First Day in Paris, 8/28/12

August sure went by quickly. Starting on Saturday the 18th, the Temple was closed for the rest of the month. The next Tuesday mom and I borrowed tennis rackets and balls and went to a private club outside court at a beautiful beach and played tennis for an hour. We would have gone other days also but the weather was "wet." Instead mom got her hair cut in a nearby town and visited a museum in Stockholm on her own while I stayed at home, researched, and planned our trip to Paris.

We left for Paris on Tuesday the 28th via Air France. We arrived in Paris at 5 p.m. and were supposed to be at our hotel at about 7 p.m. for a peaceful exploratory walk around the neighborhood. I know that the "supposed to be" gives way to intrique. So, we went to buy our train tickets for a clear one-way trip to the hotel. We we told that there would be at least a two-hour wait because there had just been an accident on the tracks and someone had been killed. We were told, along with "hundreds" of other people, tours, etc. to take a bus. So everyone "runs" across several terminals in shuttles to catch the bus for a detour around the wreck. As many people as possible were shoved into the bus. Of course, we weren't one of them. Suddenly, a worker yells that one could catch a train. You must realize that most of the people are tourist just arriving at the Charles de Gaulle airport and have absolutely no idea of what is happening. We all run over to the train platform. At this point, no one has tickets or knows where the train is coming from or going to. There are multitudes of people asking other people who also have no clue.  Finally, a train comes and everyone blindly piles in. The train goes, stops, and everyone piles out onto a platform of who-knows-where. We wonder about for about 15 minutes while asking other people what to do who answered back that they don't know either.

Finally, I go down in the subway and ask and we are directed (with another unknowing women trailing we unknowing two) to take another train to who-knows-where. Fortunately, as we are riding the train, I still have courage to ask another person the same question about how to get to the St. Michel metro stop. This time we hit a mother load of all paydirt. His last name was Viega, Spanish and born in Paris.  It was the first time that he had taken this train, but he was going to one stop before St. Michel and if we would follow him, he would take us that far. One once-was swede and one american followed him like two puppy dogs -- so close that one couldn't have put a thin piece of French cheese between us.

How great it felt to come out of a metro tunnel, smell fresh air, and see a sign that says Fontaine de St. Michel.  All my best planning had not prepared us for what had just happened. Then to have mom basically say that President Monson says that nothing is a coincidence.  I didn't see wings on Mr. Viega or any harp, but I do know that angels don't need to have either one.

After, checking in, we headed out of the hotel a little after 9 p.m. The hotel Severin was perfectly located -- about two walking minutes from the central metro, five minutes from Notre Dame, five minutes from a Seine boat cruise, ten minutes from La Sorbonne, fifteen minutes from Le Louvre, and smack dab right in the middle of one of the best tourist areas of the Latin Quarter. It was time to party!

We walked some streets, went to the Seine, ate dinner at a side-walk cafe, and fell into bed about 11:30 knowing that we should get out of the hotel about 7:30 am the next morning to go to the Louvre to miss the long tourist line.