The Taxi Ride

Finally, we were in the taxi, and on our way. I mentioned earlier, the driver staring at us, as I said the address over and over. As we drove, we realized this guy didn’t know the streets of Paris, at least not like he should have. He spent a majority of the time, with a book of Paris street maps, inches from of his face, as we changed lanes, and avoided the crazy motorcyclists. He was not only not French, but blind as well.

As we sped along, I chose to look out the side window. I decided if I was about to die, I didn’t want to see it coming. I saw many things looking out the window, and NONE of them looked Parisian. I was in shock. My surroundings were industrial and ugly...not old and romantic. We were on a freeway...not cobblestone streets. I was sure there had been some mistake. We were obviously headed in the wrong direction, the ugly direction...

Only murder or mayhem could ensue!

The taxi driver then began to talk on his cell phone, in Chinese, as he looked at the map, still in front of his face. I guess he called up a friend for help. I finally interrupted him, and told him the apartment was next to Sacre-Couer (a church) in Montmartre, in the 18th arrondissement. Surprisingly, considering my southern accent, he understood, and screeched across four lanes of heavy traffic, and exited the freeway. Scott and I didn’t say one word to each other the entire ride. We were just too exhausted.

We drove along, slower now. Still looking out the side window, I noticed lots of riff-raff, but at least the signs were in French and the buildings were getting older. Everything I saw was fascinating, but still, not the Paris I had dreamed about. I was about to give up all hope, when, I saw it...

Sacre-Couer! Like a huge mountain, the beautiful church rose up out of the ground. Closer and closer the church came into view. I knew we were on the right track...I pointed it out to Scott silently, and his expression said, "We just won the lottery!"

breath...

After the taxi driver drove around and around in circles, he got so frustrated, that he halted us to a stop.  He was trying to enter the tiny street our building was on.  It was a one-way street, and try as he may, he couldn't seem to enter it from the right direction.   He looked back at us, said something in French/Chinese, and suddenly, we were backing straight up a hill, on the tiny street, with cars parked on both sides. Finally he stopped, we paid, and got out. As he unloaded our bags, he was telling us all kinds of things, obviously frustrated. I think the gist of it was...”Don’t call me for a ride back to the airport.”

So...there we stood...on a cobblestone street...all alone...not a soul in sight. I could see the church looming over us, so I knew from my research, that we were at least close to our building. The air was damp and cold, and there were no sounds, except a lone horn honking in the distance. We stood there for a few seconds, looking around, completely in awe, but feeling completely lost, (top photo...our apartment building).

Then, the most wonderful thing happened. The most exciting thing that had happened since we left Florida the night before...

...we heard a voice, calling our name...