7:55 p.m. September 17, 2012
Paris, France: The Underground
By Jeaneane Payne
The clear, sunny weather in Chantilly, France on August 27, 2012 seemed to promise a wonderful day trip to Paris, only a 45 minute drive south of Chantilly.
My son-in-law, Logan, is enlisted in the United States Air Force in Germany. He and my daughter, Rebecca, live in Southwest Germany. I flew into Frankfurt, Germany from the U.S. on August 20 to spend three weeks with them. Logan had requested and was granted leave from August 26 through 29.
We realized our time in Paris would be short, but we knew if we could make it to the Louvre, Notre Dame Cathedral, and the Eiffel Tower, we would be able to impress our friends and family with great pictures of Paris.
Before leaving the states I had requested availability on accommodations from twelve different lodging places, including bed and breakfast inns, a houseboat on the Seine River, two bedroom apartments, and a few mom and pop hotels. We prefer mom and pop businesses because you can expect better service and outstanding hospitality. They are also more affordable. Not one of these places responded to my request. I decided to wait until I got to Germany when the three of us could put our heads together and find a nice place to stay for our Paris getway.
My idea of a Paris getaway was to stay in a bed and breakfast inn on the outskirts of the city and take the railway into the city center. I continued to surf the Internet for B&Bs near Paris. After not getting a response from anyone, I finally gave up. Logan and Rebecca got out their laptops and began searching and searching. Logan decided to search Google maps for Bed & Breakfast inns near Paris. From the map that appeared, he clicked on an area close to Paris. A lot of numbered inns were on the map, and he randomly chose number 2.
Number 2 on the map turned out to be an inn situated in the very, very small commune of Le Plessis Luzarches, France located approximately 10 miles from Chantilly. He was able to make contact with the innkeeper of Aux fleurs de Cerises via email and successfully booked two rooms at the inn for two nights.
The inn was a six hour drive from Logan and Rebecca's home in Germany. We arrived late afternoon due to a delay at a convenience store where I couldn't make up my mind whether or not to purchase a 6.95 euro magazine about Paris. I didn't buy the magazine after deciding to save my money to get some delicate chocolates at a later time.
Eventually arriving at the inn, we were pleasantly surprised to find such a beautiful, quaint Bed & Breakfast. The inn was located in a secure, gated area. Logan called the innkeeper to let her know of our arrival. She met us at the gate with a warm welcome and, after giving us a complete tour of the inn, showed us to our lovely rooms.
We were ready for dinner and inquired about nearby restaurants. The innkeeper, Laurence Delaplace, advised us to drive into Chantilly where we would find a number of very nice restaurants.
We discovered an absolutely beautiful city and drove through the marketplace to choose a good place to have dinner. After deciding on an attractive cafe with indoor and outdoor dining, we found a parking place nearby. We briskly walked to the little cafe looking forward to relaxing after a long day of travelin, getting accustomed to a strange country, trying to find a commune in the deep countryside, and arriving in a city where few people spoke English.
Upon our arrival at this cafe, we were refused seating even though there were a lot of empty tables. The hostess told us we couldn't be seated and told us to go to another restaurant. As we left, a man in a wheelchair requested to be seated at a table but was also turned away. We assumed we were rejected because we are Americans. We later discovered that France is not disability friendly.
We walked across the street and enjoyed a pleasant dinner with excellent service and great ambience at an Italian restaurant where we were warmly received.
Early the following morning we enjoyed a wonderful breakfast at the inn then drove into Flosses, France where we boarded the train to Paris; only a 45 minute ride we had been told.
I was especially excited to ride the rail into Paris. My overactive imagination visualized seeing breathtaking countryside as we sat back to enjoy the ride. All of the books and stories I had read about the railways in Europe had prepared me for this awesome trip, or so I thought.
All the way into Paris, we saw huge piles of trash alongside the railroad tracks as well as many abandoned buildings and unkept areas while aboard a train that had absolutely no ventilation. A disturbing factor was that everyone riding the train seemed to be very unhappy, depressed, and tired.
The restrooms were locked, so we were stuck with no facilities.
Upon arriving in Paris, we departed the train at what we thought was the correct stop. It turned out we had gone too far north, so we climbed many steps to cross over to the other side of the terminal then walked down as many steps to catch a train which would take us to Champs Elyesses.
Arriving at what we thought was Champs Elyesses where we would find the Notre Dame Cathedral and other points of interest, we got off the train again and discovered we were still not in the right place. We did the "steps" gig again and finally found the right train. Again, we disembarked at the wrong stop.
There are no restroom facilities throughout the transit system and no place to get water unless you depart the terminal area and pay to reenter.
