June 23: My Dear Denfert Rochereau

I had a quiet ride to the airport, wondering if I'd be standing in the security line for three hours like I'd done in 2022.  Just like the flight from Geneva to Rome, my flight from Rome to Paris was easy. I wasn't in the overseas international area, but in a smaller terminal dedicated to intra-Europe flights. I had time to visit the shopping mall, have lunch, and see the art on display. Even the line-up lanes were artistic!

Easy Jet is very, very easy. If you told me the company had bought older Southwest Airlines 737s for their fleet, I would have believed you on the flight from Geneva to Rome. The seats were Southwest blue. Today's plane was an Airbus. They have another inch or two of legroom, which didn't really matter on a two-hour flight. Still, I'd reserved a seat on the right side of the plane in the hope of seeing the Alps on the way. First, a final look at the lovely Italian beaches. Funny how this picture looks upside down, but the fields were east of the Mediterranean.

We flew within range of Lake Bolsena, and I made a mental note that I had to go there next time. I was getting a crick in my neck, drifted off for a bit, then a few neighbors started oohing and ahhing. Yes, the Alps. Is it possible this is the back side of the Matterhorn, showing her peak only to those above 15,000 feet? Hard to say.

Upon landing, I walked off the plane, through the baggage claim area and kept walking through Orly Airport until I found the transportation area. The Blue RER train line I'd intended to take to Denfert-Rochereau was delayed by an hour, which must be making the commuters in town crazy. The next bus would leave in 25 minutes, but dragging my suitcase and backpack onto a crowded bus seemed unfair to people going home from work. So, I found the taxi line. Nobody seemed interested in checking my passport. I felt like a local.

The vibe was very different in this taxi queue. Nobody would dream of cutting in line. We were protected from the sun and a breeze blew through the line. Security guards were at the front, in the middle, and directing people to the end of the line. The contrast between Rome and Paris was blatantly pro-Paris. Is this because of the upcoming Olympics? Due to high security alerts? When I got to the front of the line, a hunky young security guard rolled my bag to the taxi for me, lifted the bag and backpack into the trunk and gave a slight bow of his head. Wow. I thought he might click his heels together, but no.

And then, I arrived in my dear Denfert Rochereau plaza and the Metro stop I depended on to survive 40 years before. Something about the freshly painted green wrought iron and a young man struggling with a suitcase on the stairs took me back to my first visit to Paris in 1984.

My college buddy and post-college roommate Lisa had finished her first year of medical school and had snagged a coveted internship in a Paris hospital. She was staying in the dorms of the City University of Paris, which was on the edge of Montparnasse. She invited me to stay with her and it was so hot I slept on the roof, with a few other international students. When I arrived, I bought a handful of Metro tickets and lost them all in a few hours. I didn't understand how to navigate my first subway rides, and kept going to the wrong side of the platform. I wondered why they chose not to name stops after streets or landmarks. Then, I lost 10 francs in a day, and chose to spend another 25 francs on a carte de l'orange, which was also a paper ticket in a bright orange color.  It was valid for a week, and as long as I didn't lose it, I could get lost in the Metro and still make it back to Roguefort Dressing (my mnemonic device for Denfert Rochereau). After a few days of failed navigation, I took to the streets. What a good decision. Here's a Metro map from 1984. Denfert Rochereau is a main hub, and the Cite Universitaire stop is just below it. Thank goodness that stop was related to my home location!

Now I know you just need to know the names of the end stops on each line and you can always get to the correct platform. Thank goodness for today's plastic Metro d'couverte - it never expires! I have leftover euros on my one from 2022. Hopefully it works tomorrow.

But this afternoon? A shopping trip to the Monoprix around the corner, a rest, and a hunt for dinner.

My Montparnasse hotel has an elevator! And as requested, they gave me a room in the back so I wouldn't hear the street noise. Why did I ever want to stay in hot, dirty, intense Rome when I could be in leafy Montparnasse and sleep near where the writers lived? A bus across the street, the RER Blue line downstairs, and restaurants, restaurants, restaurants!

Dreamland for awhile in a queen-sized bed with the AC on! I'm living in Montparnasse, writing in the mornings, walking around in the afternoons to see art, enjoying evenings of music and literary salons with friends...