Back from Paris

Paris 2008

(Click the Eiffel Tower to see the album)

What a romp! Very exciting time in Paris. It went so fast, I am still working on finding out many of the things I saw. Here are pictures, I'll supply some stories as I get time.



First story: Versailles and the RER...

..Réseau Express Régional, IPA ("Regional Express Network"), which is a rapid transit system serving Paris and the outlying areas--

Roger Henry, Rita, Dave, and I decided to visit Versailles on the day after we moved out of the Marriot into 20 Rue Pierre Lescot. (Roger was staying in a hostel--and it turns out he spent two more weeks in hostels until he was allowed back into the States--but I digress-- that's another story.) Ergo, we set out in the morning to board the train for the 10-mile jaunt. First, we got to the ticket office at St. Michel and it was closed. There were instructions posted there in English to (at some point) wait at platform "A" between posts 1 and 6. But our main concern was that the ticket office was closed, so we didn't pay close enough attention. After a few minutes of confusion, when the window opened, we realized that the opening time was 10:30. So we purchased the tickets, and with some relief we boarded the train and enjoyed the accordion serenade. (See the pictures.)

Suddenly, the train stopped and the lights went off. We uncertainly crept off and peered around. Of course, the Parisians quickly vanished, leaving a few ragged bands of perplexed English speakers. One rumor had it that the train was broken and would need to be hauled away. No one seemed to know what to do. Then in a short while the lights went on in the train and it raced off in the opposite direction.

The fugitive:

Soon, another train came through and stopped. Roger, who could speak a little French, stepped in to inquire what to do. A girl of about 20 followed him in, evidently thinking it was the correct train. The person within waved Roger out of the train just in time for the doors to slam shut, leaving the girl inside and her friend hammering on the doors trying to undo the error. The people inside motioned to the agitated girl clinging to the outside to "get away." The friend on the platform jumped away, stunned, as the train jerked into motion and sped away. It turns out that she and her friend--both from Michigan--had just landed from their transcontinental all-night flight and were traveling by RER to visit a friend who was staying near the Eiffel. The fugitive friend's cell phone was known to be dead as she hurtled off in an unknown direction. (Her battery had died on the way.) We never knew what finally came of them.

... and to Versailles

Because Roger could speak a bit of French, he finally found out that we were supposed to follow those original directions to Platform "A" that we had forgotten. And so we abandoned the girl at the platform to go with the rest of the English speakers aboard the final train to Versailles.

Versailles was the unofficial capital city of the kingdom of France from 1682 to 1789. Its palace is the seat of such astonishing riches that It gave me ostentation fatigue within the first 15 minutes. Toward the end of the tour (which covered only a small fraction of the palace but took about 2 hours) I found myself surmising that had I been around back then, I would have been among those beheading Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. Roger, a composer who has taught French history, was enchanted. His enthusiasm helped to temper my response. I must admit, I appreciated the classical music in the lavish (and unbelievably huge) gardens.

...and home to 20 Rue Pierre Lescot...

Versailles is so big. There are thousands there at a time, and some of us move at a more leisurely pace than others. Unfortunately, our group did not agree on a meeting time or place. When I finished up, I waited for the others at the gate to the premises, while Rita, Dave, and Roger (who did find each other for a while) waited at the palace gate. Then, Roger, in search of me, got separated from the others as well. Finally, after waiting 90 minutes, I decided to make my own way home. Back at the Versailles train station I found a commotion and blocked ticket machines. Eventually making my way to the front of the agitated throng, I managed to ask how I could get back to the St. Michel station. I was told in broken English that the train was broken and I'd have to go to the other railroad station. I was to go down the street and turn right at the corner.

Taking a deep breath, I ventured out and noted a few people rounding an upcoming corner so I followed, hoping to be doing the right thing. The walk turned out to be about a mile. At some point, I heard English nearby and leaned back to ask if we were headed to the railroad station. The answer was, "We hope so!"

Alas, when I arrived, I found no St. Michel listed as destinations on the schedule. I only saw one Paris destination. After pulling out all my maps and my French phrasebook, I determined that there was one long train and one short train to Montparnasse in Paris, where I could get on the Metro.

I was the first one back to the apartment. I heard that Roger had gotten separated as well. The last I saw him was at Versailles. See his blog, http://enderspeaks.blogspot.com/, and find out why he got stuck in Paris for two weeks longer than planned, and what he did while he awaited his paperwork. Anyway, that night, we went to---

Chez Omar:
Several guidebooks recommend a little restaurant called Chez Omar, so a small band of us tried it out. It's everything you would expect in a Parisian restaurant, with excellent food and wine -- all for about $20-- served with couscous and ratatouille by a conscientious and friendly waiter probably named Pierre . The waiter asked us where we were from in the States. I had learned that to say "Indiana" is useless, so I told him--as I had learned to say to all inquiring Frenchmen-- that we are near Chicago. (This IS relatively true if you don't know much about the continent.) The waiter's eyes lit up, and he spouted, "Obama!!!" Then he did a little Obama jig while singing "Obama, Obama." Given the spirited response, we did a high five all around. (See the pictures.) During our stay, he wasn't the only one who mentioned Obama when we said we were Americans. French people love him.

Other highlights to come: The conference; losing the group at the Eiffel tower; museum delights; the 500-year-old church in our front yard; hopeless Euro appliance bamboozlement; and more.

A good website of other things I saw (or didn't) in Paris:
http://www.atkielski.com/