From Poznan to Bordeaux

I have been pushing back writing this for three days and now it's Sunday night and I have an early class tomorrow so this is going to happen.

I arrived in Poland on January 4th and spent a week visiting the people that I should see. Seeing as I was only in Poznan for six days everyday had a very intensive schedule, while attempting to re-adjust to a European time zone. Though I did not yet know how I was going to get from Poznan to France I had my options open. Three days before my departure I found out that my uncle, who co-owns an import/export business, was sending a transport truck to France. The truck could only take me as far as Lyon (600 km from Bordeaux), but that was good enough. So now I was actually nervous since there was a transport set in stone, meaning I actually had to go to France, but I wasn't really worried about that part...what really concerned me is what I would talk about with the trucker whom I would be driving with for two days. Honestly I don't think I have ever had an interaction with a trucker before, well perhaps a nervous nod in a highway service area men's room, but that would have been the extent of it. I definitely overreacted and stereotyped all truck drivers, but that happens.

Tuesday morning I left my grandparent's house at 6 am to be driven by my uncle to gas station an hour out of the city where this polish trucker was supposedly waiting. Looking back on the whole thing the operation may have seemed a little dubious to an outside observer. Its 7am, still dark outside, when a luxurious Mercedes pulls up next to a transport truck in an empty parking lot by a gas station. Two people get out of the car and one out of the truck, they all shake hands and proceed to move three bags from the car to the truck. One of the individuals leaves briefly to take care of some business in the bushes (yes... it was me), then two people get in the truck and one in the Mercedes, both vehicles drive away in opposite directions. Seems questionable.

The ride started out silent and awkward, probably since we didn't know one another and both of us had gotten less than three hours of sleep. Slowly the trucker started talking to, mostly about trucker life and I never had any good responses. So for example:

Trucker: Last week I was doing a drive from Madrid, I stopped to sleep somewhere in Northern Spain. I woke up to the noise of some sort of movement on the side of the truck. I look out the window and see three Bulgarians trying to syphon gas from my tank.

Antoine: Oh yeah...? (What do you say to something like that)

Luckily the conversations got more two sided. We really got talking when the trucker started explaining to me the proper way to prepare and cook a carp. He claimed that you buy the live carp, kill it on the same day and then freeze it until the day comes to eat it. I did not agree with this, as I had heard from a reliable source (my grandmother) that you are supposed to buy the live carp then put it in fresh water for a few days so it can cleanse itself from toxins, you proceed to killing it on the same day as you eat it so as to avoid freezing. This conversation lasted a good half hour before I decided to back off, as the trucker had actually prepared a carp and I felt like he might have a greater idea of what he was talking about.
The conversation then turned spiritual healers, which the trucker had incredible faith in and was telling me first hand accounts, listing examples of when a doctor had failed and a healer had stepped in to cure a patient. Then when he found out I was Canadian he told me a story of when he once picked up a Canadian hitchhiker who started rolling marijuana in the truck, going into detail about how this angered him and how he almost threw him out of the truck...I should have lied about my nationality. The truck driver kept offering me sausages and other forms of meats he had brought for the ride, I continually refused and would always find some excuse. I chose not to tell him the real reason as I was worried he might loss respect for me. I felt guilty about not taking his food, but eventually got over it as he trice refused my hard boiled eggs.

We parked outside of Nuremberg, Germany at 3pm as the trucker had driven the maximum amount of hours he was allowed to in a day. We prepared food together in the truck as it was equipped with a fridge and he even pulled a butane burner. Sleeping was not an easy task for two reasons: 1) It was 4 in the afternoon 2) The trucker had insisted on telling me horror stories about truck drivers getting robbed or hurt while parked in these parking lots. When it got dark and I needed to go to the washroom I held off as I continually imagined three Bulgarians with bats and oversized wrenches waiting for me to get out of the truck... I blamed the trucker for this paranoia. Once again the the trucker and I both got only a couple hours of sleep.

We started our ride again at mid-night and drove in the dark until we reached the outskirts of Lyon the next morning. The trucker walked me to the train station in the village near by where we had parked. We said our goodbyes as the train pulled in and as the train started moving I could feel that I would miss traveling with this truck driver he was a good man. I arrived at the main train station in Lyon and am able to catch a train to Bordeaux two hours later.

The train ride is six and a half hours, time I was hoping to put to finishing The Alchemist. However, this was not in the cards for me as I was lucky enough to sit down next to two American Mormon missionaries my age. These two were currently stationed in Bordeaux and were coming back from something or other. I figured I would talk to them for a little bit and then we would all return to our respective activities. This also did not go as I planned as they were very interested on my views on God, far more interested than me. I indulged them for a while, but then I began amusing myself with my own answers. When conversation became forced I asked one of them what kind of books he read, his answer was "I pretty much stick to fiction", then a couple minutes later he said that he did not have much time to read for pleasure as they mostly read their Mormon texts. I cheekily said "I guess you do mostly stick to fiction then" (jokingly), the other one looked shocked at what I had just said. I tried to laugh and say I was just joking, but I could tell they were both a bit shaken (I was proud of myself). Another interesting situation occurred when one of them asked me if I had ever thought about going on a mission I said a hanging yes, his eyes lit up with excitement, and then I finished my sentence "but then I reconsidered"... he was disappointed. I thought about my friend Trish and how she would have enjoyed this situation...I wish she was there so we could have double teamed them...it would have been beautiful. No matter it was still fun. I slept a lot, periodically waking up to answer a question or two about my views on God and they would sit there reading their Mormon Bible preparing their next questions. Near the end of our trip the Mormons tried to give me one of their Bibles I said I had too many things and couldn't. They insisted on giving me their contact information and were curious if I would make it to their three hour mass on Sunday...I did not make it.. They took me to the bus stop and coincidently were taking the same bus as me...Fantastic. They were very nice to me and were very good about the abuse they received from me...maybe I will see them again.

The transport truck-somewhere outside Lyon

Waiting for my train outside the Lyon Train station

...There is more to tell, but I will leave it at that for now.