30-Day Solo Travel in Europe | Day 12: The Morning I Missed Mont Saint-Michel

（Previous chapter of my journey: 30-Day Solo Travel in Europe | Day 11: Poem of Versailles - Metamorphoses Myth Blooming in Latona Fountain）

Well, today didn't go according to plan.

There I was at 6 am, stumbling out of my apartment in the pale morning light, convinced I'd given myself plenty of time to reach the tour departure point for Mont Saint-Michel. This is the most expensive and anticipated excursion of my Paris Pass.

Google Maps assured me it was a thirty to forty-minute journey from my place. But what it failed to mention was Paris' transportation chaos. The metro was doing fine on the last few days, but the buses and trains? They operate on their own mysterious timetable. They are often delayed or cancelled. Especially for morning departure ones, they showed me how transportation could be seriously 'disrupted'. When I finally reached my transfer point, I was misled by Google Maps to the opposite bus stops, where I could only helplessly watch my bus leaving before I reached the right bus stop.

So I arrived at the meeting point five minutes late. Deep down in my heart, I was hoping there might be some flexibility as tour groups usually allow ten to fifteen-minute grace period. Instead, I found nothing there but an staff member who simply said: 'The coach has already left on time.'

Standing on the street in the cold morning, my mind went completely blank. I was so mad at myself for being five minutes late. What was the point of waking up so early at 6am, battling the cold, navigating complex routes? All for nothing! Travelling alone, I knew I could only blame myself for not planning better. A wave of disappointment washed over me, not just about the non-refundable money I paid, but watching a carefully planned day slip away.

At 7:30 am in Paris, most attractions were still closed. The Eiffel Tower stood in the distance, watching coldly as this forgotten traveller began her hour-long journey back to the room she left just hours before.

Perhaps sleep was the medicine I truly needed. The constant coughing in Paris metro, the lingering odours. Their effects were finally showing on me, with my sore throat worsening each night. With my schedule suddenly empty, I made peace with the situation.

In the afternoon, I returned to the comforting neighbourhood around Line 7. I visited the mosque that the Dutch girl had mentioned, its colourful tiles glowing with exotic charm in the sunlight. The mosque felt like an oasis, completely different from Parisian streets, its vibrant architecture filling my camera roll.

I found a crêperie nearby to treat myself to proper French galettes. A friendly waitress who spoke fluent English took my order. The warmth and aroma of freshly cooked crêpes slowly eased the morning's regrets from my mind. Maybe the universe knows better than I do what's truly best for me. Though I missed Mont Saint-Michel, my body got the rest it needed, and I learned to cheer myself up again despite disappointment. When plans go awry, rather than complaining all day, it's better to gather yourself and move forward.

(Fortunately, I finally found throat lozenges at a local pharmacy after two days of searching. Though plans slip away like sand through an hourglass, life always finds its way forward.)