It's my last travel with the TER bourgogne.
I've made this trip hundreds of time, but this one is different.
It's a one-way ticket.
As usual, I'm slightly hangover, but not only because of yesterday's drinks. It's the aftermath of a two-years journey in Dijon.
Two years ago, I left Germany to move in Dijon. Why Dijon? I'm never been able to answer that. I was second guessing my decision to come to Dijon for a while.
The lab was OK but not great, the nightlife is fine but not awesome.
At first, I worked in Dijon during the week and spend all my week-ends in Lyon. At one point I realized that it was making me sad. This schizophrenic life was fucked up.
I had to grow some roots in Dijon, even temporary.
It appears that I wasn't the only one having a hard time in Dijon. Turns out that a lot of person have crappy office days. But there is a support group for that, it's called the bar. For me it was the capputch/mac with a funny Swedish postdoc and a metal-head PhD student. Thursday's nights happen, followed by Friday's hangover...
It wasn't just about the booze. It was about freedom, blowing steam, social interaction... OK it was about the booze, but it became something else. It was our routine : the stupid nicknames, the final condom, the peated scotch whisky, the lousy 2-euros gifts, throwing beer coasters, playing the unicorn, wearing stupid hats and ridiculous costumes, talking drunk-science to cute girl (not as bad pick-up line as one might think, but still pretty crappy though!).
It was fun. Science, alcohol and friendship. Who needs more?
My train is passing at Beaune station. It's a sunny day and the Burgundy's country side is quite beautiful. I'll miss this place. I did grow tiny roots here.
I will miss the lady from the tabac with her high-pitch voice and her farting cat which doesn't like to be pet. My pharmacist to whom I bought my 1000 mg aspirin pills. She now recognized my in the street and we say bonjour to each other. My épicier to whom I bought Heineken packs, rillettes and cornichons. My favorite restaurant and only healthy meal of the week ; l'age de raisin. My bar and all its habitués...
Chalon-sur-Saône station, the Côte d'Or is now behind me. Memories rush in my brain.
Lots of faces. Drinking, laughing... And some darker times. The sadness, the worries... C'est la vie.
During these hard times, it felt good not to be alone.
Tournus station, half-way throughd my trip. I always liked this small town. It reminds me of a good friend and, like me, it stands just in between Dijon and Lyon. The train is leaving the station. I'm closer to Lyon now. but I'm not in Lyon yet, so I haven't totally left Dijon? As long as the train is moving I'm really nowhere? It's hard to let go.
Macon station, Dijon is far away now but some of it remains with me.
This two years changed me. I now put mustard on every piece of cooked meat. I drink more and better whisky. I discovered various new type of charcuteries, learned crochet and yoga. I'm more confident as a scientist even if it's still difficult to call myself a scientist (Einstein is a scientist, I'm just a lazzy-ass nerd with basic understanding of physical-chemistry).
St Germain au mont d'or. My trip is almost over. I've made some very close friend and leaving you almost make me weep. But I don't.
I'll miss you a lot.
Godspeed my friends.
The train is arriving at Lyon Part-Dieu. It was a special trip, it passes all too quickly...
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