An overnight train to Nice

The border?

The fountain

Cruisin' along

Lol backpacks

The square

P & the beach

Nice, France

Ahh, the French Riviera. I ended up there entirely on accident and after a harrowing 16 hours in Milano Centrale’s train station. Still, all good travel stories come out of some kind of adversity. Having to figure out how exactly to check one’s baggage when there are no clear directions for doing so, how to read the supremely unhelpful map, where to buy some lunch that isn’t way overpriced, and bribing border guards so they don’t kick you off the train – all good kinds of adversity, but mostly in retrospect. Not when you’re cranky from little sleep and worried about where you’re sleeping that night.

But being able to laugh about it afterwards with one of your best friends in the world? Worth the hardship. And it’s one of those things that makes solo travel less appealing. For all the freedom that you have when you travel by yourself, for all the great people you’ll meet along the way, sometimes it’s wonderful to be able to reminisce about the time that it took you two days to get from Rome to Paris and for a few hours, you both just hung out and enjoyed the sun and the view on the beaches in Nice.

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