Oh no. The temperature is dropping! Will this mean the end of my adventurous spirit! With that depressing thought in mind, I recently jumped on a train to venture off to Bordeaux where it was going to be a sunny 28°. Mind you, it was going to be warm in Paris - but anyway.
The train was leaving from Montparnasse early in the morning. As that was about 20 minutes drive away by car I decided to try the Paris bus for the first time. Here, the bus drives up, the ramp is activated by the driver and it slides out automatically. It was so easy, relaxed and kept me independent. To get off, I just push the button next to the wheelchair space to alert the driver to trigger the ramp. Or, if that doesn't alert him I just yell out 'La rampe s'il vous plaît!!!'
Summer finally arrived in Paris at the end of June. After freezing for more months than I care to remember and drowning in more months of rain, I emerged to notice the signs that tell me Paris and summer have again met. From arrondissement to arrondissement, from person to person, these signs will differ. I see my Paris as I do. It's not always pretty. It's definitely not perfect. It has to be seen with some amusement and sometimes you just have to think *'C'est la vie'.
Well not to visit the Queen. "To eat a fish pie," I grinned at the UK border security person. "So you're going to London from Paris for one day to eat a fish pie?" she confirmed, clearly amused and thinking that it was her lucky day not to get the same old answer. "And you live in Paris?" she continued, looking over her glasses at me. "Why?"
Because it's an adventure I thought as I sat on the train a while later. That's really my only answer. Likewise, I decided to get the Eurostar to London, 2 1/4 hours away, just to eat a fish pie. It would be an adventure. You sometimes have to create adventures. If you don't, much like life, nothing will happen. True, it's not that France doesn't hold adventures for me. Of course it does. I have about 70 blog posts to prove it. But I'd got it into my head that I wanted a fish pie and like baguettes are French, fish pie is British. An adventure had to be created!
Easy peasy. Let's go!
The day had finally come. After more than a year away, I was going back to Australia. Just for two weeks. That was the plan. The first thing I had to do though was get there. Being over 23 hours away, that was no mean feat. Adding me and my disability into the equation, well, we know what that means!
The day was drizzling light rain as my employee and I went to get the Eurostar at Gare de Nord about 40 minutes walk from my Paris apartment. We were a million hours early. About ten years ago I missed a flight from LA to Australia at 11:00 pm and I vowed never to be in that horrid situation again.
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Gare de Nord early in the morning[/caption]