Thursday, September 15, 2016

Please take a moment to download and read my file Fully Funded Public Transit .

By bus to Meulan, Mantes la Jolie, around Limay, then a walks back into Mantes la Jolie. By train to Vernouillet and a few tours of Vernouillet before heading back to Poissy.

I can't write "The day dawns cloudy and rainy" because it isn't dawn yet; the skies are black, and cloudy and the roads have that horrible glistening look under the sodium street lights that tells me that the rain is coming down as predicted. Or at least, has been coming down.

What to do? I am not staying in my hotel room all day. I could sit in the cafe for more than my usual 60-90 minutes. Or I could ride the buses and trains across this region of 12,000 square kilometres. Maybe return to some of the towns I visited two years ago? Or I could hop in to Paris and go re-visit the 12e arrondissement where I stayed at Hotel Quatier Bercy.

So, off for a paper and a coffee. The cafe is quiet when I arrive, so I ask Madame Sylvie about the drink I heard her mention yesterday - cafe alongé - and I order one. As far as I can make out, cafe alongé is a regular single dose of coffee, topped up with hot water. That suits me fine. A bigger drink, more fluid, but a minimum amount of caffeine.

As I walked past the legumerie where yesterday I chatted with the proprietress, I called out to her "Au travail!", and she recognized me, remembered me, and called back "Bonne promenade, Monsieur". This is trivial stuff for everyone but a big deal for me who was too scared to venture out of Anglo-company years ago.

Le Figaro has an article about Gaia and the release yesterday of a new map of the Galaxy. A poetic thought dawns on me: “Every star that we can see, exists within our galaxy".

I keep an eye on the clock. My plan is to catch the 9:30 #3 from Gare Nord, so I should leave the cafe by nine. I had left the Do Not Disturb sign on my door. It has become a custom to leave it in place until after my coffee, when I return to pack my bag and flip the sign to "Enter", and it is a sign of the impact of the thoughtfulness of the French that I feel I should re-enter the hotel, just to flip the sign, otherwise the maid might think I still was not ready. I know in practical terms she would knock, or the concierge would assure her I was out and not returned, but I feel the urge to abide by custom, so that there are few surprises.

I scoot through the station and recall two days ago watching a young guy game the system. To exit the station you swipe your card, and as you turn a turnstile, the door opens. Young guy, slender, whips his leg through the gap between the doors, kicks the turnstile to make it rotate. The doors swing open, he passes through and then hurdles the turnstile. Le Mec!

The #3 arrives and it is a lady driver. I decide to ask her, at the end of the route, what percentage of drivers are ladies. The route of the #3 is dead simple, a straight run down the road that runs alongside the river Seine, although we see little of the river because houses line the bank, and walls guard the houses. The rain begins to fall and the wipers swish back and forth. I have a two-hour wait in Meulan, and I had thought of spending at least one hour walking, but that will be no fun in this rain.

This bus has a rack of timetables and I flip through them and find a set of thirties - #31, #32 and #33 - all based in Vernouillet-Verneuil. I returned by RER from there last Saturday(?) so I might scoot back quickly by train and spend a half a day touring that little neighbourhood. This could get quite confusing, for as I walk around Meulan I spot a #32 and think “I bet he could take me to where I catch the #3 back to Poissy", but now I see that the #32 out of Vernouillet-Verneuil is a totally different bus from the #32 in Meulan.

Much of the route consists of a half-kilometre of dead-straight road and then a roundabout. The roundabouts are like beads on a necklace. We pass through perhaps a dozen. This morning I noticed something strange about the roundabout outside my window - it sports a set of traffic-lights! Now, to my mind the purpose of a roundabout is to obviate traffic lights, to permit a smoother flow of traffic, so the question is, how often have YOU seen a roundabout with seven or eight sets of traffic lights?

A #98 goes by in the other direction. The #98 runs along this road to Triel, then gives a Grand Tour of Triel. The #98S goes to Vaux, and we will pass through Vaux on #3 on our way to Meulan.

As we pass through each little village I note again that each place has at least one pharmacy with its animated Green Cross. At one time I can see three pharmacies at once. One down a side street, one alongside the bus, and one in the distance.

Oh yes, I forgot. Yesterday I wandered into a florists to ask questions. At one stage the lady let loose with "des roses roses", which quite threw me until I realized she was talking about Pink Roses!

