One Way

Abbaye St. Victor, not Morocco

Ticket, yeah. I didn't need one. I had originally wanted to go to Morocco this past weekend, but African unrest prevented that. So I decided to go to Geneva instead. A beautiful lake, a tour of CERN, what could be better?

Well, I couldn't find any housing in Geneva. At least nothing that would cost less than 50 euros a night. So I thought to myself "Hey, I have a Eurail Pass, I can take a day trip to Lyon, food capital of France, instead!"

Monument aux morts de l'Armée de l'Oriente et des terres lontaines, not Geneva

Chateau d'If, made famous by The Count of Monte Carlo, not Lyon

But I had to turn in papers Friday morning to validate my visa here (if I hadn't, I would never be able to come back to France), and then I misread the train schedule. It took me so long to find out what I was going to do. But I found out: I city-hopped between Aix and Marseille. And there was a lot of walking involved. I walked about 13 miles in Marseille alone, at least by my Google Map calculations. About halfway through, I realized there'd be no easy way out, that I'd have to walk back. So I walked back along the shore, back through the deserted streets and the crowded ones, back to the train station, where I got on a train heading to Aix.

Something in Septèmes

But it only took me half the way there. I got off by whim in Septèmes. I promenaded through this very non-touristy French town, walking about two-and-a-half more miles before getting on another train. Which I took to Gardanne; another random city on the Aix-Marseille SNCF (national French train) line. It's basically on the other side of the local mountain, Mount Saint-Victoire, except from this side Mr. Mountain's size is fairly evident, and looks more like a small range. There was a large aluminum factory there (in Gardanne), and everything was red. The dirt was red. There were red monuments marking the roads. That was about everything that was red. It also had a pretty pretty (as in fairly nice) main street, and centre ville was uncorrupted by autoroutes. And devoid of cars. And shops. And people. It was very relaxing. Then I went back to the train station...and went home. All this netted another three miles or so at least. I'd estimate a total of 20 miles walking. It was over 27 degrees (80 °F). That's 1600 degree-miles.

Aluminum Factory in Gardanne

French Fields

Saturday, I attended a pique nique (I refuse to translate that to English). It involved buying some bread and apples, taking a bus half an hour south to Les Milles, meeting my friends there, and walking half-an-hour uphill to his house. That walk bothered me more than the previous days (I blame the extra 5 degrees Farenheit), despite the marvelous countryside scenery. My friend Louis has a lot of foreign friends, and lots were present at the picnic. But it was a big teaser, as they're essentially all Spanish speakers (he studied abroad in Spain last year and is truly fluent in Spanish), and some of them don't even speak a word of French. There was a bit of a language barrier, at least for me.

As for my Sunday driver, I used my Eurail Pass once more and headed to Avignon, which roughly translates as "We have lots of flowers to be allergic to". My eyes were so bleary that I walked around blindly the whole day, snapping pictures on my camera to look at later. Alright, maybe my nose ran a little; I'd had the sense to start my allergy medicine regimen in full force the day before.
After writing this, I went to insert pictures into my blog and realized that I may not have been exaggerating. I failed to notice that my pictures were black, white, and green. Ah well.

See Below

So Avignon is famous for its Pont d'Avignon (Bridge of Avignon) and its Palais des Papes (Papal Palace), pictured above. But, as you can see, the Pont does not extend all the way across the Rhône. There is a very good reason for this:

The builders of the city of Avignon were mortal ennemies with their neighbors across the river.

Things used to get violent between the Avignonians and the inhabitants of this city, the Novaginians.

One day, sometime shortly after the year 1000 (if I remember the date correctly), the inhabitants of the two cities decided to reconcile their differences. As a gesture of goodwill, they agreed to build a bridge. However, upon finishing their half, the Avignoners noticed that their newfound "friends" had exhausted their funds partying on the other side of the river. When one Avignoni asked politely that the Novaginish complete their side, he was met with a drunken gurgle. Being understandably upset, the residents of Avignon dedicated their bridge to tourism and tried to shroud the back story in myth.

Palais des Papes

They would have you believe that the two cities never, in all of their history, considered any type of friendship, nor even armistice or truth. The ancient Avignonianiers, being the athletes that they were, could jump large distances. Much further than the wimpy Novaginarians could. So, in order to gain the tactical upper hand, the Avignonois constructed a bridge halfway across the water to a point where they could easily jump from the bridge to the far bank and invade enemy land.

Now, one would think that such an advantage would be insurmountable, but the Avignonesque made one fatal error in their calculations: they did not build the bridge far enough out to return to on a windy day. So when they foolishly glided onto the enemy shore one afternoon, and were whipped soundly in battle, they attempted a hasty retreat. Their efforts were foiled by a strong gust of wind (one has to be fairly light to jump that far), and they were massacred.

Football Players

As time passed, technology advanced, and eventually a modern bridge was indeed built between the two cities. And, I am glad to say, whatever the original cause of enmity between the two cities was, they now take it out on each other in a semiannual soccer game (or football, but I don't think I've picked up any non American readers yet).

That's not to say that no hate remains...I believe the match is high stakes.