Saturday, December 8th 2012

            Not a ton to write about today since our time has been spent mostly commuting to Paris…but here it goes anyway!

            The wait at JFK was uneventful and so was our first flight to Reykjavik, Iceland.  The flight was five hours long.  Mena and I were unlucky enough to get stuck in the last row before an exit row so our chairs did not recline.  I woke up intermittently throughout the ‘night’ and chuckled when I saw Mena twisting her body in various, creative contortions so she could get comfortable.  Try as we did, sleep still managed to evade both of us.

            We landed in Iceland.  We were only flying through Iceland (we’re stopping here for three nights on the way back) but it was my first glimpse of the strange country to the north.  And…while…not much to say!  Because it's so far north there is only 3-4 hours of light per day this time of year.  As the plane descended I saw orange, industrial lights and glistening, ice covered streets below and coal-black stretches of sea in the distance.

            After an hour layover the plane took off for Paris.  I found it ironic that we were flying from a place that has only four hours of daylight to the ‘city of lights.’  Ahh – maybe I just look into things too much.

            The second plane trip was pretty miserable too.  Neither of us slept.  When we landed in Charles De Gaulle Airport we were bother borderline delirious.  We got our bags and took a shuttle to the Charles De Gaulle subway station.

            We were waiting for the train standing next to a very nicely dressed man reading a book.  When the train came he took his earpiece out, looked at me and said, underneath his breath, “Be very careful. There are very dangerous men on this train."

            ? 

            I know that pick pocketing is rampant in most parts of southern Europe…but was it really necessary for a complete stranger to warn me?  I thanked the man for his tip.  Mena and I got into the subway and he followed us and sat in our section.

            I have to admit, I am a very cynical person.  Maybe it’s the New Yorker in me but I couldn’t just take this helpful hint from a stranger at face value.  Especially since he elected to sit next to us on an empty train.  For the remainder of the trip I watched his hands very carefully.  I watched to make sure he was actually reading the book in his lap.  I watched to see if he communicated with anyone else on the train.  

            (Now some of you may think this is overkill, but I've seen some pretty elaborate robbery schemes in my travels.  I was nearly robbed by a very well dressed man on a subway in Barcelona.  His scheme involved a 'muscle man', a flirtatious woman, a knife and two fake arms.  True story.)

            But I digress…we got off the train without incident at Gare Du Nord.  We walked in the direction of our flat, all the time looking for a café that had Wi-Fi.  We knew the address of the flat, but we had no way to get in touch with the owner!  We stopped at a café in arrondissement 2, La Cantoche, to eat lunch and use their free Wi-Fi.   The waitresses’ name was Tara.  She spoke fluent French but greeted us in English.  She was really sweet and helpful.  Very welcoming after traveling for twenty-four hours.

            I turned to Mena after she walked away, “I bet you that woman is from America.”

            “Why do you say that?”

            “Her English is too perfect.”

            We ate lunch and as we were leaving we had a conversation with the waitress.  Turns out she is from Larchmont, New York.  Small world!

            Our flat is nice, but incredibly small.  I can literally barely fit in the kitchen, or bathroom, or bed – or really anywhere – but the guy we are renting from is cool and the place is clean so we're happy.  After a power nap we headed out on the town.  We walked through Arrondissement 1,2, 6 and 7 and along the Seine River.  The city is every bit as breathtaking as I had always heard.  It reminded me of Prague with its large and ornate French gothic buildings and urban layout.  It reminded me of Madrid, Barcelona and even Ho Chi Minh with its vibrant people – eating, drinking, smoking and laughing well into the night.  

            After walking for two hours we decided to eat dinner.  We stopped at a place near our flat.  We shared fried foie gras.  I had steak tartare with a raw egg yolk on top.  Mena had steak and pom frites.  We shared a cream brulee and then walked back to our flat.