We pass by the forest of Hautil, but I can't see it, not on account of the rain and clouds, but because of the housing that lines the inland side of the road. No river and no forest. What am I to do? At Le Lion Vert the houses overlook the Seine; it must be glorious to sit and eat at night and watch the barges go by, although after a while I stopped jumping up to watch the fire-trucks race past my window.

Cars are parked on what would be the sidewalk were it not covered in gravel. I suppose that the oil drips through the gravel, or is rinsed through by the rain, so the gravel looks clean all the time. Car wheels must agitate it as well, and perhaps the movement of the gravel slices off some weeds. At any event it should be easy enough to pass a rake or a machine rake through the area to reduce the weeds.

As we pass through the bus stop Le Temple, I notice the sameness of the housing. It looks as if fifty years ago a developer took over a half kilometre of the street on both sides!

We arrive in Meulan and the lady driver asks me why I am taking photos. She sounds non too happy.

I have been sitting in the front seat, consulting three maps, writing notes, and taking photos. I think she thinks that I am from management and am examining her. I explain that I am a tourist just taking aide-memoires, but as I descend she does not give me a friendly smile and an Au Revoir. I recall what the drivers in Saint-Remy told me, that acceptance of lady-drivers is very low. How can I convey to her that I think female drivers make better drivers than males, especially on buses?

Hours later I realize that perhaps she didn't want to be identified, so I thought to crop the photos that show here. That made me think that I should crop all photos that identify drivers.

I spotted some map racks on the bus, so grabbed two or three local bus routes.

There's good news and there's good news. My last two full days here - Saturday and Sunday - the local train lines are closed for maintenance. Fair enough. Happens all the time in Toronto. Shuttle buses are provided.

Well, I had not planned on going in to Paris on either day, so it wouldn't hurt me to spend the last two days on foot around Poissy. Further more, the shuttle bus to Sartrouville will be about sixty minutes - an ideal sight-seeing opportunity. Likewise the shuttle to Cergy.

As I head home out of the cafe, the clouds threaten more rain. It is odd to see overcast skies in Poissy; I've never before seen overcast skies in Poissy ever in my life.

OK. Here's the other part of yesterday's joke about Bridging Finance. The woman was using an ATM, right? From a financial institution. The ATM is set in a painting of the Old Bridge that had the heck bombed out of it by the allies in August 1944.

This tree outside the hotel is showing signs of heat stress. Most of the brownish colour represents seed pods, but in some places entire branches are weakening.

Here is my first photo taken through the front window of the bus. No sign of the driver in this photo. I took the photo to show that we were following a #1 which I rode home, was it last Saturday?

Again, no sign of the driver. This shot shows how grey and dismal is the rain.

Here we are running into Triel.

The streets are wonderfully narrow and, from my point of view, quite a challenge for the driver.

This is a blurry view of a pharmacie. Every town has at least one Pharmacie. At one time today I could see three pharamcies - one alongside the bus, one down a side street, and one straight ahead. It is little different from Toronto downtown where there seems to be a pharmacy on every major corner.

Still in Triel. A miserable day for photos.

Many spots along the road offer us a canopy of trees that meet overhead.

This is the spot where cars are parked on graveled boulevards.

Vaux Le Temple where the buildings on both sides of the road look alike. It is near impossible to tell that from this photo.

Here are the racks of timetables. It is nine o'clock as I type this, and I still feel about the driver's feelings. Even in this shot which was, if you like, aimed directly towards here, she is not visible.

Meulan, entering town through another avenue of trees.

The trees give way to houses.

And the houses begin to yield to traffic the closer we get to the centre of town.

Yes, that's a windscreen wiper slashing away.

We pull up at what turns out to be the terminus. It was at this time that the driver asked me (I think) why I was taking photos. I had just taken a photo of the bridge and resolved to make that my first objective.

Here is a view of the Bureau de Poste from across the street. I am about to head over the bridge.

This is NOT the Seine; this is a small channel of the Seine.

Like so many bridges in the Ile de France, this one sports baskets of flowers.

Note the water pooling in the flood plain.

Here’s the view upstream. We could almost be at The Old Mill subway station, couldn't we?

I could make out individual rain drops hitting the river. I have donned my blue plastic coat and zipped up.

A view back along the bridge towards the Bureau de Poste. Look at the size of that hanging basket!

