A Last Day in Paris and Getting to Venice

I am writing from the train that is taking Billie and me to Milan, with a quick change there we’ll be off to Venice. We are passing through mountainous territory, so very beautiful is our view from the valleys that we traverse! Our passports are being inspected by police for the second time – different police, so I believe that we have just passed over into Italy.

Yesterday was brief as both of us managed to sleep quite late into the day after little overnight rest. I bedded down after my early breakfast and happily snoozed until noon. When we headed out it was to the Champs Elysees and the Arc de Triomphe on another lovely, sunny day with cool breezes. I have been in Paris in October before and had only steady rain to accompany my walk-abouts.  So we have been ever-so fortunate. The Champs E was crowded with the usual suspects, parading by expensive shops and restaurants, enjoying the sense of just being there, one of the earth’s truly “hot spots.” We purchased some lunch at a Brioche Dore shop – eat in or take out. Later, on our way to the Metro I realized that my small pocket wallet was missing. I don’t believe that it was stolen. I think that I likely put it down or dropped it in the restaurant and simply didn’t notice its loss. We retraced our steps and enquired at the Brioche Dore but to no avail. Luckily it did not contain our passports or the envelope in which I carry most of our euros. It did, however, have my Visa and bank cards – the sources of further cash and charging capabilities. A complicated series of manoeuvers by my Toronto financial colleague ensued. If all goes well, I will receive a temporary card and some euros after we arrive in Venice. The happiness of the global systems.

After this kafuffle Billie and I went one last time to the area of St Michel. I wanted to buy another book to tide me over for reading while we are in Italy. Second-hand English book stores are considerably more difficult to come across there. My friend, Jan had recommended Joanna Trollope, the grand-niece of my hero, Anthony, as a writer of smaller, human stories that sit right in the reading. Anthony’s terrain was considerably broader, taking in the social, political, and ecclesiastical spheres of 19^th century middle and upper classes. So I will settle down to see what Joanna has to offer, endeavouring not to unfavourably compare her to her forebear.

Though we managed so little yesterday, we came back to the hotel every bit as tired as each of the other days. Getting organized for the quick get-away today, eating, and showering took us well into the evening. It’s strange how one can be so entirely pooped and yet lay down one’s head to sleep without the satisfaction of truly letting go. 

Nonetheless we, that is, I, was ready to spring up at 5 AM when my cell phone alarm rang. Billie was considerably slower, but we did get to the train and on board in time – just! I had a little chat with her earlier about her habit of frustrating people by resisting their entreaties to get ready to be off. Of course she laughed it off, saying that she didn’t always do that, but sometimes it just happened. No, I explained, when people act that way to frustrate another, it’s because they want to. They may not understand why they want to, but they want to nonetheless. It’s a great way of getting your own back. I gave her a couple of instructive examples of the ways in which I used to do that. Will she learn from my tutelage? Mmm.

It is now Friday and we are somewhat settled into our new, extremely difficult to locate especially in the dark, digs. So many conundrums yesterday! Mid-way to Milan the friendly barista in the bar car told me that our train did not stop at the station from which one went to Venice. A conductor standing there looked at the tickets that had been e-sent to me and concurred. We had been given only 15 minutes to make the station switch!!!! Besides, the Milan ride was 30 minutes late arriving. Once in Milan we raced to the Trentalia office to be sent elsewhere. We were rerouted to another slightly later departure and given vague instructions how to get to the new station – a 10-minute trip the nice lady assured me. Perhaps for her who understood the vagaries of Metro travel and the locations of each by-way. We arrived just as our train pulled out of the station. No matter, another nice lady routed us to the next train – another hour later. Billie who had been resisting eating or drinking all day was understandably tired and less appealingly grouchy, convinced that all of our difficulties were likely my fault. Also she objected to my groaning about all of the stairs – and there were many – that I had to climb a la mare’s shank, with my suitcase and etc in tow. Nonetheless, we were managing. During our wait I got us both some yummy gelato – Billie demurred but happily ate hers. On the Venice train we sat tight with two gentlemen, one of whom spoke on the phone doing his business for much of the way. Billie and I, I am sure seemed odd to them as we were so clearly disorganized with our stuff and had only grabbed those two empty seats because we had not been assigned any. The sac containing all of our food stuffs had fallen apart just as we got on the train, spreading our biscuits, bananas, etc onto the track-side walkway. We gathered most of it despite the press of others attempting to board, but suffered the loss of our peanut butter (sob) and Nutella. I’m certain we looked most comical to those around us. But still we were on our way, still snoozing a lot but OK.

Once in Venice we made several forays to find our residence – few instructions had been given as to its location. I counted five different people who generously tried to assist us. The last one finally got us there. Up three long flights of stairs with all of our stuff. I thank the lords above that I went to Curves for ten years developing some upper-body strength. Our landlady showed us to our room – one of just three that she lets out of her apartment. A double bed for the two of us. OK, we’ll make it work. And now, c.450 euros cash please. Oops, no money. OK, she’ll wait until I can get some this morning – fingers crossed. We dropped our stuff and went out into the Venetian evening looking for a connecting plug to allow my computer access to the wall unit – I had left the one I had in Paris – a new city, a new item left behind! Luckily we were directed to a tiny electrical shop not too far away and arrived there just as the fellow was about to close. Success – without which I would not now be addressing you. We got Billie a sandwich of indeterminate substance. The man said chicken but Billie said no – but ate it anyway as by then the return of hunger had hit her. We found a cafeteria that I had frequented before where I had a salad. We picked up a few staples and headed back to our new, yet unpaid for, home, working our way through the four sets of keys to get there – the garden gate; the building door; the apartment door; and, our room.

En route we had another little chat about being miserable with another – passive aggressive I labelled it. Billie had heard the term but didn’t understand it. I tried to enlighten her. More conversations to ensue. We are doing well, despite this kind of commentary, however. She can be a most loving child, just a bit hormonal (since the age of about three) around the edges.

So enough for now. Soon I’ll be off through my four security levels to the Western Union to see if they can put me back on proverbial easy street. Then we can really enjoy the loveliness of Venice. And how about those Jays!!! When I went to sleep last night they were up 5-0. I woke up to the happy news of their win.

All the best, and, keep the faith.