Fun while flying, and finding my long lost inner Parisian

Everybody knows that traveling is one of the most enjoyable experiences of anybody’s life.  The time spent packing your bags is so much fun.  Just think about it: you’re try to figure out what you’re going to want to wear for the next 9 months or so, how much deodorant to pack for said 9 months, and how long can you really go without doing laundry.  They’re all such picturesque, romantic thoughts; I just love it.  For me the entire process takes about ten days, three bottles of Svedka, a few mental breakdowns, and more lists than even Santa could handle.  

By the end of my packing adventure, frazzled was an understatement of my mental condition and I needed one last boat ride to really say good-bye to Maine and close out my summer.  I’ve been incredibly lucky this summer to have use of a beautiful little launch named Grace from a great friend and since she was at the dock, Arthur and I hopped in and started our final boat ride.  Well actually it was my final boat ride, he still has time in Maine.  We putted out toward East Bunker’s Ledge, enjoying the fall air and sun and when we got out to the ledge, we just sat and drifted for a bit.  Before long we started noticing seals all around us and we could hear what sounded like lots of animals breathing.  We soon noticed that we were surrounded by porpoises and white sided dolphins playing around and, on top of that, there was a minke whale doing his minke thing not far from the boat!  What a way to end the summer!  I may not have had all of my packing done but I was damn sure going to get a last boat ride in, and I’m really glad I did.  It was worth it!

Arthur uses his dolphin whispering skills

Following the boat ride we went to Fathom for my Last Supper , which can basically be summer up as ohhmagahdddd.  Once again: I didn’t have my packing done, but between the whale, and the dolphins, the food, and the really good wine, I didn’t much care if I went to France or not the next day.

The next day came, I stressed like it was a full-time job with benefits, got my things packed, said my goodbyes, and headed to Bangor.  With one bag weighing 47 pounds, another weighing 48, in addition to a rolling carry on and a backpack, I was a sight to see trying to maneuver, but I got it done.  The first flight was fine, Bangor to Detroit, and all I saw were clouds the entire way.  You may wonder why I went to Detroit from Maine to get to Paris.  Well it basically boils down to about a 500 dollar difference.  It’s cheaper to fly to Detroit, and by the time you get yourself to Boston, it’s really no difference in overall time.  

The Detroit airport, for those of you who don’t know, is better more fun than a Barrel of Monkeys.  No, there are no red people who link arms, but there’s a lot of fun to be had.  Let’s start with the fact that it’s so big there is a train going from end to end.  In addition to the train there are wine shops, clothing shops, masseuses, bars, and restaurants.  Well I started walking around and before long I’d found my entertainment.  Shockingly it was at nobody’s expense! 

While walking around Brookstone to get a new set of earbuds for my iProducts I noticed a small underwear rack.  Not that I need anymore skivvies, but I had to go over to see what made these britches so special.

Just read that label: 17 countries: 6 weeks.  One pair of underwear.  ONE.  After 17 countries.  After 6 weeks!  The same pair of drawers!  I don’t know who thinks this is a good idea, but seriously, something just ain’t right!  I can think of any number of adjectives that could describe this invention, and I’m sure you can too… But really.  That’s gross.  Oh, and ladies, I don’t want you to think that these briefs don’t follow Title IX.  Brookstone stocks the 6 week panties too.  

By this point my 10:30 am Nicky’s diner cheeseburger was long since gone (I know, I eat healthy when I travel) so it was definitely time for some more American travel grub.  Scoping out my options, there was nothing that jumped out as a good idea.  So I ended up with a Blue Moon Beer and fried mushrooms.  Mediocre at best, but the bartender was a surly man whose comments are unfortunately far to risqué and vulgar for this blog.  Instead here’s a picture of what I ate - my last American meal.  (Don’t judge me.  I may have eaten it, but I didn’t enjoy it.)

Meal number three of the day done by 4:45, it was time to board to airplane and head to the land of frogs and cheese.  There’s not much to say about the flight except that it was even worse than normal.  Usually Delta has AirFrance do the flight (Delta and AirFrance are in bed together), but this was Delta-run flight.  I thought it was going to be great when they passed around hot towels soon after taking off, but it all went downhill from there.  I would like to note how nice the hot towels were, however, and the fact that the company thought enough to supply them to us, the lowly passengers in super economy class was very comely, indeed.  Then, just as I was learning (the hard way) that the televisions were a bit funky, the lady in front of me decided she would just lean back so I could see every follicle in her head.  On top of all that, the food was inedible.  Now, I’m the first to admit that airplane food isn’t exactly like the stuff you see on the Food Network, but I can normally find some little part to appreciate.  With AirFrance I was usually able to eat the chicken, appreciate the bread, and get through the wine.  Well all three were foul on this ride.  In fact, I didn’t even realize that the stewardesses were serving red wine because it was being poured from a cardboard container and I thought it was cranberry juice!  The one thing that did bring a slight smile to my face was the “Chocolate Chip Blondie” which was the recipient of the terrible motto award yesterday.

