EARLY MORNING IN PARIS
I had it in my head that I should wake up in my tiny hotel room in Paris at 6:30, which would give me enough time to shower, do a final pack and walk over for the 7:30 train to the airport. I had been sent a message from Air France that everything must be charged or subject to confiscation, cameras and kindles included and so I was sure to top it all, just in case. And I gave myself time for the expected prolonged security check. The flight is the 11:05 to Washington D.C. -- even with added layers of waiting and long lines, I should have enough time for a coffee and a croissant at the airport.
That was the plan.
Here's the reality (it's going to be different than you think):
I woke up earlier. That's predictable. I always wake up earlier than I have to. Then I hear a ping on my computer. Email message. I want to ignore it. Probably junk.
Just thinking about whether to check that email wakes me up sufficiently so that it's pointless to try to sleep again.
The email, it turns out, is from Air France. Flight is delayed. But just an hour. At this point.
Damn. Could have slept more.
All this means is that I go about everything in a more leisurely fashion. I stare out the window and think trivial thoughts. About whether Paris is more fun in the dead of winter or the height of summer, for example. It surely is wonderful to have light stream into the room just after 6 (as opposed to after 8 in wintertime). Even if there still is a moon up there in the morning sky.
Packed, ready to go. Suitcase has the addition of several books I picked up at the airport in Edinburgh. (Would you believe it -- childrens books! As if my grandchild, who is yet to be born, can follow the complicated story of the smart giant, as only the English can tell it!) Still should be within weight limit, but the suitcase is getting to be extremely stubby and fat.
Leisurely. Think leisurely. Okay, I'll walk through the Luxembourg Gardens. They're open now, though only the joggers' rhythmic stomp breaks the stillness at this hour. It's beautiful and empty and I am just in love with this early morning walk, just minutes after 7.
This will be my one glance at the Eiffel Tower...
But truly the star attractions are the chestnuts and the empty chairs and benches...
Satisfying. Very satisfying. A fitting ending to my short stay here. Sun is up. Time to get going. Just one last glance and I'll be on my way.
Done. I carry my lumpy suitcase down to the RER station. (The one fault of the Luxembourg stop is that there is no down escalator. Over the years, I've cursed every single purchase that bloated my suitcase and made my walk down these steps awkward. This time, I take it in stride. You get a lot less excited by trivial things when you get older.)
At the airport, they move the check in for the Washington DC flight to the (mostly) European terminal F (to ease the burden on the screening in terminal E, which has mostly intercontinental flights). How will this work? It's the transatlantic flights that are doomed to have the additional layers of screening.
Well now, there are practically no lines at security. Even my (hard earned by frequent flying) fast pass is pointless -- it all moves quickly. And nothing extraordinary happens. No one asks me to power on any device. Most people don't even remove shoes. It just feels very normal. And fast.
And so now I have more than three hours at the airport. I'd say that's quite enough time for this breakfast.
FLIGHT
It is my first time on the new double decker Airbus 380 and after very complicated machinations, I find myself on the upper level (still sardine class, but fewer sardines up there).
It's a mighty big plane and I'll happily return to my lesser ones now that I sampled the flying giant. The downstairs section is too crowded and the upstairs sardines have to sit in the back, which is sort of like hanging onto a dolphin tail in the ocean: there's a lot more flipping and flopping back there when the air gets choppy.
Still, I had the only empty seat on the plane next to me and so I offer no complaints.
ON THE FARMETTE SIDE OF THE OCEAN
No sane person should ever pick connecting flights that arrive and leave from different airports. But what am I to do -- it's all I could get with my piddly miles. In D.C., I arrive in Dulles and leave from Regan (UPDATE: I'll leave that spelling for you, Regan, even though I ought to be a better proofer!).
Now, on the up side (or down side, depending on your spirit of adventure), I have a huge layover. Seven hours. Ed tells me -- go to the museums. Tempting!
But the plan quickly develops rips and wrinkles. First -- the DC weather just doesn't jive with Europe's cooler temps. And I'm wearing my hiking shoes because they no longer fit in my wee suitcase. So that's a bummer.
Then there is the matter of the suitcase. Did you know that even if you send your suitcase through to your final destination, if you have different connecting airports you have to lug it from one to the other yourself? Well you do. And wishing to save money, I take public buses and metros. During rush hour. Whisky is heavy. As are the slabs of slate I picked up on the beach. And don't forget the chutney. So all this presents new and fresh challenges.
And one last little glitch in the "I'm going to have a fun few hours in DC" plan: my Paris flight comes in late. Going through customs, catching that bus, connecting to the metro -- it takes forever. So by the time I drop off my suitcase at Regan Airport, my seven hour layover has just been whittled down to 2.5 hours -- not enough to motivate me to go back into town.
So here I am, sitting at Regan spewing off all these tedious travel details which would put anyone to sleep. Without even a photo from D.C. to add color to the post. Well, one: of the Capitol, as seen from the airport. Because it really is quite beautiful, even at a distance.
