Number Four

In our last episode...

Scott and I were wandering around Charles de Gualle with no money and no hope.  I had just been told by a rather, okay...I’ll admit...snippy French woman, (who was tremendously stunning by the way), “Number four.”

As I walked back over to Scott, I was sick to my stomach.  How would I tell him that there was no answer to our dilemma?  As I walked across the way, I suddenly noticed something.  It was a huge number six, painted on the wall by a door to the outside.  If there was a number six, maybe, just maybe, there would be a number four!

With all confidence I told him we had to just keep walking until we saw a number four printed on the wall.  We walked and walked, and when we saw the number four, we felt like we had found Oz. As we approached, there it was, an ATM!  Eureka!

We got in the long line, behind people from many different countries.  Again, they all seemed to know the drill.  When it was finally our turn, we were so timid!  We gently inserted our card, and followed the directions as best we could.  Suddenly, I had a terrible thought!  Obviously, this machine would know we were using an American bankcard.  Wouldn’t the machine just “decide” that we wanted US dollars?  My mind was still not wrapped around the fact that we were on “french” turf.  

My stomach was in knots.  

As the machine clicked and hummed, it was like I was waiting on my first child to be born.  Much to my surprise and utter happiness, out came 500 EUROS!

The relief...the euphoria...I could’ve gotten back on the plane and come home, and really felt like I accomplished something.

Are you thinking I’m crazy yet?  This was only the beginning.  

We were the Ma and Pa Kettle of France!

By now we had been at the airport at least an hour.  With money in clinched fists, it was off to the taxis.  You don’t even want to know what my fear of taxi’s are...but of course I’m going to tell you anyway.

1. They are only out to over-charge you.

2. They are only out to take you to dark places, rob, and murder you.

I don’t know where I get this stuff, but it’s honestly what goes through my head.  I know it goes through your head too...admit it!

I had read in my guide book to make sure to get in the correct taxi line, that there are fake taxi’s sometimes at the airport. “Fake taxis?”  What kind of a country is this?  

     

We went to the “Taxi” exit, and even though none of the cars had official markings, we decided this had to be the official line.  Truth be told, we had/saw no other options.  We watched one by one, as taxis drove up, and whisked off the other tourists...

Finally, an Asian man drove up in a very small taxi, and asked us where we wanted to go, (call me crazy, but I expected him to be French).  We loaded our bags, and crawled into the backseat.  I gave him the address three times loudly, and he just kept staring. 

Snare!  

Just when we thought we would be leaving the airport....

P.S. Not really our taxi, and official taxis do have a light on top, just like in America.

All photos taken on the Champs-Elysees.