If there is a possibility of several things going wrong, the one that will cause the most damage will be the first one to go wrong - Murphy's Law Number Two
Five days ago, I read about the heist of four priceless paintings in Museum of Fine Arts in Nice, France. Four to five masked men dashed in and stole the paintings at gunpoint. This newspiece jolted my memory back to our last day in Paris. Granted, it was not in the order of magnitude as the theft but it was dramatic no less.
On hindsight, a series of events on the last leg of our sojourn portend to such an action-packed finish.
We had packed most of our stuff the night before and woke up only to eat breakfast and stuff the remaining items into either Sadia's diaper bag or the stroller. Breakfast comprised Nestle's La Laitiere yummy Creme Brulee (only in France would you find desserts being sold in individual pots of glass on the supermarket shelves!), Tropicana Orange Juice and other goodies in the fridge that we must consume or otherwise they'd be thrown away. Being the Waste-Not stickler that I am, I gulped most of the OJ and mineral water.
Since our flight was at 3:30 p.m., we planned to walk around our hotel's neighbourhood for two star attractions before checking out at noon. We had already booked a taxi as well the day before and with all the bags packed, we traipsed down Rue de Ecoles, the street on which we stayed and turned left into one of Paris' famous boulevards, Boulevard St Michel for Jardin du Luxembourg.
(By the by, if you plan to take a taxi to the airport, please ask your hotel's front desk to book a day in advance. It is most advisable since you might be waiting for a long time for a taxi should you choose to inquire for one AFTER you have checked out. This also minimises the chance of you missing your flight!)
On the way there, we stumbled upon a Gap store which caught the interest of hubby who had already run out of t-shirts following a chocolate macaroon accident on the first day. While hubby scuttled inside the store for a top, I wheeled the droopy-eyed Sadia to bask in the stunning view of Chapelle de la Sorbonne standing right beside the store building.
As we were about to test the water, so to speak, of the Chapelle's public fountain, my stomach churned violently. I wanted so bad to relieve myself and fast! It must be the unbalanced diet of food and drink (OJs!) I had that morning. I was pacing outside the Gap store, seriously on the lookout for any signs of hubby. Luckily, he made a quick purchase and came to my rescue. I inquired if he knew whether the store has a toilet to which he replied as highly unlikely. Desperate for the first sighting of a WC, I rushed into a hotel located on the same row as the Gap store and frantically looked for a toilet. My two loved ones were trying hard to keep up with me from the back!
Thank goodness, the receptionist on the front desk was occupied with her work as I passed her by. In times of dire need, my instinct must be working overtime as it led me straight to the commode without hesitating where to go and which corner to turn. Somehow, I ended up in the basement at which the bathroom was situated. An out-and-out bliss! Pun intended!
Fully gratified, I joined hubby and Sadia in the hotel lounge and thereon we casually exited the automatic door as if we're the hotel guests. Thank you again for the superb facility!
Further down the Boulevard was the Luxembourg Garden or Luco as the locals call it. It is the largest public park in the city, covering an area of 25 hectares and is located in the vicinity of Sorbonne University. Nestled in the northern part of the Garden is Luxembourg Palace, where the French Senate convenes. The extensive grounds also house a puppet theatre, a merry-go-round, a large playground, an apiary containing around 20 hives, an orchard of pear and apple trees and a gazebo with live musical performances. At the time of our stroll, a group of visiting high school bands from the U.S. belted out some familiar tunes on the black gazebo. And of course, a French garden would never be complete without statues and sculptures. There are in fact over 100 of them here!
The weather veered more towards the cloudy side, presenting us with the imminent prospect of rainfall. The accompanying breeze however was a welcome departure from the scorching hot weather we'd experienced for the last three days. Although I really didn't mind the gentle wind, I was feeling rather tired of our daily peregrinations which caused me to be irritable and antsy. This moodswing, according to my hubby, was well documented on my very unattractive yausu (sourfaced) expression. Ahh, thanks hun for that well-timed and well-deserved sarcasm. :]
Pressed for time, we only sauntered along the north parts of the expansive parterre, including the octagonal pond, called the Grand Bassin facing the Palace and, row upon row of well-kept gigantic hedges. Pony rides, and areas to play tennis and French's version of lawn bowling, Jeux de Boules are also available for those preferring more active pursuits.
As such, we missed the famed baroque-styled Médicis fountain and the original life-size cast of Statue of Liberty, as envisioned by its sculptor, Frederick Auguste Batholdi.
Still dazzled by its beauty, we went out the Garden's wrought iron fence enclosure with a heavy feeling. Next on the agenda was the impressive neo-classicsal building, Panthéon, sitting on top of the Montagne Sainte-Geneviève hill to which we trekked all the way from Boulevard St Michel. It was relatively close by, not more than five minutes' walk.
Panthéon, which means 'all the Gods' in Greek, refers to the 'Gods of French literature, arts and sciences', such as Voltaire, Rousseau, Marat, Victor Hugo, Émile Zola, Marie Curie, René Descartes, Louis Braille and Jacques-Germain Soufflot, the Panthéon's architect, whose remains had been interred into this grand mausoleum.
