Easter in Paris- A Joyeux Pacque !! A Celebration
THE TRIP TO PARIS – TO CELEBRATE – THE TITRE SEJOUR FOR MARTI
(third person story- yes, a make-believe- story that is ALL true)
Friday – March 29th – They are spent. Exhausted. A mound of flesh on the couch,
a lovely dinner with champagne to celebrate. It was the day they had dreamt of for a long time. Carte de Sejour day – “Titre Sejour.” (in French).
The RIGHT TO LIVE IN FRANCE, for her, that is, he already has the right. It was a long time coming and it was amazing that it was finally over. A 17th month journey. The paperwork alone, would sink a war ship.
Her feet up in the air on the huge french square pillow after dinner – (why do they have these SQUARE PILLOWS?)…..and she is looking at the paper handed to her today:
She has her “RIGHT TO LIVE IN FRANCE FOR 10 YEARS” card !!!!
That evening, they watched “The Way” – It was fabulous & so very meaningful and now they want everyone they know, or everyone who loves to hike, or take journeys, or be meditative in any way — to see this movie. The first 1/2 of the movie she cried because it was so beautiful – yet sad, albiet not without subtance. Martin Sheen plays the estranged father of a son who has taken it upon himself to do the COMPOSTELLA trek – from the Pyrenees to Compostella Spain –
It is the father’s story –
Saturday, on the TGV, on the way to Paris to Celebrate this CARTE of hers – it was more than beautiful.
Well, that is, after they realized upon sitting for 20 minutes that they were actually on the WRONG train.
There were no other persons on, or getting on, and the guy did say “E” as in (A B C D E – OR—- AH BAY SAY, DAY, EHH……
he did not say “Eeee” (which is I) which is what he actually MEANT. No, he said Ehhh.
So, they went to Ehhh (E) and missed the train.
It’s okay – after a teeny bit of a hyperventilating session with the train clerk – and only a smile on his face, (or was it a SMIRK), they were able to get on the OTHER train to Paris, the one that left an hour later. Never mind. They still would be in before dark, and probably by sunset, or nearly.
It’s always beautiful in Paris when the sun is setting,
even when it’s cold, or when it’s rainy – especially when it’s rainy.
Flashing through the countryside, because it is like a flash, there is still time to reflect and to take in the beauty of this fabulous country. Leaving Provence it is flat mostly with the distant mountains, like Saint Victoire (that Cezanne painted 20+ times) and some of these mountains are still snow-capped. The trees are faintly trying to bloom, but as they head north, there is less and less budding and signs of winter still hanging on. The flatness turns to rolling hills and the grass is becoming greener, even if the trees are not.
THIS 210 KM AN HOUR HIGH SPEED TRAIN IS ABSOLUTELY MAGICAL. ANYONE, who has never done this, needs to at least try it once she is thinking vehemently. She’s sold. HAS ALWAYS BEEN SOLD. “You will never be sorry” appears in her mind, over and over.
She could travel this way for the REST of her LIFE and never darken a metal fuselage again. Never. (It’s that good.)
As she settles back in her very wide and cushy seat, her novel in her hand, it is hard to go from the inspiring story that captures her vacuuming up detailed mind attentive to the book – to the glancing up ever so slightly and seeing that the rolling hills are becoming more pronounced . The far away ochre farm houses are now spewing smoke from their giant chimneys………..
(TO BE CONTINUED)