Update from Paris--Jan. 26-27 (before Jo'burg)

**Written in Charles de Gaulle airport

I should start out from the very beginning, which is this: I spent the entire morning feeling sick and very nervous. We arrived at the Hartsfield-Jackson airport in Atlanta an hour behind schedule because there was some massive traffic back-up right before our exit. We kept seeing signs that said “Construction, X number of miles.” Never did we see construction. Regardless, we arrived with plenty of time since my mother and I are relatively OCD about that kind of thing. After all, we had left the house around 5am for me to make a 12:30pm flight needing only 3½ hours of travel time. Check-in went easily with a very kind man who joked about my travel agent needing to update their systems (I hadn’t the slightest idea why). My mom dropped me at the security checkpoint where we both said our teary goodbyes. Then I cried all the way through the checkpoint like a crazy. No one seemed to noticed—they were all talking on cell phones. Once I boarded the plane, however, my spirits were lifted, and the flight to D.C. was short and enjoyable.

In D.C., I met up with Jon David, a friend and fellow Rotary scholar, while he was on his way to Israel with his friend Ava. Just in case you thought me odd for going through Paris to get to Johannesburg, Jon David went through Israel to get to Cape Town. I feel vindicated, thank you. We just happened to be going through Dulles at the same time, and so we had some dinner, shared pictures, and then said goodbye until we meet up for the Rotary Conference in Cape Town at the end of February.

I had been hoping and praying for some lovely seatmates, and I found 3! A lady about my mother’s age from Virginia Beach sat down on my right along with her 17-year-old daughter. They were traveling to Paris to vacation with her son who lives in London, and to celebrate his birthday. What a deal! They had been to Paris twice before, and the girl kept practicing her French with the flight attendants (true to form, stewardesses found it much more endearing than stewards). On my other side was Sarah, a woman who was American by birth, but had lived in France since she was young. She was extremely helpful to me, with many answers to my many questions. We discussed her transition to French schooling, her family in the States, and my experience as a Southerner. After watching the movie The Queen, we discussed the kindness in casting a Prince Charles “look-alike,” as well as our impressions of the movie and the royals. When I inquired as to the process of catching a taxi when I spoke little French, she offered to walk out with me and arrange it for me! What luck! She made it much easier, and I was so very thankful for the help. So, after dreading a 7 hour flight, it went by easily, and my commute to the hotel was easy.

I arrived at the hotel around 9:30 and checked into my room about 10:15, only to unpack a tad and then collapse on the bed. Every channel in France was covering the funeral of Abbe Pierre, a French monk much like Mother Theresa. Unfortunately, I couldn’t understand a bit, and so after trying to keep up for a while, I switched to BBC World which had an interview of Gene Wilder (given name Jerome Silverman—who knew?!). I promptly fell asleep and then roused at 12:30 to have lunch with Farley! What a treat. After lunch, I showered and collapsed again until Farley’s return from class. We then embarked on our marathon night: Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Eiffel Tower on foot.

Our first stop was Notre Dame during Friday evening mass. We heard the choir sing and the organ play, talked about how much we wished we were in that choir, and toured the cathedral. It was beautiful. If I can get Google video to work, I’ll post the video I took. We then walked around the corner down the bank of the Seine, and to the Louvre. The Louvre is free for students under 26 on Friday nights, so we could feel not so bad about rushing through the museum to hit the highlights. We saw the Mona Lisa (La Jaconde), the Winged Victory of Samothrace, Venus de Milo, and the crown jewels of Josephine. Farley was excited to happen upon the Raft of the Medusa and a bust of Delacroix, both of which she had studied in her language school this week. All of that within an absolutely beautiful palace—what more could you ask for? We felt very nerdy and had a wonderful time explaining art trivia to each other (glad I took that trip to Europe last week!).

Next item was to walk down the Champs d’Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe. This was probably a little ambitious, as the Champs d’Elysses is REALLY long. Longer than it appears on the map. But it was beautiful, and we had a good time doing it. Sadly, that meant that we were a little to tired once we got there to suspend eating for any longer, so we only rode by the Eiffel Tower. This was just fine with me—you know how I like my food. One note about the Eiffel Tower, though: at the top of the hour every hour it sparkles! So neat. Anyway, after the Arc de Triomphe, we stopped at rue de Passy for a little dinner. We had a wonderful French meal, complete with French wine and crème brûlée. Tres magnifique! By 11:30pm, we had watched two babies and a small child enter the restaurant to begin their dinner with their families. My mother would never have allowed it!

The next morning, we slept in for a bit, ate breakfast at the hotel, and departed for Montmartre. In just a few hours we saw the Moulin Rouge, visited Catedral du Sacre Coeur, and ate lunch at a small Brasserie, my first experience with Parisian crêpes and a real chocolate truffle! After a marathon metro ride back to the hotel, we caught a taxi to the airport.

The real story of the day begins at Charles de Gaulle airport. After standing in line forever to all check into the same flight, I headed to the first security checkpoint only to have the man say, “And what is this?” pointing to my small(er) red bag. (Umm…a small red bag…?) He then brusquely informed me that I would have to return to the counter to get a carry-on baggage tag for my rolling baggage. Oh, well when you say it that way! So, I did that and returned to board the “tube,” (if you’ve been to de Gaulle, then you’re familiar with the crazy escalator ramp tubes) and bid Farley au revoir after a wonderful day and a half in Paris. After getting to my gate, I had to pass the final security checkpoint. As I walked through the line, the security man looked at me crossly and said “Is this your bag? Do you have scissors?” For those who have not traveled lately, let me inform you that 4” or less scissors are allowed, and I am a knitter. So, I lok at him quizzically and say, “Um, oui.” The checker man then shuffles through my little(r) red bag and pulls out my scissors only to measure them. Seriously, they’re 3”, which you can tell from looking at them.

I finally arrive at my gate and sit down to see a WiFi sign across from me. Yes! I think. Oh, no, to easy. You have to enroll, I decipher, or buy a card at the terminal. Oh, good, I think, I’m at the terminal—how fortunate. No, in fact, you have to walk all the way back to the main terminal, which is about ¼ mile, no kidding. Not worth it, I think. So, I get a drink at sit down. They do have Leapster units and other games on the wall for children, which I like. If I were 5, I could have a ball. And if I weren’t bitter about the internet. Now I ready myself for a 12 hour flight to Jo’burg. Let the adventures continue.