Day 1: Arrival; the BIG SURPRISE; and the unshakable doldrums of JetLag
Monday Morning 11:25 AM Paris Time
We are TIRED. Barely slept on the plane, having what I would regard as average, uncomfortable seats. With only School of Rock and The Incredibles to bide our time (seen ’em both), we tried our best at momentary shuteye, and the occasional glance out the window. This view would net us a cloud or two, granted, but sometimes we’d see big chunks of ice. Yes, at least they flew over Greenland and Iceland; it was nice but it was dark and most was silhouetted nothingness.
As we prepared to land, the land was beautiful. A lot of farmland: rural and green and yellow! Huge fields of yellow flowers; maybe sunflowers, I don’t know. Breathtaking.
So, we taxied on the runway for what seemed like forever (our plane was already late) and then we impatiently sat on the tarmac waiting for a place to terminalize. But alas, instead they let us off on the tarmac and we took a shuttle to the terminal.
Now, at this point, my heart is starting to beat. I told you I had a big surprise, didn’t I?
We made our way (quickly, I might add) through customs/immigration at Charles DeGaulle Airport. The Paris weather was temperate, if a little chilly. I had a windbreaker, and although it was cloudy it was bright enough for shades. Oh, much like the future, yes?
Anyway, the first order of business was telling the Shuttle we were here (reserved a week earlier). Christina looks at me, as she dragged her suitcase, dressed comfortably with a scarf to keep her warm. “You have the number, right?”
“Sure do.”
I go up to the phone, and dial the toll-free number I received by e-mail. A man, speaking French answers the phone.
“Bonjour!” He sings.
Much like the way the English say there ‘cheerio!’ and ‘hellooo!’ (think the Mom in Shawn of the Dead), the French also sing their greetings.
So, ‘Bonjour!’ he sang.
I replied:
“Bonjour. Je m’appelle Monsiuer Chance Hutchison, et j’et une reservation pour aller au Paris, maintenant, si’l vous plait.”
To which, Christina, stunned, cries: “Oh my GOD, you’re speaking FRENCH!†Oh MY GOD, YOU’RE SPEAKING FRENCH!”
He responded: “Oui, Monsieur, vous etes de American Airlines, n’est pas?” (Yes, sir. You are from American Airlines, yes?)
Trying to mask out Christina’s shouts of shock and confusion, I replied:
“Oui, Monsieur. Nous sommes des etaits unis.” (Yes, sir; we are from the United States.)
He then told me to look for the “jaun” van. He continued, sensing that I had not understood him completely, “yellow.” (Jaun sounds like jeune wich means young; it took me a second).
“Oui, merci beaucoup, Monsieur.”
At this point, Christina was giggling and stunned.
So, I confessed.
“Honey, for the last 8 months, I have been learning French in secret. For you.”
She just couldn’t believe it.
So, there you have it. My big surprise finally out of the bag. The hardest secret I’ve ever kept: learning a 3rd language. We kept talking about what and how I did it. 3 different types of courses on CD. In my car, at work during lunch; and with no professorial interaction. It was tough. But I think I got to about as best as I could get without having ever really spoken the language. We’ll see how I do!
Hotel’s nice; people there are nice. Rooms are small but no big deal because we’ll be out doing stuff anyway.
It was only 1:30 PM and we were just exhausted. Since we knew we had no choice but to get out and DO something, we decided to walk to the Eiffel Tower (about 10 minutes from our hotel). Along the way, we noted possible restaurants for getting grub but weren’t starving just yet.
We strolled along some of the most beautiful streets. Every building had charm, had presence had beauty. A lot cleaner than you’d expect, and it seemed every glance was a feast for the eyes.
At the Eiffel Towers, the lines were just to long for us to do. We were tired, a bit hungry and, since adrenaline was about the only source of power we had, I just don’t think my patience would have lasted very long. So we simply looked up. And marveled. The thing is fucking IMPRESSIVE.
Walked across the street and down to the River Seine where tons of river boats were preparing for their launches. Paris didn’t feel packed. It felt like just the right amount of people. Tourists were a given, but we didn’t feel overwhelmed. It smelled of rain, but didn’t really amount to even a drizzle.
Doing essentially a full, lazy circle, we began heading back to the hotel, hoping to find a brasserie or bistro to feed ourselves.
Once we found our first Paris eatery, we discovered (after ordering escargot for appetizers, French onion soup for her, and this steak thing with amazing cream and morel mushroom sauce) that we had oh maybe 45 minutes before we face planted. The Jet Lag was killing us.
It was 5 PM.
At the hotel we slept. Briefly awoke at 8:45 pm; it was still bright outside. Back to sleep.
Woke up at 11:45 PM and the Eiffel Tower was completely aglow in lights and one spotlight/track beam at the top.
Again quickly awake at 3 AM (my cellphone rang, a buddy of mine calling and blissfully unaware of the time change); and finally we completed our recovery sleep at 6:15 AM.
Day One complete.
