Morocco, day twenty-five: Fin
Thank you, and tisbah ala khair.
All done.
It was not a happy morning time when my alarm went off at 6am, which I managed to snooze ten minutes to be at Donostia-Amara for the 7:15 Euksotren to Hendaia/Hendaye. Normally, I wouldn't have made this effort but there is working on the line somewhere between Hendaye and Bordeaux, so this was the only combination that would get me home in one journey rather than having to sit around somewhere between trains. I could've had a longer sit in Bordeaux, I suppose, but the pragmatism of getting home while the shops were still open won out; now that my adventure is over, it feels as if prolonging the journey home would be like trying to remove a plaster slowly.
The walk through a slightly moist early-morning Donostia was stressless, and there were a few people out and about scurrying around clutching a loaf or a briefcase.
I was at Amara in time for the 6:45 but as it was open, decided I would be better off going to the station café for a coffee and some final pintxos. There were people for whom carnival had not finished having beer and pintxos, but I wasn't quite ready for tortilla or an anchovy so settled on a filthy sugary obscenity that looked like a croissant but had a lot of chocolate and sprinkles and was, like the the last morning pastry I had in Donostia, served with a knife and fork and extra sugar.
It was nice of the woman woman to give me cutlery but it was too early in the morning for airs and graces so I just inserted it into my face as gracefully as I could, stopping every now and then for a slurp of my Americano and a quick look to check nobody was judging me. Nobody was judging me; I was having breakfast with at least one elf, a policeman-woman, and a couple of monks. Nothing to see here.
At 3,20€ including a coffee, I strongly recommend whatever that chocolate filth is.
There wasn't much to look at on the Euskotren because it was mostly dark and commutery, although there were still some red striped stockings on their way home. In Hendaye the TER from Bordeaux was just pulling into the station on platform one and as soon as it was empty we all piled on knowing it would soon be the train taking us back to Bordeaux. It was surprisingly empty for the first few stops, save for the few who knew where they liked to sit to do homework or prepare for a meeting, but as we moved north it slowly filled with commuters and students, almost to standing room only.
In Bordeaux I had time for a second breakfast; a croissant and a coffee in the station bistro was 4,50€. Four. Euros. Fifty. Not that I want to go on about it – I've been on holiday, did I mention? – but that's 450 dirhams.
The 11:27 TER to Périgueux left over twenty minutes late as we were held in the station due to idiots on the line. As the delay grew longer, people variously risked getting off the train to seek a better alternative or to have a crafty smoke, but once we were released our driver was clearly not to be held responsible for anyone missing lunch and so we left with much haste. Alighting and boarding along the way was very much a snooze-or-lose or experience and by the time we arrived in Périgueux the train was only five minutes late and there was no need to have fretted about the possibility of missing my onward bus.
