The Gift of Paris

Paris 13Following our epic adventure to Lapland (here and here) with our friends CZ and Little C, I surprised my daughter C with a trip to Paris as an early Christmas gift.  C loves Paris.  Even before I took her on her first trip to the City of Lights, C was already enamored with France and its capital thanks to several of her favorite Disney movies set there (Aristocats, Beauty and the Beast, Ratatouille) and several episodes of the Little Einsteins. 

In the Helsinki airport, I sat C down and told her I would be revealing her early Christmas present.  I had made hints for days and she was giddy with excitement though confused how I had managed to hide a gift from her and why I had checked our luggage without handing over the present.  I turned on my phone’s video camera and proceeded to tell her we would not actually be flying back to Malawi that day but were instead going to Paris and Disneyland!  Instead of the shouts of excitement I had expected, C sat there confused and stunned.  Hmmm…looked like the Mom of the Year trophy I had thought I would clinch had slipped from my fingers.

Lucky for me, as we flew across Europe C decided to forgive me for taking her to Paris and by the time we were landing she was thoroughly thrilled to be heading to Disneyland.

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Disneyland Paris’ Hotel Cheyenne

The previous time we had headed to Paris in the Spring of 2018 we had also stayed a few days at Disneyland Paris.  This time I opted for another one of Disneyland Paris’ hotels, the Cheyenne.  Although it seemed to be the final drop off location for the Disneyland Paris Magic Shuttle from the airport, we very much liked the whimsical, Disney-touch to a wild west theme.  The whole hotel complex was laid out like a western frontier town.

And we did what most people do when they go to Disney–we rode the rides, we watched the parades, we had our pictures taken with people dressed up as our favorite characters.  We also do what you might expect of people in our situation — Americans who spend the majority of their time in the developed world and have just come from the frozen north — we reveled in the Christmas-y and American-ness of it all.  We took full advantage of our hotel benefits, arriving early for the Extra Magic Hours and staying until closing.  We got to do everything we wanted and more except for riding Crush’s Coaster, which either had lines of over an hour wait or was not running.  But we just shrugged it off — we can give that a try next time we are in Paris, along with the other new attractions expected in the next few years.

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Great winter weather and Christmas themes greeted us at Disneyland Paris

After our 2.5 days at Disney it was time to head into Paris proper, and immediately we came face to face with the France outside of the Disney bubble.  Like during our last visit there was yet again another transportation strike affecting the metro and RER trains.  There then went my plan to take public transportation into the city so we called an Uber and enjoyed the roads with everyone else.

Once squared away in our lovely hotel near the Paris Opera, we grabbed some lunch and then took a leisurely stroll down to and through the Tuileries Garden to the Louvre.  C absolutely loves to draw and had recently had a brief course in some European artists at school, so I thought she might enjoy a visit to the largest art museum in the world.  I had read the best time to take younger children to the Louvre was during the evenings hours the museum offers twice a week, so Wednesday worked for us.  The weather was perfect, a little cold, but not nearly as cold as Finland, and the light of late afternoon just beautiful.  This was my fourth time in Paris, but I never tire of the majesty of the historic heart of this city.  C loved spending time in the Louvre; we caught the highlights — the Mona Lisa, the Coronation of Napolean, the Winged Victory of Samothrace, Venus de Milo, and Egyptian antiquities — and C found a few favorite paintings of her own.  I really loved seeing her make careful selections in the gift shop based on the art she most enjoyed.4 Beautiful Paris evening

On our second day in the city, dawn broke beautifully.  With the metro schedule up in the air due to the strikes, we would spend the day walking.  Our first stop would be the Arc de Triomphe, a 45-minute walk from our hotel.  There were no lines, something that seems almost unheard of in Paris, so we headed right up to the roof.  Despite the overcast skies and some rain, the view was still spectacular, even dramatic.  I felt really happy to be in Paris with my girl.

We walked on to the right bank of the Seine at the Pont de l’Alma where we got some lunch in a lovely corner restaurant.  My initial plan was for us to continue on to the Eiffel Tower, but we had already done quite a lot of walking, so instead, we headed to the Bateaux Mouches for a guided river tour.  This was something we had planned for last time but had been nixed due to floods rising the Seine water level too high to get under some of the bridges.  It was nice to get out of the cold and sit back, relax, and enjoy floating past the beauty of historic Paris.  C liked the sweets I bought her, sitting down with her toys, and occasionally looking out the windows.

