Our iPhone and iPad Internet hook-ups were not working in spite of all our preparations.

Traffic was slow and harried. Motorcycles used the lane line as a lane. Our route included many entrances and exits on the major highway, lots of lane changes to anticipate the fastest route, tight corners, impatient drivers, bold pedestrians, police cars with their blue lights and EEE-AAA European sirens still attending to accidents. But our driver was fantastic. I am normally a nervous Nelly unless I'm the driver, but I felt very safe all the way and complimented him at our destination.

The sights along our route were mostly commercial and industrial, dreary looking on this rainy day. But in the last 15 minutes we passed by the lovely old and ornate buildings so reminiscent of classic movies, with wrought iron Juliet balconies, cafes with sidewalk tables, and lots of statuary and fountains adorning the streets.

Gare de Lyon is beautiful and typically what you dream of in Paris. Classic white granite (?) building with ornate decoration and tall clock tower. Once inside we saw "Eiffel" steel work framing the glass canopy protected people boarding the multitude of trains. If you have seen the movie "Hugo" you will get the picture.

Entering the station, we were overwhelmed (hence no photos). We had 35 minutes to catch our train and stymied as to where to head. We had Eurail passes in hand, but needed to get them validated before embarking on a train. We got vague directions from the info counter, but managed to find it anyway. There was a long line in that office, but we discovered the person giving directions could validate our tickets.

Next we had to figure out exactly where to catch the train. We happened into the right hall (there were three), but did not know which of the many tracks to wait by. We saw our train number on the info board, but no track number. We discovered the track number shows up on the info board only about 20 minutes before departure. Its display "announces" it is time to board.

Our tickets not only showed seat numbers but also a coach number, so we were still a bit bewildered. Our coach number was 03, but which train car was 03. Another kind lady took pity on us. It turns out we were traveling on the same train, but to different destinations. She showed us the pictograph near each track that indicated coach numbers and their line up on the train. She walked us to coach 03 and continued on her way.

She said it was important to board the right coach because they did not connect with a walkway. You couldn't just walk between each car. And later some cars would split off--ours going to Nîmes and hers going to Montpelier. She was a tremendous help, as we used that information for the rest of our train journey.

Departure time was 10:07. We had first class for our first Eurail leg--Paris Gare de Lyon to Nîmes in south central France. There were two stops en route--one I can't remember and the city of Lyon. The train was very nice, especially compared to what we had experienced on Amtrak from Elkhart, Indiana to New York City last year.

There were "wings" on the sides of the seats to rest our tired heads without awkwardly twisting our necks. It was clean and spacious, but the best part was the smooth, quiet ride along the tracks. You could hardly tell you were moving on this high-speed train except you could see the countryside whizzing by. The only drawback was that we were sitting backwards--a little distracting to our sight-seeing. Also photos taken were just a blur.

The geography at the start was very flat and reminded us of Ohio. As the lightly rolling hills replaced the flatland, there were herds of white (or light beige) cattle roaming. As we passed the quaint little villages in the distance we saw ancient towers, cisterns, and occasional castle ruins on hilltops. We spotted higher and more rocky terrain the further south we traveled.

In passing we commented on how fun it would be to live here in Europe. Then we thought of the TV show "House Hunters International," which we often watch at home. It shows the process of buying homes in a foreign country and the difficulties involved ... maybe not!

At some point along the way the gray clouds disappeared and sunshine took over. We thankfully arrived at Nîmes on time at 13:06 to the smiling and loving faces of my Uncle Bob and Aunt Terry.