Authors: Shauna McGuiness
We grabbed our luggage, and Lulu pulled the
handle out of the top of her suitcase and began to wheel it toward the glass
exit doors.
“How do we get a taxi here?
I guess it’s the same as home.
We should find where they are—” I began.
“We’re not taking a taxi.”
“How will we get to the hotel?”
It wasn’t within walking distance.
I knew because I had already looked on a
map.
Even if it was, Lulu was not
someone who usually exercised more than strolling the length of the mall—and we
were in a place with which neither of us were familiar.
“We’ll take the bus.”
I did
not in a million years expect that answer
.
I don’t think Lulu had ever been on a bus in her life.
By some miracle, we followed the flow of people
and ended up at an Air Bus stop.
Lulu
rolled her ankles around, and I looked at her impossible high, shiny black
heels.
They had red and gold buttons
sewn all over them, like raised polka-dots.
Not walking shoes by any stretch of the imagination, but she was used to
wearing them.
Paris
was supposed to have mild summers, but it was unbelievably
hot outside.
What is going on here?
My
jeans suddenly seemed like the wrong choice of clothing.
Soft cotton stuck to my legs with
perspiration, and I noticed that most of the women around us were wearing
sundresses, shorts, or skirts.
That
memo had obviously never reached me.
Lulu paid for our ride with money that she had
exchanged when we were in the US.
We squeezed into the aisle and saw that there
weren’t any seats.
It didn’t seem to
bother my grandmother at all.
Our belongings
were squished into our bodies, and we were jammed against each other, like
sticks of bubblegum in a brand new package.
I was sweaty and tired, but it wasn’t a
terribly long ride, and Lulu knew where we needed to get off.
Pushing through the crowd and popping out the
door, we lugged our bags behind us.
***
We were standing in front of what looked like a
grocery store.
Wooden crates filled with
produce were out on the sidewalk.
Lulu
flipped her sunglasses up and looked around.
I was afraid that someone was going to try to steal our luggage, so I
put each piece on either side of me and let them rest against my legs. If
someone really wanted to snag our bags, I would be able to feel the attack.
I wasn’t sure how effective I would be at
fending off our attacker, but at least I was making an effort—and I knew that
my own special kind of force could keep our belongings where they were long
enough to freak someone out and send them scurrying.
Lulu pulled out her map of Paris and figured out where we needed to
go.
It felt vaguely like being on a trip
to an amusement park, as though we were looking for that killer roller coaster
that everyone had told us about and we wanted to ride.
Following her, dehydrated and shell-shocked, I
suddenly noticed that we were in... France!
It smelled
different
.
Looking down, I actually saw the
cobblestones.
I heard laughter and voices,
and they were all speaking… French!
Switching
my bag to the arm that was less sore, I determinedly followed my
grandmother.
She seemed to know where
she was going.
Wandering
up and down a few streets, we finally ended up
on Rue Berthollet, at the front door of the Hôtel de
Lutèce
. Burgundy curtains framed
the windows and deep red mahogany chairs surrounded the lobby.
This
is more like what I was expecting!
Striped gold wallpaper stretched from floor to
ceiling, and little elegant end tables perched near some of the chairs.
A man stood behind the front desk.
He had dark hair and heavy, untamed eyebrows,
and he was wearing a uniform:
burgundy
suit jacket, burgundy slacks, goldenrod bowtie.
My relief was instant when I realized that he didn’t sport a twirly mime
mustache.
“
Bonjour
,”
Lulu said.
“
Bonjour,
Madame. Comment allez-vous
?”
His
nametag said Henri.
“No”, said Lulu, not understanding that he had
just asked her how she was doing, “We need to check in to our room.
I am Betty Day.”
Betty was her real name.
I have only heard two people use that name,
my great-grandmother and my great-aunt.
It sounded strange to hear her say it.
“
Oui,
Madame Day
,” Henri said “Ere eet eez.
I have you on zee sird floor.
Let
me get zee keys for you.”
“Okay, uh,
merci
,”
she responded.
She pronounced it
mercy.
Handing her the keys, he offered for someone to
take our luggage.
She refused, and
walked to the elevator.
“We can carry them ourselves.”
"We
can carry them ourselves???"
What
ever happened to “delusions of grandeur?”
First the bus, now we have to drag our own luggage to our rooms?
Things were looking
grim.
***
On the third floor we found our number and
opened the door. It was a small, quaint room.
The walls were covered in blue flowered paper and the twin beds had
flowery bedspreads as well. All of the furniture was a cherry-colored
wood.
Our shower in the tiny bathroom
resembled the one in my parents’ RV.
It
was muggy inside.
