Paris Quick View (Number Two)

   I have never lived in a city where mass transit was an accepted mode of travel.  I've been on a New York City subway, I've ridden on trains in Chicago and Philadelphia, and I've taken a taxi or two in my life, but that is about it.  These last two weeks in Paris have been a great way to learn the mass transit life.  First and foremost, I've learned that getting on the right line is not as important as getting on in the right direction.  Learn the final destinations of your lines, and you'll have no trouble switching from line to line.  Our main line is the number 4 metro, which either heads towards Porte d'Orleans, or it goes in the other direction, towards Porte de Clignancourt.  I've never been to either of these stops, but I know which way they are.  We've learned that the Metro is very fast, often crowded, but easy to use.  The people have always been polite and we've never felt that it was dangerous or anything.  We take care to watch our pockets, but there has never been a problem of that nature so far.  It is fun to watch the locals as they settle in and read books amidst the crush and bustle.  They are often carrying groceries home in the evening.  It is almost always relaxed and I've never seen an unkind act or heard a harsh word.  Young men will give up their seat for the older ladies (or the pretty ones too!).  Many parents ride with their kids.  I will add that we've never been on it very late at night.  I cannot attest to the atmosphere then.

   I'm learning bus lines too.  The 95, 84, 96, and 69 run around our neighborhood in various directions and making crazy turns in these narrow Left Bank streets.  I usually use an Internet cheat to plan our routes for the day, but I'm learning to improvise.  We like the buses; they are less crowded, and the pace is more to our style.  Also, you can watch the Paris streets (and people) go by.  Today, we learned a new form of this commuter madness: the RER.  These trains are bigger, with more room and nicer seats, two decks for passengers, and these big trains go very slow.  At least they seem to, since they stop so often and it takes them awhile to get going.  We used the RER C train to get to Versailles.  It helps to learn how to read the maps provided on the interiors of the trains/metros/buses.  Then, pay attention to where you are in the city, and listen to the French chick who says each stop out loud.  I don't understand her, until I look at the map, then I see which words match up with what she said.  It is a great way to learn the language.  Even Jennifer loves to hear the pronunciations of the bus-stops.  I would never have been able to guess how to pronounce Barbes- Rochechouart.  If you want to hear the proper pronunciation, just ride the number 4 train from Denfert-Rochereau to Marcadet-Poissonniers and listen carefully.  You'll hear her say it near the end of your trip.  Then take the steps up out of the Metro and enjoy the city wherever you happen to pop out.

My First View of Paris

   After all of the planning, all of the speculating, and all of the advice offered to us, we are finally in Paris, France.
   Leaving in the late afternoon from Houston, Texas, we were encouraged to sleep for much of the flight so that when we arrived in the morning, which would still be the middle of night for our internal clocks, we would already begin to change over to the local time in Paris.  Jennifer had no trouble doing this.  I was not as fortunate, and slept only a little.  I spent most of the night in the darkened cabin, surrounded by my sleeping fellow passengers, watching the in-seat monitor display our location over the great blue sea.  It told me we were 1800 miles out from Paris.  That is about as isolated as you’d want to get from civilization.  But Air France carried us safely across, and we did not have to test our safety devices that were stored under our seats.
   We arrived at Charles De Gaulle Airport without incident, having flown 5000 miles across an ocean that was once the bane of many a world traveler.  Getting a bird’s eye view of Ireland and Great Britain, we crossed the English Channel and landed quite safely on a cold, windy morning.  After joining in with the rush of morning arrivals, we slipped through check-pointe Charles and found our luggage riding a slow, black roller-coaster.  We had arrived.

   After making my first coffee purchase in French, and handing the cup to my wife, we then made the shuttle/metro run into the city.  Our goal was simply to make it to the apartment.  The Air France Shuttle dropped us off at Gare Montparnasse, where we were a bit perplexed to find a complete lack of taxis.  So we bravely entered the Metro system with all of our bags, the one thing we had been warned not to do for fear that we would be easy pickings for the pickpockets.  Now, despite the long walks through the many tunnels, and our need to portage our luggage up and down many flights of stairs, we did indeed ride the metro to our metro stop without any trouble, and when we came up the steps at St. Sulpice, we were just a few steps from our apartment.

  Just a note on the Metro and Parisians.  We were helped by a young man at the entrance gate, when one of our bags became stuck in the ticket gate.  Also, when I was busy carrying luggage up one flight of steps, and Jennifer was waiting for me to come back for the last big bag, three different men offered to carry the bag for Jennifer.  At no time did I think anyone around us was rude or full of ill-intent.  Certainly no more than one might find in Chicago or New York City.  (In fact, so far, the only rudeness I have seen was from the many Americans at the Houston Airport who were anxious to board the plane and did not care who they pushed out of the way.)  However, we have made an effort to speak the language, no matter how limited our knowledge is, and we will not begin a conversation by saying "do you speak English?"  It puts the burden on us to communicate, but it also seems to earn us some sympathy.  Unfortunately, the better we speak, the quicker the local response, since they assume we speak the language well.  But I get the feeling it would not take long to pick up much of what is being said.  If any of you world travelers out there have any advice for us on this subject, please don't hesitate to leave comments.  I would especially love to hear from readers in France who can give me some local insight.  Merci, merci!

   As tired as we were, we made a quick tour of the nearby Eglise St. Sulpice.  It is stunning.  As our first European cathedral, it was a great place to start.  Even as familiar as we are with St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans, there is no comparison.  I'm not sure I can explain what I mean.  Its stone edifice is so much more substantial that what I have seen in the United States.  You can feel the weight of the years upon it.  This is no recent construction.  And you don't need a guidebook to tell you that.  (For those interested, the original building was begun in the 13th century.  Most of the additions were added by 1732).  The square in front of the church was nearly deserted, and there was a service being performed inside, so we did not explore the interior.
   And now, as night falls over the city, and I settle down to begin Hemingway's Paris memoirs, A Movable Feast, I will say, bonne nuit and au revoir.