Oui Oui, Paris
After Meg's ceremony I stayed in Dad's office, fiddling on the computer and meeting people from time to time. Paris was only a few hours away.
Dad drove me to the train station. With the number of questions, the cell phone in my purse and the phone numbers to Dad's work, Meg's work and their home, I realized he was a little worried. I tried to reassure him that as a 24 year-old who has traveled abroad before and lived on her own for 6 years I would be alright. But it is a parent's perspective. Regardless of age or experience, I am still his daughter.
With last minute directions, a picture and a wave goodbye, I had a half an hour to wait for the train. I knew there was a problem when a man came over the loud speaker spouting out German instructions. Something had happened and I had no idea what. The train arrived but it didn't look like what had been described, it didn't have wagon numbers which I had been prepared to look for and I couldn't figure out the assigned seat. After walking up and down the train cars for a bit and probably appearing lost I stumbled onto some teenaged girls and asked somewhat desperately "What are the chances you speak English and could help me?"
The chances were good. I discovered the assigned seating was out, so sit anywhere. The train we were on was not the correct one. We were having technical difficulties and would be changing trains at the next stop. Danke! Merci! Thank you!
I swapped trains and landed a position next to Daniella. A half German, half Chilean resident of Paris. We chatted the entire way to Paris. She offered some insight into the city.
(Brief Digression: As I am typing this chanting/singing is coming from outside the window. Germany just beat Portugal in the World Cup)
Oddly, Daniella started a trend that continued throughout my stay in Paris. No one thought I was an American. Even after talking with her for a bit she thought I was from England. In Paris people would begin conversing with me in French, even the Americans and would be shocked when I spoke up. They would frown, shake their heads and say, "Really?" The French people would refer to me as mademoiselle and the Americans madam. It made me feel at a very in between age.
As the train came to a stop and we disembarked, she went out of her way, past her gate to help me get onto the metro for the first time. I impulsively hugged her and got a kiss on the cheek. Later, my Australian buddy Jason and I coined the phrasing, "random acts if generosity." She embodied this phrase as did several other people on the trip.
A mixture of pride and politeness kept me from harassing people for help. i figured the people of Paris were bombarded with foreigners asking them directions and for help. I didn't want to add one more to that number. That got me lost quite a few times but also made me appreciate the people who did help me of their own accord. Another time I was trying to buy tickets for the metro system. The man at the counter had impatiently dismissed me and two other travelers, pointing us to the machines. We stared at the machines, pushed a few buttons and then blatantly watched a French man purchase tickets, trying to teach ourselves through his button-pushing. He turned and said, "You need help?" We three nodded in unison. He came over and showed us how to work the machines. Again, random acts of generosity.
Dad drove me to the train station. With the number of questions, the cell phone in my purse and the phone numbers to Dad's work, Meg's work and their home, I realized he was a little worried. I tried to reassure him that as a 24 year-old who has traveled abroad before and lived on her own for 6 years I would be alright. But it is a parent's perspective. Regardless of age or experience, I am still his daughter.
With last minute directions, a picture and a wave goodbye, I had a half an hour to wait for the train. I knew there was a problem when a man came over the loud speaker spouting out German instructions. Something had happened and I had no idea what. The train arrived but it didn't look like what had been described, it didn't have wagon numbers which I had been prepared to look for and I couldn't figure out the assigned seat. After walking up and down the train cars for a bit and probably appearing lost I stumbled onto some teenaged girls and asked somewhat desperately "What are the chances you speak English and could help me?"
The chances were good. I discovered the assigned seating was out, so sit anywhere. The train we were on was not the correct one. We were having technical difficulties and would be changing trains at the next stop. Danke! Merci! Thank you!
I swapped trains and landed a position next to Daniella. A half German, half Chilean resident of Paris. We chatted the entire way to Paris. She offered some insight into the city.
(Brief Digression: As I am typing this chanting/singing is coming from outside the window. Germany just beat Portugal in the World Cup)
Oddly, Daniella started a trend that continued throughout my stay in Paris. No one thought I was an American. Even after talking with her for a bit she thought I was from England. In Paris people would begin conversing with me in French, even the Americans and would be shocked when I spoke up. They would frown, shake their heads and say, "Really?" The French people would refer to me as mademoiselle and the Americans madam. It made me feel at a very in between age.
As the train came to a stop and we disembarked, she went out of her way, past her gate to help me get onto the metro for the first time. I impulsively hugged her and got a kiss on the cheek. Later, my Australian buddy Jason and I coined the phrasing, "random acts if generosity." She embodied this phrase as did several other people on the trip.
A mixture of pride and politeness kept me from harassing people for help. i figured the people of Paris were bombarded with foreigners asking them directions and for help. I didn't want to add one more to that number. That got me lost quite a few times but also made me appreciate the people who did help me of their own accord. Another time I was trying to buy tickets for the metro system. The man at the counter had impatiently dismissed me and two other travelers, pointing us to the machines. We stared at the machines, pushed a few buttons and then blatantly watched a French man purchase tickets, trying to teach ourselves through his button-pushing. He turned and said, "You need help?" We three nodded in unison. He came over and showed us how to work the machines. Again, random acts of generosity.
posted by tayjay at 1:28 PM
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