I'll be in Madison late tonight. I expect to do just one thing before crawling into a comfortable bed in the quiet of the farmhouse summer night: check to see if the bottles survived their long and complicated journey.
I had it in my head that I should wake up in my tiny hotel room in Paris at 6:30, which would give me enough time to shower, do a final pack and walk over for the 7:30 train to the airport. I had been sent a message from Air France that everything must be charged or subject to confiscation, cameras and kindles included and so I was sure to top it all, just in case. And I gave myself time for the expected prolonged security check. The flight is the 11:05 to Washington D.C. -- even with added layers of waiting and long lines, I should have enough time for a coffee and a croissant at the airport.
That was the plan.
Here's the reality (it's going to be different than you think):
I woke up earlier. That's predictable. I always wake up earlier than I have to. Then I hear a ping on my computer. Email message. I want to ignore it. Probably junk.
Just thinking about whether to check that email wakes me up sufficiently so that it's pointless to try to sleep again.
The email, it turns out, is from Air France. Flight is delayed. But just an hour. At this point.
Damn. Could have slept more.
All this means is that I go about everything in a more leisurely fashion. I stare out the window and think trivial thoughts. About whether Paris is more fun in the dead of winter or the height of summer, for example. It surely is wonderful to have light stream into the room just after 6 (as opposed to after 8 in wintertime). Even if there still is a moon up there in the morning sky.
Packed, ready to go. Suitcase has the addition of several books I picked up at the airport in Edinburgh. (Would you believe it -- childrens books! As if my grandchild, who is yet to be born, can follow the complicated story of the smart giant, as only the English can tell it!) Still should be within weight limit, but the suitcase is getting to be extremely stubby and fat.
Leisurely. Think leisurely. Okay, I'll walk through the Luxembourg Gardens. They're open now, though only the joggers' rhythmic stomp breaks the stillness at this hour. It's beautiful and empty and I am just in love with this early morning walk, just minutes after 7.
This will be my one glance at the Eiffel Tower...
But truly the star attractions are the chestnuts and the empty chairs and benches...
Satisfying. Very satisfying. A fitting ending to my short stay here. Sun is up. Time to get going. Just one last glance and I'll be on my way.
Done. I carry my lumpy suitcase down to the RER station. (The one fault of the Luxembourg stop is that there is no down escalator. Over the years, I've cursed every single purchase that bloated my suitcase and made my walk down these steps awkward. This time, I take it in stride. You get a lot less excited by trivial things when you get older.)
At the airport, they move the check in for the Washington DC flight to the (mostly) European terminal F (to ease the burden on the screening in terminal E, which has mostly intercontinental flights). How will this work? It's the transatlantic flights that are doomed to have the additional layers of screening.
Well now, there are practically no lines at security. Even my (hard earned by frequent flying) fast pass is pointless -- it all moves quickly. And nothing extraordinary happens. No one asks me to power on any device. Most people don't even remove shoes. It just feels very normal. And fast.
And so now I have more than three hours at the airport. I'd say that's quite enough time for this breakfast.
FLIGHT
It is my first time on the new double decker Airbus 380 and after very complicated machinations, I find myself on the upper level (still sardine class, but fewer sardines up there).
It's a mighty big plane and I'll happily return to my lesser ones now that I sampled the flying giant. The downstairs section is too crowded and the upstairs sardines have to sit in the back, which is sort of like hanging onto a dolphin tail in the ocean: there's a lot more flipping and flopping back there when the air gets choppy.
Still, I had the only empty seat on the plane next to me and so I offer no complaints.
ON THE FARMETTE SIDE OF THE OCEAN
No sane person should ever pick connecting flights that arrive and leave from different airports. But what am I to do -- it's all I could get with my piddly miles. In D.C., I arrive in Dulles and leave from Regan (UPDATE: I'll leave that spelling for you, Regan, even though I ought to be a better proofer!).
Now, on the up side (or down side, depending on your spirit of adventure), I have a huge layover. Seven hours. Ed tells me -- go to the museums. Tempting!
But the plan quickly develops rips and wrinkles. First -- the DC weather just doesn't jive with Europe's cooler temps. And I'm wearing my hiking shoes because they no longer fit in my wee suitcase. So that's a bummer.
Then there is the matter of the suitcase. Did you know that even if you send your suitcase through to your final destination, if you have different connecting airports you have to lug it from one to the other yourself? Well you do. And wishing to save money, I take public buses and metros. During rush hour. Whisky is heavy. As are the slabs of slate I picked up on the beach. And don't forget the chutney. So all this presents new and fresh challenges.
And one last little glitch in the "I'm going to have a fun few hours in DC" plan: my Paris flight comes in late. Going through customs, catching that bus, connecting to the metro -- it takes forever. So by the time I drop off my suitcase at Regan Airport, my seven hour layover has just been whittled down to 2.5 hours -- not enough to motivate me to go back into town.
So here I am, sitting at Regan spewing off all these tedious travel details which would put anyone to sleep. Without even a photo from D.C. to add color to the post. Well, one: of the Capitol, as seen from the airport. Because it really is quite beautiful, even at a distance.
