Paris was like a dream. The architecture was amazing, the food was fabulous, and the opera outstanding. I was hoping for all those things, and they didn't disappoint. But it was a wonderful weekend for other reasons too - aspects that took me by surprise. I was impressed by the outward kindness and hospitality of the French...expecting an air of aloofness, instead I found warmth. I was also reminded that good company makes all the difference. I savored that aspect even more now that I've been starved for social interaction in a rather closed society and deprived of my usual means of communication. There was never a dull moment in this group (German, Italian, Iranian, Uruguayan, USAan). The highlight of the trip was arriving at the opera 20 minutes early (a triumphant first as our opera trips go) only to find out that it was the wrong opera house. What ensued was an exhilarating, frantic race to the other side of town in rush hour traffic. The spectacle was complete with a cab jumping curbs, riding in the bus lane, and weaving through traffic like you weave through the sea of people in a crowded mall. The cab driver was great though. He even managed to point out some of the important architectural points in the city along the way. We took lots of photos to help tell the rest of the story...
Though Paris was a dream, getting home was a nightmare. Half way through the comfortable four-hour ride, I was sleeping peacefully when the train stopped. We were told to get out and board a different train. It wouldn't have been much of an inconvenience, except that the other train was already full! I had to stand for the second half of the ride even though I had a seat reservation (unfortunately so did the guy who was already sitting in my seat). It was an outrage. I would have minded less if we hadn't stayed at a piano bar the previous night until it closed. All I wanted to do was sleep. When Alfredo met me at the Wixhausen train station (he came back a day early to work), I was glad the worst part of the trip was over. Well, that was a premature assumption. The sole bus that connects our "temporary home" to Darmstadt stops at midnight, and we got to the bus stop at 12:30. Standing outside, exhausted, in the freezing cold on a lonely street in the middle of nowhere was unpleasantly frightening (mostly related to the risk of freezing to death). But by some series of miracles, Alfredo found the number for a 24-hour hotline posted on the bus schedule to report problems with the public transportation. The guy who answered happened to speak English and was willing to call us a cab...
