Paris a la carte

Our phones and internet were down for the last four days. Sorry my tale was interrupted. This time I'll start from the beginning. Over a year ago Charlotte (the one on the right) decided she wanted to give Anna (the one on the left) something really nice. "What are you wanting to give her?" I (the one in the middle) asked. And without hesitation, Charlotte replied, "A trip to Paris" That is really nice. And then Charlotte said, "I wish you could come Mom, but I can't afford to send you too!" To which I replied, "Let me pray about it, and if the Lord provides, I'll go with." To which the Lord replied and provided! So Char was the inspiration. It was to be a "no tours - no schedules - hang out - see sights -week long trip in Paris. March 17 we boarded BMI flight non stop Chicago to Manchester England. (Before this trip did I know of such a place called Manchester? I had never heard of BMI).
This was Anna's first International airplane ride! On the three hour road trip from Champaigne to O'Hare airport, Anna confessed that she couldn't get the tune out of her head "I'm leaving on a jet plane.." (I brushed up on so much French that when the canned music at work played "Look what the've done to my song, Ma", what I heard was Ils sont changer ma chanson, ma) The novelty of music, movies, video games on board the jumbo jet paled in comparison to the tastey meals served in compact dishes on neat little trays topped off with Ben and Jerry's chocolate ice cream and a Kit Kat bar..Gotta love the Brits!

Charlotte took with her all the comforts of home: her favorite pillow. I brought a WalMart U shaped flight pillow which looked like a good idea until I was in my seat on the plane and inflated the thing! It's a whoopie cushion for your cranium! Even the ear plugs which came with it were well nigh useless. Anna gave me the extra pair of ear plugs she had along, about the size of transisters (from a radio of the sixties) and the consistancy of marshmellows, They worked so well that I couldn't hear passengers laughing about my flight pillow.
(photos courtesy of Anna)


There was a brief layover in Manchester, then we were in the air again skipping the English puddle to the shores of France (that took a lot of Gaul...a little joke there). When we landed in Paris (General De Gaulle International Airport) all our luggage came through, but we lost eight hours.

Once in the French airport (I thought it was a cute place, but no, it was terminal) Anna got busy deciphering our transportation mode and route to our hotel. She had purchased and studied a guidebook authored by Rick Stevens who, on more than one occasion, was our hero. She narrated his take on every museum and sight we visited. He was our constant companion. With good old Rick at hand and Anna in the lead, I never had to say, Pardon, monsieur, nous sommes egare! "Pardon sir, we are lost!"
Rick never lied and Anna didn't steer us wrong. Because when you're a foreigner in a strange land as pricey as Paris a bum steer still means high steaks.. (corny-fed humor, I know. I live in Iowa, what can I say...) [Anna and Rick: photo courtesy of Charlotte]

My next blog: Musings on the Metro, Richard Lenoir, and the Hostel we called 'home'.