A Bullet Train to Germany
A peaceful, early morning cab ride to the Le Gare L’Est in Paris (Paris East Train Station), I grab a coffee and a pain du chocolate; what else in the world could be more perfect? It is a little before 8 a.m. in the morning, the sun is coming up in the east, casting a beautiful pink and orange glow over vast French farmland and vineyards.
My train is racing at over 250 km/hr, which is a little unnerving if you look out your window and focus on the blur of passing scenery, but you quickly learn to focus on the horizon. I am on my way back to Germany after a brief, but re-energizing stop in Paris. The previous day was spent in the crush of thousands of people on the Champs Elysee watching a bag pipe parade. This does not typically sound wonderful, but it was Paris in late summer, warm and familiar. The music was powerful and completely enticing. I arrived at 6:15 a.m. into Paris so I was able to drink in the early morning ambiance of my most favorite city.
As luck would have it, the World Cup of Rugby is in France at this very moment and my favorite team – The All Blacks of New Zealand (outside of Canada) was playing Scotland. So I rested my legs after hours of walking and standing during the parade and began, at once, exercising my left arm – lifting heavy pints of beer to my lips as I watched the All Blacks dismantle Scotland 40-0. There is nothing like watching the All Blacks Huka.
After sharing a pint with a local volunteer that is working for the World Cup, I walked to the Ponte Neuf (Old Bridge) and unfortunately I left my camera in the hotel, but I will never forget the sunset painting a perfect rose backdrop to the Eiffel Tower. Behind me the Louvre was glowing pink, and the ferris wheel was illuminated with its white lights. I just stood, completely still and speechless. I was standing in a work of art. There were couples all around me, kissing, holding each other during this perfect moment, and it was then I realized how happy I was not to have my camera. This was my moment and I will never forget.
I have a hard time finding the words for Paris. There is something so inspiring to me about this place. I could not wait one moment to begin writing about my feelings here; in fact, it came rushing upon me on this bullet train to Germany. Poetry seems to flow into my heart about her. What a city. I hate to leave her, but I know my return will be savory and sweet. Enchante my sweet, until we meet again.