No one claimed to speak English, so we were on our own. We decided to start asking French people how to get to the Louvre. I had been sternly told before leaving the states that the correct pronunciation for L-o-u-v-r-e was "Loove;" therefore, we began approaching people and saying "Loove?" They simply gave us a strange look and shook their heads.
At one of the stops, we saw a Polize Station and thought we would dash in there and ask them where the "Loove" was. A female officer was running the front desk. We asked if she spoke English and received an abrupt "No." She then loudly yelled to someone down a hallway that she needed help. After realizing the help was not going to arrive soon, we took a seat and waited. Eventually, a male officer appeared and asked what was needed. Before he could get another word out, the non-English speaking officer said to us, "What is the problem?" Logan told her that we were lost and needed to find the "Loove". She said the "'LOOVE'"? What is the 'Loove'? We explained we were looking for the art museum, the "Loove". She took out a piece of paper and said, "You want me to write it down for you?" Logan told her he would appreciate that. She gave us the paper which said to take the Charles deGaulle Airport stop. The officers laughed as we left their building. We wondered why.
So off we went to our next stop, finally to be at our desired destination. Yes, we got off the train at the Charles deGaulle Airport stop and did not find Notre Dame or any other landmark.
Three and a half hours after leaving Flosses, doing 1,082 steps throughout the train terminal, no restrooms, no water, we arrived at our desired destination in Paris -- at 3:00 p.m.
We needed a restroom and we were hungry. We decided to get some lunch. Across from the Notre Dame Cathedral, we walked along the side streets with their many restaurants where the owners stood in their doorway compelling people to come in and dine at "the best restaurant in Paris".
We were attracted to a small Italian restaurant because the owner was friendly and kind; two ingredients we needed desperately at that point.
Once again, the Italians saved the day at the IDOGI restaurant with their wonderful hospitality, excellent service, and tasty food.
Feeling somewhat refreshed, yet very tired, we made it to the Notre Dame Cathedral which had a backdrop just like a Texas blue sky and pure white clouds. After our Notre Dame visit, we found a map of the transit system and set out to maneuver our way to the Eiffel Tower.
To get to the Eiffel Tower, we had to take the transit system to another stop which also meant we had to purchase tickets to get to that stop. We stood in a long line at the ticket vending machine where a couple in front of us tried to use their credit card a number of times but were unable to get tickets.
Logan's turn came. He tried to get tickets with his credit card, but after about 15 minutes and with a long line behind him, he realized that the machine was only going to take coins. So it was off to find a place that could not only understand that we needed to get change for a 20 euro but someone who would be willing to provide change.
Thirty minutes later, we had tickets to get us to the Eiffel Tower stop.
After our Eiffel Tower experience, we walked along the Seine River and watched the riverboat cruises filled with people from all over the world touring the wonderful city of Paris.
Next was the Louvre. Still no one knew what the "Loove" was. Two hours later with no place to purchase a beverage or use the restroom, I decided to take advantage of one of the few benches in Paris while Logan and Rebecca ventured off to see if anyone knew where the "Loove" was. A young couple pushing a baby carriage walked past, and I asked if she spoke English. She did, so I asked if she knew where the "Loove" was. She was puzzled, but after I told her we were looking for the art museum, she said, "You mean, the Louvre." I noticed she rolled the "r" in Louvre. She politely told me that the correct pronunciation of the Louvre is Loo-ver.
We later discovered that a number of attractions in Paris include the word louvre, and I then understood why no one knew what we were specifically talking about when we asked for the "Loove."
We were only about six blocks from the Louvre; however, it was 5:10 and the museum closes at 5:30.
As we walked back towards the Eiffel Tower, we were exhausted, dehydrated, and already hungry again. The thought had crossed my mind that we just needed to leave Paris and get back to Chantilly, find a nice restaurant, go to bed underneath the down comforters, and listen to the owls hoot all night. After our Paris experience, nothing would seem better. I didn't say anything since we had only been above ground in Paris for two hours.
We stopped at a street corner to decide where to go next. After a couple of minutes, Logan said "I don't know about you guys, but I'm thinking we could head back to Chantilly and enjoy a nice dinner and relax after this crazy trip." I replied, "Those were my thoughts, too." Rebecca said she had the same thoughts, so we set off for the transit system to take the quick 45 minute ride back to Flosses (pronounced Foss).
Our Paris adventure had just begun.
We had purchased round trip tickets for the transit system to and from Paris, so we didn't have to wait in line or get correct change.
We boarded the transit system, and thus began the trip to hell. By this time, it was rush hour in Paris.
At that point, we had not had access to a restroom since leaving the restaurant at 3:40 p.m. Once again, the restrooms were locked on the train. We didn't fret too much because we knew this time exactly where our stop was and believed we could be in a restaurant with restroom access by 6:45.
Although the train did not have any ventilation, we were happy to just be able to sit down for a few minutes knowing that we would arrive in Flosses shortly.
