Especially For You: A Really Long Post

Well I never have got round to telling you about what happened to me in between my suicide threats in Rome and my reappearance in this shitty little town did I? So here it is in full and only slightly edited (for the first part check out my January posts)....

I got up really early in the Hotel Scott House and packed up my stuff. I was really, really stressd out. Using my ticket I purchased the day before I boarded the train bound for Milan. An old lady sat opposite me and all was quiet until....

....a group of Italian students arrived, two sat in my booth and the rest took over the carriage. They were doing some sort of project in some town (Regina something or other) and were still doing it as they travelled. It involved going through a magazine and randomly circling things.

Well that was how it appeared. Travelling back through the snow (I never thought it snowed in Italy!) I became heavily involved in helping the students, well they literally dragged me into their group and adopted me against my better judgement. So for four hours I was happy, completely forgetting how depressed I was. Well I did have cute Italian guys to watch and joke around with. They were all so nice.

They got off just before Milan and I was left alone. In Milan I literally had to work my socks off to get on to a train to Paris. I had to go 1st class as it was full which meant I had no money left. I spent the trip (by TGV I was so pleased to see one again) in a small compartment with 4 businessman and a confused American rich student who constantly had to ask me things like "Wheres the loo?" "Do they have a food cart?" Despite my pointing to the large picture signs which were simple to understand he never grasped the idea that the toilets were right next to us.

I arrived in Paris at about 11pm. I had been travelling for over 15 hours, the TGV had broken down on the way. I had no money. No room. And no chance to contact mum until the morning. So I travelled the metro to the Gare du Nord, and wandered around until 4am.

While I was wandering I entered the Moulin Rouge district. I was offered sex shows 15 time and sex 5. I was plied with British (!) women and everything. I ran away from there!!

At 4am the Gare du Nord opened for Eurostar crossings so I sought refuge there. Myself, a mad Swedish gent, a lovely Dutch expat living in Spain and a really ugly homeless man crowded round platform 10s (I think thats the number) standing radiator. The Swedish bloke was very intelligent and when a Japanese family joined us he chatted away in Japanese. He left then the Duth lady and I discused cats until I pointed out her train and we parted. Sadly said train was in fact going in completely the wrong direction. (Hope she is ok....)

After discussing with my mum money she promised to get 40 pounds in my account by 10am.

It quickly became apparent that there was more to platform 10 than meet the eye. I was being cruised. I consulted my Spartacus international gay guide and low and behold, platform 10 was a gay cruising area.

The people around the radiator changed and I was chatting with a gay guy when two boys of about 15 arrived lugging really heavy bags. They looked at me and the bloke (Jean) and then began kissing in a rather heated way, in an attempt to get a reaction. They were obviously out to make a point. Me and jean exchanged looks of "Ah bless, how sweet"

Then two old ladies started kicking up a fuss telling the boys off, making the bigger one get protective of the more effeminate one. Me and Jean told them to leave it but they went and got one of the gendarmes with their army escorts. They came over told the old ladies off for making a nusicance and left. :o)

The boys left, heading for a run away attempt to Amsterdam. I mentally wished them all the luck in the world and felt my spirits lifted by such a sweet couple. I really wished I had done something like that when I was 15.

Around 11 I got my money and a ticket for a train at 16:00.

At 13:00 a small bomb exploded, but no one seemed to care. France is a strange place.

I got my Eurostar to Calais, another train into town, I joined a group of foolish day trippers who I helped get home as they had no idea how to get the port. On the bus the driver looked at me, smiled and said "You again, enjoy your trip did you?"

The ferry took ages and I got home so late. Mum came and picked me up from Dover station and was so over dramatic, and then I was home in my bed, and my travel bag was falling to pieces and I couldn't stay awake any longer. My adventure had ended.....for the time being.....