I got up at 5:30 this morning and feverishly packed the remains of things. This time, I was packing for “less bags” as opposed to “lighter bags.” I knew I would be lugging things through train stations and cab rides and wanted few bags that I could rest on the wheels of our two suitcases.

We got to station at Gare St. Jean at 7:10 thinking we had plenty of time to make our 7:50 train to the Paris Charles DeGaulle Airport. As luck would have it, another strike hit. When we arrived, our train was listed on the big flip-board schedule. Moments later, it disappeared and mild panic ensued. I made my way through the line to the ticket counter, where I was told, “That train is on strike.”

Huh? (I’m pretty sure we don’t do that kind of thing stateside.)

“I will make you new billettes (tickets) and you have 8 minutes to catch the train to central Paris.

Ok, well, we made it on to the train, but our overstuffed luggage proved to be much to contend with. Everybody was analyzing me, wondering why I’m sweating so much and why do their suitcases look so big?

I managed to sweat through the process of finding a place for our bags and then proceeded to sweat through the first half hour of the train ride.

We’re riding the train from Bordeaux to France. It’s about 3.5 hours.

Sarah is experiencing a lot of pain, but she’s still in good spirits. She often spends time listening to worship music to draw the attention away from her back.

The French country-side is beautiful and I like looking at the landscape spotted with rustic houses and the occasional palatial chateau.

Travel has been mostly smooth. Many thanks to my brother and sister in law for taking the time to get us here on the planes and trains. We’re also thankful that we bumped up this train venture to Paris, not knowing that your train can actually “go on strike.” It’s good to know we’ll be there ahead of time to make our flights back home on Friday.