#@&#%!(!

Today I have to curse in my blog post. It was just one of those fucking days. I started off by learning that there were only two trips per day from Pontorson to Bayeux that didn’t include me going back to Paris. One of those left Pontorson at 11:30. However, I would first have to take a bus from Mont St-Michel to Pontorson. I found out the hard way that, though the bus does run “regularly,” the regular schedule includes a 4-hour hole in service in the middle of the day. Stephanie caught a bus back to Rennes so she could go home to Pau, since she couldn’t afford to stay the night in Bayeux.

I waited the four hours with literally nothing to do. It was cold, and after a while it started to rain. Finally I got to Pontorson and found out why transportation is so fucking awful in this part of France. The Pontorson train station is shut down and the tracks ripped up, meaning any traffic that would pass through there is also shut down. So I missed the first bus out of Pontorson, now I had to wait another 2 hours at the train station for the next bus. It was cold, boring, and there was no bathroom except for literally a hole in the ground that you had to squat over.

So we’re already up to 6 hours of waiting for a trip that should only have taken 3 hours. To make a long story short, I made it to Bayeux by 8:30pm instead of 1:30pm. Well, apparently that’s too late for the hotel I had reservations at. The place must cater to 90-year-olds, because the place was locked up tight and there wasn’t a light on in the whole god-damned building. Not one hotel room, not a receptionist, not even someone cleaning up the attached café, which according to the sign closed only ten minutes before I arrived. I mean, is it really so odd in a tourist-y town to have someone need a hotel after 8 o’clock? What the fuck is wrong with France?

So I finally found a hotel for the night, but by that time all of the restaurants in town had closed down. After wandering down a whole bunch of different streets, I found a pizza place that said “open” and there were people inside eating. So I went inside and tried to speak to the person behind the counter. He immediately told me that they were closed. He must have seen the life just drain from my entire body because he suddenly looked at me and said “I’ll make you a take-out pizza.” I did my best to communicate to him how grateful I was, but the ability to speak French had left me by that point.

So here’s my ultimate moment of blowing off steam, the final stream of curse words:

Fucking shitty-ass piece of cock-stained mother-fuckers! You fucking suck, France! Eat a dick!

Tomorrow should be better, once I work out once and for all this whole hotel situation. At least I can look forward to seeing the tapestry.