One Day You'll Find Me

Chapter Fifteen

I shifted in my seat as the train set off. It felt weird to be leaving. I didn't want to leave Venice. I didn't want to leave Carlo and Caprice and Antonio. I wanted to stay in the hotel room, continue to visit the bakery-cafe every morning, wander the streets, promenades, canals. I loved the sun sparkling on the water, the mouth-watering aromas drifting out of houses, cafes, restaurants, hearing the melodic languages being spoken all around, the people, the clothes, the shops. I loved the buildings, with all their bright funky colours and beautiful architecture. I loved the food... oh how I would miss it. And the thing that tied it all together was the atmosphere. I loved the feel of the city. I loved the long relaxing days. I loved everything about Venice. And now I was leaving it. 

I was sad to see it slowly fade from sight, sad to leave my friends behind... On and on it went. I was burying myself deeper and deeper in depressing thoughts. Rosina finally shook me, literally, and told me to snap out of it. We were on our way to Paris! To leave one amazing city behind and go to another, what more could I ask for? She thought it was a pretty good switch. She started talking about what we'd do, what we'd see. It didn't take long before I was getting into it myself. Clothes, boutiques, cafes, boulevards, arcades, mansions and their elegantly decked out interiors. Hotels and beautiful old buildings, such as the Notre-Dame. Museums, and the mother of all museums: the Louvre. The pretty streets, canals and bridges. The Sacre-Coeur. The Arc de Triomphe. And of course, the Eiffel Tower.

We'd been booked for the day train and the more scenic route that stopped in Milan and Zurich. They were supposed to be beautiful towns; I hoped we had the time to check them out. We certainly had the time to check out the reportedly breathtaking countryside on the way, with ten hours to kill. Ugh. Not my- or anyone's- idea of fun.

The day looked like it was going to be another nice one. The weather always seemed beautiful up here. I thought back to New South Wales and the constantly changing weather there. Wouldn't surprise me if the paddocks had been waterlogged for days. I pressed my face to the window to try to see the carriages behind and in front of ours. It was a long train- I counted about fourteen carriages, including the one we were in. And the view was indeed very pretty. I could just see the city of Mestre, then it was hidden behind hills and mountains connected to the Alps. Rosina started humming 'The Hills are Alive' in my ear. With a small smile, I turned around to face her. She pointed to the Alps in the distance.

"Maria and the children and the Captain crossed them on foot, remember?" She continued to hum the world-famous song.

***

The third time an announcement was made that we would be stopping in half an hour, I sat up straighter. Third time? That must mean we were nearly in Paris! I actually listened to the speaker this time, instead of drifting in and out. Yes, there was the spiel about collecting luggage, tickets and what-not. Saying they hoped we had enjoyed travelling with them, hoped we enjoyed our stay in the world's most romantic city. The woman went on to give some tourist information, like where were the best places to stay, eat, shop, etc. But I was tuned out by then. We were half an hour from Paris! Finally!

The ten hour journey had been alright for the first few hours. Then it got tiresome. We walked the length of the train multiple times, just to pass the time. The stopovers at Milan and Zurich weren't anything to speak of. We only had fifteen minutes to look around, as the other fifteen minutes had to be spent waiting in the station. The connecting train was scheduled to arrive after the first fifteen minutes, but was more likely to appear around a quarter of an hour after that, or anywhere in between. Since we didn't want to miss the train, we had no choice. It was really just enough time to stretch your legs, get some fresh air and a local coffee.

Gare de Lyon (the station) was just outside Paris' city centre. Our hotel, La Maison du Parc, was apparently about fifteen minutes from the station, and not much longer to walk. So we picked up our bags and off we went. I actually preferred walking. I'd become accustomed to it in Venice, and I felt it afforded you a better feel of the city. It was Spring, which wasn't peak season- thank goodness. I'd heard way too much to like the idea of coming at that time of the year. Being jostled constantly, waiting for ages to see something, tourists everywhere.... not my idea of a holiday. The street was typical Paris. The beautiful old trees in rows, the antique and shabby-chic look of shops, cafes with many a table outside. The architecture was all ornate metalwork, inlaid panels and big windows. All the signs were in beautiful decorative script. The lampposts actually looked like replicas from the Narnia movies. And the people... I sighed. I really was here in Paris!