I'll be in Madison late tonight. I expect to do just one thing before crawling into a comfortable bed in the quiet of the farmhouse summer night: check to see if the bottles survived their long and complicated journey.
welcome home....nice to have you back on this side! I got a laugh out of picturing you walking around DC in your hiking boots. Hoping all the bottles are intact.
ReplyDelete...and you know how humid DC is in the summer! But you know what bothered me most? The AC in the airport and everywhere else. It felt so nice not to be COLD on the other side of the ocean. First day back and I'm freezing indoors!
DeleteI hope the final leg of the trip goes well, and all the fragile items arrive in good condition. And I hope that you find all is well on the farmette and in your beautiful gardens. It was a great trip -- for me, at least, from my armchair.
ReplyDeleteUpdate on the farmette will follow. But yes, the travel was so painless. No real hassles and in fact, the Madison flight got in 40 minutes early, so I had to wait at night at the curb for Ed, who, without a cell phone, is intractable!
DeleteOh boy. Nina, I have been spoiled. On my way over to France, I sat in the upstairs of the A380 in the section just ahead of sardine class. Still not the very front of the plane, but still much roomier. We had to use the same toilets as you, so I saw it was none too comfortable back there. I love that big plane. I watched the exterior cameras the entire flight. We had the non-A380 coming back yesterday. Not quite as roomy. I was all set for that electronic inspection and they sort of put us through it at the boarding gate at CDG. Most people pulled out a mini-iPad and/or smartphone. I had a laptop, a kindle, an old palm pilot, US and french cellphones, my camera (and I forgot about the other camera). I put them all in a bag to carry them and told the inspector that all my electronic equipment was in there and I needed a table to display it. She gave me a really confused look and shooed me past her. I originally boarded in Marseille where the security screening tore everything apart insisting I had something else electronic in my carry on (it was a souvenir plate). I didn't even put my watch and everything back on as I thought I'd be going through the same thing at CDG, but somehow got routed from terminal F right into all the glamour of the International Terminal shopping center without even a peek at an xray machine. My last hotel was completely without internet for my last three days, and I fallen and turned myself into a horror story so didn't feel like venturing out much. Thus, I'm about to read backwards through your blogs until i reach the part where I last tuned in.
ReplyDeleteWhen is your next trip?! :)
DeleteSeptember, if I haven't permanently damaged anything on my person. The scraped face is healing, but one knee hurts when touched. How about you?
DeleteSeptember! And BTW, don't tell me about hurt knees: mine was puffy and sore the whole first week away -- a combination of age and long flight I'm told!
DeleteThey are gems, those photos of the empty chairs and benches!
ReplyDeleteMany thanks, Jayview. They left a lasting memory.
DeleteI loved the quiet early morning visit to the Luxembourg Gardens. How fitting to take leave in a slow, meditative fashion.
ReplyDeleteYour biceps and triceps must be rocks. Carrying that weight in just one suitcase, your load not even balanced...I couldn't have done that at any age. Because I've always relied on my strong husband.
Would be great, though, to have arms like yours! (I'm working on it, somewhat belatedly, at the gym.)
WELCOME HOME!!
Thank you, JoyD. And too, for all your comments throughout this trip. Love 'em all, I really do.
DeleteOn a couple of occasions, we've had to buy extra pieces of luggage just to hold all the books we'd acquired in the UK on our trips! You did very well... and I hope all items arrived intact. I have to ask, didn't anyone say to you that it is a no-no to pick up anything off the ground in the UK and take it home? Like the slates or flowers... they drilled that fact into us every time we visited there... even though I did get home one year with some bluebells and buttercups pressed into my diary!
ReplyDeleteI've been good about curtailing shopping abroad, but this time my suitcase did bulge! As for bringing things you find home -- I surely do respect the part about plants. You can do a lot of damage here by inadvertently introducing something that is not indigenous to our lands. But a piece of chipped slate off a rock on the beach? I absolutely don't believe that's prohibited. Pebbles, shells -- things washed up by the sea: collectable in small amounts the world over. Maybe there are some limits on commercial use, but not the size and amount I brought back. In fact, my suitcase was totally inspected, packed and unpacked twice, both leaving the UK and coming in to the US - and nothing was noted or removed
DeleteAfter watching today's news, I am just SO HAPPY that you are HOME!
ReplyDeleteYes... It's always more stressful flying right after a crash, though I am reminded that I took a group to Europe five days after 9/11. We were only on the second day of flights leaving for Europe and it was a very grim passenger group (most of them stranded in the US far longer than they wanted to be).
DeleteWe just rode in the back (main level) of a double decker plane and I can relate to your dolphin comment. It is an apt description. Though I've never ridden on a dolphin to verify. I like your spelling of Regan. I'll take it as a little nod to me. ;-)
ReplyDeleteI should edit for spelling more carefully. A sign of how tired I was yesterday! Or, of the fact that my thoughts were straying toward you!
Delete