Day 66: My sleep deprivation is diminishing the very little tolerance I have for children...

Saturday, 8:23AM. Marseille Train Station, France.

First and foremost, I’d like the dedicate this post to the screaming children running back and forth down the alley at 6AM this morning. Because this post wouldn’t have the bitter undertones that I like to live up to without them. Also, burn in hell tikes. Burn in hell.

I’d also like to thank all the airports, cafes, hostels, and train stations that claim to have wifi, but in actuality are too cheap to pay for the bandwidth to accommodate all the people that gather in locations such as those. Stop teasing me.

And this leads me to apologizing, once again, for a long silence. Blame the weefee and blame the Australian broad who gave me a book that was 720 pages of gripping, thought provoking, genius, heart-wrenching despair. She warned me it was sad but that it had also really touched her. So as I read, I thought, “Damn, this poor bastard must have an incredibly uplifting, happy ending to put me through 700 tear soaked pages.” No. Bad things happen to good people and everyone dies. The end.

So I’ve been to quite a few places since I last spoke to the internet. Rome, Florence, Venice, and now Marseille. Rome, for a very good reason, is way too touristy. And traveling has made me into more of an old woman than I already was. My days of long lines and people walking too slowly and snapping photos are long behind me back in the Czech Republic. So I much preferred Florence and Venice that were smaller and quieter. Except my hostel in Venice. A ten by ten room, with three beds shoved inside, with no AC is not an accommodation. But there was a pool, so at least I’m tan.

Marseille has to be the hottest place I’ve been. Me and some lovely people hiked all the way up to Notre Dame. Although, by the top, it looked like we had swam there. Can’t say I’m incredibly impressed by Marseille though. It’s not very pretty, and just this morning I saw a 6-7 year old with a pacifier and a grown woman doing a connect the dots.

I messed up and forgot that I wanted to go to Monaco when booking France and getting distracted by the tragedy in Nice. So I’m off to Barcelona and I’m done planning ahead. And I think I just want to live by the beach for a while. A beach where children are banned.

As if my carb withdrawal wasn’t bad enough, there is ANOTHER screaming toddler with a terrible mother in the waiting room here...... changing his poopy diaper NOT in the restroom. Jayzus.

Here’s some out of context pictures: