Did you ever wonder what the Paris is like at 6am? Yeah, neither have I, but with 7 hours until I board my next flight to Cotonou I thought I’d share the misery. That said, the airport (Charles de Gaulle, that’s CDG to you airport aficionados) is truly a wonderful labrynthe. Three terminals with something like 9 different buildings that have been added, dare I say haphazardly all connected by a bus system that goes through dark tunnels, under airplane wings and into small crevices all at respectable speeds is something you can only experience. Then once inside, why I felt like the Fellowship of the Ring going up, down and through narrow fluorescent lit hallways with other red eyed passengers wondering just when we would see airport personnel or tumble onto (in a small room) the X-ray machine where everything is off and out before finally finding your solitary gate whose next isn’t for 7 hours. And if thought it was hard enough to read this, it only gives you a feel for my past 45 minutes. Perhaps I’m a cynic but traveling is no longer the romantic adventure it was when I went Edinburgh the first time in 1990.
But the people you suffer along with are great. I love meeting the people, the stories and adventures are all there. The many nationalities in one “small” plane along each one’s raison d’être. Being at CDG is like a microcosm of the world where you can observe and yes, be observed. It’s a swell reminder that there are more than Americans in this world and that we are bit of a minority and we stand out, for better or worse.
Well, I’m going to try to cat nap now before the people flood in and stretching my legs out becomes a challenge.
Sent from my iPod
