It has been a few days since I have updated, and I waited for a reason: I was feeling shitty. I know that sounds pretty greenhorn of me as I have only been away for a few days, but I am not gonna lie about it… I was homesick.

A Lorient harbor

I had been looking forward to my return to Britanny, as it was a prized memory from my previous Europe trips with my family. But as I have learned the hard way, the first rule of maintaining mental health while starting a backpacking trip is to stick around other backpackers. The sights were okay — Lorient was a nice enough town and my steamed mussels were every bit as great as I had hoped. But the truth is, in a strange town without a rigorous schedule or a single soul to talk to, loneliness gets to you. My hostel, way out in the countryside, was being used as a summer camp for French kids and I was surrounded by grade schoolers and their perpetual loudness. The hostel also carried a very potent smell which I will dub fuaj; the acronym of the French youth hostel alliance. Start using it, it’s the new pink. To replicate this smell, mix burnt food, musty cots, body odor and shower stalls. The only comparison I can concoct is the smell of my college dorm’s basement… rotting food, burnt oil, mildew, must and a lot of people living under one roof.

I was sleeping in a room with four chaperones (teachers?), on the top bunk for the first time in my life. Everything was cool until I had been asleep for a few hours… and then one of the guys (old, short, ugly French guy who is only the 2nd person I have ever wanted to strangle) starts talking in his sleep. And by talking, I mean YELLING. Singing, shouting, moaning. At one point he is making loud sucking sounds and then barks “take it like a prostitute!” After more moaning and sucking he lets loose a relatively quiet “kaput!” Tony, one of the guys who speaks a marginal amount of English, had a funny-if-it’s-not-you response when I asked him what the hell all the commotion was about: “Oh, that’s just Pascal. He does that every night.” Awesome!

I spent Wednesday walking the trails along the water, doing laundry (the suck) and getting ready to get the hell out of Dodge. Looking at my itinerary and having a new feeling toward solo travel in small industrial towns, I decided to skip a few places, make a few additions and get back to Paris for a night to rejuvenate where I felt comfortable.

I planned to skip my next stop, Aix-En-Provence, as it is pretty much just a small college town. So, after an uneventful, confidence-building night at Paris’ Blue Planet Hostel (ironically, right across a tiny alley from a €150-a-night Novotel that I had stayed in with my family 11 years ago) I was off to Nice, where I already had a bed reserved.

The swift TGV ride south from Paris to Nice was gorgeous beyond words, through the hills of central France and the orchards of Provence. A few stretches along the coast got my jaw dropping, and now, here in Nice, I am content. I have not yet been in the water but I walked along the boardwalk within spitting distance of nude-beach heaven.

My hostel in Nice

Tomorrow I will probably daytrip to the tiny country of Monaco down the road and see if they will let me into the Monte-Carlo Casino wearing hiking shoes (according to my book, they won’t, and anyway I have no gambling budget). Then I plan to spend Sunday in town here before heading for Italy and the Cinque Terre. Tonight the hostel is a tiny bit cramped… five single beds packed like sardines into one tiny room, but it’s cheap and my roommates are young clowns much like myself. Acceptable. I’m feeling good again. More in a few days!