I eagerly awaited dawn after the long night in London and once I saw the first rays of light, I excitedly hopped out of bed. Opting to feel dirty for the day than to shower in the sketchy bathroom, Steph and I packed our bags in record time and practically sprinted down the stairs and out the door to spare ourselves one more minute in the dumpy hostel. And so began another long day of travel. We took a train to central London, switched trains and continued on to Dover, the port where we took a ferry to Calais, France. It was a gorgeous day and we enjoyed the view of the fading British coastline from the top open-air deck, happy to say goodbye to the land that cost us too much money for way too many problems.

We could not wait to arrive in Paris. We had made reservations at a hotel instead of a hostel, feeling the need to splurge after coming off such a horrendous and stressful couple of days. However, on the ferry we realized that we overlooked the fact that we were to make reservations for the only train from Calais to Paris that evening. As I realized my dream of laying in a bed in a safe, private room that night might go unfulfilled, I tried to remain hopeful but figured that the way the last few travel days had panned out, we would probably end up stuck in Calais on a park bench.

At the ticket counter in the Calais train station, we had to wait in line for 30 suspenseful minutes. Needless to say, I was sweating bullets. Finally we were next in line and we asked for two seats on the train to Paris. The French woman clicked away on the computer before her and after a while glanced up and told us there were none available. I buried my face in my crossed arms on the counter, so upset because we had seen four boys purchase tickets for the same train just minutes before. Had they really gotten the last tickets? I walked away, leaving Steph to book a train for the next morning. Around the corner was another ticket desk, so I stood in line to ask another ticket officer if there were any seats available, not ready to accept no for an answer. After a couple of minutes, Steph walked around the corner, wildly waving tickets in her hand! Apparently the woman spoke limited English and misunderstood our explanation of the tickets that we needed. I almost did a cartwheel onto the train.

That night we arrived at our final destination. For three nights and two days we would finally be stationary, not having to move our backpacks once. The hotel room was small but perfect -- a large bed, two nightstands, a desk and a closet. The bathroom was wonderful and was where I took a shower without flip flops for the first time during the whole trip. The room was complete with a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. The only English speaking channel was the U.K.'s CNN, which we were constantly tuned in to hear about the economic crisis back home. Quite depressing since Steph and I voluntarily quit our jobs for this trip. Steph's view on it - at least she quit her job before she was layed off, which looks better on her resume. Ever the optimist!