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The T-Rex art installation at the Bateaux-Mouches pier

The weather had cleared by the time the boat returned; it was lovely for a walk.  But as we headed up Rue Royale, just off of the Place de la Concorde, I caught a couple trying to steal my wallet.  The sidewalk was narrow and I could sense the people behind us were walking very, very closely.  I figured they wanted to pass, so I pulled C over to the building wall to let them by, and in so doing pulled my handbag, which was over my shoulder, back to my side.  And it was then I noticed that the zipper on my bag was undone and my wallet half-way out.  The couple–a very tall man and a petite woman, both dressed very well–immediately began to play out a ridiculous drama, pointing at shop signs in an exaggerated manner and then they ducked into the nearest store.  But I walked only a little ahead of that shop and sure enough, they popped back out within 30 seconds.

There were no police around.  They had not succeeded.  There was little I could think to do.  I rooted around in my bag and could not see anything was missing.  But I felt violated nonetheless.   The whole rest of the walk back I could not stop obsessing about what had just happened, what could have just happened.  And trying to explain this to C – why people would do this and about my reaction.  I have been many, many places in the world, at least 90 countries, and only once did someone succeed in pick-pocketing me – in China.  On two other occasions, in Jakarta and Rome, someone tried but I caught them.  I feel as if this is a good thing, and yet the whole situation only left a bad taste in my mouth.

Once back in the hotel room, I did not feel like going out again.  But we did not like the room service menu, so I opted to head out to the supermarket around the corner.  I felt irrationally fearful; I clutched my bag to my body.  But just before the supermarket, I saw a family–a man, woman, and their two children–sitting on a blanket preparing to sleep for the night, and something possessed me to ask if I could buy them something.  They did not speak more than a few words of English, so could not ask, but through hand signals, we worked out that the mother and the older daughter would accompany me.  They moved quickly through the store, I expect fearful that if they took too long I would change my mind.  When I found them in the back of the store, they had two full baskets.  I could see they also were worried I would make them put something back, but I just motioned them to follow me.  I paid for everything and we stepped outside.  The girl thanked me and then threw her arms around my waist and hugged me fiercely.  In broken English, I learned she was nine years old and they are from Syria.  I had a lot of conflicting feelings, so much sadness, anger at the pickpockets and the circumstances that brought this young family to the street.  These were different sides of Paris.

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An exquisite view from Eiffel

The next day, our last full one in Paris, we were going to try to get to the Eiffel Tower.  The day started out overcast again, but the temperature was comfortable and we had a pleasant walk.  About 20 minutes out I logged on to the Eiffel Tower website to buy our tickets and saw they were all sold out!  Oh no!  I felt bummed– the second time to the city with C and both times we did not go up the Tower.  But once we arrived there, the line to buy tickets at the cashier was not long.  I guess so many people now opt for the skip-the-line-admission option that it can actually be possible to sometimes just walk up, wait ten minutes, buy your tickets, and ascend.

We opted for the lift up, walk down option.  Perhaps one day when C and I return we will go to the top, but I had heard the best views were really from the second level.  And once again we were rewarded with a change in the weather and stunning views across Paris.  I could feel the bad feelings of the day before evaporating with the sun.  C was a champ, she took the 674 steps back down in stride, even after all the walking we had already done.  We headed back across the river and dined in the very same establishment we had the day before, and it was just as wonderful.  Then we strolled back towards the Tuileries to visit the Christmas market.  I was happy to see the Roue de Paris (the Paris Ferris Wheel) that had been removed from its semi-permanent location at the Place de la Concord soon after our last visit had made a comeback in the Christmas market.

Paris 17The market was fun, festive, and chock full of many, many goodies.  C wanted to play fairground games as I have only once before let her do so.  After many, many tries she finally won – a cellphone holder.  Ha!  And then we hopped aboard the Roue for a few spins with a different view.  This time we could look over the Tuileries, the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel, the Louvre, and the grand buildings along the Rue de Rivoli, again also with spectacular afternoon sunlight.  And as we left the market to head back to our hotel a double rainbow appeared.  It was a glorious end to an overall wonderful trip.

The following day we slept late and then caught a taxi to the airport (the hotel informed us that the Roissy bus to the airport would likely not run given it was a Yellow Vest protest day).  It was okay.  I did not want to run into anything else that might taint the memories of this trip.  Because I was pretty sure C had by then much forgiven me for giving her the gift of Paris.

