An old pommie guy once said that all of life is a stage, and we are but players. It’s Saturday, I think. We boarded the boat yesterday in Catalonia and now we’re in France. I call it a boat, but when you’re seventeen stories high and weigh a hundred and fifty thousand tonnes you probably get to be called a ship.
They say that men are from Mars and women are from Visa. Maybe true, maybe not. I prefer to think that we just look at two sides of the same coin.
We’ve arrived safely in Zurich. For the first time ever, following recent events, the flight from southeast Asia to Europe was the one that almost had us concerned. We admit we are both a little relieved when wheels hit tarmac, even if it’s too foggy to confirm we are even in the country that we’re supposed to be.
Airport reached and it’s only 8:15. Pats on the back all round. Now, to find the Air Cheapo check in counter. Oh, maybe it’s the one behind that line of people – the really big line of people
It’s our last day in Paris so we have to choose which of the many offerings can’t be left languishing on the “next time” list.
On leaving the Versailles station, Nanette engages with a nice young lady who tries to direct us to the nearby ticket shop, rather than waiting to until we get to the chateau. The shop is crowded so the boys convince the girls to keep moving. Bad move.
What do you do on your first romantic morning in Paris? Croissants and café latte at a petite patisserie you say? Mais non!
There is a little ritual among air travellers whereby you arrive very early at the airport in an attempt to snare those elusive “good seats”. Our flight from Bangkok to Paris is only twelve hours but it’s overnight, so “good seats” are pretty handy.
LamondG 