There’s always an irony in maintaining a journal (either a diary or a blog),  when you have so much to write in your journal, you have so much to do that you have no time to write in it.  When you have the time to write, its because nothing is happening to you that is worth writing in your diary. 

The past three months has been very hectic, and events (travels, competitions, family reunions and work) and happenings really caught up with me and I failed to finish my entries about my family’s short sojourn in Rome and Paris.   As if to remind me, last weekend, HBO aired Mr. Bean’s Holiday and The Da Vinci Code , all which were shot in France.   And every scene of those movies reminded of the trip to the country that I’ve always wanted to do ever since I learned that the origin of my  name is French and ever since I started reading about Napoleon Bonaparte (I was 7 years old, so in essence the trip is 25 years in the making) 

One item in my bucket list is to cross two European countries via the Eurorail or TGV.   There’s a certain appeal for me in riding a train wherein you can get to see the the countryside and the common people of a certain place in their everyday lives, even if you’re traveling at 300 kilometers per hour.   

The security at the Rome Termine and Milano Centrale are very lax.  No security check nor inspection were made.   Small handcarry bags can be put on the overhead bin but larger luggages must be placed in the storage rack.   No tags were placed on the bags and the security at the train station doesn’t check if the bag that you are carrying really belongs to you.   Its disheartening to think that if this is being done in the Philippines, you have to say goodbye to your luggages forever.  

From Rome, we made a one hour stop-over at Milan.  Then we boarded a TGV for the 12 hour journey to gay Paree.   Quickly I observed the difference between the French and the Italians.   The train to Milan is of course, has mostly Italian passengers.  They are very warm and would greet Bon Giorno to complete strangers.   Whereas the French, I’ve observed, are more detached that borders on being a snob. 

We arrived in Paris around 12midnight. I am only wearing an office jacket that is only good for keeping you dry during rains.  Beck teased that everybody in the train are wearing extremely thick jackets and overcoats as if they will be climbing Mount Everest.   Will I be able to survive the biting cold of Paris?  Serves me right for underestimating the climate and the season and overestimating my tolerance for cold weather.   Remember, we made the trip last March, and in Paris and in other parts of Europe and the Western Hemisphere, its just the end of winter. 

RP waiting at the Rome Central Termine for the TGV to Paris

Beck and RP inside the TGV

Crossing the French-Italian border.  At the background is the Alps mountain range that forms the natural boundary between France and Italy.

Home along the Riles-French style.    Who says that only in the Philippines you can find houses located beside the railroad tracks?