We didn't intentionally book the red eye to Paris but you can't fly this far east without hitting night time. We don't sleep well on planes. It would be so convenient if we did.
We arrived at Charles DeGaulle at 7:45 a.m. Immigration and baggage claim took two hours but we had plenty of time. We couldn't check into our studio until 2:00 p.m. Charles DeGaulle is a very modern airport. I was struck by how sleek and automatic the doors, restrooms and walkways are. Beth says it's always been that way. She remembers many of the same features from when she used to fly.
After the airport, we took the train into the city. On this short trip we had several encounters that contradicted much of what we had heard of Parisian subways. Beth's luggage got caught in a turnstile and three people helped her free her bags from the lucite doors and twist and lift them to get them through. One man even used his Metro card to get the doors to reopen for her. Then at another point an escalator was broken and we had to pull our bags up two long flights of stairs. First a young woman helped me with my smaller bag and then a man helped me with my large bag. Another fellow picked up Beth's large bag and carried it up the final flight. We had heard so much about pickpockets on the subways in Paris that we couldn't believe the kindness and generosity. And they weren't trying to steal our stuff! When we got to our connecting train, my small bag and my foot got closed in the doors. Apparently Parisian Metro trains aren't like New York subway doors that bounce right back open when they close on something. Those doors slammed shut on my ankle and left most of my small bag on the platform. Five days later I have a large bruise, but it doesn't hurt.
A man pulled the doors open so I could get my foot in and then he wrestled in the bag. Then the train lurched forward throwing Beth down on a seated gentleman who caught her on his lap as the train started barreling down the track. The man held onto her to keep her from being thrown to the floor. It was wild and comical. And finally, when we got to our flat, we were staring at three long, steep flights of very old wooden Parisian stairs. We had to unscramble three sets of locks to get into the apartment and then we had to haul our bags up to the fourth floor. Three of the flats in the building were under some kind of construction and a couple of workers grabbed our bags and just flew up the stairs with them. Again, we were struck by and humbled to be the recipients of such kindness.
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Location:Paris
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