I was taking a short movie to show the flow of the river. Luckily for us, earlier someone had tossed in a plastic container to act as a marker.

The current in the Seine at Meulan

The current in the Seine at Meulan

The current in the Seine at Meulan

I didn't walk all the way across. When you've Seine one you've Seine them all, right?

But my oh my! Even in the rain the river looks lovely. These trees too are showing signs of heat stress, and they are right on the river banks.

I have made my way to the Mairie. Half an hour later I slipped and fell, my shoes sliding on the slicked paving, right there at the far edge of the Mairie. My fault; I was hurrying to get out of the rain..

I begin my walk down the shopping street. First things first - a Boulangerie!

Across the street a butchers, a greengrocers Streets in towns are lined with shops selling food and drink. I wonder sometimes how the economy works, because eating and drinking out is much enjoyed.

Then I came across a vacant store and I realized that I had seen very few empty stores in the first week.

Beautiful flowers line the sidewalks.

And off to the side in alleyways are more gardens.

Cheese and Meat. I have died and gone to heaven!

And another pastry shop. My hands tremble in excitement.

"When you see a fork in the road, take it".

I elect to take the high road; you can take the low road.

Then I found the little grate that couldn't. Water is flowing downhill, from the left hand side of the photo. The water is supposed to run into the grate and be channeled away, but it doesn't obey the rules. Look closely: Much of the water running down the centre of the cobbled area finds its way ONTO the grating and then runs along a depression in the centre of the grating, emerging at the right-hand edge of the grate to start an new pumped-up rivulet. The right-hand side of the photo shows water glistening over the concrete apron and across the bitumen.

A side-alley takes me up a steeper track to the church.

This is a squat and lasting building. None of your fancy tatting in stone here.

That is a bus revving away from me. A #32 in fact. Whatever that is. If I catch one, I bet he can take me to where I should catch the #3 for the trip home. Bus drivers are like that.

So now we know that this is the church of St Nicolas. I skipped the cemetery, being in no mood to walk through wet grass.

No, not a Tromp d'Oeil. It is a poster. I have no idea what purpose the narrow building serves.

I tried the main door but it was locked.

I knew there was a railway line, because when you hear trains Whooshing nearby ...

The station is not far down the track. I'll be walking by there soon.

Down the hill I go. That's the shopping street cutting across the lane, in the distance.

Some more mock-Tudor, this time showing the minimalist influence.

I have given up on the rain, taken off my sodden hat and coat in a cafe, ordered a double, and sat for five minutes feeling guilty should I open my net book. This is a small bar/cafe, very personal, a place to meet and talk with others here. Not a place to whip out a cell phone or anything almost as modern. Will I get kicked out?

The cello-tape top-left and bottom right have lasted two years now. They hold the keys in place. The duct-tape over the letter "C" helps me to stop and start the music when it is dark; for example, early morning in winter time.

After an hour, the rain has stopped and I start walking the streets again. I love the mysterious alleys that cut right through the buildings. This is not a roadway; it is an established short cut and probably gives access to homes within the building.

Here is another one

This street has been narrowed and foot access widened by dropping poles into holes. It is not much of a help for people in wheelchairs, but it is a start.

I have found the entrance to the town hall: It's quite a trip. I picked myself up, dusted myself off (well, de-muddified myself to be honest), walked around the back and collected some more bus schedules, and armed with a map of the city I am exploring further afield.

I love these streets.

A real live train on a bridge. I told you that the station wasn't far away.

In some places the sidewalks are in disrepair The recent rain makes this clear.

And this narrow roadway is a channel for heavy transports.

Serious heat-stress shows on these leaves.

And these.

And so I have walked all the way from Meulan to Hardricourt. Hardricourt is the city of chocolate, but I didn't see any chocolate shops in this part of town.

In the background is the railway embankment. The station Meulan-Hardricourt is just off to the left.

Yep! Another Pharmacy!

It is all coming back to me now. Dual-establishments. You walk in and think "I'll buy a paper and order a coffee and sit and have a read and a drink", but there are two establishments. One is a tobacconists/newsagent, run by one person. The other establishment is a bar/cafe run by another person. You have to make two transactions with two different people. To make things worse, you can sit down and order a coffee brought to your table, but you must not sit down and call out for a paper to be ferried across the boundary zone. To make matters doubly worse, sometimes the tabac/presse goes out for lunch or to the toilet, and then the other person stands in for them.

