© June 2005
Paris Woman Journal
(page 3 of 3)
That evening, when I returned to Lourdes, I dined at a
New
Orleans-style brasserie recommended to me by one of the servers
in my hotel’s restaurant. It was, in fact, an Italian restaurant
serving French food, spaghetti and paella and I was thrilled, as
I had been craving paella ever since my trip to Barcelona in mid
March (where I ended up dining with five FWE members in
Paris and the USA, who had come for entrepreneurial seminar
organized by the city officials). The servers at the restaurant
were much friendlier than all the other places I’d been to. They
did not treat me like a teenaged girl traveling alone.
While sitting outside on the terrace, watching people stroll by,
I stumbled onto a group of Americans who were giving their
services to the sick, weak and disabled. There were about 100
Americans total, all dressed in black, each one was pushing a
local’s wheelchair towards the sanctuaries for the night massed.
I was looking at them curiously when suddenly some of the
disabled children being pushed along waved and smiled at me.
That friendly gesture surprised me and deeply touched my heart.
I felt much appreciated!
Leaving Lourdes the next morning, I again took the train. On the
way back to Bordeaux, I paid for a second class TGV ticket.
I would never do that again, as for a few euros more, I would
rather get a first class, comfortable seat with cleaner toilets,
less people and more space. The second class area was so crowded
that I had to put my bag under my feet; there was absolutely no
more space anywhere for luggage! Add to that the nearest two
toilettes (for five entire compartments) were out of order, this
felt like the longest two-hour trip of my life.
When I picked up my son at Bordeaux, I went back to first
class. In addition to the cleanliness, with my son’s “carte
enfant plus” card, we get 50% discount on all tickets.
Lest you think I am touting first class as the best place, let
me be clear: I am talking price. Sure, with first
class we did not have problems with space, comfort and
toilettes, but once again we struggled with the French
attitude, which was aloof and judgmental. For no
reason at all, I was harassed by the service guy at the food
counter. He snapped at me when I tried to order a ham sandwich
in French. It made me realize how much I missed the people in
Vietnam. Even with my Vietnamese-English-French accent, they
were friendly, agreeable and accommodating.
Bottom line, I found that French people in the Pyrenees have
changed. Six years ago I didn’t see Mr. Le Pen’s influence so
much, but it is certainly there now. The people in the South
don’t like foreigners, and I’m not sure why. Perhaps joining the EU has made
life harder for them; or perhaps they just have a long way to go
towards accepting change. Regardless, my son and I had memorable
vacations and were very happy to be back in Paris. Home sweet
home!
Love Me Paris...
