Paris a jumble of gems
After Christmas, Maya and I left for Paris. Meili’s father dropped us off at the train station after dinner and saw us off with a concerned look on his face. The train came from Budapest, and the couple in the same compartment gave us pastries from there. It was like a sugar-coated pie crust and was delicious. We made the bed around 10 pm, and Maya and I climbed onto the top bunks. I didn’t expect myself to sleep well because I was high up from the floor, pressing myself onto the wall so I wouldn’t fall off from the narrow bedding, but the vibration of the train worked like a cradle, and I fell asleep thinking about Murder on The Orient Express. I woke up one hour before we arrived in Paris.
In Paris, we stayed with Marc, the French student who had spent one term at Oxy. We greeted with cheek kissing that I had become used to by then. Marc lived with his parents, both of whom very enthusiastic and cheerful like Marc. His mother taught international students and often had them stay with them, so they were used to having young foreigners around. The house was a beautiful three-story building that looked like a dollhouse if shrunk.
Marc drove us around in his car. At the roundabout at the Arc de Triomphe, the hundreds of cars went by like torrent, but Mark entered into it smoothly and exited as at ease while chatting to us the whole time. We saw many things that any tourists would see, plus a flea market. Paris was like a musical jewelry box. There were all kinds of gems from antique to modern, and people chattered melodiously.
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