And what would my daily journal be without a photo of a quaint building?

Another disaster. I thought that this was a Goodwill, second-hand stuff shop, so I walked in, no intention of buying a suit or anything, just wanted to look around. Turns out it is not a retail establishment at all, Guy produces promotional products; hence the t-shirts, sweat-shirts, pens, clocks etc.

I made the mistake of apologizing, in French, “Sorry, I thought you were a second-hand shop". Just the sort of thing a promotional products guy wants to be mistaken for.

The sky threatens me again. I take this kind of weather personally.

I am now on the larger of the two bridges, overlooking the smaller of the two channels.

A gloomy view upstream to my earlier bridge.

A gloomy view back towards St Nicolas (on the hill)

And a better view upstream to my earlier bridge.

So my guess is that the island used to be fortified against Pirates? Marauders? Germans? English Tourists? Australian tourists with Fractured French?

A view of the calm channel.

And so ends my walk around Hardricourt I am back in Meulan. Now. About Lunch ...

First I must re-cross this bridge ...

... and this channel ...

... and this bridge ...

with this channel.

There follows a long interval without photos, for I jump on a #80 bus which turns out to be capable of taking me all the way to Mantes la Jolie, about twenty miles, express. I am sat in the front seat and absolutely too scared to take out my camera.

We pass through Les Mureaux, and first chance we get we hop on the Auto-Route A13 and don't stop for over seventeen miles. Whoosh! Here we are in a Gare Routiere in Mantes.

This bus is part of a sub-system run by "Transports de l'Agglomeration de Mantes et Yvelines"

I have hopped onto a bus route "K" which says it is going to Limay. The name sounds familiar. I scan my Michelin map of the entire western half of the Ile de France and can't find what must be a large town called Limay. I should have had lunch before I left Meulan.

Oh well. We will see what we will see, as Lucia would say.

I have learned my lesson and am sitting well to the back of the bus to take photos.

This bus has a real rear door; the door is right at the back of the bus. The bus has a front door and a middle door I rather think that the rear door is for a wheelchair ramp.

We are heading north, across the Seine, so I focus my attention/search on a mere 3,000 square kilometres of France.

Keep an eye on that white thing, we will be back to discuss it shortly.

Two intersections later and even on my 1;200,000 map I can tell where we are. Limay! Limay is just the north-bank (rive-droite) of Mantes la Jolie.

And this is the Mairie of Limay.

This part of Limay looks like a dormitory village anywhere in the Ilê de France.

There! I have outlined the terminus at our destination. We have traveled from the left to the right in this photo. Since the driver didn't have any spare timetables, I decided to photograph the map inside the bus ...

... and spent much of the rest of the trip photographing the industrial area.

Or Zone Industrielle as it is known here.

You have to laugh. I really thought at one stage this morning that I'd end up traveling across half of France. I'd probably confused "Limay" with "Limousin".

It is not Heavy Industry, but then many dangerous plants are light chemical places.

And for all I know this collection of tanks hold just Oxygen, or Nitrogen.

This truck let us pass first. The truck carries the longest gas cylinders I've ever seen (apart from those Saturn-5 rockets and the like)

The plants are clean, neat, and tidy, I'll give them that.

But I'd not find it a pleasant place to go for a stroll after lunch and before afternoon classes.

Here is a shot of the fourth finger of my left hand. Twin towers of a church have bullied their way into my photo.

We are headed back to Mantes La Jolie, or "Mantes" as the front of the bus would have it.

I hop off the bus at the last stop before the river, Pont de Limay, and began walking across the bridges. I shouldn't be surprised that so many towns have multiple bridge spans. After all, it is easier to build two smaller bridges and use an intervening island than it is to build one huge span.

Mantes/Limay even has its own Pont Ancien, just like Poissy! And yes, that is a barge that has sneaked through the gap in the bridge. I wouldn't relish edging backwards towards a bridge in this river current!

More on hurdles for the handicapped. You have an option of rolling to the elevated portion of the sidewalk to the left, not knowing whether you will be able to roll off it safely, or squeezing next to the oncoming traffic to the right of this sign.

A view from the other side. Forget what I said about "the elevated portion of the sidewalk"

A little further south and this becomes a course on which you can show off your skills at Slalom. That's the earlier sign away in the background of this photo.

