March 27, 2018
Day 1: Arriving in Paris
The Airbus A330 that we rode to France was incredibly smooth. The takeoff, flight, and landing were almost imperceptible. Once again documentaries found on the onboard entertainment system covered places we would be pedaling to. One in particular was about the covered market in Toulouse - really interesting coverage of things like the specialty Toulouse sausages, foie gras terrines, and items like locally grown white beans for use in cassoulet. None of these things, frankly, would be our choices but we will still go for a close look if we can hit Toulouse on a Saturday.
While we were silently cruising over the Atlantic, our friend Michel was tracking our progress. Here is one of the images he sent. Clearly we were just part of a swarm of tourists descending on Europe!
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At Charles de Gaulle airport, while we did see some fellows nattily done up in fluorescent "Customs" uniforms, aside from a casual stamping of our passports no one looked at us or asked us anything at all as we strolled into Europe.
We dragged our bags over to the train station and got to stand in a quite long line to buy tickets to Paris because, it seemed, the ticket sales machines had been removed. But soon we were trundling into Paris, and with really very little trouble at all we are in our hotel near Gare du Nord, waiting for our brains to unfuzz, which is their condition after hours with no sleep. We have to wait until tonight to actually sleep, if we are to beat jetlag. We know we will soon adjust, and then the fun can begin in earnest.
At 4.p.m. local time, we are just hanging out in our room waiting to eventually rendez-vous with two friends, get something to eat, and finally get some sleep. However Google Maps showed a chocolate shop nearby, and that lured me out for a brief excursion.
I crept slowly and quietly down the hotel stairs, trying not to disturb my brain, which is pretending it is not here. Actually, without sleep it is not too clear on where it actually is, or wants to be. But when I stepped out into the street I was clearly in another country. But which? All around me were people of African origin. I would say about 75% had Algerian or Moroccan ties, and 25% from equatorial Africa. People were going this way and that, or just milling about. I walked past shops selling dates, selling flat breads, or shawarma, or notably - phone plans or luggage.
This African connection makes sense, since the Francophonie - the French speaking former French colonies - are mainly in Africa. The one big exception is Canada. Hey, I had unwittingly landed right where I belong. But the hustle and bustle and exotic foods are not to be found in Canada.
I ducked into a pocket sized grocery, reminiscent of Mexican ones for size, and bought some bananas, plus a Cote d'Or chocolate bar. Then I retreated quickly to the hotel. 10 minutes of Marrakesh, or wherever, was enough for now.
When we were in Yucatan in January we shared a tour at Rio Lagartos with a wonderful couple who turned out to be from Paris. Of course, as always happens on the road, we exchanged contact details and said we should get together again. Sadly this very often does not happen. But also often, it can happen!
So we were able to meet up with Goran and Stephanie. They pointed out that we were near the East Indian section of town, so we went off to an Indian restaurant. When I told my story about the Francophonie and all the sort of African people outside our door, Goran pointed out that France had also had possessions in India, and that helped account for the Indian section of Paris. Because those possessions were in the south, the cuisine differed a bit from the Punjabi fare we are more used to back home. What ever their exact origin or reason for being here, the Indian people added a lot to the streetscape. We watched a skillful man in a restaurant window, for example, rapidly kneading and stretching parathas.
Our time spent sitting with Goran and Stephanie temporarily erased our exhaustion, as we talked about a very wide array of subjects. These ranged from house prices in Paris, to soccer teams and techniques, the flood level of the Seine, what you can see in and around western Yucatan and Chiapas, the place of war memorial in Canadian and French society, ebikes, car driving in Victoria, Seattle, and Paris, motorcycle riding, motorcycle theft,...really a lot of different topics. I asked Goran and Stephanie what they might talk about if sitting in a restaurant with Parisian friends, and that too became a topic for us. We feel terribly lucky to have bumped in to such an erudite and interesting pair completely at random from among all the people Yucatan that month. We really hope we will know them for a long long time.
About the French in India, yes, here is where they were:
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