Tipsy Train, Take Two

Sorry, readers, the service which send out our blog via e-mail was out of order, so when I posted a new blog entry today, it didn't go out to you.

To see that message, go to http://hisandhersparigi.blogspot.com/and just scroll down past this message until you see the photo and the "Tipsy Train" title.

Enjoy!
Josh

Tipsy Train

Fret not, dear readers, the blog lives on! To paraphrase Mark Twain, the rumors of its demise were greatly exaggerated. We plan on continuing to write periodically about our “we resume the previously scheduled program, already in progress” old/new existence here in DC. And we're hanging on to the “hisandhersparigi” name, just out of convenience, a synonym for laziness. Once in a while, though, I'll dig into the archives and haul out anecdotes from our time in Paris that still bear retelling, even months later. Today's entry is a funny story “from the Paris vaults.”

In late January, I surprised Sara with tickets to visit Annecy in the Alps. I'd visited Annecy (a lovely lakeside town, with a ring of mountains visible just beyond the lake) ten years earlier, but the fog was so thick that day that you couldn't see the lake, let alone the mountains. I wanted a second chance to see Annecy's beauty, Sara and I hadn't been anywhere near the Alps yet, so off we went. One of the little things I like best about Sara is that she's a good travel food planner. She thinks ahead, realizes that travel takes time, and that the food you get can while traveling is usually crappy and bad for you. So, regardless of whether we're traveling by plane, train, or car, she always packs excellent travel picnics.

In France, these picnics almost always included wine. I have to admit, even after all these years, it's still hard for me to check my puritanical American instincts at the door, so the idea of popping a wine bottle in the airport or on a train still makes me nervous. Not nervous enough to not do it, of course...

So, there we were, with our Alpine sausage, cheese, bread, and, yes, wine spread out across a little table on the train. A conductor passed by, saw what we were doing, slowed down a bit...then just kept going. About fifteen minutes later, he came back, and walked right up to us.

He said, “When I walked by earlier, I noticed that you had plastic cups.”

The cups were still on the table, so there was no point in denying things. “Yes,” I said.

“Well,” he continued, “my colleague and I brought a bottle with us, but since the restaurant car is on strike, we have no glasses. Since we see you have extras, would you mind giving us two?”

Realizing immediately that I suddenly had the upper hand, I joked “Sure, in exchange for two round trip train tickets.”

He laughed, and said that he didn't think that would be possible. So I counter-offered: “We'll do it for two glasses of whatever you're drinking.”

Looking me in the eye to see if I was serious (which clearly I was), he hesitated, and then motioned me to follow him. I told Sara I'd be right back, then followed the conductor the length of two train cars before he pulled out his janitor-worthy keyring and unlocked a nondescript door. He walked into a narrow cabin that was seemingly like a teacher's lounge, but for conductors. His colleague did a big-time double-take when he saw that his co-worker had brought back not just the needed cups, but also me. In hushed tones, our deal was explained, as was my special status as a French-speaking American.

The set-up apparently passed muster, because the bottle emerged from the fridge—a square bottle of store-brand muscat. I put out four glasses, but three were poured, and the conversation began. Over the next half hour, we talked about how much of an idiot Bush was (as common as discussing the weather in France), the train wreck (pun intended) of the President Sarkozy/Carla Bruni romance, whether or not a woman could be a good US president, US perception of the previous year's French suburban riots, Corsica, the importance of quality cooking ingredients, and Southwestern wine recommendations.

Periodically, one or the other of the two conductors would leave the room, presumably to undertake some unavoidable conductor task. Over the course of the conversation, we made quick work of the bottle of sweet, strong (double normal wine alcohol concentrations), cheap wine. When the wine dried up, so did our conversation, so I shook the gentlemen's hands and excused myself so I could return to check on Sara.

When I got back to Sara, she was both amused and amazed by my story. Since her dad worked for the railroad, her mind immediately turned to the safety implications of drinking conductors. But, lest you think that the conductors and I were the only tipsy ones on the train, since Sara is not a conductor, when left alone with the wine from our picnic, she had ended up polishing off the rest of our bottle while I was gone.

As we got off the train, I couldn't help thinking that this was the immaculate “snapshot of France” anecdote. It featured wine, rulebreaking (maybe by Sara and I, definitely by the conductors), social action (the strike by the restaurant car that triggered the whole incident), deep and wide-ranging conversation, and quality transportation options. Oh, and fashion, since you can't properly picture this situation without realizing that recently the French government paid fashion designer Christian Lacroix to redesign train conductor uniforms.

Somehow, this incident just wouldn't have been the same in the US. Monosyllabic awkward conversation over Night Train (pun intended) with a polyester-clad Amtrak employee just lacks...a certain je ne sais quoi.

Josh

Voila: Finally, photos!

Greetings Everyone,

At long and merciful last, I have finished putting together the official photo album from our year in Paris. Check it out at:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/7531775@N04/collections/72157604937826054/

You'll see three subsets: one with "artsy" photos, one with "people" pictures, and one with "touristy" photos. Pick your preference. (Note: if you don't see the "people" pix, let me know, I'll need to "authorize" Flickr to show them to you...)

I know that there's a lot of photos, but we were there for over a year. Flickr makes them easy to scan, in any case. And to put everything into perspective, I took a total of 11,851 photos, which I narrowed down to 2,689 "Best of" pictures, and then 712 "BOBO" (Best of Best of) photos, which you'll see on the site.

I'm proudest of the Artsy photos, most people like the People pictures most, but I hope you enjoy them all!

Thanks,
Josh