Christian's Yearning

CH33

~ trouver son centre ~

After the third time, he eventually falls asleep still inside her; his face on her chest. There are dark circles under his eyes and stubble is growing on his face – has he not slept in over 24 hrs?

 ~0~

"Welcome to Paris. It is 9 am, local time, and 70 F. That is 21 C." The friendly pilot’s voice breaks through the silence.

They arrived at Charles-de-Gaulle airport a few minutes ago and taxi briefly at a terminal. Soon after that, they are in the check-in queue for passports. It is in one of the gates underneath the main area of Terminal 2E; only five people ahead of them and Christian is already getting inpatient. Ana suspects this is the shortest line there is.

Their surroundings are rather impressive. The roof forms arch after arch of glass panels and lights; the floors are marble and there are some areas that have red carpet though. Everywhere she looks there are glass windows several floors high.

The airport is busy, really busy. She recognizes French and English among many other languages spoken on the loud speakers giving directions to weary passengers. Some tourists looked lost, others forge decisively forward. She vaguely realizes how well organized her trip has been and the entrance to the country is easy. She does not feel the frazzle that air travel seems to always bring – is this how it is traveling with Christian or is it like this for all private plane passengers?

Once she steps out into Parisian soil, her first impression is the bustle and hassle all big cities seem to have. People walk, talk, and yell. Cars zoom by and sirens wail at the distance. As they drive through the city, architectural gems seem to pop at every other corner: a cathedral, a palace, a building, or simply a plaza. She particularly enjoys the statues and monuments that seem to pop out of nowhere. She wants to get out of the car and explore every single block, like she has done in New York – by foot.

As in New York, the traffic is bad; she does not know which one is worse. After all, the car she is in is honking and turning and going around and around streets that look like each other, just with worsening car jams. She decides the prize goes to Paris; there is no way she’ll venture to drive in this madness. They take the west route of Champs Elysee and pass by the Arc de Triomphe. Ana then decides to shift focus to the parks she sees along the way, there are people enjoying a walk, some children playing, and even some eating picnics at the parks – that may be something they should try, would Mr. Control-freak-on-vacation do a picnic… hummm one wonders?

After about ten minutes, they arrive at their destination. It is a narrow one way street that looks like it has been there forever; perhaps it is just very old. It has ancient cobble stone that has the sheen only many years and thousands of feet can give.

The place is not an apartment like Ana expected; it is more like a townhome and it is decorated with Mia’s ‘flare.’ There is large console in the entrance that must be antique or a very good reproduction. The ceiling is low, wood floors are dark wide planks, and the walls are of a deep yellow but there is a hint of other colors as well, white, red, orange. If she is not mistaken there is some green as well. She touches the walls, they are rough and solid undoubtedly it is plaster of some kind.

There is a seating room to one side which has a set of chairs that look like hands. One of the chairs has the middle finger sticking up, one looks like it is saying peace, and the other looks like the live long and prosper hand sign. Ana, however, likes the couch which has all four fingers stretched and the thumb is the seating area.

The wall art is abstract and full of color. It is full of color and random shapes to form an image hard to ignore and look away, it reminds her of Picasso.