The rain has held off for now. Here is a view downstream across the river.

And here we see a tower that looks like an imitation of Tour St Jacques. The tower is not related to the roofed building; that's just an illusion. Although the tower did look as if it was a practice piece for the next photo.

The imposing church of Mantes La Jolie.

Remember that white blodge I told you about forty-five minutes ago?

Well, it churned away as I walked over this span. I took a movie. These are powerful motors. For all that it is a large boat, it took off with amazing speed.

The riverboat pulling away in Mantes La Jolie

Here it is not two minutes after it was at the dock. A large boat.

By now you are getting used to the flower baskets on the bridges. I'm not sorry that I'm not (getting used to them, I mean)

"Looms" is the word, I think.

The dogs of Mantes.

With a much-larger-than-life (I hope!) statue.

I am walking into the downtown core. My plan is to stop and treat myself to a Croque Monsieur.

Ignore the pile of garbage; I did. It is not a common site in these towns and cities. Garbage seems to sit outside for only a brief interval before it is collected. Perhaps municipal service windows are much narrower than Toronto's.

(Sigh!) Even their small trees are bigger than our big trees in downtown Toronto.

I got a passerby to take a shot of me chatting up yet another charming young lady of the locality.

Then I came across this roundabout. We drove past this on the way out of town. Now all I have to do is navigate my way back to the train station, one bus stop at a time. Like a salmon returning upstream to spawn.

Another mock-Tudor, this time with an Asiatic accent.

I walked into a Boulangerie to grab a slice of quiche and ended up with an oven-heated croque monsieur. I had intended to have a sit-down snack in a brasserie, but fell for this (unique to me) take-away croque monsieur.

Now I have spotted my next objective.

Some benches where I can sit and munch a quick and hot snack.

It didn't look too appealing. I ate half and stuffed the rest away to eat later. The next morning the waste bin in my hotel room ate it.

Bricolage? Isn't that the word the lady in the tourist office in Maisons Laffitte wrote down for me, just yesterday?

I wasn't kidding about the Asiatic influence. I sat and ate my lunch next to this restaurant.

And just across the street was this one.

A better view of the lengthy title of the local bus system.

Still not too far away, another Chinese establishment. Closed for now.

About those cleaning bills - €5.20 for a pair of pants. How did the bill ever get as high as thirty Euros?

Here I am back at the station. I have had a nice long chat with an Information Officer who finally confessed that he didn't know the entire rationale behind the four-letter identifiers of the RER trains. The identifiers are for internal use, and us travelers are just supposed to know which one is OURS!

For example, my train leaves in 22 minutes (and the one after that in 52 minutes), and their identifier is "PALE". So if you are standing on the platform and a train comes in that is NOT "PALE", then don't get on the train. Wait for "PALE".

My new friend did try to explain that many of the letters were mnemonic, such as "P" for Paris, and "O" for mOntparnasse, but then he switched to "M" for Montparnasse. One letter declares the origin and one letter declares the destination, or so I've read. I have read, too, that one letter describes the train as short (5 or 6 carriages) or long (10 or 12).

Too, I have read that the last two letters are imposed just take the four-letter combination pronounceable (!), but that makes no sense at all. If the first two letters include a vowel, then a 2-letter code is pronounceable. Isn't that a lovely word? Find a quiet place and make it un-quiet by articulating, or vocalizing if you will, the word pronounceable.

The bottom line: We are not supposed to worry about how the names are made up.

But of course, I am worried.

Here is my train. I have enough time for a pee and a stroll around the station.

I ask for and receive directions. Down the stairs ... at the foot of the stairs is a huge sign.

You know your platform, now remember the colour. I am purple-H, but first I must make my way to Orange-D.

There are two doors. One door is male and one is female. I mean of course, that one door is for males ...

You must have a 50c piece with you, drop the coin in the slot, "Click!", then turn the handle. The washroom was clean enough, but on exit, the door didn't swing shut automatically, so I left it ajar in case the next Australian tourist didn't have the right change.

I don't know why I took this shot. We have all seen an SNCF suburban train before, right?

I found a track map of the station complex.

Yes, those lines are railway lines, and You Are Here in one of those rectangular blocks at the foot of the photo.