Conjuring Paris Memories

Three years ago I knew I would someday soon write this post.  As a teenager I had visited Paris and then thirteen years later I returned while in graduate school.  I thought it would be fitting to return yet again after another thirteen years, this time with my daughter.  Though I missed the mark by three years, C and I did make it this year, and what a trip it was!  So many things that could go wrong did.  I could not have foreseen how either this year’s trip or this post would turn out, especially how digging into my memories would reveal some surprising similarities — it turns out that every trip to Paris has had its hiccups.

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In the Latin Quarter – for some reason the only photo I have of the 1989 trip to Paris

Summer 1989.  My sisters and I spent a month with my aunt and uncle in Frankfurt, Germany.   This was my first time traveling overseas–the trip that would launch all the rest.  For the July 4th weekend we took the train to Paris for a four day holiday.  If you know Paris in summer then you know it is hot and crowded.  If you know your Paris/French history, you then realize July 1989 was the 200th anniversary of the storming of the Bastille, the start of the French Revolution, and French independence.  Also, the 100th anniversary of the Eiffel Tower.  Perhaps not the best time to visit Paris.  Yet we did.

It has been so many years but I still remember quite a few things.  We stayed in a B&B on Montmartre.  I noted in my journal “we trudged up steep hills and stairways, dragging our luggage…but it [the hotel] is quaint and the owner is a kindly, cheerful man whose wife will serve us breakfast to our room in the morning.” Yet that merry man and his wife later locked my sisters and I out of the hotel.  They did not want to give keys to children and one evening while my aunt and uncle caught a show at the Moulin Rouge, we went to wander the artist stalls.  Returning just after 8 PM we found the front door bolted tight, all the lights off.  What could we do but ring the doorbell?  Again and again, til finally they grudgingly let us in.  We were on their sh*t list after that, but the croissants they brought in the morning were still buttery soft and delicious.

At the Arc de Triomphe we were, for some unknown reason, unable to find an underground passageway so we ran across the roundabout, all six lanes or so of traffic.  Probably not our brightest idea, but it was certainly exhilarating!  We then walked to the Louvre.  It is not actually all that far, but at the time I thought it took forever!  Temperatures were high and we were sweating; the Champs-Elyses and Jardin des Tuileries were lined with flags from across the world as many foreign leaders and tourists were in town for the 200th anniversary celebrations.  I saw a Tale of Two Cities chess set in a store window along the way and wanted to buy it, fancying myself a budding chess player or at least chess set collector (neither of which was borne out).  We arrived at the Louvre to find the line so long we did not even go in!

Also, although we visited the Cathedral of Notre Dame, we spent little time inside and did not go up to see the gargoyles or the view.  Instead, we hung out in the park behind the cathedral feeding the pigeons.  At some point, while waiting on a subway platform, we were subjected to tear gas wafting in from above.  That was my first tear gas experience (I had have two more, both in Korea).

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                                         Extraordinary — 2002 but nearly the same view as 2018                                            (and no, I did not check my old photos before my new trip)

Fast forward to Spring 2002 when on a lark I decided Paris would be my graduate school Spring Break destination.  Seeing Paris alone as a 30 year old is very different than as a 16 year old with family.  I am sure that does not come as a surprise to anyone.  And yet once again things did not all go as planned.

Six days was the perfect amount of time in Paris.  I visited the Eiffel Tower, Versailles, the Musee d’Orsay, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, the Picasso Museum, the Dali Museum, the Rodin museum, Montmartre, Notre Dame, the Montparnasse and Pere Lanchaise cemeteries, the catacombs, took a river cruise and a bike tour.  I think I covered just about everything. 

2 ParisBut I was so tired when I arrived and then the airport was confusing.  There were signs, but I do not think they told anybody anything.  I changed money at a terrible rate with a horrible charge, and could not work the phones (although truthfully I don’t think anyone could — foreigners were staring blankly at payphones all over the airport), and was treated rudely by some guy at the tourist information counter who surely thought I must be a moron given I was unable to work the phones  Welcome to France!

My visit to the Eiffel Tower, Versailles, and the Musee d’Orsay went off without a hitch.  At Notre Dame I not only spent more time inside the church but even ventured to the tower.  The Louvre though was a different story.

