The overnight flight from Cincinnati to Paris wasn’t that bad. We drive 14 hours every summer going to and from Manitoulin Island so a 7 and a half hour flight where you don’t have to drive wasn’t that taxing. Annie and Marley sat together in front of Ben and I on a flight that was probably about two thirds full. I managed to get some sleep off and on missing most of what looked like a bad Adam Sandler/Kevin James movie (like there’s a good one of those!) and Fantastic Four Rise of The Silver Surfer. Annie pulled a Mimi and raved about the BBQ Chicken and Sweet Potatoes which was also a hit with me and Ben while Marley enjoyed a pasta dish.
The flight arrived a little ahead of time in Paris just before 6am on Saturday the 13th. We were a bit taken aback by the military support crew hanging around the airport. It did make us feel comfortable that they were taking terrorist attacks very seriously as they were armed with some serious fire power. I searched out some information about getting our Paris to Venice tickets validated and felt like a local when an Asian man with corpse-like breath asked me if he was in the right line. I politely explained that I had no idea, that I had just arrived from the States, and he muttered something about a “new Pearl Harbor” and slithered away.
As I was figuring out how to get the tickets we bought online to Venice, Annie was able to complete her Facebook connection for our support crew in Paris. Betsy Dyer Dixon had moved to Paris from South Carolina this summer with her four children which was a vision she had shared with her husband. Sadly, he died of colon cancer three years ago but she decided to forge ahead and her wonderful family is loving their adventure in Paris. Betsy and her family proved to be our angels as they have an apartment in the 15th arrondisement blocks away from the Eiffel Tower. It was a cold, rainy, blustery day in Paris and if we wouldn’t have had the Dixon’s support we don’t know how the zombie-like Bangert crew hauling our luggage would have made it through the day.
From the airport we grabbed a taxi that was apparently a former demolition derby winner and took the 35 minute drive from CDG to Paris on this gloomy Saturday morning where the rain that fell like the gentle tears of Marie Antoinette during her time in prison. Fortunately for us, the story had a happier ending as instead of a date with the Guillotine , we arrived at Betsy’s cozy apartment on the Rue de la Federacion, giving us a chance to store our luggage and have some coffee and some beignets and donuts from the nearby boulangerie. Fueled with the appropriate amount of caffeine and sucre, we headed out on foot toward the Tour Eiffel with the ultimate goal of some time at the Musee D’Orsay.
As wonderful as the Tour Eiffel looks in the pictures, up close it really doesn’t suck. We worked our way through the frequent joggers– Including a jogger wearing a Bengals t-shirt that Bill almost tackled while he yelled Who Dey! Unfortunately the guy had his iPod cranked up and got by Bill without seeing the crazed American waving his arms. We also had to make our way through a gauntlet of agressive vendors walking around selling souvenirs and soaked in the atmosphere of one of the most recognizable structures in the world. Since there was a cold, drizzly rain falling and a low cloud ceiling, we chose not to try to ascend the tower, plus the upper level was closed due to a high wind warning. We continued east along the Seine going toward the museum D’Orsay, not realizing how long of a walk that was on jet-lagged legs. About 40 minutes later, we finally arrived at D’Orsay, only to find a long line for tickets. After about a 20 minute wait, we got inside the museum for the reasonable price of 16 euro, as the kids were free. We were starving so we hit the café inside to get some fuel for one of the greatest collections of art on the planet. Once inside, we headed to the Van Gogh exhibit, seeing his famous self-portrait for the first time ever and other great works. His work was displayed along with Gaugin and other masters, and then we headed across the great hall to an area of impressionist paintings, including works by Renoir, Degas, Cezanne, Toulouse-Latrec, Manet, Monet and one by Seurat. By then we were all fading, so we decided to grab a taxi and head back to Betsy’s for some sleep. Three hours later, we were refreshed enough to have a glass of wine with Betsy as she told her story of how she wound up in Paris when she and her husband had planned for years to move to Barcelona or Madrid. With the clock ticking toward our departure to Venice, we walked down the street for dinner at Carmine’s as recommended by Betsy and enjoyed the company of our server Raoul who spoke excellent English and gave us a nice send off for the overnight train. We went back to Betsy’s, gathered up our luggage and headed to the Metro station to go to Bercy for the overnight train. I managed my French well enough to get Metro tickets and found the right direction for the 6 train toward the Nation station, and 15 minutes later arrived at Bercy. Things got a bit confusing here as there was no obvious sign for the area of the overnight trains and a woman who spoke no Anglais tried to help us, insisting that we go to the Gare de Lyon station, which was about a ten minute walk. I was sure we were leaving from Bercy, and as we gave her the appropriate Merci, we headed back toward the platform and sure enough found the signs pointing us to the Gare de Paris Bercy, where we boarded the overnight train. We had a cozy couchette with four bunks and settled in for the arrival thirteen hours later in Venice, enjoying what has so far been an unforgettable trip as a family.
ACK – I can’t say enough how awesome the night train was as a family. We were all hunkered down in our cabin that housed four bunks. It was just such a cool adventure. Bill and the kids slept like zombies for the most part while I suffered from insomnia watching them drool on their pillows. We took a pass through Switzerland which gave us a very rough train ride. When we crossed into the Italian border, they had search dogs come on the train sniffing things out – likely drugs or explosives. I had hoped the “feel” of the night train would be special…I must say it was even better than my expectations! Hugs family!
