Saturday, March 20, 9:00 a.m.I lifted the window shade and saw the Seine snaking through the countryside and plumes of smoke from stacks unmoving and tricking me into thinking they were some kind of statues for a moment.
The land is cut up into irregular squares, verdant and earthy red with clusters of buildings at some of the corners, communities or country roads.
As we near the end of the flight, patches of unfarmed land grow bigger, the clusters of buildings get bigger and more uniform, the country roads widen and become more silvery and the river comes around the bend like a long shiny green snake. On the opposite bank, buildings congregate at the water like pigeons waiting for something that may never come. And the landscape turns industrial.
The plane tips to the left and the bright morning sun pours in and warms my face and melts the frost on the outside of the window.
Traffic circles! Cars and trucks creep by on an eight-lane highway like busy ants. {??} shapes in a bright green patch - is that a golf course?
The river and the tightly packed houses in its elbow, red roofs and windows catching the sunlight, winking up at me as if to say, "We are here!" and "Look at me!"
A sewage treatment plant with a canal running off of the river; here the green water turns oily black. Several tall buildings in the distance poke up through the haze. Nearer, apartment buildings zigzag through the streets like block letter Ms and Ls.
A farm - two patches of red, three of green - looks out of place next to the jagged terrain. And then more farmland, with a commuter train cutting through it, then a factory, where the farmland turns dull sand-colored and eighteen-wheelers {actually ten-wheelers in France} wait in a parking lot. This gives way to the airport - Charles De Galle. Landing.
Bon jour, Paris!
--
The airport was very quiet. In fact, the only thing I heard was my traveling companion saying over and over how quite the airport was.
The land is cut up into irregular squares, verdant and earthy red with clusters of buildings at some of the corners, communities or country roads.
As we near the end of the flight, patches of unfarmed land grow bigger, the clusters of buildings get bigger and more uniform, the country roads widen and become more silvery and the river comes around the bend like a long shiny green snake. On the opposite bank, buildings congregate at the water like pigeons waiting for something that may never come. And the landscape turns industrial.
The plane tips to the left and the bright morning sun pours in and warms my face and melts the frost on the outside of the window.
Traffic circles! Cars and trucks creep by on an eight-lane highway like busy ants. {??} shapes in a bright green patch - is that a golf course?
The river and the tightly packed houses in its elbow, red roofs and windows catching the sunlight, winking up at me as if to say, "We are here!" and "Look at me!"
A sewage treatment plant with a canal running off of the river; here the green water turns oily black. Several tall buildings in the distance poke up through the haze. Nearer, apartment buildings zigzag through the streets like block letter Ms and Ls.
A farm - two patches of red, three of green - looks out of place next to the jagged terrain. And then more farmland, with a commuter train cutting through it, then a factory, where the farmland turns dull sand-colored and eighteen-wheelers {actually ten-wheelers in France} wait in a parking lot. This gives way to the airport - Charles De Galle. Landing.
Bon jour, Paris!
--
The airport was very quiet. In fact, the only thing I heard was my traveling companion saying over and over how quite the airport was.
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