French

“Would you care for red wine, white wine, Champaign or water?” is the way I started my trip back to Cairo. Air France is the way to go! (I chose red wine for the first leg of the journey and Champaign for the connecting flight.) While some may think that alcohol is bad for jet leg I think going to a Muslim country during Ramadan after a summer of great wine is worse!

Chicago to Paris is an easy flight- if for no other reason than the anticipation of arriving in Paris!! I arrived around 8am Paris time, 1am Chicago time and I had five hours until my next flight. I had to act fast to make the most of my time.

I relatively quickly passed through Customs— the first stamp in my renewed passport! I found the Centre de Tourisme and quickly tried my French. The lady kindly responded in English— ouch. She explained the transportation options that arrive in the city center and return to the airport. Then with a smile and a wink also quickly informed me that there was bus that the locals used-- for half price!-- if I was willing to walk a few blocks. Who wouldn’t love to walk a few blocks through Paris!

At that moment I caught myself in a giggle: I could have easily taken about an hour before leaving to plan out- or look at a map of the windy city—to know how to best spend these hours but of course, I didn’t. So, I jumped on the random bus that a random man said would pass by le Avenue des Champs-Élysées and headed into Paris with an only-American-would-carry-ridiculously-stuffed “purse” and carry-on suitcase. Only a moment of anxiety crossed ma tete that I have to make it back from downtown, through security and find my gate which could be in a totally different terminal in less than four hours. Pourquoi pas?!

The supposedly 45 min ride took an hour ten minutes so I closely kept track of time for my return bus. While I couldn’t possibly skip up cobblestone, windy streets w/ my luggage there must have been at least a twinkle in my eye. Really, there is nothing like exploring and enjoying a foreign city—by yourself! Such liberty!

I took a few pics of the Arc de Triomphe before heading back down the labrynth of streets. In the morning, the streets were just stretching awake however the markets were standing ready: truly, one of my favorite places in the world— a small, outdoor market on the streets of Paris. In quite an “Eat, Pray, Love” fashion I smelled every flower that I passed and bought an overly expensive carton of raspberries! I spoke French with the smiley lady in the bakery. I even squealed an “ou la la” as I sidestepped away from the man pushing a cart with stinky cheese! My 53 minutes of freedom in Paris was bliss!

Upon return to the airport I quickly found the terminal and passed through security—a tall, black French speaking man! And finally, as I waited in the terminal for my Champaign filled flight, I gave myself a French manicure!