en Lyon

i arrived in Lyon without anyone to greet me, no band playing music and no balloons, yet i was excited to be here.

My train to my new home.

Luckily, a nice lady helped me off with one of my three suitcases, but the help seemed to stop there. i had three suitcases and a big backpack, but could not get anyone to help me move it to the taxi stand, since i was practically the only one at the platform by the time i got off the train and also for the fact that i do not speak French. So, i pulled two pieces to the elevator and then ran back for the other one.

Once i was on the main floor of the station i had another problem. How was i going to get three suitcases to the taxi stand? i could see the exit in the distance through the throng of people, but knew better than to ask for help. It seems strange that train stations do not have carts to move your luggage, but i guess they do not want the undesirable people moving all their things through the railways of Europe. Anyway, after standing there for ten minutes, getting sweaty and paranoid that someone might think i was up to no good, i decided to try to move it all myself. i moved two pieces a little ways from me, through the seating area, which looked safe, since the people all looked rather firmly planted and were not about to try to escape with one of my suitcases. Then i ran back for the other which nobody could escape with quickly because it weighed half a ton, of course i mean that figuratively because i could not obviously move even half of a half ton of anything, unless it was crap and i had a shovel.

After doing this maneuver a couple of times i decided to try moving all three at once, so i pushed one and set the other two in a way that i could pull them both by putting my arm through the handles.

Success! i made it to the street, then eventually to the taxi. The first taxi tried to fit my luggage in his car, even though i told him it was too small, not quite Smart car small but not far from it. He got angry when he could not fit it and practically threw my suitcases out of his car. He found another customer and quickly sped away.

A much bigger taxi drove up and he was able to maneuver my luggage into his car, so i gave him the address and off we went to my new home. He used GPS to find directions to the flat, so i could tell he was not “taking me for a ride” as many of them do.

Eventually we arrived at the address or so i thought. He told me that the address was in the next block, but he could find it. i paid him and even tipped him a couple euros, then he put me and my suitcases on the sidewalk.

So, i had three suitcases and a huge back pack and just had to make it to the next block. i went to work at my fancy way of moving the cases as before; i pushed one and pulled the other two.

i made it to the gate and realised almost instantly that my address entrance into the building was down to the end of the block and around the corner. Crap! Crap! And crap again!

i set on my way again, as many people passed me by and just looked at me struggling. i was wishing one kind person would help me, but then i would have been suspicious of their offer and told them that i was fine.

My arm was in the handles of the two cases that i was pulling and the skin was rubbing off and i could almost see blood.

Finally, i made it to the gate and as i was trying to get in, a girl walked up and she offered to help me. i was too defeated at this point to be suspicious, so i graciously accepted her kindness.

i had reached my new home.

i think she looks like a stalker. Sorry, but i do not have photos of my wounds.

more to come…

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