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Published: September 5th 2005
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Orientation Games
In this game the girls from one team have to tear the guys from another team apart. Orientation week at JBU has come to a close, and at last I am in Paris. No, I am not in Paris, I'm in Florence, but since I didnt' have time to write in Paris, we'll pretend like I'm in Paris, on a river, well next to a river, and the sun is pouring through the surprisingly chocolate-colored Eiffel Tower.
I'd like to give my thanks to my dear friend Billy Nye for his spectacular generosity and for putting up with me sleeping on his love seat in his little tiny J. Alvin dorm room for a week (which is about 5 times larger than the average European hostel room).
After many many goodbyes the night before last, I headed to the airport with Annie and prepared to leave the wonderful Midwest for 4 months. David Carruth, who's going to study at Oxford in England at the same time as I will be in Spain, and myself were flying out at the same time on two different routes to meet in Paris airport the next morning. His plane departed for Newark, mine sat on the tarmac and waited for the storm that brewed over Atlanta... for 2 hours... then back
Collage
Here's the multicultural grab bag that was us in the Paris intercity metro: Norway, U.S., Italy & France (representing Ethiopia). to the terminal... then delayed for 2 more hours. Ultimately, I was told I would have to come back at 7am and fly to Paris via Cincinnati the next day. I kept telling myself weather above all things is, completely out of the interfering hands of human error, and kept telling myself God is the author of things and has something in mind. I don't know what, maybe the plane would have crashed, maybe the airplane food would have made me sick (very likely), or maybe I was really excited to spend one more night with my friends, girlfriend, and have some peace and quiet (of which there is little in Western Europe in August). I even got to go to Debra Holland's surprise birthday party and see a bunch of the friends I would have missed otherwise; perhaps that was why.
After sitting a 5 hours layover in Cincinnati, I departed at 4:30pm. By the grace of God I was the LAST passenger they let on the plane which had been overbooked and was overweight by several dozen people (at first they told me I couldn't board right as I was in the front of the line, and
Vertigo
Welcome to the land of vertigo, the hallways were definitely no more than 36 inches wide, and the wallpaper and carpet made you feel like you were in an old Western film's hotel. then decided they miscounted by one!). Finally, Paris at 6 am local time. Working my way through the maze that is Charles de Gaulle airport, and being surprised at the laxness of French security and customs (who never even asked me my name), I finally found the train station. Quietly praising God for JBU forcing me to take 2 semesters of French, I never even had to hesitate to read the signs; I quietly sang Dr. Roby's (my French teacher) praises as I struggled to order tickets for what I prayed was the right train. (note to future travelers, against all logic, do not take the TGV train if you want to get to Paris, it does not go that direction!). On the station platform, I was asked by some British men in struggling French if I knew which train to take to get to Paris. I laughed out loud; at least I didn't look too much like a foreigner. We decided on separate trains which ended up going to the same place anyway.
Sitting down on the train’s plastic benches, I saw an American looking guy about my age with more luggage than myself. He was from Norway and
Andre Gill
The most hidden hostel had a great accent. Soon we were joined by two more young travelers bearing large red, yellow, and green bags (as I quickly surmised, they contained large African drums). Sporting spectacular dreadlocks and white skin, the guy told me he and his girlfriend had been playing with a band in Addis Ababa. He was from France, she was from Italy. As I quickly discovered, conversations in Western Europe take place in a mish-mash of several different languages: a English word, French, Italian, Spanish, the occasional rarer language. All in all, the European youth don't seem to care or really notice that nothing is fluent, it's all simply cemented together into complete conversation with a hefty dose of gestures and simplified descriptions of more complex ideas. Anyone missing a piece of the linguistic puzzle quickly receives help from others with more; the Italian girl knew little English and the Norwegian no Spanish. But I spoke to her in Spanish and she understood perfectly, and her boyfriend translated some things into French which both she and the Norwegian guy understood. We had a great time talking about France, Kansas, Africa, Italy, the culture and poverty in Africa, the struggles of international travel and just how small the world is.
Finally arriving at my lodging in the neighborhood of Pigalle at the foot of the hilltop vicinity of Montmarte. I quickly recognized many of the Parisian streets and hilltop parks where the movie Amelie was filmed. The Hotel Andre Gill is tucked away on a back alley which would prove altogether invisible, were it not for the sign pointing to it on the larger (still small) street Rue de Martyrs. An old building, the hotel has a quaint style out of the turn of the century with EXTREMELY tight spaces countered by twelve foot ceilings. Our entire toilet and sink bathroom was comparable to the size of my home’s coat closet by the front door, perhaps 4 square feet. The oblong spiral staircase revealed the Andre Gill to possess five or even six floors where I expected only three, causing quite a sense of vertigo when gazing upwards. The owner was a sweet older woman who spoke some English, and who provided a simple breakfast of croissants, jelly, tea or coffee, and small baguette-like rolls for the many weary young travelers there. Most of the patrons were Australian or British, with occasional others from Italy, S. Africa, or some other French or English speaking country. A great place from which to launch an unguided tour of Paris.
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