It would be nice, if both implausible and untrue, to claim that I stowed away or fought my way aboard but the truth is, I had a ticket for an armchair seat. It is now my strenuously held opinion that it is a grave mistake to select the cheapest option when travelling on an overnight ferry. Never have I been so uncomfortable as I was in the so-called tout confort fauteuil. Buses on pot-holed Burmese roads? Cheap flights? Not a patch on the Pascal Paoli for extreme discomfort. In future, I will not begrudge a single one of the extra eighteen euros required to sleep in a cabin. I slept on the floor of the salon fauteuil, my grumblings of discomfort interrupted only by the shrieks of a few mismanaged babies. With all that behind me, this sign at the port in Bastia spoke quite directly to me.Sunday, August 19, 2007
De Marseilles en Corse
It was from the upper deck of the good ship Pascal Paoli that my view of la France metropôle for who knows how long receded into the past.
It would be nice, if both implausible and untrue, to claim that I stowed away or fought my way aboard but the truth is, I had a ticket for an armchair seat. It is now my strenuously held opinion that it is a grave mistake to select the cheapest option when travelling on an overnight ferry. Never have I been so uncomfortable as I was in the so-called tout confort fauteuil. Buses on pot-holed Burmese roads? Cheap flights? Not a patch on the Pascal Paoli for extreme discomfort. In future, I will not begrudge a single one of the extra eighteen euros required to sleep in a cabin. I slept on the floor of the salon fauteuil, my grumblings of discomfort interrupted only by the shrieks of a few mismanaged babies. With all that behind me, this sign at the port in Bastia spoke quite directly to me.
It would be nice, if both implausible and untrue, to claim that I stowed away or fought my way aboard but the truth is, I had a ticket for an armchair seat. It is now my strenuously held opinion that it is a grave mistake to select the cheapest option when travelling on an overnight ferry. Never have I been so uncomfortable as I was in the so-called tout confort fauteuil. Buses on pot-holed Burmese roads? Cheap flights? Not a patch on the Pascal Paoli for extreme discomfort. In future, I will not begrudge a single one of the extra eighteen euros required to sleep in a cabin. I slept on the floor of the salon fauteuil, my grumblings of discomfort interrupted only by the shrieks of a few mismanaged babies. With all that behind me, this sign at the port in Bastia spoke quite directly to me.
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