Leaving New York

Chapter 12

After the Captain told me there was no job for me on the ship, I had to scramble to figure out what I would do. When I was in New York, fantasizing about the trip, I'd pictured Paris a lot. After dropping Henry off and collecting my wits, I caught a bus to the Le Havre train station to board the TGV train to Paris. I booked a room there so I'd have a 'home' for few days.

I liked taking the bus in New York because you could see the city instead of zooming through the black hole of the subway. I found the bus stop at the airport, and after a fifteen-minute wait, a bus pulled up. I asked the driver, "Est-ce le bus à la gare?" (is this the bus to the train station?)

"Oui, monsieur."

I found a seat next to a big woman with rosy cheeks. "Bonjour."

"Bonjour."

I asked, "Comment tailez Vous?"

"Oh, bien."

"Etes vous?"

"Bien, aussi."

I thought, 'Wow, some of my studying French was paying off.' The bus drove through some heavy-duty industrial areas. I'd read Le Havre was the second largest port in France, bombed severely during the war. It was pretty ugly so far--I wondered what the lady was doing out there. I didn't know how to ask, so I just said, "Parlez vous Anglaise?" (Do you speak English?)

"Oh, yes—a little."

"Do you work out here?"

"No, I saw my husband off on a ship." She dabbed her eyes. I wondered if it was the guy who took my job. We finally got to the central city, so I asked the lady if the bus went to the train station just to re-verify. "Est-ce que ce bus aller à la gare?"

"Very good—you speak well, Francais. Oui, it stops there-I take the TER, the commuter train. Where are you going?"

"Paris . . . on the TGV."

"Oh, tres bon--it is speedy."

The bus stopped at a massive 1930's building. I clutched my backpack and felt my money purse under my shirt for the twentieth time, feeling the outline of my Eurail pass too.

I headed to find the Train à Grande Vitesse or "high-speed train" waiting area. The fantastic engine pulled in, swooping to the ground like a vast metallic snake. Once it stopped, I trotted down the platform looking for the "Première Classe" cars—my Eurail pass only covered first class. Finally, I found one, then looked for a seat. The inside of the car seemed as futuristic as the outside; all the seats were purple with big headrests. I was about fifteen minutes before departure—I like getting places early, especially if they were unfamiliar. As the car filled up, I made myself smile at people. I promised myself before leaving New York to get out of my natural shyness and meet people. It was a Tuesday morning; most people wore business clothes. Suddenly, the train jerked, and we were away, right on time. A moment later, a forty-ish couple rushed to the two seats across the aisle. I said hello.

"Bonjour."

"Bonjour." In perfect French, the guy went on for several sentences, none I understood. I asked if he spoke English.

"Well, sure--nice to meet someone from the States. Where you headed?"

"To Paris."

"Cool. We live there. We just went to London to see some friends. You live in Paris?"

"No, just doing some traveling. I came on a freighter."

"My granddaddy used to cross on freighters--he liked them because there was nothing to do."