THE FIRST TANGO IN PARIS

ThMost of my leisure travels overseas have been dove-tailed with official tours. This meant all little details can be attended to as help from colleagues  and the organisation  is available. When my son and me decided to travel to Europe and London, the factor that kept me tensed was the fact that the management has to be done by me or my son.  We researched well and he slowly took the lead . Things like hotel bookings, internal travel and decisions on the local itinerary    was finalised after evaluating various options using the world wide web . Mostly by him.
Since he worked for the airline , I had a seat which was a 2 seat config . and both of us quickly settled down as we travelled light. The A 380 is a nice aircraft, thoughtfully designed and provided for WiFi access through the flight and offered good entertainment and information channels. Morgan Freeman's absorbing episodes of "Through the wormhole" kept me occupied and then after some lovely old country music I dosed off to sleep.
Freezing cold of about 5 degrees and a slight drizzle greeted us  as we alighted at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. The airport looked as old as de Gaulle  himself would have been and was no match to our T2 in Mumbai. But that was soon made up by the over courteous  staff  putting us through immigration in quick time.
We took the metro into town and our hotel. During our research , we realised it was the best and fasted commuting method in this lovely city. Right through our stay, aided by some excellent signage and superb maps, we mastered  the  way one can travel in Paris using the metro. Stops like Barbe's Rouchechouart, Place de Clichy  and St Lazare , its pronunciation and routes like M13, M2 were mastered so much so that we did guide a couple of ladies once. Gracias!
We managed to look up few of the famed and "must visit" places using the hop on and off bus. Another convenient method to hit the tourist trail. Aided by  very good maps. Our focus was the great architectural marvels like the cathedrals, the Eiffel and the astounding collection of medievalist, distinct 13th to 15th century  rennaicence  paintings , sculptures and art forms in the Lavure.  Names sprang out of history books.  Events , men and women , sprang to life as one stood mesmerised by the richness and beauty of European culture. The several imposing structures  , mainly  influenced by Gothic  architecture,  that housed the kings and even served as prisons told tales of France's past. One monument was dedicated to the wife of the forgotten soldier! Expect the French to do that! Surely, the forgotten soldier's wife would have been more forgotten, otherwise.
One got the distinct impression that for France and its people , the past is all that is there. The present , apart from the usual modernity arising out of development and the internet , is more of mere existence, of an aging population , a decaying city , living on past glory. The neglect , not alarming in any way , is creeping in here and there. In the upkeep, in infrastructure that is past it's age. The fashion capital of the world and its  Rue de Plassey  ,  still has lovely ladies in their fur  coats and leather shoes and gloves. Even that does not stun you in any way. Or its also a sign of the rest of the world catching up.
Paris has its beggars too. The difference being they looked and behaved differently. May I request  your attention Monsieur?   And finally a Merci!  A well laid out corner on the pavement protected sufficiently by warm clothes. A chubby pink cheeked , blond eyed five year something , sitting next to his mom on the payment had a smile  to offer.  All i could respond with  was a smile  and a nod. Which meant " better times mademoiselle"! Poverty too had its class divide, I wondered , as I strode into the night.
Earlier a auto rickshaw puller drew my attention. Chandni chowk and Lucknow came to mind as he invited me to take a ride. My dislike for this idea in itself and a lack of time made me politely refuse him.
French wine, cheese and the night life along the Rhine experienced in the bitter cold draped in woollens did provide a high.
Paris's ability to bridge its great past into a relevant present and a dominant future remained as   enigmatic as Mona Lisa I saw at the Louvre.  For no au revoir Paris.