Nearly 20 years ago I decided to travel to Italy with a friend. At the last minute, the friend backed out but I decided to continue. The first leg of the trip, due to the cost and flight plans, landed me in Paris where I was to explore for a couple of days and then take another flight to Italy. This was the first time United Airlines was offering a direct flight to Paris at a good discount rate. I went through international customs at O'hare Airport. I gave the gate-man all my tickets and he picked through them to find the parts he needed, pushing them down into his wooden podium, and then I boarded my first international flight.
I landed in the beautiful city at the height of tourism season, not speaking any French; not the best time to visit. The locals lived up to their rude legends, but honestly they just didn't have the time for me to fumble through the strange monetary system. I didn't understand the difference between "sayz" and "seyzzzz" which was about ten francs. This language barrier was to play an integral part of the story.
I roamed around the city for the first couple of days, taking in the regular sites such as La Sacra Couer, the Louvre, the Arch d'Triumph and of course the Tour d'Eiffel. Of course I called them the Sacred Heart Church, the Louver, the Arch of Triumph and the Eiffel Tower. On the third day I decided to get my stuff in order and make sure I had everything for the next flight. To my dismay I discovered I only had the receipt portions of my tickets. I looked back in my memory and recalled how the man at the gate at O'hare had stuck the other parts into his podium. He had taken my actual tickets, including my return home ticket! I was beside myself.
Then a terrible wind storm came through Paris. The wind whipped through the central columnar courtyard of the hotel and caused such suction it blew several windows out of the rooms, including mine. They quickly and efficiently relocated me. I figured out, with some help, how to call the United Airlines office. They said they would have to investigate, but that I needed to come to their offices the next morning. They were not located in the airport, however, they were located downtown by the Opera. I got out my map and figured out a route. I left first thing in the morning.
I went to the Metro station and approached the window. The man behind the glass looked at me tiredly. I pointed to the map destination, a stop called "Voissey" and pushed some coins to him. He shook his head and pushed the coins back, saying something I couldn't comprehend. This occurred several times and I was getting more than frustrated. He kept saying something about a library, but I kept saying "no, Opera". Finally an English speaking man behind me shouted, "it's free!", I shook my head, so he clarified, "before 8am in the morning the Metro is free. He won't take your money." The man behind the glass shouted, "Oui, Libre!" Again with the Library?
I rode the Metro through many stops, keeping track of the one I needed. Turns out I would have to get off and change trains at this "Voissey" station. Finally arriving, I jumped off the train and approached the gate. It wouldn't open. Now that it was after 8am, the train was no longer free and I needed a ticket to actually enter this portion of the station.
There were no glass windows with grumpy people behind them here. This was an automated station with a giant machine you put money into, select your destination and it gave you a ticket. Each destination was printed on a tiny strip of white paper, about the size of the paper from a fortune cookie, stuck inside a little clear plastic square button. Unfortunately they were not in alphabetical order, they were in order by distance, all in French and there were about 100 destinations. I searched and searched but couldn't find the "Voissey" button. I was getting desperate. At this time of day, no one seemed to be riding the train. Every time it stopped, no one got on or off. I was helpless. Whenever someone would finally come by I'd say, "Pardon", point at the machine and say, "Vwah-see?" and they would nod and answer "Oui". I'd return to scanning the darn buttons over and over.
Finally a kind person used their ticket to open the gate and then blocked it so I could squeeze through. Out on the street I hailed a taxi and had the driver drop me off at the corner of the street I had been told the office was located. The streets in Paris radiate outward from central points like stars, hence they are called "etoile". I wandered up and down the blocks, taking different legs of the star each time but I couldn't find the office, nor did anyone seem to know where it was. I finally went into an American Express store and they were able to direct me to the brand new United Airlines office down the street.
As I approached the office a middle-aged woman was rolling down a metal grill over the face of the office. She saw me and said, "Fair me cat!". I didn't understand her so she said in English, "We close at four". I looked at my watch and was astonished. I had left before 8am that morning and was arriving after 4pm that afternoon. I was crushed and completely exhausted. I returned to the hotel and cried.
I was eventually able to get my return home ticket, but unable and unwilling to go on to Italy. I had such a terrible time I really just wanted to get home. I also had just met Robert and really didn't like being away from him.
When I got home I told Robert the whole story. He know his French very well (even some Frenchmen we've met have wondered where he grew up in France!) so he was able to quickly point out the error of my ways. The entire time I spent pointing at the machine in the train terminal and asking passersby "Vwah see?", I was really just saying "Here it is?", for which their answer of "yes" made more sense. The actual destination I was looking for was pronounced "Vwah Say". No wonder they had all looked at me like a crazy person!
No comments:
Post a Comment