Like Pamplona...

The avalanche of the unexpected continues. After the decision to chuck Brugge and head to Bayeux, we didn't know where we should go next. Even though we could have made the Hotel de Bayeux our second home, it was 60E a night and time to find a new destination. But where?? Further into uncharted French territory? Or bite the long-train bullet and head to Spain?? With two hours to checkout and free wifi, we feverishly researched possibilities. Okay, we'll head to Paris and catch the night train to Barcelona, followed by a train to Valencia. We'd be enjoying the gorgeous Spain weather by noon. HA! If only things had gone as planned.
Upon arriving in the incredibly packed Paris station, we headed toward information to book a bed on the next night train. "Not possible," she says. Not tonight. Not tomorrow night. Not Friday night, Saturday night...shall I go on? Turns out, lucky for us, it's a holiday and EVERY HUMAN in ALL of France has their butt in a train seat. Anywhere we asked, Barcelona, Madrid, San Sebastian- every train was booked. Well, we decided, this information person was not giving us the information we wanted. So we headed out in the direction of another large train station and another info station. We found one, slightly reminiscent of British customs detention (gulp), but were helped find a way out of Paris. Said train had no reservations, so it was first come-first seated on the train. We waited and waited like lemmings for the platform to be announced as a crowd grew behind us. Within seconds of the platform number popping up, the entire massive hoard that had gathered moved like a wave, some running and some pulling Heismans in order to get a seat. It was ..like Pamplona... As I write, we are on a train not to anywhere near Spain but to Tours, France. It's in the general direction of Spain from Paris and most importantly- NOT PARIS. If we've learned one thing about ourselves as travellers, it's that we prefer smaller cities. Sorry Paris...maybe later when we're down with schedules and dropping some mad money...and it's July.

Update: Writing now from a wonderful hotel, Hotel Ronsard, in Tours. The city is full of youth, traditional architecture, and we couldn't have felt safer as we navigated her 11pm streets. Thank you Tours!