I managed to get myself a vomiting bug the day we left Zaragoza to take a 9 hour train to Marseille. Ah what timing I have. Plastic bags were my best friend, especially when we were standing at the door ready to jump off one train and run to a connecting platform and I get a wave of nausea… We also had a run in with a local drunk who took a scary liking to us on our midnight train into Marseille. Luckily we lost him on our way to the taxis. I wouldn’t say Marseille is a pretty place… The first day we left our hotel we went in the wrong direction and ended up walking a street with graffitied closed stores, and children loitering in doorways. We scurried back to the hotel for better directions and found the tourist area with a lovely marina and department stores, which made us feel far safer. The next morning Ena woke up with full blown gastro… I was half asleep and awoke to noises from the bathroom. Poor thing. She has sworn off pizza (the last thing she ate… That repeated on her).