A JOURNEY TO THE UNITED KINGDOM
Entry Eleven

We saw Paris all right… through our van windows at five miles an hour. It takes us two hours once in Paris to finally make it through traffic to our hotel that is just a few blocks away from the Eiffel Tower. At times there will be three lanes of traffic going the same direction. And at some points there will be six cars trying to share those three lanes with bikes and scooters weaving their way back and forth through the mess. One scooter just clips my mirror with his mirror- I feel better now that someone has hit me back! He doesn’t apologize though- just speeds up. The traffic lights are almost useless- people just keep coming after it turns red because it’s so backed up that they’ve waited through three or four changes and feel like it ought to be their turn. Such is the case when we are stalled out at a light and I have someone’s dear eighty year old grandmother at a “T” in front of my van- there is no where for her to go because she came on through the intersection partway. There is no way I can go around her because I have cars in the other lanes that they are sharing with the other lane encroachers. She shrugs and mouths to me that she is sorry. I am deeply impressed that she is braving this- my nerves have just about had it. We patiently sit through a few light changes and I see someone approaching the van through my side mirror. He lets loose with about thirty seconds of something- presumably bad- I have no idea what since it is French. But he is flailing his arms and looks pretty ridiculous. I’m thinking that he is not too bright approaching someone’s vehicle like that. But then again I am from Missouri where we have conceal and carry laws for our handguns! You never know what anyone has in their vehicle. Troy is snickering in the back seat because he said no matter what the guy is saying it sounds like poetry with that French accent. I ignore the Frenchman and resist making a “shoo fly” gesture that he would surely comprehend. We finally get clear and I actually smell a little rubber burning from that last turn. The rude Frenchman tries to pass me, I enjoy a moment of revenge in speeding up and cutting him off, causing him to almost miss his turn, which might have been our turn as well… now we are lost!! Probably should have turned the other cheek and he might have inadvertently led us right to our hotel! We do make it and Troy is dying to get out and run. I can’t wait to try to call home. I figure… last day… last country- it’s got to work. It works and I enjoy talking to my Mom. She will erase the rude Frenchman from my mind for a while. I talk to her for about fifteen minutes because I’m not real sure of the charges. She says it sounds like I am just down the street. I tell her about the room and how I can take pictures of the Eiffel Tower by just leaning out the window. All the rooms have window boxes outside that are loaded with red geraniums blooming in October!! It looks great. Troy tries to call his parents but gets the machine. He is mad because he doesn’t hang up before the machine picks up. He says, “I wonder what that one will cost”. He gets ready to go out for a run and I hand him a business card for him to tuck in his shorts that has the name of the hotel and his name handwritten on the back. I’m just thinking what would happen if one of these loony drivers hit him. We can’t speak one word of French. My useless talking translator is a joke. We can’t even make out the English version- it is way too digital sounding. Anyway he takes off and I snap pictures of him running while leaning out the window. I’ll keep checking about a hundred more times until he makes it back. One of those times that I look out, the whole tower lights up. What a cool sight! Troy says that he ran up and touched the tower and was shocked to see it turn on like that too (not at the exact moment he touched it - that would be kind of crazy). He gets back and he tries his parents again. They are home this time and get to hear about some of highlights of the last few days. He talks for about fifteen minutes and I gesture that he should probably wrap it up since we are dealing with the mystery rate on these calls.
We decide to split up from Mat and Shannon so everyone can go where they want to and won’t be waiting around. I’m starving so I spot a pizzeria and we stop in for a minute. I struggle with the ability to order a slice of pizza and vow to not come back to this country without picking up a little of the language. I thought pizza was pizza in French. That guy was probably just messing with me. We walk around for hours snapping pictures of everything realizing that we made it through the tour on the miracle battery. Our memory card was a different matter and we finally maxed out the thing taking pictures of all the buildings we know nothing about but will probably recognize in movie scenes from now on. With all the turns we make, we manage to get lost. I cannot believe that the only thing that I will buy in Paris is a slice of pizza, but it is true because everything is closed. No French clothes for me. We have a lot of fun window-shopping. Even the magazine stands close their gates as we walk by. Troy pulls through and gets us back using the maps for the bus system. It’s nearly midnight and we decide to stop for the night since we have to leave early for the airport.