SFO to Paris, and first evening. 2006/12/15 – 2006/12/16

My trip began in San Francisco International on the afternoon of 12/15. After a small flight delay and a couple of pleasant hours in the terminal, it was finally time for a yoga-like folding of my 6’7” frame into the small, blue Airbus seat. Air France doesn’t skimp on the food (or champagne!), but the lack of legroom was surprising, given the number of tall Gallic folks Mom would soon point out on the streets of Paris.

Eleven hours of awkward sleep, deep breathing, and tasty morsels later, my flight touched down at CDG airport in Paris. It was just after noon, Paris time, on Saturday, 12/16. Customs and baggage claim whirled by, but it was all in that peculiar airport non-language. I was happy in a way, happy that “France” and “French” would be hitting me all at once as I stepped out into real Paris air.

All I was missing as I cleared customs were the smiling faces of my parents, who had (hopefully) arrived a couple of hours earlier and were thus (theoretically) going to be waiting for me outside of customs. As I later said to Mom, our “plan” – devised during a hasty cell-phone call just before her flight – had very bad failure modes, and the engineering part of my brain should have known better.

So, no parents. Options were limited. The cell phone that would have solved this problem instantly in America was a sleek, sexy paperweight in Europe. I quickly grabbed my laptop to check my email for word from someone. After 45 minutes wrestling with incredibly flaky wi-fi, I’d revised my plan down to sending the quickest email possible if I could ever connect. It was going to be something short and dramatic out of an old black-and-white. Something like: “Arrived safely in Paris STOP No sign of parents STOP Proceeding to hotel.”

Happily for everyone, Mom and Dad did finally show up. They’d had some minor problems with flight delays, luggage delays, and Air France confusion about where my flight was disembarking, but we had all arrived safely, and we were standing in France together. Bon!

After checking into the hotel, I took an intense two-hour nap before joining Mom and Dad in the lobby and walking down the block to our first French meal. It was at a quaint 101-year-old brasserie called Vagenende, which the concierge recommended. I had French onion soup (just called “onion soup” here, of course), a simple chicken-and-mashed-potatoes main course, and a piece of fluffy chocolate cake to top everything off. Onion soup may have been the best I’ve ever eaten, but then again the cold weather outside and the long day traveling may have influenced my judgment.

We wandered a few blocks each way after dinner, passing many tasty-looking restaurants and Irish pubs(?!). I caught my first glimpse of Notre Dame – from a distance, and at night, which as far as I’m concerned is a wonderful way to see it.

Then it was back to the hotel to pass out around 8pm, with a plan to meet in the lobby at 9am. My internal clock had other plans, of course, sitting me bolt upright a little after midnight. As I write this, it’s 1:40am, Paris time, and I’ve been listening to the nearby clubs slowly close down. (Perhaps I can make the jetlag work for me, becoming the party animal that I never have the energy to be in the US?)

Thoughts so far: The weather is cold but not freezing: my jacket, sweater, and scarf seems to match the standard outfit around here. The people have been very friendly, although my lack of French is so complete that there’s only a 50% chance that my victim will even understand my “parlez-vous anglais?” on the first try!

I look forward to lots more exploring by daylight tomorrow and in the days that follow. Also excited to really catching up with Mom and Dad while we have this unexpected time to ourselves.