Best Laid Plans

The best laid plans, and all that. I woke up, grabbed some breakfast, perhaps grabbed some more for the train ride later – if such a thing were to be allowed. Otherwise, I would never do such a thing. And then I used up the final thirty minutes of my internet card. Just as I started to rage that the network was down, it came back on. Fantastic.

So, after that was done I headed out to Pompidou Centre to spend the rest of my day watching internets, and reading. It was the perfect location: free washroom, close shops for food, and a warm place to spend some time outside. That, and there was net access, with a plug socket beside it on the second floor.



So there I was, sitting outside on the slanted brick watching the world go by. I picked through all the souvenir shops there, and played with all number of music boxes. Those open shelled ones, where you can see how turning the crank actually allows music to play are really quite something. And then I sat down to have myself a little read.

An hour passed before I looked up. Out of nowhere a giant line had formed from the door, past the road, and around the corner. Something was clearly afoot. I'd not seen the centre this busy in all my time here. Back to my book – I would wait until things died down before going inside.

Another thirty minutes, and I felt the pull to the washroom – still, the line outside was just too long to wait through. But I knew a secret. I would enter in through the library at the back, and head into the main centre that way.

Off I went – ohh, great, interesting. The library was closed. I would have to wait in the line. There'd be no way around that now. But reading a chapter here, a chapter there, I got through it all the way to the front. Where I learned that, of course, it was a private function. Some sort of art exhibit? And all this added time had not made my need to go to the washroom any lesser.

I had one extra metro ticket. I could subway over to Bastille where I knew there'd be a washroom – but, if I did that, I'd have no other exit plans. So off I walked to Republique. Surely I'd pass a WC, or a McDonalds, or find something at the station. I did not. So then I was off to Bastille. The walk was not a short one. And every passing moment made things all the more fun for me, I'll tell you that.

But, after my journey all over the place, through the most ridiculous of locations, I ended up where I needed to be. And with that I jumped the metro and headed straight back for the Centre. Sure, it was closed – but I could still connect to the wifi signal sitting against the window at the back of the P. Centre.

This was a most fortuative event. An hour was spent planning a possible meet up in Eastern Europe, a month from today. Perhaps a couple of friends from back home will be coming to visit was I make my way through that part of the world. Planning trips – never as easy when you're not doing it by yourself. But – far more fun.

And then back to my hostel. Banana gummies (delicious, except for the layer of sugar in which they were coated) were purchased and devoured on route.

To kill the final few hours, I decided to watch the movie Caprica. Really? How this came from something like Battlestar: Galactica I have no idea. But it did the trick. It killed the time, and from that point, I was able to grab my pack and head for the train station – ever closer to my departure time of 21:54.

Of course before that happened I would spend 20 minutes looking for my book, which I thought I lost – and I had – when I put it down outside. Where it still rested. Two and a half hours later. I need to relax. I need to sleep. I need to take it easy for a while – but it's just so hard!