My thoughts on and in Grenoble
1. Urgh it's wet.
2. H&M looks exactly the same everywhere.
3. I think I'll buy a beret.
Due to all-too-foreseeable weather problems, we decide to head to a hot chocolate cafe recommended in my guidebook.
It promises thick hot chocolate with dried fruit, biscuits and a variety of tempting munchies.
It's shut until 6pm.
We spend a wholesome hour in the bar next door.
6pm: Immense effort as we shuffle back to the cafe. Big smiles: "6 chocolats chauds s'il vous plait!"
They don't do hot chocolate anymore.
Never trust a tourist guidebook. Especially if it's a whole year (*gasp* - a whole year?!) out of date.
We traipse across the road. It's pissing wet. Find a 'rebellion' bar with pictures of Che Guevara and French strikes everywhere. Beth has Grog, Verity has a glowstick in her drink, I get my hot chocolate. All is okay. Afterwards we roll into...
The Fondue Place
6 enthusiastic people
+ 3 cheese fondues
+ Wine
+ Giant chocolate fondue
= Much merriment.
The retard
Covered in cheese, chocolate and goodness knows what else, we leap on the last tram to get on the last train. (No, we still hadn't learn about the problems associated with last trains). Arrive gasping on the platform.
*RETARD: 5 MINUTES* (5 minutes delay*) [*The English is not in uppercase, as I'm sure the same notice in England would have been apologetically whispered, rather than enthusiastically shouted in brash capitals]
Okay, no problem. Time to let the fondue settle in our stomachs again.
5 minutes later: *RETARD 10 MINUTES*
5 minutes later again: *RETARD 15 MINUTES*
Even a bunch of franglais-speaking arts students can begin to see the pattern here. We retreat to the main station where an annoying french chav spins around us squeaking 'Oh la la chocolat'. We ignore him, laugh with him, laugh at him, just plain cackle, but all to no avail.
30 minutes later: *RETARD INDETERMINE * RETARD INDETERMINE * RETARD INDETERMINE * (indeterminately delayed, awfully sorrry)
This is accompanied by an announcement: "Mesdames et Messieurs, on regrette de vous informer qu'il y a un retard indéterminé à cause des animaux sur la voie. Merci pour votre compréhension."
Animaux sur la voie...animals on the tracks?! What sort of animals could cause every train heading into Grenoble station to be delayed? The French are hardly the sort to grind national transport to a halt because of a kitten on the tracks. Nor a horse. Nor any animal I can think of. We conclude that it must be a herd of cows or a very angry wild boar.
One whole hour and 45 minutes later: We collapse into a taxi courtesy of the French rail company, the humour of the situation having turned into snooziness. I sit next to a French girl who turns out to also like climbing. (I do sometimes wonder if my range of conversational topics is a little limited...) I rather patronisingly assume she occasionally topropes indoors. Turns out she climbs around 7c and competes. Oh well...she probably didn't just have a guilt-free fondue fest.
Lessons learnt
- Apparently I am seen as a dominant female (revealed after several rounds of the highly hypothetical 'truth' game: kiss/marry/kill/touch inappropriately/shag). I fear slightly that this makes me sound like a moustachioed Thatcherite...
- Even cities aren't much good in the rain.
- You can find the same H&M shirt thousands of miles away. Unleash your wildest tumbledrier fantasies and mangle those tops without fear.
- Fondue hangovers exist. The next morning I felt like I was about to give birth to triplets.
Postscript
Matt sleeps on my floor as we get home too late for his bus. He casually informs me over a week later that at 3am, and again at 6am, I leapt out of bed, screamed 'SHIT, SHIT!!', turned the light on and ran out of the room.
He assumed this was vaguely normal behaviour for me.
Oh dear.
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