Traveling Tales

First on the agenda is to reveal how I made it to my first farm. It was all pretty straight forward, flight, airport, another flight, airport, and train to Paris. Then it was time for me to find my hostel, which, in my infinite wisdom, I had neglected to write down the address of... or even the name. I stayed optomistic assuming that I remembered the general area well enough, and could locate my lodgings from memory of looking at it on street view. This turned out to be as impossible as it sounds. Unfortunately every street in the area looked promising, so this adventure led only to sore legs and a decreased moral. Fortunately, I had passed a bar that advertised free wi-fi, so I returned there (after more confused wandering) and ordered a large Leffe. I hadn't had much to eat that day so the beer went right to my head, and the internet ended up not even working, so I just read and finished my beer, and then rallied to head across the street, where another Wi-Fi was located. Finally success, I had another beer and a bite to eat, and was on my way to the hostel, which was not to far away, but still not anywhere near where I had planned to look. The hostel was fun, and the people were nice, altough one of them snored louder than anybody I had ever heard, which made for a noticably restless night. The next day there were a couple of train rides and I was picked up by Julie, the Scottish woman from my first farm.