An Unexpected Adventure, Part I

We spent a quiet few days with Meagan in Brussels, mostly grocery shopping and cooking big batches of things we could freeze so that Meagan would have lots of good, healthy and tasty dinners after her long days at work.  It was the least we could do to express our thanks for her hospitality. We had planned on driving to CDG on the 13th, drop the car and fly out the next morning.  On Monday afternoon Meagan told us that there was to be a complete transportation shutdown on Wednesday the 13th and that the roads would be a mess for our trip to Paris. I got on the computer and adjusted my reservation at the Airport Sheraton so that we would arrive on the 12th.

We departed Brussels on the 12th in the early afternoon.  It took forever to get out of the city since Sybil insisted on trying to take us down one way streets. Cindy finally took over with her phone GPS and an hour later we were tooling down the highway heading back to France. It was an easy trip; there was even a gas station close to the airport so that I could fill the tank one last time. We thought we knew where the cut-off was for the hotel entrance but we couldn’t find it even though we drove around Terminal Two twice.  I finally gave up and we just decided to dump the car and walk to the hotel from inside the terminal. The agent at the car rental was wonderful and after checking for gas and damages took some time to ask about our trip since we had put three thousand kilometers on the car, about nineteen hundred miles. That is a lot of driving for twelve days.

We managed to get to the hotel with all of our luggage and the check-in was a breeze.  We also found out that there is no longer a place to drive up to the hotel lobby, so dragging our luggage through the terminal to the hotel was our only option.  The hotel clerk told us we had been upgraded to the Club Floor, which meant free breakfast as well as snacks, water, beer and wine. Music to my ears after four hours of driving.  Since we had organized our luggage before leaving Meagan’s we left the two large bags with the bellman and went up to our room for a quick nap before cocktails in the club. I went to the club before Cindy, who stayed in the room to practice the violin. (Yes, she carried and played the violin for the entire two months; now that is dedication!)  In the club I grabbed a glass of lovely French white, bien sûr, and one little warm spinach roll. The gentleman supervising the lounge thought that was not enough but I told him I was waiting for my wife. He said, with a smile, “What if she doesn’t come?”  I touched his shoulder and gave him a wink and said “Oh, she’ll be here.”  Well for some reason he thought that was hysterical (perhaps it was my French that he found hysterical) but in any event he said to follow him and he led me to a private room with a window overlooking the runways and if you stood in just the right spot you could see the Eiffel Tower and Sacre Coeur, quite the sight. 

A little while later I heard Cindy talking to aforementioned supervisor so I started to go out to tell her were I was, but our host brought her to the room after having told her that I just left! (From Cindy:  I was still wondering how he knew who I was or that I was looking for Wm.)  The guy was a cut-up, that is for sure. He plied us with food and wine for the next ninety minutes and all thought of going downstairs for dinner evaporated. As we left he wanted to make sure we had had a good time and handed me a glass of wine to take back to the room. I already had a five-Euro bill in my hand for him, so we made a subtle exchange which made both of us happy.

Armed with an extra day in Paris I decided I had to make amends to Cindy for having blown off the visit to Sainte-Chapelle during our first week in Paris in mid-December. We had actually gotten as far as the ticket window that day when I saw long - very long - lines of folks waiting to get in. I hate lines!  So we left and had a lovely walk around Paris instead, but it was clear that Cindy had really wanted to see Sainte-Chapelle.  I now had a second chance so the next morning we proceeded out the hotel door, down the escalator and into the ticket office for a one-day pass at senior rates to Paris.  The very nice agent directed us downstairs to the proper gate and after about a five-minute wait we boarded the fast train and thirty-five minutes later we were emerging in brilliant sunlight to the sight of Notre Dame hard against the Seine and a dazzling blue sky.

It was a short walk to Sainte-Chapelle and there were no lines; we just walked up to the ticket counter, got our tickets and right into the chapel. At one point in my life I was a sales representative for Hauser Art Glass, one of the largest makers of stained glass in the USA, so I know a bit about stained glass. Nothing however could prepare me for the sheer drama of these windows, which seemed to soar from the earth to the heavens. We spent a marvelous hour wandering from window to window. Periodically one of the docents would command silence reminding all of the visitors that we were in a house of worship, and the place would fall completely silent for a few moments - to the point that I thought we were the only two people in the entire building.

More later, Cindy and Wm