These have been the longest three days of my life, and I have a few stories to tell. I suppose I’ll start on the 25th.

July 25: I made two decisions that day: first, to see the Tour de France, and second, to go to Greece a few days later. At 7:00pm, I was at the train station making a reservation for Paris when I ran into Nicole, whom I had met on the pub crawl. She had just graduated from Stanford. Lucky her! I got her email address and also met Ash and Sibyl there.

Earlier that afternoon, I had spent time with two women from Mexico. One was named Wendy, after the character in Peter Pan, while the other had somehow remained nameless. They planned to leave for Greece that evening. Eventually, the unnamed woman and I got to know each other better. I made dinner with the group and generally enjoyed myself. When BJ introduced himself, she told him her name was Ana. I jokingly walked out of the room because she had told him before telling me, and we all laughed about it.

That evening, after deciding not to join Sibyl and Ash on another pub crawl, I walked Ana to her train and kissed her on the cheek. She turned, and we shared a light kiss. The other surprise was their invitation to join them in Greece, where they planned to rent an apartment. I returned to the hotel, wrote a few emails, read for a while, and found the group to exchange email addresses. As I finished writing them down, I stepped outside and discovered they were all back. Some men had harassed them on the train, so they got off, a decision the police supported. Ana and I kissed again later that night, but I went to bed around 1:00 while the others stayed up.

July 26: Everyone in my room woke early. I woke at 9:55, with just enough time to check out. I found breakfast and spent some time wandering around town. At about 4:00, I learned that my parents were getting married. Shortly afterwards, I boarded an overnight couchette to Paris. It was somewhat expensive, but I fell asleep immediately. I was the only English speaker in the four-person compartment, although we all got along well. I slept the entire way, arrived at Paris-Bercy, and jumped on the Métro.

I went downtown towards the Tour de France finish line, only then remembering the enormous bag I was carrying. While walking in search of a hostel or luggage lockers, I heard someone call, “Mr Williams!” When I looked over, there was Robin Williams. I could hardly believe it. I said, “It must really be difficult having everybody know who you are.” He replied, “It must really be difficult carrying that big bag,” then added, “It looks like we both have burdens.” We chatted briefly about my journey. Not wanting to intrude on his walk, I said goodbye and turned up a side street. Paris was off to a good start.

I found my way from one railway station to another, and then to a third where there were lockers. After storing my bag, I met Robert, who had recently graduated from university. He had also been travelling for some time and had come to see the Tour de France. Together, we set off for the finish line.

After a great deal of walking and weaving through the crowd, we ended up beside a honeymooning couple from New York whose original travel plans had changed. They opened an enormous bottle of champagne. We had glasses, good company, chairs borrowed from the park, and excellent places about half a block from the finish line. Amazing! We stood on a slightly raised area, and the television camera passed over us whenever the riders went by. We saw the whole field, including Lance Armstrong. For four people who loved the outdoors, it was incredible. I had never been so excited.

After many hours, the race ended and we headed towards the Champs-Élysées, where the finish line was located. We bought a few things, and Aaron, the groom, bought crêpes for everyone while we watched the parade. We saw Merckx, Armstrong, Induráin, Ullrich, and others. It was intense.

When the parade ended, the couple returned to their hotel. Robert and I checked the timetables for our respective destinations and headed to the railway station. I collected my bag, which is where the trouble began, and we walked from Gare de l’Est to Gare du Nord. We parted ways, and I took a confusing Métro journey to Gare de Lyon. After about an hour of wandering and asking for directions, I learned that my train now departed from Gare de l’Est, where I had started. I took the Métro back and eventually caught a late train to Zurich, arriving at 6:30 the following morning.

After walking around for a while, I boarded another train to Milan and then Florence. The journey so far has been wonderful, with hills and lakes surrounding me. It reminds me somewhat of home, only much hillier. Every slope not covered by rock or trees is blanketed in vivid green grass. Sitting on the train and looking at the old houses nestled into the hills feels almost enchanting. Every now and then, I see people wandering outside their homes and wish I could stay in one. For now, I think I’ll find something to eat.