IN FRANCE (short storie)

IN FRANCE (short storie)



by Elena Martina


My flight to France from Raleigh, North Carolina took several hours after a stop at Washington Dulles Airport. I arrived at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris very early, lined up with other travelers for immigration control as I imagine needing the 90-day maximum tourist visa, but the officer simply stamped it on my passport without questions or even looking at me. I happily headed to pick up my suitcases.

A cool French morning greeted me outside the airport doors as a taxi swiftly came to my rescue. "To the Derby Eiffel Hotel please," I said, and the taxi driver nodded. I was ecstatic to be in Paris and probably it showed. The driver's name was Mohammed, who by the way looked like Marcelo Mastroianni - a well known Italian actor in the 1960‘s. He began to drive and talk to me in French, but he quickly switched to English after he watched my clueless face.

He asked where I was coming from, what I did for a living, how long I would be staying, etc. It was hard not to answer his small talk in a drive that took 30 minutes and cost me 54 euros. In half an hour, we knew a lot about each other. He was too friendly, talked too much, and drove too slow. He gave me his phone number and asked me to call him before I left Paris. The taxi driver was hitting on me! He also said not to tip him, so I didn't.

I learned through him that living in Paris is extremely expensive and that he lived in a 50 plus square meter flat, that for several years he worked as a taxi driver and wouldn't do anything else. "The law in Paris is very strict," he mentioned. "It doesn't allow me to work more than 8 hours per day or I can lose my taxi license." He spoke Tunisian, French, some English, some Spanish and another language I simply can not remember. I was very impressed, but not surprised since cab drivers pick up languages along their work day at international airports.

I had the opportunity to take pictures through the car's window before arriving at the hotel and said good-bye to him. I then headed to speak to the next person in France, Pierre, the hotel's front desk clerk. "Bonjour", he greeted me. I smiled and immediately asked him in French "Vous parlez anglais?" He said, "A little" and directed me in English to leave my luggage in the lobby area, gave me directions to visit nearby sites, and to come back by 2:00 PM when rooms became available. I then walked five blocks over to The Eiffel Tower.

What a masterpiece! The grand metal tower stood tall, perfect, and magnificent. From afar, it looked small, but with each step I took the tower grew and grew in size and splendor. It was sensational. A very long park and well trimmed trees lined up its view. I had to stop another tourist to take a picture of me with the famous tower. "Click!" I was happy.

Elena Martina October, 2009.