In Lyon

Getting to the hostel from the train station was an ordeal. I arrived at around 11:00 pm to a nearly deserted train station. While I was looking at the really unhelpful metro map on the street, some scary guy came up and started talking to me in french...I said ¨je ne parle pas français¨ and walked quickly back into the train station. Finally, I found an open information booth in the train station where someone spoke a semblance of english and gave me a metro map with directions.
Because it was Saturday night, there was a whole cast of unsavory characters on the metro. I was starting to think that my family would be right to worry about me tonight. And how would I find the hostel in the dark? What kind of neighborhood is it in? Would the guy in the seat across from me (who hasn´t stopped staring at me since I got on) follow me off the train? Is my 'tough and confident, chin up, don´t think you can mess with me´ look even working? Or do I look scared and naive and an easy target.
On the funicular, I asked the only two nice looking women in the whole place for help with directions and they walked with me to within a block of my hostel, which was nice of them.
In the end, it wasn´t so bad I suppose...I got back to the hostel, which, while dingy, seemed safe enough...and ít´s a humbling experience, learning to put your trust in (and ask favors of) complete strangers. And I´ve learned my lesson to avoid late night trains from now on.