Chapter 2b WAY Over the Bounding Waves via Alitalia

On Sept. 14, Team Jeanne&Madonna moved out to Logan Airport, Boston. This maneuver had been practiced many times over the last few years on those “bargain deal” week-long jaunts to Paris in February and April visits with student groups in tow. After a 2 hour ride with our chauffeur (Jeanne’s husband Bob, who generously got us out of town) we arrived at Logan, suitcases bulging with a month’s worth of vital stuff. 

Although previously we had been spoiled by those bargain deals with Air France, sadly no such deal was in the offing last spring when the die was cast and the tickets were purchased. Lacking that, we chose Alitalia and found that the luxuries of Air France were a thing of the past. No free champagne, no little menus to ponder during take-off (instead of pondering that funny little noise in the engine), no bottomless red wine glass at dinner, no conning the steward into stealing glasses of digestif from the first-class compartment. The Italian stewards were tough characters  - totally immune to Madonna’s wheedling. Somehow I thought that Italian cuisine included good coffee, but our morning cup of joe consisted of a half inch of black coffee in the bottom of the cup - and that was it. No refills. Hardly made a dent in my caffeine withdrawal symptoms - nor did it convince cramped bodies and sandy eyes that it was indeed 7am, not 1am, and that we had “slept”.


Lest you think that all was bad with Alitalia - au contraire - there was the misting event. As we were waiting to take off, we noticed smoke near the ceiling of the plane. No one else was grabbing their emergency cards looking the steps to deal aircraft fires. In fact it was water vapor. Mist, as in the produce department at Price Chopper. So we relaxed like good little cabbages and enjoyed our spa treatment.

And then came our post-flight reward. We arrived in Paris, wound our way through baggage claim & immigration and found the airport café for our first real French coffee and croissants. Thus fortified, we were off on the RER commuter train to the 10^th arrondissement of Paris. Then came the tricky part - getting out of the subway station without hauling those too-big suitcases up flight or flights of stairs. The Gare du Nord had an VERY slow creaky elevator so that was OK. Then it was off on a march to the hotel - not quite the “two-and-one-half-mile” hike but one that included circumventing café tables, crottes de chien (hint: chien means dog), and at one point an encounter with a long staircase down where our map showed a street. Ah, careful map-reading is so important.

The - Glory Be - we found, not a rocky field, but our beautiful Hotel Villa Saint-Martin. 

Situated next to the even more beautiful Canal St. Martin. 

And also, 

http://www.google.fr/search?q=canal+st.+martin+paris&hl=fr&biw=1366&bih=728&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=In2FTtvdOcbI0QXA5d0D&sqi=2&ved=0CGYQsAQ

If you like these, there are many more at  the link above.

From there we wended our way through Burgundy, Franche Comté, and finally arrived last Sunday to Alsace where we pick up the trail of the 409.

One addition to the “WAY over the Bounding Waves” story is that we picked up Mad’s eldest brother Charlie at the Strasbourg airport last Monday. He is Charles Leo Meagher Jr. (Pronounced MAR as in MARch). 

Of course with the recent downturn in airline ticket prices, he was able to pick up an Air France ticket at a very good price. We are insanely jealous. But the good news is that he brought an giant economy size bottle of Alleve so we can recover from that long, uncomfortable flight to Paris via Rome. 


The 409 landed in Marseille after their journey across the Atlantic. We considered starting our French journey in Marseille, but decided not to do so for three reasons. One, the 409 did not stay there very long. Two, the excursion to the south of France just for the sake of historical accuracy would have been expensive in money and time. And three is that we have been there before. But to offer you readers an image of that wonderful city called the "Chicago of France", I attach the following photo of the Vieux Port, the old port.

On our visit to Marseille a few years ago with friend Jane we stayed in a hotel on the right side of the port overlooking the water and the fish market. For my favorite images EVER of Marseille, check out the following link to the movie trailer for "Fanny". When I was an overly romantic teenager with dreams of going to France one day, this movie was one that fed my dream. And I still think that Horst Bucholtz is dreamy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WI0bHn9pGYw


Lazy Madonna is going to sleep so there will be no proof-reading of this post. I apologize in advance.