Bienvenue (encore) a Paris

The transition from Montpellier to Paris was definitely challenging in ways that I did not expect. I knew that I had grown attached to my family and my life in Montpellier, but I had sort of ignored the fact that I would eventually have to leave them. It didn’t really hit me until my French dad dropped me off at the train station and left. I managed to hold it together for about 2.2 seconds after I turned away from him, and then I started to cry. The train ride itself was very uneventful. I even had a very nice man load my suitcase onto the luggage shelf and then another really nice gentleman take it off the shelf, off the train, and onto the platform in Paris. Who said French people weren’t nice to strangers? Oh, right…I did…well I suppose that there are occasional exceptions.

The airport/meeting up with Mom experience was not nearly as smooth as the train ride…I easily found my way from the TGV station to her terminal (she was able to call me on my French cell phone while I was on the train and tell me her terminal number and where she was waiting). However, I was greeted upon arrival at the terminal by six gendarmeries carrying assault rifles and asking everyone to step back. Fortunately, as I spoke French, I was able to ask what was going on. Apparently, someone had abandoned a piece of luggage and it had been sitting unattended for over 30 minutes at the terminal, and the French police and gendarmes had been called in to detonate it. That’s right…detonate it. They had police, men and women with machine guns, a bomb kit, and even medical personnel who specialized in treating burn victims. Yeeeeps!!! I managed to make friends with a nice Swiss man who was stuck like I was. However, mom was not so lucky. She was on the opposite side of the terminal, and while we could see each other, we couldn’t talk to each other. At first, not understanding what was going on, she tried to encourage me to cross the large gap between us. Ummmm false. Said gap was being heavily guarded. She then tried to borrow the cell phone of a nice British man next to her so that she could call me, but it didn’t work. Fortunately, just as I had started to use notebook paper and highlighters to write her a message, the situation was resolved and we were allowed to cross the gap.

We then had even more trouble trying to get our prearranged shuttle service to come and get us. I called the number and the nice woman on the other end said that the shuttle would be there within 25 minutes. 25 minutes came and went and no shuttle. At this point, I realized we were standing at the wrong door, so we walked to the correct one. I also called the woman back and told her that we were still waiting. She recognized me because we’d had a bit of an issue spelling my last name the first time, and she said that the shuttle had come and left because we weren’t there. Oops. But she also said that another one would be coming within 5 minutes, and indeed one did. However, when mom approached the driver and tried to give him our name, he said “non non non” and drove off. I called back again, and this time another man answered the phone, and he too was in on the saga and also knew who I was. By this point, we’d been waiting for 45 minutes, and I was quite annoyed. Finally, our shuttle came and took us to our hotel, which is quite lovely I must say. Props to mom for picking a (ahem) four star hotel…

Our room was ready as soon as we arrived at the hotel, so we were able to drop off our suitcases before heading out to find lunch. We went to a brasserie down the street where mom had a sandwich and I had a croque madame (mmmmm!). Mom was unfortunately quite tired, really jet-lagged, and her back was bothering her, so I felt like I was pushing her to do things that she didn’t really want to do, but we went to the Eiffel Tower anyway. I actually ran into a few of my friends from the IEFE while in line for the elevator, too funny! What are the chances? I had thought that visiting the Eiffel Tower wouldn’t be that strenuous – we’d just be standing around, riding the elevator, and taking pictures. However, it turned out to be a bit more than mom could handle. I really enjoyed finally making it to the top and soaking in the stunning views from up there (third time’s the charm, eh?), but mom really struggled with all the standing and the crowds, especially with her back. After a small mishap that involved me misreading a map and asking an attractive gendarme for directions, we managed to make it back to our hotel and had dinner a French Pizza Hut where we split a pizza and cheesy breadsticks.

And I would just like to take this moment to give myself a round of applause for all of my confident French usage, my ability to navigate the Parisian metro system, and my patience for long lines/waiting. Apparently, some of my newfound skills from Montpellier have managed to stick with me…at least for now. I do have to say that it is quite a bit more difficult to have to speak for two people. While a fair number of Parisians do speak English, especially in the touristy areas, that is not necessarily the case in restaurants or in our less touristy part of town, so if mom wants to ask a question, needs something, or just wants to order her dinner, I usually have to do it. It’s great practice for my French and is really helping me to be less timid, but it definitely made the transition more challenging. I feel responsible for everything from navigating around town to picking food to purchasing tickets since I speak French. I’m really glad to have my mom with me and show her around, but I miss speaking French with others who also speak French.