The Defectors
Wednesday, March 11
It was different sleeping in a bed on solid ground after the past five nights of feeling the sway of the ship. The room was small, about the same size as the one on the ship, which are never large, but it was clean and comfortable. The was a beautiful large pool in the courtyard, just a tad too chilly, since it was mid March. One more day here would be nice..
I had looked at possible hotels in Paris, but hadn’t made a decision. We were flying into Orly Airport, which was southeast of Paris. We definitely wanted to see the Eiffel Tower which was close to the center of the city. Our flight on Sat was out of Charles De Gaulle which was northeast of the city. Then there was the temple. A main catalyst for this whole trip was to see and visit the Rome LDS Temple. When that reality was crushed, we were determined to see another one in Europe. That had been a huge part of my decision to leave the ship. If we could get to Paris before Sat, we could visit the Paris Temple. The temple was southwest of the city center. Plotting all these locations was making it difficult for me to decide on a spot to stay. I would decide after our fun at the beach.
Up to this point in our trip, I had been very happy with the breakfast spreads in our hotels and on the ship. JS Palma Stay is no exception. Even with the nominal charge, the offerings were vast and varied. Starting the day with a good meal has always been a priority for me, so this morning would follow suit. As we all ate, we discussed what we would do today. No longer would we rely on a planned excursion. We were on our own. We decided to go look for bikes to ride up and down the beach with. Rhonda lamented that she was missing out on our couples massage on the ship. It had been scheduled for today. Before we got off the ship the previous night, she had gone up and transferred the massage to my mom. At 75 years old, mom had never had a massage in her life.
We found a bike rental shop and were all outfitted with cruisers. Half of us opted for the electric models, me included. This part of the beach was a long U shaped cove, probably 2-3 miles long. A wide beach walk/street followed the beach. I had put a pullover on this morning over my shirt, but it didn’t take long to remove it. The beach was beautiful. The weather was beautiful. The temperature was right around 70 degrees, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun felt good. We stopped and shared sunscreen for our faces.
For the most part there weren’t many people out and about. A few people on the beach here and there, but I’m sure a very different scene from summer. It was easy to envision thousands and thousands of people on the beach and in the shops that lined the other side of the wide pathway. I could be talked into coming back here…
We reached the point where the road curved around to the right and out to a point. The sandy beach would change to rock. Everyone was thirsty, so we parked and locked the bikes. After a refreshing beverage, we decided that we needed to at least put some toes in the Mediterranean Sea that stood before us. When I got dressed that morning, I had put on a pair of shorts. Then I changed out of them into jeans because I thought it would be too chilly. At this moment, I regretted that decision. The shorts and flip flops would have made it so much easier than taking off boots and rolling up jeans. Notwithstanding, I was determined to at least get the bottoms of my feet wet.
We frolicked in the water, wrote in the sand and just enjoyed the serenity of our location. It was breezy and more and more sailboats were filling the bay. Finally, it was time to make our way back. The Cottens had spotted some things at a souvenir shop on the way out, so we would leisurely ride back, stopping whenever something caught an eye. They were the only couple on the trip that still have young kids at home. Their youngest are twins and are twelve years old. As a parent, you can’t go on a trip like this without bringing home something for each child.
We returned the bikes and on the way back to the hotel, stopped at a sidewalk cafe for lunch. Rhonda and I had a table to ourselves, something that really hadn’t happened since the trip began. It was nice to sit in the warm sun and watch the smiles of this woman that I love. Since we had left, she was unable to use her flat iron or roller dryer because of the electrical power difference from home. She constantly complained that her hair was unruly and terrible looking. I thought she looked beautiful. We decided to do appetizers again and chose a variety.
When we had left the hotel that morning, we paid the fee for a late checkout for one room. Then we piled all the luggage in that room. Our rooms were all adjacent on the second floor. There were 2 elevators with a stairway in between. As Rhonda and I approached the first elevator, the Muellers and Haggards were stepping inside. The moved aside so we could squeeze in, and it was a definite squeeze…
The elevator started to move slowly. It moved a foot or so and groaned. Then it slammed back down. There were screams. It groaned and started to move again, then slammed back down, this time harder than before. The screams were louder. It was not going to move again. Clint pryed the door open next to him, which was not the door we entered. A block wall was visible. The tension inside was growing very quickly. Rhonda is claustrophobic in situations like this, and we learned that Joe is too. Joe pryed the door open and the floor was visible about one foot up. I guessed that we had dropped to the bottom. As soon as the door was open, Rhonda was pushing past Amy and poor Melinda to get out at the same time that Joe was trying to push past Rhonda. She tripped on the difference in heights and sprawled across the floor outside. Joe was out next in a flurry. We all laughed like school kids. It’s a good thing we didn’t all get on from the second floor. I am convinced it would have plummeted to the bottom. They were sure we had been stuck inside for an extended time, maybe hours. My guess was that it was about 12 seconds.. I wouldn’t be surprised if the elevator is still broke.
After calming the nerves of a couple of unnamed subjects, we headed up the stairs to gather our luggage. Our flight was scheduled for 5:50, and because we weren’t really familiar with the workings of European airports, we wanted to make sure we gave ourselves plenty of time. We summoned another herd of taxis and waited in the lobby. We could see the airport across the highway from where we were, but there was no easy route to walk.
The layout of their airports is definitely different from what we are used to in the US and it took a few minutes for us to find the ticket counter to check the bags. Going through security was easy, more so than home, but still effective. The terminal was huge. For the size and population of the island, it is disproportionate, but it handles 23 million passengers a year. Palma is the Hawaii of Europe. We found a place to kick back while some of the girls headed over to the duty free shops. It was like Walmart inside an airport. The prices were not on par to US airports either. You can buy a Coke and not feel like you were held up at gunpoint. I settled in to make a decision on a hotel. I figured we might as well stay close to the Eiffel Tower since we would want to see the sights in that area.
Somehow the other six got Zone 2 boarding, while Rhonda and I had Zone 4. As we walked down the isle, they were all lined up picture perfect. As it turned out the flight was only half full. The effects of Coronavirus were being felt. The flight to Madrid was a quick hour and we went straight to the gate to board the 2 hour flight to Paris. Once again the flight was not full and the time passed quickly as I listened to my favorite band Rush, while studying the inside of my eyelids.
Paris, 10:30pm
We grabbed all the luggage off the carousel and walked towards the taxi area. There were big signs all over the baggage claim area warning travelers to only use licensed taxis. As soon as we stepped into the concourse heading toward the outer door, we were bombarded by men trying to offer rides. I found it strange that the authorities would put so much effort into warning travelers, but then allow the perpetrators to stand INSIDE the airport, ten feet from the signs.
Out in the taxi line, we told the attendant that we needed 2 large cars or vans. The three taxi thing was getting old. We knew it was a 20 minute drive to the hotel. We had to wait for 20 minutes before our vehicles arrived, then we loaded up and gave the drivers the address.
The Art Hotel Eiffel was on Boulevard De Grenelle, a busy divided street with an elevated metro running down the middle. There were five floors with five rooms on each floor. The rooms were small, but not too small. At least there was room for our suitcases to stand in the corner. We were all hungry as we hadn’t had time to eat anything since the airport in Palma over 6 hours earlier. Where do you eat after midnight in Paris? McDonalds of course. Three doors down from the hotel.
Did you take notes on the trip or do you just have a really good memory??
My memory is actually pretty bad. Lol. I made a few notes before I started, but as I write and look at the pictures, things come back. I have forgotten to include a couple of events that should have been there.