On Tuesday, I drove my mother and sister to the airport -- a close-run thing, given the unexpected (by noone but me) traffic around Paris. But we got there with many minutes to spare, and I found a parking spot (on the side-walk) and the ladies got checked-in quickly. By all accounts, it was a long journey home, but they arrived safe and sound, warmed by memories of Miles and Lee.Miles and Lee, meanwhile, spent the day whipping themselves into a frenzy of anticipation: THE GAVINS ARE COMING TONIGHT!! Indeed, our friends Adam, Maureen and their kids Joey and Katherine, arrived in Chateauroux at 7pm for a five day stay.
The Gavins flew in a week or more ago, and having spent a few days in Paris, they decamped to London for five nights. They traveled from London to Chateauroux yesterday, and we will all leave today for a long-weekend in Boredeaux. (They have wine there? I'm shocked...)
It was great to see the Gavins at the train station. Clearly, it had been a long day for them, but as clearly, they have enjoyed their vacation, and the kids jumped about, twitching with tics of joy at being re-united. We took them back to our place in Arthon (they thought the journey ended in Chateauroux... ha!) and had a great dinner, debriefing each other on the events of the past four months.
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Just to relate one scene from the Gavin's journey from London to Chateauroux:
The EuroStar train from London arrives at Gare Nord in Paris. The train to Chateauroux leaves from Gare Austerlitz -- across town, but an easy, 10 minute cab ride. On most days.
Adam, Maureen and the kids have about 1 hour to make the connection. They catch a cab, the driver speaks no English, and for that matter, very little French, but by pointing at maps, guidebooks, and railway time-tables, Adam makes himself understood. The cabbie sets out towards Austerlitz.
But the traffic is terrible. Gridlock. Lots of police cars squeezing past, up on the curb in some cases, all heading in the same direction. Even the guys on scooters, who normally drive between the lanes imperiously, and seemingly, imperviously, have come to a stop.
The cab moves forward a bit, and then stops; then forward a bit, and stops. The cab driver, gesturing wildly, speaking unintelligibly, makes himself understood -- "This is not the usual Paris rush-hour... we may not make your train... sell me your wife and children...name a price."
After 30 minutes, the Gavins have covered about 5km of the 7km journey -- they've packed light enough that walking the rest of the way is an option, but their sense of Parisian geography is dicey... do they take a chance and head-out on foot? Dare they stay with the cab any longer? Decision time.
Man-of-action, Adam tells his clan, "All right, we're walking." (I can only imagine the look of incomprehension and indignation from Joey at this point... "let me get this straight: we're abandoning a perfectly functioning automobile to walk for 2km? I'm reading here... I've got my Gameboy going... you want me to do what?")
Dolling out pearls of encouragement to his kids, and waggling his two fingers at the cab driver to indicate "proceed on foot", Adam makes himself understood (alas, in the cabbie's country of origin, this gesture means, "That's a fair price, I accept your offer, you may have my wife and children; do you want them now or shall I bring them around?"). Train leaves in 25 minutes.
And so our heroes set out. They march past three blocks of immobile traffic, push through crowds of people on the sidewalk, ignoring "walk / don't-walk" signs (as is the way in Paris).
It's important to your correspondent that you have a clear mental image here -- a small caravan of Gavins, heads-down, suitcases in tow, Adam in the lead, Maureen and Katherine close behind with looks of concern, Joey lagging slightly, his head swiveling in search of bookstores and/or places to eat. Adam will not be denied -- he's squeezing past folks, "s'cuse me, s'cuse me, out of the g-dd--m way-Frenchie! Joey, keep up! Katherine, stop crying! C'mon!" Train leaves in 15 minutes.
And suddenly, they burst through the crowd and find themselves in a patch of open ground -- daylight! Thrilled, they break into a ragged sprint... "we're gonna make it!" Train leaves in 10 minutes.
I can only imagine the next few moments, and unburdened by actual facts, I'll weave a tableau largely based on how I hope it happened:
Joey, still on the lookout for a mid-day crepe or maybe a fresh baguette, notices a phalanx of policemen, dressed in riot-gear, arrayed on their right... "Hey, dad..."
Katherine, deeply concerned about their fate, should they miss the train, notices a rather large and unruly crowd on their left: a crowd of folks busily building a pile of trash and wooden pallets, some of whom are carrying bottles with rags hanging out the top... "Hey, dad, what are those..."
Maureen, still a bit unsettled by the looks she was getting from the cab-driver, and curious about what Adam and the cabbie were negotiating, notices the cops and the rioters simultaneously... "Holy s--t, Adam, you've lead us into the middle of..."
And Adam, spying the clock atop the train station, less than 100 yards away, is filled with hope... "We're gonna make it..." The train leaves in eight minutes.
All four realizations come crashing together in the collective Gavin-mind, and as one, they form-up, tightening their ranks, and in a stunningly graceful, swift parade ground maneuver, they wheel right, facing the riot police -- the last obstacle between them and the train (and, I might note, the closest protection from the rapidly forming riot on their left). Adam and Joey in the fore, heads lowered, Katherine and Maureen close behind, like half-backs following lead-blockers through the line -- they form a family-sized flying wedge and put on speed, surging towards the line of shield-and-baton-wielding, visor-and-helmet-wearing riot police.
The police commander is stunned. He came out today, expecting to face unruly Parisians -- but he now faces a more formidable foe, a foe bread of sturdy mid-Western US stock, a foe unified by a common goal, a foe unwavering in their commitment... in short, a foe which will stop at nothing until they reach their objective. He was not expecting this.
The police commander opens his command manual to page one, and reads aloud to his charges: "Surrender! Run away! Hide! We give up!" (Not sure how many pages there are in the commander's manual -- tomes on French military strategy tend to be slim.)
And so the police line parts, the Gavins pass through, triumphant. Flush with adrenaline, they make the last two blocks in record time... arriving with time to spare. (Joey: "Can we get a snack to eat on the train?")
Unbeknownst to Adam et al, in their wake, the rioters are also suffering a crisis of confidence. "Mon dieu! Did you see that, Jacques? Those four folks were crazed! What the heck can we do that compares with that? Maybe we should call this thing off... oh, hey, look, a cafe serving that smelly cheese I like... c'mon, let's go... yes, now... I'm hungry! It's lunch time anyway: you can't riot during the lunch hour." The mob, chastened by the example of the Gavins, dissolves in moments.
And, thus, the Gavins set out on the final leg of their journey to Chateauroux.
And if you don't believe it, click here. It turns out that the Gavins had gotten between the cops and a group of 10,000 French firemen -- on-strike, demanding a pay-raise, retirement with benefits at 55, and a dramatic reduction in the amount of open-flames and smoke in their work-place.
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All for now... we're off to Sarlat-le-caneda and then on to Bordeaux. Back on Sunday with pictures, hang-overs and more tall tales. Peace.
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