Still wandering around "D" I took another shot of the train. Those lucky people are walking the bridge, where I'd like to be, taking photos from on high. But there is no access to the bridge from platform "D".

It took me a few seconds to decipher this sign, then I got it. We are ON the platforms C&D, so that leaves A, B, and E through H.

Right!

It's hard to miss your platform.

Here I am on platform H. The overhead sign tells me there are but 15 minutes to wait for my PALE train.\

The second line scrolls through every station served by this particular train. If you don't see your station listed, then don't get on the train. It's that easy.

Oh, and one other thing, while you are staring upwards at the screen, the security camera is staring right back at you, full nose-picking face and all!

That's our train on the right, coyly waiting for me.

This is a short train. I swivel around to shoot the other part of it. Five carriages, six at most.

On the extreme right of this photo are the service buildings The toilets are out of sight, to the right.

Here is a view towards and across Mantes la Jolie. I have just walked past those twin towers peeking in the centre of this photo.

After a few minutes asking another employee about the rationale behind short trains - he assured me that every train scheduled had a recurring length. That is, this train, the Thursday 15:10 from Mantes, will always be a short. Come back next year and the Thursday 1520 will be short. Got it!

Another train glides into Mantes from the west, but this train is Hors de Service, and my guess is that it is cruising towards Paris to assist in the Daily Exodus.

A view from the rear of the train to the head. It looks long from here, but trust me, this is a short train.

The freight train alongside of us grunts, edges forwards two wagon-lengths, then stops.

I am traveling from Mantes (right most bulb) to Vernouillet. Poissy is two bulbs further to the left.

And this is why I always travel with plastic milk bags. No grease-stains on MY maps from leftover croque-a-porter!

This objective: Mantes to Vernouillet.

Earlier today I was in Hardricourt, just the other side of the river from Les Mureaux.

So many bus lines, so little time. All these buses serve Vernouillet, and then some.

Trying not to get too organized, I note our arrival time in Vernouillet and arrange the schedules in sequence according to bus departure times after this train's arrival time. The #31 is the one I should take first, and I figure I'll be able to take three half-hour tours of the town within a two-hour span.

These SNCF suburban trains have stale Perspex windows. I say :"stale" because they look as if they are still coated in nicotine. Perhaps it is solar damage. The material certainly isn't scratch-proof, and it makes for a poor photo experience.

This is a shot of the apartment buildings just east of the church of St Nicolas in Meulan. That is the tower of St Nicolas on the skyline immediately above the “M” of “Meubles”.

The hills are the valley on the right bank of the Seine. We have a similar set of hills just behind me as I take this photo.

Many of the stations along this line are being renovated. The platforms are a mess of materials. I am starting to get homesick after seeing all the debris.

Vernouillet is no different. I remember this mess from last Saturday.

When it is finished Vernouillet will have five or six loading platforms and tracks.

But right now it is a bare concrete ramp..

The entrance to the stairs is a gravel pit of rocks and holes.

Here I am outside the station. I had to be helped out.

I got as far as the barriers and pulled out my wallet to swipe my card to open the barriers, but here you need to push a small and discreet steel button to open the barriers. In other stations you swipe your card. In other stations you just walk through the turnstile.

Back in the good old days (Carte d'Orange) you fed your ticket through every turnstile, and the RATP collected anonymous data on every trip made by every passenger. I was told that the system could adjust train schedules to fit loading in real time, but I have not been able to verify that.

At the foot of each bus timetable are the trains served. In this case, the buses on route 32 that slide back into the station at 16:14 and at 16;44 will connect you to the 17:07 to Poissy and Paris.

You will note that there are a great many more trains FROM Paris in the afternoons. This is a dormitory town. You sleep here but go to work in Paris.

Likewise there are a great many more trains going INTO Paris in the morning.

Unlike, say, Barrie where trains run ONLY inwards in the morning and only outwards in the afternoon

And me? I am scrutinizing the train times to optimize my bus trips here without having to wait an hour for the train home.

And what do I see but a conflict. two of the bus timetables show conflicting view of train departures.

Pedantic little show-off that I am I ask the bus driver if I have correctly understood the train times, and he says something like "Bien Observé", but I couldn't tell whether it was mock admiration or the real thing.

I might be the first person in the world to have read and compared the fine print o these timetables. But that won’t get me even a free cup of coffee tomorrow morning.