On Monday I went to the Louvre.  It is a really big place.  It is said that if one spent one minute before each of the art works exhibited it would take 200 days, 24 hours a day, to see it all.  I arrived just after 9 AM and took a break at 12:30 for lunch in the Louvre cafe.  After lunch I planned to spend another hour there and was on my way up to the 2nd floor, when a siren went off.  Whir-whir-whir.  Then an announcement: “All patrons should now exit the Louvre immediately.  You will be notified once the security situation has returned to normal and you can return.”  The elevators and escalators were shut off as well as a number of rooms sealed.  [This was a year before the Da Vinci Code came out – but I saw those security doors come down]  What was happening?  When I reached the foyer, people were still being sold tickets and entering the museum.  I asked a guard and he said he did not know what was going on but that it seemed okay to go back in.  I spent another hour on the 2nd floor; there was no other announcement about the “security situation.”

3 ParisAnd then there was the visit to the Arc de Triomphe.  As I arrived in front of the Arc and starting towards the underpass, a police caravan rode up.  Two motorcycles and about five trucks of police.  The police jump out, in full riot gear, with helmets and shields and such, and stand in formation on the circle facing the Arc.  What is happening?  I look around for snipers or a jumper or any situation that would warrant this response.  Nothing.  Just other tourists milling around.  The underpass is closed to I walk to the other side.  The police in the tunnel do not do anything to stop walkers.  Turns out there was a strike of hospital personnel that day and the police were there for them.  After 15 minutes the stairway to the Arc reopens and the police caravan turns on the sirens and speeds away.

A last minute trip to the Cemetery of Pere Lanchaise ended in a frantic rush.  I made it to Jim Morrison’s headstone before two guards approached me to let me know they were closing.  There was still 25 minutes left but they told me at 5:30 the gates were locked and they let the dogs out.  I tried to find the grave of Frederic Chopin with their directions but I was too preoccupied with being locked in a cemetery at night with dogs hunting me, so I just headed for the exit.  And the search for Victor Hugo’s home took far too long wandering small streets only to find out it was closed.

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A beautiful day in Paris — one of my most absolute favorite pictures of me

What really stays in my memory though is my bicycle tour.  I barely remember where we went but only that I loved seeing the city from a different angle.  I had walked, and walked, and walked around the city for hours on end  (Oh how I loved all that walking! I miss being in a walkable city), so a few hours on wheels was very refreshing.  The weather was quite warm for March–I was in a t-shirt–and the sky sunny and clear.

I found myself on the airplane waiting on the tarmac about to head home.  I sat staring out the window.  And then there was this strange sound.  A ticking sound.  Several passengers around me could hear it.  And the flight attendants were looking for something.  The plane continued to sit just a little way past pushback.  Tick. Tick. Tick.  The flight attendants rushed down the aisle.  We sat there a good 10 minutes and we began to move.

Fast forward to April 2018 and as we sat on the airplane bound for Addis Ababa listening to a deportee yelp in the back of the plane, flight attendants rushing up and down the aisles, and concerned passengers looking around and I thought of my past and present Paris trips – of the tear gas, the labor strikes, unpredictable weather, closed for renovation museums, odd airplane events, and other out of the ordinary experiences.  Though heading home again, I already looked forward to the next Paris adventure and hope it will not be so long in coming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Paris Excursion

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It was a trip loooooong in the planning.  We had easily been talking about it for a year.  I bought my plane tickets and booked my hotels six months beforehand.  It was Springtime, even Easter time, in Paris after all.  There was no time to waste.  We both had visited Paris in the past and this was just about seeing each other and introducing the kiddos to the City of Lights.  Single parent friends with a 25 year old friendship.

As the departure date grew closer, I began to have a few misgivings.  The forecast indicated cooler and wetter weather than we had hoped for.  And work, it was busy.  Very busy.  I began to think this could possibly be the worst time I could have chosen for a holiday.  But it was C’s school holiday.  Also, our first longish vacation since arriving in Malawi.  And, as one person told me, “croissants still taste good in the cold and the rain.”

We departed on a Friday.  Ethiopian Airlines from Lilongwe to Addis Ababa via Malawi’s second city Blantyre.  A two hour layover in possibly one of the worst airports in the world (Bole International Airport seems to be in constant construction mode), then a seven hour flight to Paris, arriving at 6:30 AM.  Yes, AM.  We both had the sniffles and had developed a cough, but we were no worse for wear.  After a wee bit of difficulty finding our shuttle to our hotel, we checked in before 10.  CZ and Little C, who also visited us in Shanghai, were already in Paris, though at a different hotel.  CZ reserved her hotel with points and had been able to redeem at the swanky Westin.  Swank was too dear for me, so I booked around the corner at half the cost.

