En route to Paris

May 18, 2010

Usually the Mitfahrgelegenheit (MfG)  in Germany is a service offered by students helping one another get inexpensively from place A to place B. For the price of gas, you can get almost anywhere while avoiding the chronically late and overcrowded German rail system. So I was surprised to discover when I left Dortmund for Paris over our Easter break that the MfG is a business, a clandestine system of vans transporting people huge distances for a mere $35 euros. On my own particular journey, there was a mixed bag of people from Tunisia, the Congo, etc. I sat next to a fascinating Algerian man who had worked in the pharma industry, and he entertained me en route with hair-raising stories of how the reps use all kinds of unsavory tactics to get doctors to eat out of the palms of their hands. Everyone caves in the end, he assured me, leading me to vow that  I would take nothing stronger than St Joseph’s children’s aspirin in future. This very successful retired salesman with houses in three countries had decided to take the gypsy van in order to save extravagant parking fees at Charles de Gaulle airport. The six-hour drive flew by, and the Congolese lady dropped me off at a convenient train station to continue on to Juvisy, which is where the houseboat on which I would spend the next five days was docked.

For those who have not had the experience, the play of sunlight on the water is reflected on the ceiling and on the walls of a houseboat. You wake up in the morning to bright sunshine streaming in through the portholes and feel movement when large boats pass, but for the most part, the boat is as roomy and comfortable as a regular apartment, and certainly infinitely more spacious than some NYC apartments I have visited, with the added bonus of occasional ducks outside your window. Perhaps it was the hypnotic play of light that kept me boat-bound during most of my stay in France, I do not know.

What I can say with certainty is that the rhythm of life in France revolves around food, and so after a long and leisurely breakfast of flaky croissants and fresh coffee, it was soon time to start giving serious thought to preparing lunch. On one of the few occasions where my French friend and I were going to venture into town, we caught an 11.18 train into the Notre Dame station. This put us in Paris just around – you guessed it!- lunchtime.

In pleasant company, lunch invariably takes two hours, if not three or more, and dinner was always a feast  - turkey, or even rabbit, accompanied by wine and rounded off by cheese and dessert. (I should note that I had never eaten rabbit before, and it was tender and delicious, especially with the simple but savory accompanying dish of cubed apples seasoned with herbes de provence).

On the day of our outing, Christiane and I wandered into a lovely place near the gardens of Les Halles, ate generous portions of moules marinieres, lingered over dessert and coffee, and did not depart until about 3 p.m., which did not leave a whole lot of time for sightseeing, as company was expected back on the boat for a celebratory dinner of couscous with all the trimmings. 

Though to some extent I regret not having seen more items on the usual tourist route, I feel quite strongly convinced that I absorbed the essence and rhythms of life in France far more than if I had climbed all the steps to the top of the Eiffel Tower or the Sacre Coeur, and back on my own in Dortmund I find I am missing heated conversations about art, life, and the importance of incorporating dandelion greens into one’s diet…

 About the Author : Tamara-Diana Braunstein brings us her stories from Senegal every week. She was born in Brooklyn, New York. She is a restless wanderer who earned an MA from the University of Freiburg and has worked in a youth hostel in the French Alps, a law firm in Montreal, the Metropolitan Museum of Art as well as in university press publishing. At the moment her home base is Dortmund, Germany after recently returning from teaching in Dakar, Senegal. You can follow learn more about Tamara’s experiences at her blog senegalschoolmarm.blogspot.com