No air conditioner!
Looking into a mirror hanging over the small
desk, I saw that my bangs were greasy and stuck to my forehead.
Sweat created a sheen on my upper lip, and my
lipstick had almost worn off.
The ring
of bright red around my lips looked gross.
I needed water.
Right now.
If the water gives me diarrhea (or is that
only in Mexico?),
I can figure out how to ask for Pepto in French.
I turned on the tap and cupped my hands.
The water felt wonderful, but tasted odd, sort
of metallic, maybe.
I just drank enough
to clear the dust out of my throat.
An annoyed voice called from the bedroom, “We
need to change rooms.”
“What do you mean?
I
like
this room.”
“Look out the window.”
Looking down, I saw the top of a business
building.
It was a one-story building—so
you could see the white, industrial looking roof, with dirty, murky puddles
covering most of it.
I guess this wasn’t the view of Paris she was
expecting.
Picking up our bags, we headed back down the
elevator.
“Excuse me, Henri,” Lulu announced.
Instead of calling him
Onree
, the way the natives would have, she just called him
Henry
.
“We need another room.”
“What eez wrong weez your room?”
Henri questioned, alarmed.
“I don’t like it, that’s what is
wrong
.”
She puffed up her small body in defense.
“
Oui, oui
.
Alright, let me see what eez available.”
He disappeared for a moment.
It was suffocatingly hot in the lobby.
I looked outside the large glass doors, and
sure enough, there was Paris.
Henri brought out a different set of keys and
made a trade.
We would still be on the
third floor, across the hall from our first room.
Trudging back over to the elevator with our
luggage (Henri didn’t even ask if we needed help this time), we found our new
accommodation.
It was basically the same
setup with a different view.
This time the view was of the side of a brick
building.
A brick wall.
Apparently, this would work for us.
***
Exhaustion sat on my chest like one of those
weird aprons that they make you wear when you get your teeth x-rayed.
I plunked down on the edge of my bed and
ended up lying spread eagle on top of the flowery comforter.
“You can’t just lie there!
We’re on vacation!”
Lulu yanked her suitcase up on her bed and
began pulling out all of her clothes.
“What are you looking for?”
“These!”
She beamed and held up a pair of white shoes.
I had a
pair of shoes like these when I was in seventh grade.
They were flats, with no heel, whatsoever.
Made of
some kind of synthetic material, with tops that
looked woven, they were as un-Lulu as un-Lulu could be.
Like white, wicker ballet slippers.
“And what are those?”
I asked, tentatively.
“They’re flats.”
“How did those flats get in your suitcase?”
“I packed them, of course.”
“What are you going to do with them?”
“I thought I would wear these while we are
here, so that I can do some walking.”
“Wow, okay.”
I sat up and looked at her.
“So let’s go and do some walking!”
I really,
really
didn’t want to leave my soft seat on the unfamiliar bed.
From across the room, I called my brush and
lipstick out of my purse.
Once they
reached my hands, I brushed my hair and reapplied my lipstick.
Paris’s
first impression of
moi
had to be
perfect!
“Okay, let’s go!”
“Let’s go!”
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know,” she smiled, with an impish look
on her face, looking much, much younger.
Staring at her for a moment, I used all my
mental strength to open up the door, and then waited for her to exit.
Turning to look up at me over her shoulder, she
said,
“You shouldn’t do that,” frowning,
“There might be cameras hidden somewhere around the hotel.”
Why wasn’t she so concerned about witnesses
when she was jonesing for pretzels on the airplane earlier?
I rolled my eyes at her and used the same
method to gently close the door.
It
automatically locked behind us.
The elevator brought us back down to the empty lobby.
I peeked around the corner and found a little
restaurant with ten or twelve small tables covered with white tablecloths.
Très
charmant
.
When I turned around, Henri was there.
“We serve only
le
petit déjeuner
,” he said.
“
Merci
,”
I responded, translating that they only served breakfast.
“
Ah!
Parlez-vous français
?”
he asked.
“
Un petit
peu
.
I, uh, took French in
school.
I’m sure my accent is terrible.”
“
Non!
Ce n’est pas terrible
!”
He smiled.
He was probably around forty years old.
“Eet eez unfortunate zat you did not arrive a few days sooner.
You and your
grand-mère
missed
all zee Bastille Day activities.”
“
Il fait t
rès
chaud
.
Is it always this hot here?”
“
Non
.
Eet eez hotter than eet has been in many
years.”
“Lucky us.”
I sounded forlorn, and he laughed.
Lulu was already outside of the glass doors.
“Enjoy your walk,” Henri winked, and opened the
door for me.