BEAUTIFUL PARIS

THE EIFFEL TOWER, BUILT AT THE END OF THE 19TH CENTURY. IT HAS BECOME THE VERY SYMBOL OF THE CITY


A few minutes later, the train stopped in a little village with old, farmers’ looking houses in the surrounding hills, and only a few old buildings besides the also very old train station. It looked to me like one of those little villages you see surrounding toy trains’ displays, except that this one was for real, and it was located somewhere in Germany. Something did not quite seem real to me. As the train started to slow down, the man with the typical railroad’s man’s cap abruptly took my suitcase in his hands and signaled to me that I should follow him. He got me down the train and spoke a few words with a man standing at the train station, he was wearing a train uniform and he was the only person in an otherwise desolate place where time seemed to have fully stopped. A couple of minutes later, the train was whistleling good bye and I was left in the train station with the only man in it, a man who did not speak any of the languages I could communicate with. It really started to get kind of spooky to me.
It must have been around noon time in this beautiful sunny and still kind of cool day at the end of the Spring of 1972, the man in the station was showing me a map and trying (I guess) to tell me what had been wrong and why I was left in this place in the middle of nowhere, but there was no way I would catch a word of what I was hearing. I just sat in a bench in the open area where I was left by the train and started to wonder what to do, then, about half an hour later I heard the whistleing of another train coming from the other side, and I thought that maybe I could get some help from people coming in it. The train stopped only for about two minutes and only one person got down from it, it was a blond, good looking young man in his early twenties who was carrying only a small suitcase just like mine, he looked American to me. I approached this young man and spoke in English to him; his answer was in a perfect American English and I felt so much relieved he should have noticed it in my face. “Where are you from”, he asked to me, and I answered “I’m from Guayaquil, Ecuador”. The man’s face turned incredulous and said “you’ve got to be kidding me, It can’t be true”, you are not from Ecuador”. Surprised as I was because of the young man’s reaction, I said “no, I’m not kidding you, I’m really from Ecuador and I had just began my vacations I Europe”. The man’s face now turned very amicable and said “O, my God, this is incredible, you know why?” I said “why”, and he said “because I’m from Quito, I mean I was born in Quito, Ecuador, and I’m the son of an evangelic missioner stationed in Quito, and I’m an evangelic missioner myself, my father is the man heading the evangelical mission in Quito, Ecuador, and the head of the short band radio HCJB which can be heard anywhere in the world”. We both laughed and wondered how small this world is. Immediately threafter my new friend spoke in German with the man in the train station and found out for me that I was actually in a small village in East Germany, that I had no permission to enter the Country and that I needed to take a train back into West Germany, which I did about 30 minutes later. As the girl in the counter in Amsterdam had said, I was supposed to change trains in Köln (Colony) but I didn’t and I had continued in this train that was heading towards Leipzig, in East Germany, a country which neither my Eurorailpass allowed me to enter, nor my passport allow me to visit. I said good- bye to my Ecuador born friend and immediately I took the train going back into West Germany. A few hours later I arrived in Frankfurt where I visited Jerry Windham’s in-laws for 24 hours and then headed to Paris which I visited for five days.

NOTRE DAME, RIGHT OFF THE SEINE RIVER
IS AN ICON OF THE CITY OF LIGHT

Paris, a city which is more than 2,200 years old, was originally populated by the Gauls, the indomitable tribe which refused for years to bend to the Romans. The Gauls had settled there between 250 and 200 BC and founded a fishing village on an island in the river that is known now as the Seine. The city was known as Lutece (Lutetia), in ancient times. After bitter fighting, Paris was conquered by Julius Caesar in 52 BC, and existed as a regional center under the Romans and in the early middle Ages.

Paris, known as the City of Light, the city with so much history and so much culture, it is the city of Victor Hugo, of Napoleon, of Robespierre, of Luis the XIV, of la Bastille, the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre Museum, the Champs Ellysées, the Palais de Versailles, L’ Arc du Triomphe, the Cathedral of Notre Dame, etc. It is also a city of classic and modern entertainment, and of the greatest dinning in the world. The Lido and the Moulin Rouge are two of the best showplaces in the world and the Maxim’s has the reputation of being the best restaurant in the world (I didn’t dare to go eat there, out of fear I would have to end up washing dishes). I had a great time in Paris, not only from the touristic and entertainment points of view, but also from the cultural and historical perspective. I spent a full 12 hours at Louvre. With the exception of the Metropolitan Museum in NYC, I had not visited such a great collection of art and history in my whole life. Looking at the Gioconda alone took me more than 15 minutes. I walked the Champs Ellysées all the way from Louvre to L’ Arc du Triomphe, and, from there I walked back to the Lido and watched their magnificent display of lights, magic and, of course, some of the most beautiful women in the world , all of this while drinking Champaign and dining only six feet away from the show. It really looked like I was watching a 3D show.
After this, my first visit, I became a Paris fan, only New York City has the same appeal to me.

I have returned to Paris several times since, and every time I’m there, I feel this inexplicable sensation of being in a familiar place, I feel it like a place I have known from another life, perhaps even from the times of Cossette, Jean Valjean and his indefatigable pursuer Jabert. Paris is and it will always be, a place I feel deeply attached to, culturally and sentimentally, and I will go back to as many times as I can afford, always with the never letdown expectation to have a great time. During my visit to Paris, I was able, much to my own amazement, to speak French, a language I learned a bit of when I was at The Seminary in Riobamba at the age of 13. Later on, I took some French language classes at The Alliance Françoise in Guayaquil where one of my classmates was my dear old friend and an avid reader of my blog, Pepe Salame. Not being able to speak French, or at least let myself be understood in French any more, is one of my greatest frustrations, so much so, that I still think I will return to a French Language school some day in the near future. I just love the French Language, especially when I hear it spoken by a bveautiful and young French girl. It really sounds like music to my ears.
In my next posting: ITALY, HISTORY AND ART