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June 16 - 17
June 18 June 19 June 20 June 21 June 22 June 23 June 24 June 25 June 26 June 27 June 28 June 29 June 30 July 1 July 2 |
Due to a ComAir pilot’s strike, my flight was rescheduled. The handwritten ticket that I had as a result would cause consternation at every check-in. No one knew what to do with it. All acted like they had never seen such a thing before, especially the Air France personnel.
Saturday, June 16, 2001 and Sunday June 17, 2001 I packed up and got to the airport about an hour early. Kelly called to wish me a good trip just minutes before I left. Made me feel good. The first plane left at 12:50 pm, headed for Atlanta. The stewardess wanted me to check my camera backpack as I couldn’t fit it completely under the seat in front of me. If I had been able to take the plane I was originally scheduled to fly out on, there would have not been a problem. But this one has one seat on one side of the aisle and two on the other. There just isn’t room for a backpack under the seat on the one seat side. And it wouldn’t fit in the overhead compartment, either, since this plane had such restricted space. I wound up trading seats with the man across the aisle so that I could put the pack under the larger space there. And we were finally off. The trip to Atlanta was uneventful and I had almost three hours to wait there. I had a late lunch while waiting. We were scheduled to take off at 5:55 pm. We wound up leaving almost half an hour late as they were still loading luggage at our scheduled take-off time! This flight was a 777, the first one of these I’ve flown on. In addition to the usual movie monitors over the aisles, there’s a monitor built into the back of each seat, allowing a selection of movie viewing. There were three movies available most of the flight time. Interesting concept. There were some bumpy spots on the flight to Paris, mainly over Virginia and again over the North Atlantic, prompting the seat belt sign to come on. Heavy thunderstorms were going on in both locations. I got in a short nap before dinner. Dinner was a typical airline dinner - chicken or steak - I had the steak - very tough. I dozed again after dinner, but never very deeply. Between a fussy baby and a group of noisy teens across the aisle, it was difficult to stay asleep. We had a horrible breakfast above the English Channel - like an Egg McMuffin, but tasting like cardboard. Oh, well, these would prove to be the worst meals of the trip. We were almost 45 minutes late arriving in Paris. My nice two hour cushion between flights had dwindled. On top of which, arriving at Charles de Gaulle is very confusing. Most of the people headed straight for Passport Control, but I noticed a sign saying to go a different way if you were connecting to a different flight. So, which way should I go? I asked one of the people standing there and they pointed to the signs for Hall F, which is where my connecting flight would be. So, I headed off that way, wondering about Passport Control. That way lead to the shuttles that connect the various halls. I had arrived at Hall C and needed to connect to Hall F. A shuttle bus finally came along and took us there. Still wondering about Passport Control. In Hall F, I found the departure gate for my flight to Marseilles and headed that direction. And promptly found Passport Control. This one was insufficiently staffed. There was a long line, but only one official at the other end. And some of the people in line were late for their flights. I still had time, so I let a couple of the pushier ones in front of me. Passport Control was a breeze. No questions and no stamp! Just a bonjour and I was on my way. I found the gate assignment (F30) and headed that direction. I was stopped at Security because I didn’t have a boarding pass. Of course, Kingsport couldn’t print one for me. I had to get one in Paris. After standing in the wrong line for 10 minutes, I found the right counter. The attendant didn’t know what to make of my ticket and had to talk to three others about it. They were in the process of giving away the unclaimed seats, including mine. I got one of the last seats on the plane. Finally, boarding pass in hand, I headed back to Security, where I breezed through and headed for the gate. Which was the one farthest away from where I was, at the far end of the hall. By this time, if it had been a US flight, they should have just about finished boarding the plane. After pushing my way through a couple of other crowded gates, I arrived at mine, at exactly the time I had down for departure. They had just started boarding! I wound up being one of the first 10% on the plane. Seated between two very large men. From this, I decided that, in France, departure time really translates to boarding time. I slept most of the way to Marseilles (I had finished my book just as we took off). It was only an hour flight. The landing was a bit rough. My seat was on the last row of the plane, so I felt every bounce. I threaded my way through the maze that French airports seem to be and finally found Baggage Claim. They have two of them - one for people whose journeys originated in a foreign country and one for everyone else. Supposedly, this is where you go through Customs. I never saw Customs. I also didn’t see my suitcase. There were about 20 other people in the same situation. It seems that Air France left a whole cart full of luggage in Paris. It would be on the next plane, scheduled to arrive about 5 pm. So I stood in line for a while to fill out paperwork, identify my bag type, and provide an address they would deliver it to. I also signed a form stating that I had nothing to declare to Customs. So, I found a taxi and headed for the hotel. The taxi was 280 francs, or about $40. The ride in was nice. The terrain reminded me of California - rather stark, lots of white rock. So I checked into my hotel, the Sofitel (left). Nice room. No view on this side, but that’s why it was a little less. I arrived at the hotel about 2 pm. The drivers here are crazy! They drive like they own the road and speed limits are mere suggestions. And the parking is also crazy. Most of the sidewalks have cars parked on them, that is, the ones that don’t have posts about 8 feet apart. Just far enough apart that you can’t get a car between them. Oh, and unlike London, which has zebra crossings (pedestrians have the right of way), crossing the street is at your own peril. Even if there is a “green man” stating that it is safe to cross, you’d still better look both ways. Drivers tend to ignore such "recommendations". So, here I was in Marseilles - no suitcase. Nothing to read. No guidebooks. So I went for a walk, taking my point and shoot camera with me. It helped work out some of the fuzzies from the plane trip as well as orienting me in the city. There was a nice breeze, keeping the heat at bay. The hotel has a swimming pool, but I realized about then that I had forgotten to pack my swimsuit and the sunscreen. Sunscreen I was able to replace, but I didn’t feel like shopping for a swimsuit. After about an hour of wandering, I went back to the hotel and laid down for a few minutes. I woke up two hours later feeling greatly refreshed. I had dinner at the restaurant located in the hotel next door. Prawns Provencal - very tasty, but they still had the heads and legs attached!!! It’s the first time I’ve had prawns with the heads still attached. I wasn’t sure how far up was edible. After dinner, I went back to my room and turned on the tv. I found Working Girl and settled in to see if I could improve my French comprehension. After about five minutes, I realized that, while the movie was dubbed, it was dubbed in German..... My suitcase finally arrived at 8:45 pm. I promptly took a shower and went to bed. |