Beginning Days

The First Day 2016

            Bonjour!

            Gene was unable to drive me to the airport but his daughter, Jennifer, stepped up generously and filled the bill the nicely.  We had a pleasant drive up the Bay Shore freeway battling the morning commute traffic.  Fortunately, we used the commute and made decent time.

            I should receive a MA in packing.  For the first time I under packed especially considering the unseasonably cold temperatures in France.  Paris has been racked with severe rainstorms causing flooding in some areas.  In fact, the Louvre, which is partially underground, was forced to close.

            The leg into Toronto was largely uneventful.  I bought a salad and a sandwich in the airport.  Although expensive they were infinitely cheaper that the food offered aboard the plane.  The man seated next to me spent a fistful of dollars satisfying himself and his teenage son.

            The Toronto airport was extremely nice with a comfortable lounge that looked more like a library.  There were comfortable lounge chairs next to pole lamps and the four place tables had tablets for all. 

            The second leg into Paris proved more exciting as my seatmates were a most engaging couple from Alberta, Canada.  Even though they had travelled extensively on the continent, this was the first trip to Europe for Ed and Gail.  They had struggled with how to travel with Ed holding out for a cruise in the Caribbean and Gail wanted a free flowing trip covering France.  They compromised with a planned tour over most of France.  The one hiccup was that they had unwittingly booked a flight landing a day before the tour was to begin.  They booked a room in the hotel where the tour would start but that left them with finding a way from the airport to the hotel.  Ed had checked with the taxis and was quoted a fare of 90 euros each.  I suggested they accompany Isabelle and myself on a bus that would take us to Opera.  From there we would help them navigate via subway to their hotel.

Stepping outside the airport we were greeted with a blast of arctic air.  Dressed in shorts and t-shirt I was totally unprepared.  Under skies the color of gunmetal grey we waded through pools of water and gusts of wind to the bus stop.  Following stops at the other terminals the bus was overflowing with passengers and luggage, several were forced to stand the entire journey.  Our bus joined the tide of the mid morning commute into Paris.    As we slowly progressed further into the city Ed and Gail became more and more enraptured with the architecture and the winding streets.  At the Opera, Isabelle briefly explained the subway system.  After dispensing the tickets, she led us down into the bowels of the beast.  While thumbing her way expertly through her map book Isabelle guided us perfectly through the maze like Daniel Boone through the Cumberland Gap.  After sharing a lunch we headed back to our hotel.

            First, we needed to stop at the railroad station to try to find seats on the train.  Isabelle had already booked passage on Sunday.  Unfortunately, the dastardly railway workers sabotaged our plan.  Remember if you want to make God smile, tell him your plan.  The railway workers were striking forcing a limited train schedule.  There would be only three trains on Saturday and even less on Sunday.  Sadly, the trains were all complete and we would have to compete for seats.  Forced to gamble, Isabelle suggested that our best bet would be the first train Saturday morning.

            The gulf in the two hotels was as wide as the Grand Canyon.  Ed and Gail were staying in a 5 star Pullman Hotel for 350 euros a night.  Ours was the 2 star Hotel de Paris for 70 euros including breakfast.  I may be wrong but I think that Ed and Gail would have enjoyed the Parisian atmosphere of our hotel.

            The tiny elevator refused to budge with my luggage and the two of us.  Even after subtracting Isabelle and with elbows pressed against the walls the little engine that could still creaked and groaned its way to the 4^th floor.  It had a much easier time with just Isabelle.

            The room was neat and clean with a very nice view of the street.  The bathroom was recently renovated and very presentable.  Isabelle headed off to her own room promising to wake me at 7.  After a deliciously hot shower and dreadfully tired I fell fast asleep on a bed slightly softer than wet concrete.  I am not complaining because I love a hard bed and I will be sleeping on the ground for the next three weeks.

            At 7 we headed out for our ritual duck feast at the Chinese restaurant on Jaures Avenue.  A new face greeted us.  The waiter for the last three years had retired.  Both Isabelle and I shared the same thought, would we be still coming back when this young man retired.

            After dinner, as delicious as ever, Isabelle did her expected D-Day planning for tomorrow’s assault on the railroad.  At 5:50 we stepped into the street devoid of people and cars.  The hectic din, cars blaring and people shouting, was replaced by the quiet dawn.  The thick, dark gray clouds more than hinted of the storm to come.  Sadly, the refuse of this beautiful city was on full display.  With garbage pails overflowing onto the sidewalks we were forced to walk on the cobblestone streets.  We caught the Metro at Poissoniere over to Gare de l’Est and finally to Gare Montparnasse.

We arrived at the station shortly before 6:30 to find the station bulging with people with similar plans.  As the train number flashed on the screen this mass of humanity stampeded down the platforms like a runaway herd of cattle frightened by thunder and lightning.  Some dashed off as if $1000 bills were the reward.  We found jump seats in the third car.  While I hovered over them like a mother hen, Isabelle, like a bank robber, cased out the car for open seats.  She secured two.  When the doors closed at 7:10, they were still available.  Two stops lay ahead where we might be displaced but never were.

            Marie-Line, Isabelle’s older sister, met us at the station.  We drove by the care facility where their mother now lives.  Last October she suffered a major stroke, which left her whole right side paralyzed.  And she has lost her voice.  With great luck they found a wonderful care facility near both of them.  We came back later to visit and help her with dinner.  It is torturous to see her this way but heart warming to see how her children, the girls and their brother, handle her with such loving affection.  The family house has been sold and furnishings dispersed as they move on to another chapter.

            On either side of the visit I had lunch with Gerald and Isabelle in their home and dinner with Isabelle and Marie-Line in her home.

            My plans for biking this trip are ram shackled at best.  The general idea is to head east and south of Niort.  The girls are chipping in ideas and the trip is slowly fleshing out.  Isabelle has warned that the terrain is very hilly.

            My hope is to start Tuesday morning making for Conforlens, about 60 miles.  They have a nice campground in the area.  My bike has a new look.  A frame for carrying luggage over the front wheel has been added.  A stronger front wheel will support the additional weight.

            I was up bright and early Sunday morning the sun sparkling overhead.  I spent 45 minutes walking the village of Fressines.  Only the bakery was open.  The Church was closed with services held once every five weeks.

            After a casual breakfast outside, we went shopping at the Halles.  Unlike a Saturday, only a small percentage of the stalls were open and the crowd was less than a quarter.  Isabelle made her usual stops.  At the cheese counter I learned that the regular attendant had retired.  Let’s see, the waiter, the cheese-man, Gerald, Serge, the list of retirees is growing.

            For lunch, Isabelle served a delicious salmon, rice, and salad platter.  Later we took a load of dirt over to Julian and Flora’s home.  They are renovating an old farmhouse and doing a beautiful job of it.  Julian is Gerald second son and he recently turned 30.  Before turning in we enjoyed the remains of the pasta-vegetable dish.   

               

Avoir!