The last flight was very short, Europe not being as big as Asia and the Pacific Ocean, and I was surprised to see how brown the sky was. I am beginning to wonder if it is indeed true that New Zealand is one of the last bastions of the blue sky. As we went down into the pollution I did have that sinking feeling that we are not treating our planet well, and wondered if I should walk to my next conference instead of flying.
I was truly amazed and delighted to see my bag appear at the baggage collection point, as it all seems extremely unlikely somehow that I can give my bag to someone in Wellington and they can manage to send it to exactly the same place as me, and at the same time. It doesn’t always work like that.
Mr de Gaulle’s airport is full of transparent pipes that people walk through – it is very weird and quite fascinating. I got instructions at the desk for tourists, and took the SNCF (overground) to Gare du Nord, which is an enormous station, and thence to Mairie Clichy, to the auberge de jeunesse (yellow egg plants?). We had a room for three, which delighted me no end, as it meant I would not have to take my bags to the shower with me and sleep on my lap top in case someone stole all my worldy goods. Not that I’m suspicious of strangers or anything. Then (after a quick shower and change of clothes of course as I was a tad smelly after such a long ride) I went to town to meet my friend Deb. I had heaps of time, as she wasn’t arriving until after lunch, and the French sparrows were still farting. I took a train to Champs-Elysees and walked around the Champy place and then along the Seine. There is beaucoup de traffic in Paris.
I saw a woman walking towards me bend down and seem to pick up something, which she showed me – it was a heavy gold ring, with an engraving inside the band. She tried to give it to me, pressing it into my hands and telling me it would bring me good luck (bon chance) and a happy day (bon journee). I told her I would have to take it to the police (the ring, not the happy day), but she insisted, so I took it, thinking I would rather that she had taken it. As I walked away, she came back to me, and explained that she had three children and little money, and perhaps I could spare her a little cash for some food. I am pretty gullible, but sometimes my little antennae come out and I spot when I’m being had. So I pressed the ring back into her hand and told her it would bring her luck and a good day, and she should take it.I wandered around all kinds of places – not sure now where they were really, and didn’t take photos – I love to just walk around looking at people and shops and traffic and stuff. I noticed that the French were quite nice – they seemed more inclined to engage with a stranger than the British do, and I got quite a few smiles. Perhaps they thought I was one of them. I had disguised myself in a colourful cardigan and jeans, and sported a red handbag. Sometimes I used a camera, but it was disguised as a cellphone, and occasionally I looked at a map, but I didn’t wear dark glasses or a safari suit. That would be just too obvious.
An hour before the appointed ti
me I sent Deb another text to tell her I would text her with my exact position once I had decided on it, but the text wouldn’t go. In fact I had no connection at all, despite three conversations with so-called experts in NZ working for Vodafone, my BlackBerry would not roam. There will be trouble at mill over that when I return. I calmly walked to the agreed place and stood there for five minutes, and having half an hour to spare, thought I would check my map to be sure I was absolutement correct. I wasn’t. In fact, the place with the little arrow on that I printed off Google, and which I assumed Deb would also be clutching, was a bit difficult to find. For the next hour I more or less ran around in wide circles until I finally arrived at a place I decided was the same as the one marked on the map, which was quite close to where I had started from oddly enough. En route I sprained my ankle, which was bad news, as I would be needing it for the coming week for my journey further west to Dublin, then on back through Bristol to the south coast. So I sat down opposite the station (just behind the bike in the picture) and engaged with the locals while I waited for Deb. One girl gave me her phone and asked me to talk to the person on the other end, but I pointed out to her very politely, that I spoke English. I have no idea why the French want other people to have the telephone conversations for them. Perhaps they can't speak French.After an hour or so I decided Deb had also got lost, so I went to Notre Dame to look for Quasi Modo. He wasn’t there, but everyone else was, so I pottered about happily looking at the outside and the inside of this glorious piece of architecture. Very high gothic, which doesn’t mean that it is tall, but more of a sort of haute cuisine of Gothic architecture. Gothic windows are pointed at the top, whereas Norman windows are more square. My mother was my UE art teacher so I more or less had to pay attention in class, which is why I know that. Outside, in front of the cathedral is a spot marked as the centre of Paris. If I had known that it would have been a good place to meet. I must remember that for next time I rendezvous with someone in Paris. The odd thing is, that people throw their co
ins on it for god luck, so there is a pile of money in the middle of town, but no-one is picking it up. And outside the cathedral there is a woman begging for alms. Perhaps she will pick up the coins from the middle of Paris later. I returned to my lodgings, and in due course, Deb showed up there. After jumping up and down a bit to show pleasure with each other, we bought outselves some nuts and cheese and sat on a park bench and swapped stories from each other’s lives, which is what women do when they meet. It was all very satisfying, though we didn’t have any wine.I include a photo of Deb waving at me while simultaneously recording the image of a large motorcycle.
No comments:
Post a Comment