to Chambéry and beyond

Emma, Kelli and I recently debated what makes a friend a friend, as opposed to an acquaintance or fellow traveller. Kelli had refered to my neighbour, with whom I've started going jogging, as my "friend", her basis for friendship being a shared activity. For me this is only part of it; jogging doesn't bind us together any more than any club activity would. Besides, given that we live right next door (and not wanting to revisit the wood pile debacle experienced with the previous neighbours), a degree of distance might even be desirable.

Then we talked about the way total strangers help each other out, good Samaritan-style. Again, this misses the mark for me – heartwarming though such selfless acts of generosity are.

Juan has just told me that I am a "true friend" (and at other times claims that I am his "only friend"... hmm), but could absolutely not define what that meant – perhaps reciprocal sharing and supporting?

So what's the connection with Chambéry?
Said jogging neighbour, Carol, mentioned to her husband, Pascal, that I needed to get to the Grenoble suburb of Gières, prior to taking the night train via Chambéry to Paris and then London. So, to avoid me leaving my car at Gières for a week, he offered to drive me to Gières. I was very touched – I doubt I'd have made such a thoughtful gesture, myself.

On our drive down we chat about the differences between France and the UK. Pascal is hugely positive – in his view France has much to learn from the UK, in terms of economy. Then, what irony, at the (unmanned) station we read "Action local. Renseignez-vous au www.transisere.com". No phone number. Thanks a bunch. A strike and I'm stranded. One of the minority who don't have internet access on the hoof. So what next? Bad luck, Rebecca – take the tram to Grenoble city centre and hope there's a shuttle bus? Take a taxi the 50 km to Chambéry? No, Pascal wants to see through what he has started. ("My father taught me that."). Gambling on the service from Chambéry being operational, he drives me all the way there, refusing even to allow me to pay for the tolls, and (he works shifts) ensuring that he arrives home 2 hours after he normally goes to bed.

So is Pascal now a friend? The question no longer seems relevant. What's sure is his neighbourliness and community spirit is something to aspire to.

As for the journey, after the shock of discovering that the short, ancient train on a deserted unlit platform was indeed mine it was a pleasant – if not very sleepful – night; the rolling, grinding motion bringing back memories of other night journeys in my distant, travelling past.