“Ok, don’t panic. Don’t think about the fact that this is the very last train for the night or about the fact that you’re supposed to be going to Paris the next morning with your art history class or that you don’t know anyone in Rennes, and that there probably won’t be anyone to help you at the train station since it’ll be past midnight. First, figure out where Rennes is.” I pulled out Rick Steve’s guidebook from 2003 (I’d found it in the piano room of the Foyer and asked Madam if I could borrow it) 
and located Rennes. It was around 130km (80 miles) from Angers. Angers is southwest of Le Mans and Rennes is directly west so it was just like taking the wrong fork in the road. “Ok, now let’s go over your options.” I could A) Sleep in the station, but if you’ve ever been to a French train station (or any train station for that matter) they are the least comfortable and most freezing places ever. 
Plus I was pretty sure I wouldn’t actually be able to sleep. So that probably wasn’t the safest plan. B) Hope some nice stranger would take pity on me and somehow get me back to the station the next day, but that was also risky or C) Find a cheap hotel nearby. I decided C was my best option.
An hour later, instead of the half hour to Angers St Laud, I found myself in Rennes with nowhere to go and no hope of getting a train in time for my 6:40am bus departure for Paris. I needed to decide if I was going to try to meet up with my art history class in Paris or just hang out in Rennes and take the train back to Angers. I never did decide what I was going to do because I was far too tired to think about it. I just figured I’d find a hotel, go to sleep and sort it out in the morning.
I looked at the prices for several of the hotels across the street from the station checking the prices which are conveniently located on the doors (all the restaurants put their menus out like this too). 
The first hotel I looked at had a room for 110 euros and I figured at that rate I’d prefer my chances sleeping in the train station. Thankfully, I located the Hotel de Bretagne and while explaining my situation to the very nice lady there she told me things like this happened all the time and told me there was no use crying (I wasn’t crying, I think she was just letting me know that she approved of my handling of the situation). 
She also provided me with the phrase of the weekend, “C’est la vie.” Forty euros and five minutes later I was sound asleep.I was woken at 6:40am by Moe’s phone call. I mumbled out some explanation in French about why I wasn’t on the bus, but I took it as a sign to go to Paris, told her I’d try to find a train, jumped out of bed and went straight to the train station to buy a ticket to Paris.
I booked the 8 o’clock train for Paris Montparnasse (with no connecting trains this time), slept the whole way and arrived in Paris at 10:45am. I promptly got lost on my way to meeting up with my art history class at the Musée d’Orsay, but thankfully there are maps posted every hundred feet and I’ve got a good sense of direction so I got unlost really quickly. 
Eventually, I found my way to the d’Orsay only to discover that gate B was closed and no one was there. I tried explaining to a guard that my class was inside and he told me my professor would have to come out to get me. Well that wasn’t going to happen since she was the one giving the tour so I sat around for an hour and a half reading more of Isabelle, watching passerbys, taking some pictures and reflecting on life and rotten luck.
Seriously, in my entire life, I was never more homesick than in those moments. All I wanted to do was talk to my parents, my sisters, anybody and let them know how miserable I was. But I didn’t. I just remembered what the lady said, gave a huge sigh and thought “C’est la vie.” 
Thinking that didn’t exactly cheer me up a whole lot, but the sight of my professor, Moe and Yuka rushing out of the building did. I explained my story in garbled French to my professor (who is, by the way, one of my favorite profs here) and found that the situation was actually humorous.
So even though my first experiences in Paris weren’t all that pleasant, Paris is awesome. I got out of the train station and basically ran straight into the Montparnasse tower. And while trying to find the Musée d’Orsay, I snapped a photo of this awesome old building and found out two hours later that I’d actually taken a picture of the Louvre.
Anyway, Moe, Yuka and I went to the Garnier Opera house to meet Franzesca for lunch at a Japanese restaurant down a Parisian side street and then went back to the d’Orsay to meet up with the rest of our classmates only to find we were going right back to the Opera house. On the way I was walking past this enormous building and suddenly realized that, oh HEY, that’s the pyramid which means that awesome building I just took a picture of is the LOUVRE!!! 
And oh HEY that’s the Eiffel Tower!!! And those are the Tuilieries Gardens!! Omgggg I’m in PARIS right now!!! After that realization, I forgot my train troubles and enjoyed just being in Paris.
I never did get to go into the d’Orsay (don’t worry, I’m coming back to Paris again later), but I did get a guided tour of the Garnier Opera house. It was incredibly ornate and we got to see the various entrances in and out, the library, the emperor’s entrance, and the basement where some operatic costumes are kept. At one point our guide had us sit down in the middle of this room filled with chandeliers. 
I have never on any tour plopped down on a hardwood floor in the middle of a room so we could talk about the room and ceiling so this was really cool. Our guide was very knowledgeable about the mythological scenes on the ceiling and spoke slowly so we could understand. Most of the scenes deal with Orpheus because of his affinity for music.
After the tour we were free to wander around Paris so I called Laura, one of my friends from my hometown who is studying in Paris, to find out where we should meet up. As we were talking, I accidentally pronounced the “P” in Champs Elysees and the French lady behind me shrieked “CHAMS Elysees.” 
It’s funny I was in such a good mood at that point I just laughed, said “Merci,” and then said it correctly. (Seriously, who made her the word police? She didn’t have to have such a hissy fit over it. Like dude, I’m here to learn about your culture and study your language. When have you been to the States to learn about us?) Actually, I was thrilled to meet my first snobby Parisian (I mean it’s all you ever hear about, right?) and was so glad Paris didn’t disappoint. 
But seriously, they really do have a bad rep and don’t deserve it. Most people are really, really nice, but they have their rude people too, just like any other country.
Anyway, Laura and I decided to meet at the Champs Elysees near the obelisk. It started pouring rain, but Laura, her friend, Megan, and I managed to find each other. 
We went in search of shelter at a café, but since the weather cleared up almost immediately we went back to the Champs Elysees in the direction of the Arc de Triomphe. I didn’t have much time left so I said my goodbyes at Haagen-Dazs and promised I’d be back to visit in May. I love reunions!
On the way back to the bus, I passed by the Grand and Petit Palaces, crossed the Pont Alexandre which has an awesome view of the Eiffel Tower, passed the Invalides and made it back to the d’Orsay. 
We left around 8:30pm and didn’t get back to Angers till just before midnight. It was an exhausting weekend and one that I will never ever forget. It was a really good learning experience and it made me extremely grateful for credit cards and friends who can cheer you up.In retrospect, I remember reading Rennes on the side of the train, but for some reason, probably exhaustion, I read it as “Nantes” which is the stop right after Angers.
At any rate, taking the wrong train is one mistake I won’t be making again considering that, other than throwing out my retainers at McDonald’s in 7th grade, it’s one of the costliest mistakes of my life (though my dad assured me there would be others…oh boy). 
But hey, c’est la vie!Heidi
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