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View toward Montmartre from the Roue de Paris

We met up and hit a sidewalk cafe for brunch.  It was simple.  Avocado toast.  Fruit salad.  Hot cocoa.  It cost a pretty penny but there is nothing like it in Malawi.  We headed then to the Tuileries where C and Little C enjoyed the carousel and trampoline park.  Next, we rode the Roue de Paris, the Paris Ferris Wheel, located at Place de la Concorde.  This summer the wheel will be disabled so I wanted to ride it before it is gone.

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I just wanted a picture of my kid on the carousel, but that metal scaffolding in the background…

Not having tired out our 6 and nearly 4 year olds nearly enough, we hustled them on to the metro and headed over to the Eiffel Tower.  We had no plans to go up but both kids wanted to see it.  And the moment when they caught sight of it — fantastic!  They were so taken it with it took a little convincing to get them to move along to the beautiful double-decker carousel across the street.  Several rides and a snack later they were satisfied.

Next up we planned to take the one hour cruise on the River Seine with the Bateaux Parisiens.  We could all use a little time off our feet and give the kids a good view of many famous landmarks.  But here is where we ran into our first bit of trouble.  The boats were running, but due to heavy rainfall the Seine levels were too high to take the usual route.  We declined.  We headed back to our hotels.

Day 2.  Easter Sunday.  We had been lucky to score tickets to an egg hunt and Easter festivities at the Parc Andre Citroen.  We had a late start in the morning – CZ and Little C still had jet lag and C and I had overnight-flight-itis.  It was also on the cold side and quite overcast.  Yet the Easter event turned out to be quite a lot of fun, and all for 5 Euros.  The kids took part in a super easy egg hunt and then turned in their eggs for a fabulous gift bag.  They also were able to play a few free games and pick up some more toys and books.  Afterwards though the plan had been to ride the hot air balloon (actually a gigantic helium balloon) that is also located in the park; however, due to high winds it was not operating.  The kids were happy to play at the park’s many playgrounds but I felt a bit grumpy to miss out on something else from my Paris 2018 must-do list.  We had lunch and headed over to the Paris Aquarium.  At least that was on my list (because I have a passion for aquariums — I am serious).

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The children play in the shadow of Notre Dame

By the third day, the sniffles C and I had acquired during our flights had turned into full on colds with hacking-up-lungs strength coughs.  Instead of admiring the Moulin Rouge as we awaiting the mini train to the top of Montmartre, I headed to a pharmacy.  I came all the way to Paris to go to a pharmacy… Then as I drugged myself and C and we waited for the mini train, C and Little C played on a giant sewer grate with air flowing up.  One of our best 30 minutes in Paris.  I kid you not.

The train ride was fun.  The massive crowds of people at the top, less so.  We grabbed lunch in the square.  C tried chocolate mousse for the first time.  Declared it delicious.  No doubt about it, it was really, really good.  The architecture beautiful.  The artists’ works amazing.  I had been to Montmartre in 1989 and 2003; I love it.  Yet the low temps, light rain, pushing a stroller on cobblestone through swarms of people, and our colds were getting to us.  We decided to locate the Dali Museum — CZ had read that kids actually respond well to Dali’s whimsical and quirky works of art and it would be a chance to be indoors for awhile.  We found it, but wouldn’t you know it, closed for renovation!  And then C had had it.  She had no interests in taking the funicular, no interest in finding the carousel.  Something is definitely wrong when my kid does not want to ride a carousel!  CZ and Little C stayed at Montmartre and C and I made our way back to the hotel for a nap.

I expect right about now everyone is really, really jealous of our trip to Paris.  Flooding, high winds, chilly temperatures, a closed museum, and taking care of a sick kid while feeling under the weather yourself.  It certainly had all the hallmarks of a magical getaway.  Then we learned of the transportation strike to be held over the next two days.  #winning

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C as Princess Anna in front of the Disneyland Paris entrance

On our fourth day luckily I was not the only tired mommy.  CZ too was flagging.  With the strike we were not sure of our transport options and wanted to stay close by.  Lucky for us we were staying in the heart of Paris, so we walked through the Tuileries to pass the Louvre and then over to Notre Dame to show the kids the church and gargoyles.  They oohed and ahhed and then made haste for the playground.  Given the state of the few playgrounds in Malawi, this still made our trip to Paris worth it.  Although it felt the coldest day so far, the restaurant in the Latin Quarter warmed us all right up.  It was cosy, crowded, with good food, and the waiter messed up multiple things on our order.  C’est la vie.