The train made many stops. It being rush hour, there was standing room only. I was holding on to a pole while standing behind a baby carriage and people crowded around. Logan and Rebecca were against the side of the train and were being pushed to and fro by the crowd.
At one stop, a huge throng of men boarded the train like a herd of stampeding buffalo. The doorway was already overcrowded yet they pushed their way in. We were being squashed from every side. In front of me, men were looking at me as they pushed me so they could get through to the upper deck aisle while saying "perdon" and men behind me were doing the same. The remaining men stayed at the doorway. A can of sardines would have made this scene look like a picnic. With no ventilation, very warm temperatures, and no breathing room, I tried to hold on to the pole yet my hand was perspiring so much that I couldn't grasp the pole. Within a short time, my face and arms were profusely perspiring (not drops, but masses), and my hair was completely soaked. This went on for about 30 minutes before the next stop when a few people departed the train. Seats became available on the upper deck, and the men rushed to get them.
I finally decided to try to make it to the upper deck where there was at least breathing room while standing. Completely exhausted, I slowly pulled my way up the stairs using the hand rail. A young Black man offered me his seat, and I will forever be grateful.
The train had made multiple stops at various towns while we sat and watched the doors open automatically and herds of tired people getting off and others getting on.
Get us out of here! Logan, Rebecca, and Jeaneane on the Paris transit system.
We realized we were finally only three stops from our destination. "Oh, hallelujah, thank you Jesus," we were saying. The train stopped, the doors opened, and people departed, others got on. The train stayed at that stop longer than at any of the other stops but we didn't think too much of it. Eventually, it started up again and here we go. Only ten minutes away from Flosses.
At the third stop from where the train delayed, we were not in Flosses. We thought we had miscounted the stops, so we patiently waited while the train stopped again and again and again. No Flosses.
We then came to a knowledge that when the train delayed at a previous stop longer than usual, it had changed tracks and had headed back to Paris. We were now on the opposite side of Paris. So it was off the train to do the steps gig again and again until we found the right train back to Flosses.
Logan figured out that we should have departed the train at the stop where it delayed so long and caught another train that would have taken us directly to Flosses.
We got lucky by finding a transit employee who was able to direct us to the right train to Flosses. The employee did not speak English, but she was able to show us how to get to the train we needed to be on.
Three hours after our departure from Paris we're off to Flosses, again.
Once again we had seats on the train and few people were on board. Once again the restroom was locked.
"Whee, hello Flosses," we thought.
Here we go. We didn't even mind all the piles of trash along the way anymore or all of the ugly buildings. We just wanted to get back to the little town we left from that morning.
The train finally stopped in Fosses. We saw the sign and cheered. We were all yelling "Halleujah!" We were the only people on board. We got out of our seats and stood at the doorway waiting for it to open so that we could get off the transit system never to return. The doors didn't open. The train started up and kept going. Logan was facing the doorway with his arms stretched out yelling, "Noooooooo!"
We're headed to the next stop. We departed at that stop and realized we probably had to push the green button since no one else was aboard the train to cause the doors to open automatically.
We waited 30 more minutes on the next train back to Flosses. Back on board, we held our breaths that the train would stop. It did. Logan pushed the green button, and we got off the train.
At this time it was 9:10 p.m. We drove the short 12 miles into Chantilly. The only restaurants open were the Italian restaurant we had already eaten at and the cafe which refused us seating the night before. We continued driving through town and found McDonald's; however, we really needed a nice place to relax and unwind. We found a restaurant whose sign said it was open 24/7. "Thank you, Lord," I thought.
We entered the restaurant and were promptly seated. By now it was 9:35 p.m. We were all ready for a reasonably priced steak dinner on the menu. Our server spoke no English. We asked for steak, and she said, "No steak. Close at 10." In French, Logan asked for a couple of minutes so we could decide on other entrees. We were very thirsty and ordered beverages immediately. Logan asked for water. The server asked if he wanted little or big. Thinking big would be an average size bottle, he ordered big. She brought a gigantic bottle of water to the table, and he had to send it back.
We all decided to order chicken and rice. The server once again said, "Close at 10." We spent several minutes trying to explain that we would take carryout boxes. They didn't have carryout boxes and put our food into used, plastic storage containers with labels partially peeled off the sides. They didn't have plastic flatware but were kind enough to loan us silverware if we promised to bring it back the next day, which we did.
We ended up having cold dinners in our individual rooms at the inn.
The sound of the hoot owls throughout the night, and being awakened at the crack of dawn by a rooster was refreshing after our trip to Paris.
The following morning, we went back to Chantilly and enjoyed a wonderful day. Chantilly was the saving grace of France for us.
Maybe we should choose Italy for our next European getaway.
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