Our Arrival to Paris, France

Up Up and AWAY...

In October of 1977 my mother, father, and two sisters departed from Dulles International Airport in Virginia.  We were seated in First Class on a non-stop TWA Transatlantic flight bound for Paris, France.  We were very excited and somewhat nervous as we departed the United States to a foreign country across the Atlantic Ocean that would become our home for the next five years. Our biggest fear was the unknown and especially, not knowing the language or customs of a new country.  On the plane, our excitement level was flying high and we were in a celebratory mood.  As soon as we sat down, a flight attendant asked if we wanted a glass of champagne, my sisters and I looked at our parents and we got the nod of approval.  First Class accommodations were quite nice, they fed us the entire trip and the champagne never stopped flowing.  My mother ordered a bloody Mary and being that I had never had one before, I ordered the same.  After several cocktails, lobster, steak and complimentary fuzzy slippers, I quietly fell asleep with a smile on my face and several hours later, woke up in France.

When we landed at Charles De Gaulle Airport it was like we had arrived in a futuristic space station.  Everyone was speaking in a foreign languages, the smells were different, the people dressed differently, and I didn't understand a word anyone was saying.  The airport itself was of a modern design, it was like a science fiction movie, glass tunnels and tubular walkways that interconnected to other strange formations.  

As we exited the terminal gates we noticed three men in black business suits, one was holding up a sign that read, "Welcome Ambassador Torres". Well that's us.  Two of the men were from the U.S. Embassy and the third was a short red headed man who was our newly designated Chauffeur, Michel was his name. 

Outside, it was gloomy and rainy which I came to realize it was typical for this time of the year in Paris.  Because there were so many of us and the cars were small, we were split into two separate cars.  Mom and Dad were escorted into a black limousine with the two embassy employees and my sisters and I were herded into the smaller funny looking car.  The ride into the city was a bit on the wild side, there was no speed limit on the Peripherique (Freeway) and of course the guy who was driving, took full advantage of the high speeds and when I looked over at the speedometer, the needle was at its limit and when I looked out the window everything was a blur, Toto where not in Kansas anymore! What I did find interesting was that all of the automobiles looked very different from our cars in the U.S.  It was the first time I saw Puegots, Citrons, Audis and Saabs and mainly small model vehicles, all of other foreign auto makers.  

We thought were were going to be taken to the Ambassador's residence, but evidently there was a construction delay and instead we arrived at a five star hotel located in the heart of Paris.  The Meridien hotel was centrally located next to the Etoile (Arc d' Triomphe) and the famous Ave Champs Elysee and indeed was a posh establishment, it catered to elite guests and businessmen and now we were to become their new guests for the next three months.

Upon arrival, all five of us we were escorted to the top floor where the suites were located. We entered a large sitting room that was located in between our individual hotel rooms and there were more State Department officials from UNESCO to greet us.  The room was filled with flowers, a beautiful platter of cheeses, meats, fruits, drinks and candy, it made quite an impression on the newly arrived hungry, excited and tired Americans.

After all of the initial introductions and pleasantries, The State Department officials briefed our family on the do's and don'ts of our new surroundings, it was emphasized, we are guests in a foreign country.  Then the official business began and to my surprise, we were included in their briefing to my father.  They surrounded my father and began to update him on current issues foreign and domestic that he needed to be aware of by the time he arrived on the job. 

 Once the company left and we were alone, we were finally able to get comfortable. We were exhausted, overwhelmed and we desperately needed sleep, however, the men in black adamantly warned us NOT to go directly to bed in order to avoid "jet lag" instead, stay awake and acclimate to the current time but as hard headed Americans we didn't listen and we all found a bed or sofa and immediately fell asleep.

As if on cue, we all got up one by one and noticed it was dark outside.  Going closer to the large panoramic windows located in the suite, we looked out and were amazed to see for the first time, "the city of lights".

Since we were all famished and re-energized, my father said let's freshen up and venture outside for some real French food. Outside the hotel it was a whole new world.  We were not accustomed to being in a city environment with so much hustle and bustle.  In 1954 when my father was in the Army he had spent some time in Paris during an R & R visit.  As the resident expert, he instructed us to follow him and he even bragged that he knew enough French to get us around so not to worry, we were in good hands. We proceeded to follow the locals and Tourist's down the Champs Elysee walking past numerous outdoor cafes where locals were sitting curbside eating, smoking and sipping wine while immersed in deep conversation. 

Other smaller cafe's known as Tabacs were packed with people standing at bars drinking, smoking, and speaking loudly while waving their arms back and forth.  We passed movie theaters, high-end clothing stores, pharmacies, souvenir stores and one restaurant after another.  Finally, my father announced that we had arrived, we followed each other into a diner looking joint called "The American Cafe".  Of all places for us to dine on our first night in Paris.

The garcon (server), came to our table and nonchalantly rattled off a long winded non coherent sentence in gibberish or so we thought.  My father who claimed he spoke French, looked confused and lost but the diplomat that he was, confidently blurted out some words in what he thought was French.  The garcon rolled his eyes, exhaled a loud puff out of his tiny lips and gave my father a puzzled look.  Looking  quite unimpressed and frustrated he tossed a menu on the table and walked away.  We all looked at the menu and laughed because we couldn't understand anything he said. When the Garcon reappeared, he abruptly rattled something in French but all we could understand was "cheese burger and fries", my father smiled and held up 5 fingers, the Garcon smirked and walked away and I know he was thinking..."typical Americans".  That was a memorable first meal in Paris.