Echoing such dedication to these national heroes' contribution to France, the inscription on the Panthéon's main pediment states: Aux grandes hommes la patrie reconnaissante (For great men, the grateful homeland). As such, entrance to its interiors is restricted and only opened for the burial procession of French's greats.
In a hurry for hotel's checking out, we snapped a few photos here and went down the hill towards the direction of our hotel. After putting our bags downstairs and freshened up, we waited in the lounge area for our taxi. With 10 minutes to waste before the appointed taxi arrival at 12:30, hubby traipsed over to the neighborhood supermarket to buy Sadia's milk. In the meantime, I succeeded in putting Sadia to sleep.
The taxi appeared on the hotel's doorstep right on cue and I gingerly carried Sadia to its backseat while hubby sorted out the luggage with its driver. When the driver put the key into the ignition, the radio came on at full blast to which we politely asked the Laotian guy to turn it down, pointing to our sleeping toddler. After quickly complying to our wish however, he began to make conversation in a high-decibel manner.
Our attempts to discourage his talk however fell on deaf ears which in turn caused Sadia to stir from her nap. Poor Sadia - only sleeping for 20 minutes. Sensing our daggerlooks, the driver remained quiet for the remainder of the journey. Too late now!
With the absence of traffic jams, we arrived around 1 pm and was exhilirated by the fact that we made it early and could spend some leisurely moments shopping for last minute trinkets like fridge magnets and mugs at the tax-free souvenir shops. And yet, those happy thoughts were just wishful thinking.....
The counter at which we must check in only opened for business 15 minutes after we alighted from the taxi. Due to servicing other routes (Spain, Italy, etc), the queue was unbelievably long. After waiting for ages, it was finally our turn at the check-in counter. In the midst of answering questions from the staff, he interrupted us by saying "We have to leave NOW" and picked up his belongings.
What???!! Apparently, from the left side of our counter some people in military uniforms shouting order in French, demanded everyone to disperse from the immediate area. Some nincompoop had left an unattended baggage somewhere in the vicinity and until the authority inspected its content for possible terrorism-related substances, we were asked to go about our respective businesses. Oh no! Let's just hope we won't miss our flight!
With a hungry tot in tow, all of us tucked into the two large muffins bought at one of the airport kiosks. Hubby went over twice to the designated counter for further information on its opening before we at last got back into the outrageously long line. Coupled by the fact that merely three counters were opened, latecomers for flights earlier than us and early birds for flights later than us compounded to the laggard time.
While I entertained Sadia on the bench nearby, hubby queued with the airport trolley slowly trundling along. It was almost 2:45 and we were still not even close to our turn. Concerned about the risk of missing our flight, hubby requested that I asked the staff manning the Self-Service check-in machines for options. She quickly bumped us to a shorter line from which we finally settled ourselves into a counter and placed our luggage on its conveyor belt. When the check-in staff accidentally activated the conveyor belt on reverse mode, one bag fell off and hit squarely on hubby's foot! After spending a gruelling time on his feet, hubby was very annoyed, more so when she was the least bit apologetic.
It had been a long (in every sense of the word) day! Mishap during the time of arrival and now this sad episode, we concurred that Charles De Gaulle is the worst airport we've so far been to!
Another major obstacle to go through was the security checkpoint which we dreaded every single time. Luckily, the airport staff on duty looked at our tickets and subsequently directed us to the front of the line as prioritised passengers. We heaved a sigh of huge relief due to the fast and easy security procedure.
It was 15 minutes to the departure time when we sat down at the boarding gate to take a short breather. No sooner had we begun to relax than the Air France's staff announced that it was time to board the plane!!! Talk about perfect timing!
As you can evidently see, our whirlwind Paris trip ended on an unusually high note - a ridiculous bomb scare that set off a chain of events that nearly prevented us from getting to our gate and boarding the flight home.
So no macaroons (boohoohoo), souvenir shopping (sorry Rizby) and simply taking it easy at the airport. No such luck!
On a great note, I rewarded myself with a Caramel Macchiato in the Schiphol's departure lounge as soon as we landed! After the arduous and exhausting experience, I surely needed an instant fixer-upper!
Paris again? you venture to ask. Despite our share of troubles and headaches, I have to say Yes. We've yet to go to other Paris' attractions such as Invalides, Musee d'Orsay, Sacre-Coeur, Montmartre Cemetery, Musee Marmottan Claude Monet and Le Bon Marche (the world's first department store - how could we have missed it?!).
As suggested by hubby, we would probably come back again in our 40s, God willing. With the kid(s) a bit older, she/they would be left to her/their own devices while hubby and I savour both the beautiful perspectives and mesmerising masterpieces on the vast grounds of Louvre. (By the way, did you know the Louvre also provides visitors with the Da Vinci Code's audio guide version? How funny is that!)
Let's hope we are as sprightly and energetic as we are now when Paris welcomes us back into her arms! :)
