We were not particularly looking forward to the act of travelling to Paris, what with the drive to the airport, the waiting in lines, the passage through security, the waiting to load and, of course, the flight itself. But everything went perfectly, absolutely perfectly — we timed our trip to the airport perfectly, the plane was exactly on time, the flight crew was wonderfully friendly, the food passable, Suzie and I were seated separately from the boys. Everything was grand, except for one thing: The seats were brutally, ridiculously, tortoriously small. I’ve flown a fair amout, international, domestic, puddle-jumpers, the whole sheebang. But this was the smallest, most cramped, most uncomfortable, confined, rigid, airplane seat ever. Small to the point of being unreasonable. This was an Air France flight, and you’d assume that the EU with its myriad of regulations would have outlawed places this small. I tried to take a picture with the Droid to give a sense of it — sitting straight up, trying to make my upper legs as short as possible (no easy feat with the bone thing), my knees still touched the seat in front of me, and that was before the person in front of me reclined.
Perhaps such a small seat could be appropriate for a short flight, but we were sitting on the plane, between loading, flyging, and landing, for over 11 hours. And not only was the seat small north and south, it was narrow, so narrow that I couldn’t access the controls on the armrest, had not an inch to scoot left or right. It was, in a word, unacceptable. No 6 foot 3 inch person should be forced to sit in such a confined space for 11 hours, particularly when they are going to try to be sleeping. I don’t know if every seat on this plane (a Boeing 747-400) was this small; ours were two seats which had, in front of them, a large space (of course) for an emergency exit, and seemed to be pushed back a bit to accommodate that. Anyway, the point is, it was horrible. Sleep was next to impossible, over the flight, maybe, at best, we got 2 or 3 hours of intermittent, fitful dozing. A bad, bad, bad flying experience, the worst ever … and only because the the seat.
So here’s what we looked like upon arrive at CDG.
Ugh. And the seat wasn’t the only hang up. Our last piece of luggage was the very last one off the plane, and the luggage didn’t arrive until about 30 minutes after the plane landed (not surprising since the luggage collection place was about 1/2 mile away from the gate.
There was also the now rather normal-seeming experience with the Paris Shuttle, which seems consistently incapable of arriving at the airport on time. This time, too, we were forced to wait about 45 minutes before our pre-arranged transport arrived; when it did, we were crammed into a van with 5 other people; Will and I had a cozy ride in the front seat with the driver (I didn’t know European vehicles had bench front seats anymore, but this one did).
The good news — we were in Paris!
When we finally got to our apartment in Levellois, we were exhausted. But the travel books, as well as our prior experience, told us that we needed to get out and walk around to combat jet lag, so that’s what we did. In a way, it was like a homecoming for us; the first time we came to Paris, we also stayed in the same suburb (Levallois-Perret) at the apartment of the same family (the Mechalis, who the first time we did a house swap with, but this time graciously let us stay in their place while they were vacationing in the States). So it seemed very familiar to us. We first walked through a very pretty park near our apartment:
Then went down by the Seine, which flows northbound on the western border of Levellois. There are nice houseboats, on of which has been turned into a restaurant.
Hungry then, we skipped the expensive restaurants and found a small semi-take-out place, staffed by a wonderfully friendly woman, with excellent food, including healthy salads, which cost us, drinks included, 24 euros, which isn’t much more than we’d spend at a fast food place in the states. We ate outside on a pleasant plaza and afterwards all felt much better (the kids, who had been complaining about going outside, finally rallied at this point.
After eating, it was about 5 p.m., and we decided to continue our anti-jet-lag excursion by taking the Metro into the city. Ostensibly our goal was to find SIM cards for our portable phones, but mostly we just wanted to walk around. We took the 3 line to Opera, got off, and walked around the Grandes Boulevards. Suzie bought a map,
and we were treated at various times to surprising views.
We never found a SIM card (too many people at Orange, and the store next door, an enormous electronics store, didn’t have any either, that’s on tap for first thing this morning, so we came home, got some groceries (Nutella, wine, and brioche bread, definitely eating healthy), watched a little TV (including Tour de France highlights) and eventually went to sleep. By the time we sacked out, we’d been up for 31 hours straight, less the few fitful hours of sleep in the torture seat. Given everything, I feel pretty good. It’s 11 am or so Paris time, and we’re about to go out and explore another day.
Categories: Travel -- France
Tags: 747, Air France, Levallois-Perret, Orange, seat