The French Connection

Our connection involves a French Woman and her Dog, although The Dog does not have a speaking part. They were both very classy, she dressed to the nines and The Dog wearing a beautiful Pomeranian coat.

We flew from Dulles to Paris on an overnighter, arriving at about 6 a.m. Paris time (noon for us). While traveling on an overnight flight sounds ideal, it means that one arrives at their destination when not many people are awake yet at that destination.

We purchased our train tickets from a grumpy, half-asleep ticket agent at Charles de Gaulle airport and boarded the train into the city. The ride was ugly. I felt as if I were going through a typical inner city in the States. Graffiti splattered the buildings everywhere. The train itself was smooth and pleasant, at least.

The challenge was that we could not check into our apartment until noon. The rental agency assured us that there were plenty of sidewalk cafés in the area where we could sit and relax...surrounded by our suitcases. It sounded reasonable at the time.

We found our way to the neighborhood in which our apartment was situated, Le Marais, and stood on the corner near the Metro exit, examining the map and trying to determine which way to go. Enter French Woman with The Dog.

She spoke French beautifully. But no English. I took French in college, but that was a long time ago! Daniel took French in high school. We were hoping that between the two of us, we'd make out okay.

Despite the fact that there was a language barrier, it was apparent that French Woman with a Dog was endeavoring to help us find our way. She spoke French and I tried to answer in French. I couldn't remember all my numbers, so I wrote down the street number for which we were searching.

Honestly, I think she was just as lost as we were, but I certainly give her credit for trying!

She finally determined that we should go left, which was away from all the cafes which would open shortly. After many exclamations of "Merci!" and "D'accord!", we set off. It only took a few minutes to find it.


Determined that we knew where to go when noon rolled around, we headed back to the cafe area.

"Allo! Allo! Ici! Ici!" (Hello! Hello! Here! Here!)

It was French Woman with a Dog, waving us back in the "correct" direction. Apparently, she thought that we had completely missed the apartment. Oh, how to say "We can't check in until noon"?!

More gestures and pointing to our watches, and yes, we see the apartment.

Satisfied that the Americans knew where they were going, she continued her stroll.

See? The French are wonderful people.
Put aside all those preconceived notions and the fears that result.