MY TRIP TO FRANCE. Part Twelve: Au Revoir, la Belle France

Thursday, June 7, 2012     

Day Twelve

Heading to France, over the British landscape.

 I now sit in the airport trying not to strike up conversation so that I can write.  Sitting here waiting for my 12:15 flight which is delayed, now 14:15 which will cause me to miss my connecting flight in Chicago.

Rachel's amazing sense of direction kept us going.

I have been chatting with a woman who is going with her daughter to New York.  This is her first trip to America, and she will be visiting her daughter’s foreign exchange family.  I just love talking to different people and learning about them and sharing myself with them.

Foot traffic on the Champs Elysees.

The cab was called for 6:30am. On Tuesday we had the hotel clerk, the gentleman who tried unsuccessfully to refuse to give me a second pillow, phone for a cab for this morning. 

The mighty Arche du Triomphe.

We made it to the Eiffel Tower!

The cab experience has been utterly ridiculous up to this point.  We found they charge more for extra luggage or more than three people (four seatbelts were working), would not come to get us in Valognes because it was not far enough (not big enough fare) and too early (our train left at 6:09am so we had to walk three quarter mile with our luggage at night, some uphill starting out at 5:15am!  They refused us due to break time, lunchtime, won’t take credit cards. 

Scenes of Paris.

The gentleman at the counter, on Tuesday when Rachel asked him to call a taxi, he announced, “No taxi takes card, only cash, cash only” he declared.  She suggested he try because she needed use the card.  He shook his head and says, “I’ll try,” and not in a helpful way.  He dialed.  Rachel did not understood the French but the reactions.  In English it might have sounded like this: “I need a taxi.  Do you take a credit card?” … “Oh, you do?”  Very first call.  Our faith in the Parisian taxi system was starting to be restored. 

More scenes of Paris.

This morning the taxi arrived on time.  He had a bigger vehicle in order to accommodate our luggage.  He was Cambodian, young, strong with a gentle helpful face.  He spoke very good English with a strong Cambodian and French accent.  After loading all the bags and we were seated, he showed us a contract and went over it quickly so that we knew the exact cost and why.  A little extra for the luggage.  We were so pleased with the initial reception that we engaged him in conversation the entire half hour to the airport. 

The lovely apartment buildings and those motor scooters.

He was born in France and has grown up here.  He spoke Cambodian at home, went to school and had to learn French, very hard because no one would teach him, he just had to pick it up.  And in school he learned English. 

You've got to love the name McBaguette.

He was willing to wait a few minutes (or whatever) so Rachel could be sure I was inside my terminal.  We told him that we had not had a cabby even close to as good as him.  He had told us his family owns the cab company and gave us a business card.  We promised he would get all of our business when we returned to France.  Warm embraces and grateful goodbyes and then I wave Rachel goodbye. 

Our view from our Hotel in Valognes.

I learned that my flight to Chicago was delayed so that I would miss my connecting flight in Chicago.  Check-in was a circus.  The kiosk kicked me off seven times, saying they could not process my reservation.  And, of course, there was no one around to help us.  Another woman was having the same problem.  At length I obtained help only to learn that American Airlines had completely rebooked me through British Airways and I am sure it was a straight up miracle that I found out in time.  I found the new gate, got all checked in and waited. 

This is the courtyard of our Hotel.  The tower is the stairwell to our room.

Today seemed full of little uncertainties.  Figuring it all out was both exciting and somewhat alarming.  My new flight was delayed by 15 minutes because of weather (we always love hearing that!).  In line for that flight there was an older couple with bicycle helmets.  The wife was frail and spunky reminded me of Ellen Messerly’s mother.  The husband was quite healthy and seemed eager to board first.  I loved talking to them. 

Even the alleys are beautiful.

They have been biking on a tandem bicycle on tours for about 25 years.  She has a back injury which is the only thing slowing her down.  They used to bike on their own but recently they have been joining tour groups because they felt that being their age they needed the support of a group tour.  They happen to have been through the same flight rerouting that I experienced!  I will be seeing them on the hour layover in London as well as in San Francisco.  They will head for Palo Alto and Ric will be taking me back to Eureka.

View from Point du Hoc.

The American cemetary at Normandy, overlooking Omaha Beach.

A word about the flight change.  Ric was planning to drive down to meet me at 7:00pm in San Francisco.  But my flight gets there now at 4:59!  We could be home much earlier if he got me then.  But I thought about the San Francisco traffic at 5:30 on a weekday going out of the city which is what it could be if he knew I was landing so early.  So I took comfort in the knowledge that if he does come at 7:00, my waiting at the airport is far easier than fighting traffic!

The C130s fly away after their low pass.

There were some who came.  They were there on that day 68 years ago.

Weather is an issue today which may prove to create a delay out of Heathrow.  We are having to circle around for the next twenty minutes due to the congestion of landing planes due to weather conditions.  It seems pretty smooth up here now but earlier in the flight we were hitting some pretty good turbulence.  We are descending very slowly. 

The French (and their tourists) love Italian.

Great landing but the fifteen or so of us who were rerouted flew into quite a frenzy.  The flight attendant pulled us forward and assured us that finding our connecting flight would be quick because British Airways is in the same terminal.  She must not know anything about Heathrow because our next boarding gate was a very long walk/run!  We got off and were given our orange tickets which was for fast track.  It seems now that I am not the only of our group who got lost.  Twelve others are!  So after taking about four wrong turns, thanks to clueless personnel, and running through terminals, I am now in my seat on the plane being told we might experience a bit of bumpiness.  We are awaiting the twelve, which as I write have boarded. 

In London, a stairway to underground flats.

All over London are the phone booths.

Now what I thought would be two seven hour flights switching in Chicago has become a one hour forty minute flight to London and a ten hour forty-five minute flight into San Francisco.  We are now taxing. 

Here it is.  My dream.  And it came true!

The flight was great, small periods of turbulence but really quite smooth.  One of my bags didn’t make it and should be at Eureka/Arcata Airport tomorrow.  Ric is on his way but my cell phone doesn’t have enough power yet to call or text him.  I’ll have to sit tight while it charges. 

A sycamore in London, taller than the buildings.

The pick up was a great success.  Ric was in the Lexus.  We embraced, loaded up the luggage that made it through and then drove the talkative and the sleepy way home.

Au Revoir, la belle France

Rachel, I have had this card for a couple of years, reminding me of you.  Now it will remind me of us! Words cannot say how I feel.  Maybe...it is the highlight of my life, or, I will never be the same, or, every day was perfect, or, I could never have imagined I would have loved my visit so much...comes close.  To share the most amazing twelve days of my life with you and because of you is a treasure I will hold dear.  How can I thank you?  How can I say it without crying?  How can I remember our embrace without remembering the tears as I watched your cab drive away?  I will say Thank You, even though it doesn't even come close.

Love always, Mom

2012 The Year My Life Began.