Paris sardines

There’s something magical about Paris no matter how many times you’ve been here. Coming from Lisbon where locals are still surprised to see asians and kids waved to us as if we were superstars, Paris is a cosmopolitan city where everyone seems to be on the go and people of all races walk the streets. Taking the train into town from the airport we got a little taste of french human cargo. The train was simple enough to take and tickets can be bought from the tourist info. Unbeknowned to us, the trains had not been running for two hours due to suicide. The result? We found new meaning for packed sardines and human cargo. People needed to get into town and could not wait anymore. At the following stops, when you think not a single person more could board, we were mistaken. Three more people pushed and shoved their way on. Doors bounced back and forth before it could close and ladies insisted there was still space. Until she realized there was no space for her neighbour’s feet. A land of tolerance, everyone took all this in style. A squished lady next to me joked about climbing onto my luggage and a man welcomed us to Paris. The same kind man could not exit once he reached his stop. No one dared lose their space on this precious train. The ladies who had squeezed their way started chatting through shoulders and laughed. I love their sense of humour. They even recommended we take the direct train next time. Noted madame. Merci beaucoup. When we got to our stop at St. Lazare, I didn’t have to walk. I literally rolled out with a smile and a thought. On the way back we are taking the airport shuttle. It was an experience like no other and adds flavor to the trip, but is one I need not repeat. Tout meme, j’aime Paris.

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