A Letter From Paris
This first set of travel stories take place in Paris and London in November 2004. I was living in Phoenix, Arizona at the time, and meeting my grandfather in Europe.
November 20, 2004
Photo by Dimitry Anikin on Unsplash
As the plane lands and I open my eyes, I look around and see nothing but gray. The drab clouds cry quietly, their tears spreading a fine mist across the bleak airport landscape. The dreary puddles match the sky’s countenance and blend upwards so that everything before me becomes a thick soupy mess of cold and misery. Outside, the air shocks my Arizona body and sends a chill to my core. Yet my heart is anything but heavy for I have arrived in Paris! Ah, glorious Paris – a place of romance, history and deep rich memories. I am back at last!
I began my solo journey solo at Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport, and since I fly somewhat frequently within the US, I nearly went to the domestic gate instead of the international gate. It would have been rather interesting trying to get to Paris on an airline that goes no further east than Boston. Thankfully I discovered my mistake before going through the wrong x-ray, “take off all your clothes, and say hello to the nice doggy" security checkpoint. The international security checkpoint greeted me with the sounds of sexy British accents and a melange of other languages, confirming that I was indeed flying beyond Boston.
You'd think I could read airport instructions by now, but I always seem to screw at least one thing up…like packing my big Swiss Army Knife in my carryon bag twice in a row and being forced to mail it back to myself! It's not that I can't follow directions, it's simply that I love airports and find myself extremely distracted by all that is going on around me! I could go to an airport just to watch people and wonder where they are going to or coming from.
I watch the tearful reunions and goodbyes and make up stories in my head about the travellers’ lives. Like the big Texan cowboy kissing his petiteJapanese wife goodbye as he boards my flight to London… or the plain-looking British girl and her adorable baby girl. Perhaps their lives aren't nearly as exciting or strange as I imagine them to be. Maybe I'm the strange one and they are making up stories about me in their heads.
Regardless, I am in Paris and will be spending a few days here and in Brittany before being joined on Wednesday by my 84-year old grandfather and my 14-year old cousin who hasn't flown since he was a baby. Stay tuned as this could get very interesting. In the meantime, know that I am safe and happy, not to mention very full after eating a warm baguette, stinky feet cheese, chocolate mousse and washing it all down with delicious French wine.
So much for that diet!!