While the students, Lori, John and my family stayed in town at various hotels, I was put in the house in Fontenay aux Roses (FAR). It is outside of the city. I mention this because I will discuss it later.
There are two major public transportation systems in Paris, besides buses. They are the RER (railroad) and the Metro (subway) systems. When it town, there are a variety of ways to go just about anywhere of notes. Although crowded at times, and sometimes disorienting, the Metro system seems to offer fairly reliable service. Although we accidently took the wrong Metro a few times, which lead to some pleasant interactions between my wife and I, we basically could get wherever we wanted to go. A few times we were pushed around a bit, and we both landed in laps of perfect strangers a few times, but by the end of the week, we were pretty handy getting around.
Then there is the RER. While seldom as crowded, the RER trains came and went much less frequently. And the lines were harder to figure out. On several occasions, I was misled into believing the train went to, and here it is, Fontenay Aux Roses. It seems that when the train has the final destination as Robinson (which is the line for FAR), there are times when they “run empty”, meaning no passengers. There was also something about an “incidente” on the train toward Robinson, but I don’t know what that meant. At that time, they may say Robinson, but there is no time listed for departure. I took that to mean that the train with time departure listed above the Robinson train, was the Robinson train. This lead to a miserable trip Thursday. With the temperature of 2 C, I was sent down the wrong track. I was not alone, as a number of people had the same problem. I quickly got off the train to try to find the branch back to the other line. I did not need to hurry. The train was due to go through in 40 minutes! Disgusted, I sat and waited by a women and her friend. They also had left the train when I did. When the train arrived, I got on, went back the two stops I needed to get the right branch, and ran over the terminal stairs to get to the other side. Once again, noi need to run and the next train was to leave in 55 minutes. By now it was freezing, and since the day had started at 54 F (14 C), I had only worn a light shirt and jacket. I was freezing. As I sat awaiting the train, the woman sat beside me (sans friend) and started to talk to me in France. Even though I let her know I didn’t speak French, and she knew a little English, we conversed anyway using some few words we recognized and hand languages. It was like a great game of charades! She was called by someone, and they were worried about her. She kept talking and every now and then sprinkled, “es OK, Americain”. I imagined she was telling her daughter that she felt safe because she was talking to an American. I found out in our conversation that she had been shop keeper, was widowed, was 68 ans (years old), and had a 26 ans daughter. The daughter was a school teacher, who had 2 children and was divorced. She showed me the children (her grandchildren) and smiled. I guess that crosses all cultural barriers. I was able to tell her I was staying in Ambialet for a few months (je habite Ambialet) I am a professor (je suis professor, I guess) and that I had a wife and 2 daughters. When the train finally came, she sat beside and we continued to laugh and interact in some miracle fashion. She got off the stop before mine. When we departed she kissed me on both cheeks and said Aurevoir, mi Americain frère. It was a miserable night the interaction was priceless.
The walk up the hill from the train, to my “home” is a step inclined hill. It is about a 10-15 minute walk, unless like me, you were lost most nights. Thursday was no exception, as a wondered the streets of FAR for about 30 minutes. I still don’t know why I got switched around like I did!
When I finally arrived at the “home”, I felt relieved and excited. There was no one there as one of the other people staying there had to get off a train and was told there would be no more trains that evening towards Robinson. The others in the house went to find him.
In my next blog I’ll talk about my Fontenay Aux Roses “home” and the people I met there.
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