School is out, and the platforms are populated with high-school kids. Elementary kids get picked up at the school gates by parents.

We set off on the bus. This insignificant shot serves only to remind me to tell you that the region is one of yellow clay. I don't think it is yellow loam. Building excavations produce huge yellow dumps of clay with embedded rock. Perhaps they are glacial deposits, but maybe it is all muck deposited by the Seine.

We flash past beautiful stone walls.

The house in Gawler was built somewhat like this. maybe that is part of the draw. These walls represent my younger days.

Roundabouts are a common sight in small towns, and are usually decorated with shrubs and flowers.

Mock-Tudor crops up everywhere.

And blue shutters are the "in" thing right now.

Now, who knew that there was a BUS that ran through Poissy to St Lazare. Maybe I'll hop on that bus one day and see the city for a long ways.

There again, maybe I won't !

We drift through a small shopping district.

And at one point there is a park on one side of the bus ...

... and a park on the other side of the bus.

I took a Selfie out of boredom.

Now I get it! In the Ilê de France, you grow hedges, not lawns. Just as green, much less maintenance.

Smart, too.

Another quick view across the valley of the Seine.

And just in case you were wondering, a single-shot ticket for the local bus (and hence in the one zone) is about $3

Here I am giving the finger to the town hall.

I really must get used to this camera lens being where it is.

Now at the start of my bus trips two girls were performing this new trendy thing of sitting with your legs where the bus wheels will go, when the bus zoomed in and caught them unawares. teenagers, right? They leapt up and out of the way to my delight as I watched their books and papers go blowing away across the bus station roadways.

Serves them right!

Half an hour later, another crop of Darwinian Candidates is at it again.

What you get in a dormitory town of course is lots of space.

Here's a shot of me waiting for the 17:07 to Poissy.

The literature tells of the mayor's fight to make Verneuil THE station on this part of the line, back in 1889.

Two years ago there must have been track repair going on, but I didn't notice the signs. I just rode the trains. Today I am much more aware of local irritations.

I weep for the "world-class city” that is Toronto. First train at 4:47, last train at 01:36. From little Vernouillet

Here I am collecting four-letter data ...

... for a project I have in mind.

Out onto the platform. The clouds look threatening, but they are blowing away from me, off to the North West. Lancashire will be damp tonight!

Vernouillet will soon have at least five platforms

Didn't I just write that a few minutes go somewhere else?

I can almost understand them not wanting us to use the bins yet - no staff to empty the bins - but I can't understand why we aren't allowed to put our passive bums on passive seats. It can't be wet paint because it was like this a week ago.

Of course, setting up a low-level basketball hoop marked "Recyclables” is an open invitation to any young male who wants to show off to his female companion, so these bins are just that much harder to empty without their bin liners.

Remember back in Mantes la Jolie we were told that "this train, the Thursday 15:10 from Mantes, will always be a short"?

Well, this train, 17:07 will always be a long, right?

I wouldn't lie to you.

You know what's coming now, don't you?

That's right a SHORT train. Those of us who had wandered to the end of the platform get some extracurricular exercise.

This is another empty train running, I suppose, into Paris so that it can zoom out the other side fully-loaded.

A view across the un-scenic platform to the scenic valley wall.

I have learned how to zoom in for shots.

What do you think?

Am I getting any better at this?

Or worse?

The train pulls into Poissy, I leap off, and notice about three dozen would-be passengers sprinting down the platform from where they would have been well-placed for a LONG train but are hopelessly out-smarted by a SHORT train!

An awful shot as I walk out of the station, of a #26 bus from Meulan through Vernouillet to Poissy. Why wasn't I on this bus?

The crosswalk approaches have raised studded area to assist blind people with their navigation. I wondered what happened when a man-hole cover got in the way.

The answer is that I can feel the stubble on the covers as easily as I can the studs, through the soles of my shoes.

I finish off this morning's Figaro in the Istanbul over a plate "Mixtes", which included a large lamb chop, or perhaps a small-sheep chop.

I got an image of the Russian prime minister doused in cheese curds and gravy.

The bus trip out (in purple) and the train trip back (in blue).

My wanderings on foot around Meulan-en-Pluie.

The start of the walk back from Limay(grin!)

The entire walk back from Limay to the Mantes-la-Jolie railway station.

The bus trip out of Mantes to the terminus in Limay and back.