No worries.  The following day we headed to one of the happiest places on Earth: Paris Disneyland.

First though we needed transport.  We had had the idea to take the RER train to the Paris Disneyland station.  Kids love trains.  CZ and I love trains.  But there was the transportation strike.  Although both of us were beginning to think walking 15 minute from the hotel to the train station with 2 little kids, their strollers, and our luggage might be too much.  (OK, I was still convinced we could do it though I was strongly sensing CZ thought me off my rocker on this point.) So we booked an Uber – and we rode to our Disneyland hotel in the comfort of a sleek Mercedes van.  And the sky was blue!  And the weather warm!  C’s cough was gone!  The magic of Disney?

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I watched the kids so CZ could ride Space Mountain

I would like to say our 5 days at Paris Disneyland were idyllic, but any parent of a child would see right through that.  Little kids passing the Rainforest Cafe gift shop, the World of Disney, and LEGO stores every single day, not to mention all the goodies in Disneyland itself, is not a recipe for contentment — well unless the parent buys many of said goods.  C managed to wrangle a whole Princess Anna costume, including cloak, out of me.  She wanted the boots too but I negotiated for 2 LEGO sets instead.  Yeah, I have never been very good at haggling, clearly.  We all just had a really good time.

It was with great sadness that our final day in France arrived and we had to say goodbye to our friends (and to Paris and all it has to offer, which is, no surprise, different from Malawi).  C and I had our final dinner in Paris in the airport — at McDonald’s.  Don’t judge.  There is no McDs in Malawi.  Then we boarded our overnight flight from Paris to Addis Ababa.  We settled into our seats, preparing to start snoozing as soon as possible.  We watched the safety video, the flight attendants prepared for push back…

Then someone in the back of the plane, about ten rows back, started yelling.  In the first few seconds I will admit my thoughts went to terrorism — when someone in the back of the plane suddenly starts yelling “Listen up people!” once we are all buckled in, it is probably natural to think so.  But as he continued his purpose became clear “Help me!  I am a refugee.  They are taking me back to my country and they will kill me.”  He repeated this over and over and over in loud yelps.  He was a handcuffed deportee being escorted by 2-3 armed French police.  What was amazing — still amazing — to me is that so many other passengers inserted themselves into the drama.  Passengers were verbally sparring with the police officers and the flight attendants.  I am fairly sure in the US this would guarantee these passengers an escort off the plane.  But in this case, it did not.  Over time, other passengers came from the front of the plane to also throw in their two cents.  There was definitely a camp for the deportee and a camp against.  And no respect for the police or flight attendants.  It took over an hour to resolve the issue — the removal of the deportee from the plane.

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CZ watched the kids so I could get my hot air balloon flight at the Disney Village

Our Addis to Lilongwe flight too had a late departure.  No reason given.  I fell asleep soon after boarding only to wake up two hours later and find we were still on the tarmac!  As soon as we landed I sent a message to my nanny/housekeeper/driver who had come to pick us up at the airport.  She said she was there though not feeling very well.  I tried to get C and I through immigration and baggage claim and customs as quick as possible.  TJ, our nanny, waited outside.  As we walked to the car, she collapsed in the parking lot.  Malaria.  There I am after traveling for 14 hours with C, a cart with 2 suitcases, a stroller, a backpack, still with my racking cough that doubles me over, attending to my disoriented and very ill nanny lying in the parking lot.  I do not know where my car is — TJ has the keys in her hand but can barely talk or lift her head.  But a bunch of good Samaritans help us out.  One man runs through the parking lot with me looking for my car — my nanny had been able to whisper my license plate to him.  We find it and I drive quickly to where my nanny and C wait.  I had left my 6 year old and my handbag with my wallet and passport sitting on the luggage cart.  Two men helped TJ into the back seat.  Another put my luggage in the trunk.  And yet another got C into her car seat.

My nanny went to the hospital for four days.  I was diagnosed with a lower respiratory infection and stayed home from work for two days.

So wow, yeah, that was certainly not the Paris getaway I had planned.  Never a dull day for sure.  CZ and I cannot wait to plan our next trip!