Last week, three friends and I decided to take a six-day vacation to the south of France. But being poor college students, we needed to cut down costs. And what better way to save money than to travel exclusively by train. Not only is it cheaper than flying, but if you take night trains, you can also avoid paying for hotels. Unfortunately, traveling by train has its downside.

The first in a series of travel disasters was a seven-hour night train from Bordeaux to Marseilles. In accordance with our thrifty trip-planning, we opted for reclinable seats over bunk beds. Big mistake. And to top it all off, of the train’s many bathrooms, only one had running water and only one had soap. Unfortunately, they were not one and the same. So a simple procedure like washing one’s hands involved getting soap from one bathroom and carrying it across the train to the other.

When we finally got to Marseilles, it was 5 a.m., we were cranky and everything was closed. Not wanting to spend four hours hanging around the station, we decided to go to Avignon. We had originally booked tickets to Avignon for the following day, but assumed that switching them shouldn’t be a problem. Mistake number two. Apparently, the ticket salesman in Paris had given us some kind of ridiculous travel itinerary, putting five different trips over the span of four days all on one ticket. When the saleswoman in Marseilles saw the tickets, she called over her boss, who threw his hands in the air and yelled, “Oh la la la la la la.” And I thought that was just a stereotype. He was so shocked that he actually made photocopies of the tickets to show his friends. After much confusion, during which the boss tried to tell us that there was a mistake, the tickets were no good and we would have to pay for everything all over again, we were able to change our Avignon ticket for only 10 extra euros.

We hoped the relatively short, one-hour train to Avignon would be without incident. We were wrong. As the conductor checked tickets, he approached a woman sitting in front of us. Before he had a chance to open his mouth, she began shouting something in an incomprehensible mix of French and English. The phrases “Never in the evening! This is scandalous! I am tired!” kept popping up in her hysterics. Three conductors gathered around, trying to calm her down and asking for her ticket. She did not have one and continued to scream. Finally, shrugging their shoulders, they left her alone. As she got off the train at the next stop, she turned to us and said in English, “Sorry about the noise. Pay and shut up, that’s what they want you to do.”

The following few trains — to Arles, Cannes, Nice, Monaco — passed without incident. Except none had either soap or running water. But, being more experienced travelers now, we came prepared with sanitizing gel and large bottles of water.

And then we decided to go to Italy for dinner. Mistake number three. We bought roundtrip tickets to Ventimiglia, a small coastal town on the French/Italian border. The train was short, cheap and passed through the corniches of the Riviera, giving us breathtaking views of the Mediterranean. We had a wonderful evening and ate delicious pasta and gelato in a restaurant overlooking the beach. Then, as we got back to the station to catch the last train back to Nice, we noticed the word “soppresso” flashing next to our train. To our great dismay, the French railway workers had gone on strike and all of the trains back to France were cancelled. Suddenly, our two-euro train turned into a 100-euro cab. Ah, French socialism at its finest.

Luckily, the strike was resolved in time for our next and final train from Nice back to Paris. Another night train and again without beds, this one was slightly more comfortable, as apparently we were the only ones dumb enough to spend 11 hours in reclinable seats and so had most of the train to ourselves. But then, one of the only other passengers, who looked homeless, came over and asked us for cake. We pretended not to speak French, clutched our suitcases, and fell asleep fearing for our safety.

But apart from the various travel glitches, gallivanting through Provence, swimming on a secluded island off the coast of Cannes, sharing in the glamour and royalty of Monaco and tanning on the idyllic beaches of Nice were well worth it. Plus, it’s hard to complain about any vacation that ends with a trip back to Paris.

Vicky is now an expert on the dos and don’ts of traveling in France. For recommendations, email her at vickyd@stanford.edu.