Anyway, we took the local train from Geilenkirchen to Aachen, and then the Thalys (the high-speed train) from there to Paris, specifically the Gare du Nord station. How fast was that high-speed train? 300 kilometers per hour, or about 186 miles per hour. John, being the techie he is, brought along his bicycle GPS and we took a picture of it, just as it hit 299 kph. It did go to 300 kph, but there's a delay between pressing the button for the shot and the actual shot on my camera.
Oh, and it's a new camera--hooray! So I still have to get used to the way it works. It's a Panasonic Lumix DMC-TZ10, and more complicated than my old one, but does more as well. It has a lot more zoom as well as a macro function, so I am quite delighted with it.
As we traveled through the Belgium countryside, the skies grew darker and the clouds had a distinctly stormy look. The clouds I have seen here in the Tri-Border area of Europe are...different from what I often see in the Puget Sound area of Washington State. The clouds at home seem more uniform and solid; I'll see a sheet of clouds coming from the western marine section, or from the eastern mountain region, or perhaps a tall thunderhead that eventually makes its way over our house. But the clouds, even when they are scattered clouds, often have defined edges, whereas here in this area of Europe, they seem fringed along the edges, often circling around a central core of a large storm cloud. These fringed clouds seem..."troubled" is the best way I can describe it. If I were to see some of these clouds circling around a central core of a large storm cloud in the Midwest U.S., I would be wary or at least very uneasy, because it would spell a pretty horrendous storm, perhaps even one with a tornado ready to sprout.
But then, the U.S. has 75% of all tornadoes, and this is Europe, where tornadoes almost never happen...or so I thought. I looked it up and found that we live in Western Europe's "tornado alley"; in fact, the horrendous storm on July 14 (in which I was caught while grocery shopping) ended up with more than a couple of tornadoes taking out a church and ripping the roof off a grocery store, in addition to some fatalities in a town two hour to the north. Yikes!
Okay, so, end of weather geekery. :-)
Even so, we did hit a particularly heavy storm, and such was the speed of the Thalys train that the raindrops streaked completely horizontal lines on the train windows. Here is a picture of the Belgian countryside, when the clouds were only beginning to gather themselves into a storm. Very flat landscape, and not at all like the mountainous horizons of home.
After a few hours, we arrived at the Gare du Nord train station in Paris. Now to get to our hotel! I was prepared. I had my map of the Paris Metro, I had our hotel marked on the map, as well as the subway train lines marked; only two lines and a short walk to the hotel. I went to an information kiosk and got our Paris Visite passes.
However, just to make sure, I flagged down one of the station's information guide people, and asked him; I wanted to be sure I got on the right subway train. Well, it seemed I didn't have it quite right; he helpfully informed me the correct lines to take to our hotel.
I am glad I have become used to walking in Germany, because we ended up going up and down a multitude of stairs (especially since what escalators were there were not working) as well as hallways and transferring from one train to another, for what seemed to me to be an hour. Poor John manfully carried both our one suitcase as well as his backpack, no doubt glad we packed lightly.
We did pause a little as I took a picture of some architecture (a branch of the Sorbonne University). We finally emerged above ground, and then trekked another 4 or 5 blocks, guided by yet another map, and finally our hotel!
We checked in, retrieving our room key from the young man at the desk, who seemed to have an air of knowing ennui as only the French can. :-D John went up the elevator to the 3rd (what we would call the 4th) floor, while I walked up, because the elevator was only large enough to accommodate John, the backpack, and suitcase. Once we got into the very small room, we thankfully collapsed on the bed and discovered that John's legs stuck out about 4 inches past the end of the small double bed. It was a good thing, I reflected, that the bed didn't have a foot board, otherwise my poor hubby would have been cramped.
After some rest and after putting our clothes in the very small closet (good thing we traveled light), we decided to get some supper. We had noticed more than a few restaurants and cafes as we walked to our hotel, so it was a matter of walking around and picking one. I picked a cafe that was close by--not wanting to do more walking than we already had that day!-- and we sat at table outdoors, just under an awning, as it was a mild day, although there were gray clouds above. Even though John asked whether I wouldn't prefer a fancier restaurant to go to on my birthday, I was quite content with this one, as I was sure the food would be good (in Paris, how could the food not be good?), and it was close to the hotel, therefore not as much walking as there would be if we went farther out.
I didn't remember what we ate. Part of the reason was that I was too busy looking about me, and doing a bit of people-watching. There was a couple of pretty French girls sitting outside in their early 20's, closer to the restaurant than we were, and I surreptitiously noted their style. I don't know how it is, but if anyone else had had frizzed fluffed light brown hair barely reigned in by a bandanna and very dark eyeshadow, they would have looked odd, but this young lady looked artistic instead. They were joined by some young men who seemed to be friends of theirs--not lovers; there was not that air about them, but just friends who had noticed they were sitting there and decided to sit and chat.
The other reason was...unfortunate. As we were finishing the dinner, the French girl with the frizzy hair got up and left, and suddenly I heard a scream. I turned to see the girl down on the ground in front of a car, and then she stood up and staggered, wide-eyed, back to the restaurant, only to fall once more. She'd been hit by the car! For one moment I sat frozen, then stood and moved my chair and table back, as did John, to give the quick-acting Parisians around her room to maneuver. They attempted to move her--wrong thing to do!--but a gentleman waved them away and took a coat that was offered and covered her up. He examined her head, and though she tried to get up again, he made her stay still. The girl's friend began crying and petting her cheek, and one of the young men who had joined them was on his cell phone, no doubt calling the ambulance.
I wished badly there was something else I could do, but the medically-inclined gentleman seemed to know exactly what to do, so we could do nothing but pray she would be all right. The grizzled middle-aged maitre d' came to see what could be done, and he must have seen my distress, as he patted me on the arm and said some comforting words. "Pauvre petite mademoiselle!" I said, trying to convey my concern, and the man patted my arm again and said the ambulance had been called, and all would no doubt be well.
Much sobered, John and I paid our bill, and went back to the hotel. I could tell John was much disturbed by this, but we had done as much as we could in that moment, and that was to help move the tables and chairs so that any medical crew that came there could get to the poor girl easily. I was worried that I did not hear sirens as we left, but perhaps my sense of time was skewed and only a few minutes passed between the time the call was made and when we arrived back at our hotel.
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