Sunday was my last day in France, and the day I had to drive back the 400km to Belgium.
1) Due to the party on Saturday night, I slept for only 4-5 hours
2) I was an emotional wreck
3) All the Parisians were heading back to Paris, after their weekend in “la campagne”, causing traffic jams that started already 10 minutes after I left Barbizon.
Taking all the above into account, driving back home became a ride to remember. Or to forget as quickly as possible. Fighting against fatigue, against crazy French drivers, and against the fact that I actually didn’t *want* to drive back home, the road ahead seemed to continue endlessly.
When I finally reached my standard pitstop in Assevillers, which is kind of mid-way, I seriously concidered staying in one of the Formule 1-hotels. Instead, I went for Coke and crisps, hoping they would provide me with enough energy for the remaining 200 km.
Only, by the time I left Assevillers, one more element made matters even worse : It got dark.
And I hate driving in the dark.
I started to think that I would never make it home : I was driving for four hours, the Belgian border seemed to have vanished, and I started to have the sensation that I was sleeping with my eyes wide open. A strange feeling. I was awake, I saw the road, but somehow the connection with my brains was lost. While I was desperately trying to stay concentrated, I finally saw an orange glow on the horizon: Belgium, with its brightly lit highways!
I kept on repeating the mantra “home, hot shower, bed”, and after a total of five hours I reached my Nirvana. Where I had to look for a parking spot for 20 minutes.
Next time I’m so taking the train. And that’s final.
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