The Still Waters of the Canal Basin
"Mon dieu! Perdu!" With her usual air of 'I know it, because I know you and how you do things', my wife, Linda, made her prediction. "You'll get LOST!"I had just announced I would sightsee while Linda and friends shopped that afternoon. Alone. In Paris.
"Lost?" I questioned, "Now, just how do you figure that, my darling Poo Poo?"
"Lost is defined as having wandered from the path and uncertain as to one's location," replied Mrs. Andrews.
Along with her Jr. College French course, she must have had a semester in dictionary, I thought. But I only said, "So?"
"You are color blind. You are not prone to ask directions. You do not speak French. And, you are a man."
"So?"
"You will get LOST!"
Well,
we'll see about that, Miss Smarty Pants, I thought later as I started
out on my adventure. I had watched my wife pick out our metro routes
and deliver us through the maze to always arrive successfully at our
desired destination. Nothing to it. Piece of cake.
My
starting point was the Tuileries metro stop directly across the street
from the Hotel Brighton. My intention was a leisurely amble along the
canal St-Martin. The guide book, EYEWITNESS TRAVEL GUIDE, PARIS,
described the 90 minute walk as "a step back into the
Pernod-drinking-working-class Paris of Jean Gabin and Edith Piaf."
After
overcoming my indecision to poussez or tirez at the entrance doors, my
next challenge was the large metro map. I knew my final stop was
Stalingrad metro station.
Finding
the name was extremely difficult because I was looking south of the
Seine. Evidently my mantra 'Stalingrad, Stalingrad' bothered another
map viewer enough for her to stick a finger on the name with a "Ici -
Stalingrad!"
"Merci," I
mumbled and squinted to see how to connect it with the Tuileries stop.
Those of you familiar with the colored lines of the spider-web that
calls itself le Metro map, will understand the difficulty color
blindness causes. (Those not familiar really, really do not want to
know.)
The idea in Metro
travel is to have as few train changes as possible in route to your
destination. Since there are an infinite number of possibilities of
getting from point A to point B, the idea is to do it in the most
efficient manner. So, I decided to put my right forefinger on
Stalingrad and my left forefinger on Tuileries and to stand there and
plan my navigation from one to the other. At times shifting my stance
to see the final destination of the line that interested me, or maybe
just adjusting to accommodate a body cramp, I was determined not to let
go until I had my plan formulated.
Tuileries
to Concorde (direction Esplanade de la Defense) - correspondence -
Madeleine to Chatelet (direction Maison Blanche) - correspondence -
Chatelet to Les Halles --- No! Wait!
Tuileries
to Chatelet (direction Chateau de Vincennes) - correspondence - Les
Halles to Barbes Rochechouart (direction Porte de Cite something or
other) - correspondence - Barbes to Stalingrad (direction Nation ?).
OK.
There were many more ways
to get there; but, the crowd behind me, unable to see the map, was
getting rather surly. So, I made my choice. The itinerary once planned
was easy followed even though I would continue to second guess my
decision knowing a capable fellow like myself could probably have done
better - given the time.
Finding
the name was extremely difficult because I was looking south of the
Seine. Evidently my mantra 'Stalingrad, Stalingrad' bothered another
map viewer enough for her to stick a finger on the name with a "Ici -
Stalingrad!"
"Merci," I
mumbled and squinted to see how to connect it with the Tuileries stop.
Those of you familiar with the colored lines of the spider-web that
calls itself le Metro map, will understand the difficulty color
blindness causes. (Those not familiar really, really do not want to
know.)
The idea in Metro
travel is to have as few train changes as possible in route to your
destination. Since there are an infinite number of possibilities of
getting from point A to point B, the idea is to do it in the most
efficient manner. So, I decided to put my right forefinger on
Stalingrad and my left forefinger on Tuileries and to stand there and
plan my navigation from one to the other. At times shifting my stance
to see the final destination of the line that interested me, or maybe
just adjusting to accommodate a body cramp, I was determined not to let
go until I had my plan formulated.
Tuileries
to Concorde (direction Esplanade de la Defense) - correspondence -
Madeleine to Chatelet (direction Maison Blanche) - correspondence -
Chatelet to Les Halles --- No! Wait!
Tuileries
to Chatelet (direction Chateau de Vincennes) - correspondence - Les
Halles to Barbes Rochechouart (direction Porte de Cite something or
other) - correspondence - Barbes to Stalingrad (direction Nation ?).
OK.
There were many more ways
to get there; but, the crowd behind me, unable to see the map, was
getting rather surly. So, I made my choice. The itinerary once planned
was easy followed even though I would continue to second guess my
decision knowing a capable fellow like myself could probably have done
better - given the time.
I
mumbled a pathetic "Merci, Monsieur" and stared, down-hearted, at my
location on the map. If I continued on my ill chosen path, in a few
days I would be in Belgium. If I tried to retrace my steps my return to
the hotel would be tardy suggesting strongly I had been lost.
Fortunately, Crimée metro station jumped out at me from the map as my
salvation.
When I returned to
the hotel room, the first thing my dear one greeted me with was a smirk
and a sarcastic, "Well, did you get LOST?"
Dropping
my jaw, rolling my eyes, and throwing my hands in the air as I glared
at the many boxes and bags, the result of her shopping spree, I cried
out "Just how much money did YOU spend today?"
To quote my favorite author: There was a long pregnant silence.
One finally ask "Want to go have a drink?" And the other replied, "Sure!"
One
never told how many French francs were spent that day; and, the other
never described the still waters and the tree lined quays and the
elusive foot bridges. Not even now.
Copyright © Paris New Media, LLC
Copyright © Paris New Media, LLC