I did use my plane ride as an excuse to watch the 1974 version of the Great Gatsby which, if you can believe it, was almost the same plot as the new one.  Who woulda thunk?  It had a few things that the new version lacked, and it lacked some things that the new version included.  I think a lot of people complained about the overwhelming nature of Baz Lurhmann’s version, but the old one had the most underwhelming parties I’d ever seen.  I’ve definitely been to more exciting funerals  Neither was perfect, but I’m happy I saw it.  I have to say that it was strange to see Sam Waterston from Law & Order as a naive Nick Carraway.  I’m used to him as my law professor on Law and Order (I’m going to Law and Order University for an honorary degree).

Before he was a detective he rowed between East Egg and West Egg

Obviously we landed safely in France.  I got off the plane, got my stuff, got in the taxi, got into Paris, saw a rainbow (hello Karma!), and got to my former host house where I’ll be staying for a few days.  It’s great to be back.  Madame welcomed me in just like I’d never left and I’m very lucky to have a place to stay!  The shower felt amazing (almost existential) and I was soon on my way to a day in Paris.  I took the Métro to SciencesPo, my old university, and walked around there a bit before heading over to Trinity’s campus, where I was able to remember the WiFi code and get online on my cellphone to check in with the world.  Then I ended up down by the Seine, across from the Louvre for lunch (camembert cheese sandwich on perfectly crusty baguette with 2 espressos).

Oh, by the way, my lunch view?  Yeah, that's the Louvre.

From there I went back toward Trinity’s campus and visited the Abbey Church of St. Germain des Près, about which I wrote a lengthy paper when I was in college.  Walking around the city I was amazed at the things I remembered and how some things were just the same.  I walked the roads just like I’d done it last week and, more amazing to me, the same homeless people are in the SAME locations where they were in 2011.  It’s uncanny!  (I’m still unable to find the pantsless lady, however, which worries me.)  After a bit of walking I stopped outside the church to listen to a fairly decent jazz group and do some people watching, which is really my favorite non-architectural activity in Paris.  I even got a chance to revive the lost skill of the creeper photo, some of the results I will share with you here.  I love looking at the French.  They dress so… euhhh… French.  And they act soo… euhhhh… French.  They embody their identity with every fiber of their being.  You can look at them and know immediately that they are legit Frenchies.  In America they would stand out like a sore thumb, but here it’s the fat, nasty, loud Americans that stand out and succeed in making a wonderful impression of our fine nation.  

Can you pick out the Americans?

JBieb's cousin?

^Basically what I hope to be.

From there I went back toward the Trinity building to hijack some more internet and I received a message from my French friend Romy who invited me to see his new apartment and cat.  10 minutes later I was there, seeing Romy, Charlie, and their newly adopted kitten “Achoum.”  Achoum is the French equivalent of Achoo, and the kitten is so named due to some sort of illness that he has that makes him sneeze all the time.  I don’t know what they’ll call him once he stops sneezing but for now Achoum works perfectly.  After meeting Achoum, seeing friends, walking, and savoring my third espresso in 1.5 hours, it was time for a bit more walking.  I walked over toward Notre Dame, where a platform has been built in front of the Cathedral to raise visitors up about 30 feet, giving a completely different view of the building, currently celebrating its 850^th birthday!

The new platform brings visitors up closer to the level of the Gallery of Kings, which is pretty cool.

Do you see Quasimodo?

From Notre Dame I walked to the Louvre, hopped on a Subway and arrived at Trocadero to see how my favorite view of the Eiffel Tower was.  As I expected, it was perfect.  Grey skies, brown tower, brightly colored clothing on people protesting, and plenty of tourists; it was just what I wanted to end my day.  Between Trocadero and the Eiffel Tower, was actually the World Championship Archery Competition taking place over the fountains.  Kinda cool. 

They were chanting: Obama, Obama, Shame on you, Shame on you.  The protest was in reference to a number of civilians killed in a US air strike. 

Now it’s 7:34, I’ve written everything that’s important and plenty that’s not and I’ve been awake now for 32.5 consecutive hours.  It seems daunting but the smell of the homemade quiche that’s in the oven, along with the mirabelle tarts, and big hunk of cheese is incentive enough for me to stay up a bit later.