My journey to Europe: the first day
Having done most packing on the Tuesday night before leaving, we had the morning Wednesday to putter around, wash a last load, get the toiletries and such together, wash the last few dishes, and be sure that all was in order.We packed up the Honda Accord shortly before noon, and left a couple of minutes thereafter, stopping to put a last batch of bills in the mailbox.
Reagan National is actually about 45 minutes from my house, if one knows the tricky way to South Capitol Street Bridge from the Anacostia Freeway, then over to 395 and the George Washington Parkway. The economy parking is at the far side of the site, and we were fortunate to be near a shelter and to quickly get a shuttle. There was a moderately irritating line for check- in, but soon we got our boarding passes and were on our way to the gate. We had lunch near the gate, and waited for the plane to Philadelphia to connect to Paris.
It was late, and what had looked like a leisurely hour and a half to get to the international terminal became an ordeal of rushing with our carry-ons, winding me before the end. Of course, once we were there they delayed the flight a half hour, so I had no reason to have rushed. Finally we boarded, a lovely wide- bodied plane that was underbooked, and therefore would have leg room even in coach. But we sat there for two hours while the mechanics did something mysterious to the plane.
Finally, we took off. With hours and hours across the Atlantic, it was a mercy to have one's own tv monitor, and to be able to program to one's tastes. The food was pretty good, and I found the darkness that eventually enveloped us soothing. On the other hand, I had trouble sleeping, and probably managed only 2 or 3 hours. We arrived at De Gaulle at 9 am french time.
The airport is an interesting mixture of modern ambition and lack of amenities. It has a concrete blocky,unfinished look, and inadequate shops and restaurants, by American standards, and the ventilation was very poor. On the other hand, it had a series of people movers---- floors and escalators------ that were really very convenient and neat. Of course, lines for passports and such were unavoidable, and although the outside temperature was perhaps 65 degrees at that hour, the lack of ventilation made it a bit stifling.
Finally, though, we made it to the end, and got our van into the city. Approaching Paris, the highways looked both familiar and somehow unreal, given the differences of detail that were hard to put a finger on. As we entered the city, we went by a slum largely populated with blacks, so that it seemed right at home. We noticed a couple of MacDonalds early on, and even a KFC. Eventually, we were dropped of at our hotel, the Gotty in the 9th Arrondissement.
The Gotty is a three star hotel, according the Paris Touris Bureau. What does the NOT get you?: no doorman, no bellhops, no special concierge desk, no airconditioning, no full shower (a bath tub with a hand held shower and no curtain). It is a small, cute hotel. The elevator is so small, we could not bear to get on at the same time. The three beads were singles, not doubles; the tv was a 13 inch model with a limited cable menu, CNN overseas service being the English language station available. There was a table, with a sort of ottoman that did not fit, and no armchairs, but we had a terrace.
Fortunately, the evenings were consistently pretty cool, so opening windows provided a cross draft. Unfortunately, there was a lot of activity under one window, late into the night, so it was noisy. Also, although I saw no trees in the area, my allergies started acting up, and I would be awakened before dawn with the need to medicate.
We did have a continental breakfast, coffee, tea, or cocoa, a croissant, some bread and jam. I suited us, we do not eat a lot in the morning. The neighborhood was interesting: although the guidebook asserted that we would be in an area without essential Parisian street life, it was quite wrong. There were three brasseries and a couple of bistrots within a block, a couple of salons de the, a market, several other hotels, and as one went to ever larger streets, the tempo of "street life" just picked up. Also, although the guidebooks designated another area as the "Jewish quarter", we turned out to be in a Jewish area, with many kosher restaurants (various types of cuisine)and even Hasidim visible from time to time. We were, by the way, about a block from the Folies Bergere, which appeared to be closed......... |
