Week 4: Paris

So I'm in Paris. Well, just outside Paris proper, they tell me. The view out my hotel window is fantastic. My room overlooks the Seine (the river).

My flight landed on Saturday at about 8pm local time. I caught a taxi to the hotel, unpacked, attempted to shower (couldn't figure out how to make it a shower instead of a bath), called T, and fell asleep. With the help of the lovely melatonin, I slept for a glorious ELEVEN HOURS. It has been a long long... four weeks? Yeah, four weeks. I think I got to perhaps sleep in one morning in late May... but beyond that it has been nose to the grindstone. Yay, sleep! Yay restful sleep! I love sleep!

So my aspirations of "Seeing Paris" today may be in vain.

This morning at about 11am I set off to find a grocery store. Google maps said the closest is an 8 minute walk away. I optimistically set out with my Google Fi gps turned on... and promptly got lost. When you walk at my speed, the GPS isn't exactly sure which direction you are headed in. Combine that with many tall buildings.... and the best I could do is vaguely move in the direction toward the grocery store... Nope. I'm moving away again. Go the other direction. Nope... wrong again. Argh! A stranger who spoke zero English stopped to help. I showed him my destination on the phone. He pointed and said a lot of things in French. I set off in the direction he pointed. Two turns later, I was thinking I was doing pretty well... And a car was honking. There are only 3 cars on the street! ...."Madame! Madame!" Oh, no, what have I done now?! It is the same guy, but now driving. Evidently I was headed briskly in the wrong direction. He pointed some more and made more hand gestures to go with his long speech in French. I thanked him as best I could and headed out in the recommended direction. Which turned out well, because the red dot seemed to be getting closer and closer.... Yep, I found it. Respectably sized grocery store (about the size of four 7-lls). Yay, food! I bought a crazy lunch of sushi, a chocolate croisant, and an apricot pie. Yay, food! And breakfast for the rest of the week. Plus possibly lunch for at least one day. The entire experience took me over an hour (yes for an 8 minute one-way walk). Nothing is simple here.

I also stopped in at the front desk. Seriously, last night I fondled that damn shower like I was the friendliest lover. I twisted, pulled and pushed EVERYTHING. And I mean EVERYTHING. No water from the shower head. And it turns out that my body is no longer happy about attempting to wash my hair under the faucet of a bathtub. *sigh* When I was 12 it wasn't a problem. But now? Ouch. So today I stopped at the hotel front desk and asked the nice person there how to turn on the shower head. It turns out that it is a 2-fer. I have to push and turn 2 things TOGETHER to get water. In theory. I haven't tested this theory yet. I'm optimistic. Though I suspect I won't actually stalk naked and wet downstairs to demand that they fix it for me, much as the mental image amuses me.

So now I get to venture out again... This time to find my work. And time how long it takes me to get there. Wish me luck. Perhaps I'll make it back by dinner time (in 3 hours). Google maps says it should take me 23 minutes each way.

In transit, California to France

California was lovely, but not as restful as I had hoped. I spent too many late hours hanging out with old friends or on the phone for work.

My flight to London felt surreal, but went smoothly. I slept for a few hours and managed not to yell at anyone when they made an energetic effort to wake us up 3 hours before landing. Grrr!

London Heathrow is its usual huge and confusing self. Signs are everywhere.... And do not communicate near as well as they clearly seem to think they will. Signs made by people who know the system, for people who know the system. What do I do if my flight is not on your list and it should be? The first human (airline employee) to speak to my obvious confusion merely told me to go THAT WAY and take the first left. No explanation. No hint on what I would find down the hallway... Just GO THAT WAY.

I had plenty of time to change flights, so I walked slowly (to save my poor aching feet) and read the many signs along the the many long empty and full hallways. I think I figured it out. I had more than an hour layover for my international flight, so they herded me into a holding area.

I love the part where they won't tell us the gate number. They will show the gate number about 30 minutes before the flight. The closest gate to the holding pen is a 10 minute walk (15 min for slow me, though I was standing in front of the board waiting for the gate number to show up....). They announced that boarding will be closed about 10 min before the official leave time. By my math, they are deliberately engineering a situation to abandon bewildered travelers in the hall on the way from the holding pen to the gate. Evil airlines!

I changed USD to Euros in London, hoping to save time in Paris. That will bite me later, as they insisted on changing from USD to Pounds, then to Euros. They insisted that the rate would be the same in Paris. The good outcome from this was I got a little over 2 pounds in change. And I used it well: chocolate croissant for me! Yum. I ate it while watching the gate board to see it finally display my gate number.

In spite of their evil ways, I made the flight to Paris. Even had an empty seat next to me. And my checked luggage arrived! Yay! Yes, my expectations are quite low.

Just like many other cities, I had a trail of hopeful (supposed) taxi drivers trail me through the arrivals lounge offering me a taxi. I stubbornly ignored their dubious offers and went for the official taxi line. Real taxis are less likely to strand me in an alley. And though Paris does not have a reputation for this behavior, I'd rather be careful.