A Day (+) on the Move

Well, I'm here in Paris now. But it took awhile to get here. Thanks again to Chuck for the ride. My flight out of Atlanta ended up being delayed about an hour because the plane was late getting in. The Air Canada people were very nice, however, and quickly loaded us and got us in the air. The flight up to Toronto was a bit choppy, made worse by a Frenchman a couple rows behind me who started moaning and yelling after every little bump. His wife yelled at him to stop, and he finally either did or passed out.

That was my first international flight, so the procedure once in the airport was completely new to me. Walk and walk through endless corridors to an uninterested man who roughly told me where to head for my next flight. Had about a 3 hour layover in Toronto, which I mostly spent trying to get on the internet (I succeeded for about 15 minutes). Then, just before we were starting to board, a nearby Bacardi bar started playing Mexican music, quite loudly, which brought a slight chuckle to this Texican.

The flight over to Paris did not seem as long as I thought. I ended up moving up to the first row, the exit row, because I figured I would have more leg room, plus the other seat was empty. Of course I forgot that the arm rest does not move in the exit room, so I ended up not as comfortable as I thought. I tried to sleep, and did for maybe a few minutes at a time. About two hours before we landed, I looked out the window and saw the sun rising:

I also enjoyed seeing the very tip of Britain. We were in some pretty thick clouds after that, so I missed seeing us the French coast. When we finally descended below the cloud level, we were almost to the airport and farmlands appeared everywhere. I couldn't help but think of the supremely brave men who landed nearby 66 years ago.

CDG was another great airport experience. Walking and walking to another gruff security guy who checked my passport with little if no interest, followed by a hallway with almost no signs. I also had a "Mom" moment when I looked through a glass wall and saw a couple guys in camo with automatic guns, and did a bit of a double-take. I blindly went through an exit door and happened to run into an information desk where a nice lady pointed me to the train to Paris. Getting there was another ordeal because one of the terminals on the way to the train was completely shut down (fairly certain it was a bomb scare) for about 15-30 minutes. I finally made it down to the train area, and only walked around aimlessly for a few minutes before being shown where to get a billet.

Again, the train was something else. Interesting people, at one point there where a couple of accordians players (they were quite good, if not erratic). I had to catch another train at a stop called Saint-Michel Notre-Dame, which I could only take as good fortune. I ended up exiting at the Eiffel Tower stop. I walked a few blocks and, yes, it was there. People trying to sell trinkets everywhere. Tourists everywhere. A few more guys in camo and automatic guns. And, of course, the Tower, which is not quite what I expect it to look like (not quite as black and metallic-y as I thought). Took a few pictures, including an attempt of one with me (I really hate doing that).

I still had 90 minutes before I could check in at my apartment, but I headed that way anyways. I ended up walking past Paroisse Saint-Pierre du Gros Caillou, so I thought what better way to spend an hour than in a church? The receptionist was nice, though she spoke no English. (Special note to all those who told me almost everyone speaks English in Paris: No, they don't. In fact barely any of those whom I have "spoken" with do.) So I spent the next hour in the church, took some pictures and was able to spend some time in reflection. It's a nice little church. I believe a plaque said it dates back to the early 18th Century, though I could easily be wrong.

Then it was off to my apartment. I wondered around the street for a little while before a man walked up to me saying "Mr. Johnson!" I guess it was pretty obvious who I was. Anyways, the owner was quite nice and showed me my nice little apartment. After he left I was able to call home and talk with Mom and Dad for awhile (forgetting that it was 6:00 in the morning at home). After a quick and unsuccessful walk to a couple of nearby banks, I returned to the apartment and took a nap until dinner.

I had dinner at a cafe a few blocks down from my apartment (La Campanella, I pretended it was named after the Dodger great). The waiter did speak a little English, so I didn't mind that he was joking at my expense. I had a pretty decent ham panini with a small salad and French fries. I thought about walking around a little, but fatigue (and the hopes of catching the Rangers/Rays game) overtook me. So here I sit in the apartment, wondering what tomorrow (and hopefully my first trip to ESA Headquarters) brings me.