We’ll Always Have Paris, Part Two-Driving in Paris

Of my three trips to Paris, the first one was probably the most exciting. It was new, we were running the marathon, most of the trip was paid for because we raised money, so we could afford to add on some special side trips. The real purpose of these posts is pretty selfish. I love Paris, I want to talk about Paris, and I really want to put some of this in writing.

Driving in Paris

In my previous post, I talked about our arrival, our first hotel, and the Paris Marathon. After the race, we had a car rental planned so that we could drive down to the Loire Valley. I’m only going to touch on that briefly, because, obviously, it’s not Paris, but the first story is about the drive. Not the whole drive, which was mainly interesting because we took the Autoroute (the toll highway), so we could drive fast (and where, unlike in the US, slower drivers actually move over to get out of your way!). No, the drive I’m talking about is our three hour drive to get out of Paris.

Wow, you say, I didn’t realize that Paris was so big that it would take three hours! Well, no, it is not that big. What it is, as anyone who has driven there will attest to, is confusing.
The streets are marked in all kinds of ways, sometimes the signs are on the sides of the buildings, sometimes on poles, sometime there are no signs. There are roundabouts, street name changes without warning, thousands of other drivers cutting in and out of traffic, and, you know those signs? They are all in French!

It was a good sign that our relationship would last because we didn’t kill each other as we grew more frustrated, going in circles, taking the wrong turns. We stopped several times to ask for directions, and people were always helpful. My high school French and Alan’s fluent Spanish were put to the test. We scanned maps (this was pre-GPS, of course). We were headed to Orléans and couldn’t find a sign anywhere that told us where to go. I think we were about ready to give it up and try to find our way back to the hotel.

Until finally, on a little map that was on the back of one of our guidebooks we noticed that the road we were looking for continued on to Bordeaux. Voila! We had seen signs for Bordeaux. After that, it was a matter of minutes to find our highway, and get the heck out of Dodge, er, Paris.

The other driving story that I have is actually a continuation of the escape from Paris. After spending several days in the Loire Valley, Alan and I were planning to head back to the city, stay for another few days before flying home. We had reservations at a small hotel in the 5th Arrondissement. However, two days before that Alan got sick. I mean, he got really, really sick with what turned out to be an inner ear virus. He was dizzy, he was nauseous, he was weak, and he couldn’t get out of bed or keep any food down for the last part of our stay in Amboise. We even had to call a doctor, who made a house call, and diagnosed the problem, but since it was a virus, could really just treat the symptoms.

Anyway, that relates to this story because his being so sick, meant I had to drive back into Paris, fill up the gas tank in a self-serve station, navigate to the hotel, and later bring the car back to the rental place, virtually by myself because all Alan could do was sit there with the seat back. After our experience getting out of Paris, I worked myself up into a frenzy at the thought of driving back into the city.

I knew I needed a plan, so using the resources available in those pre-internet days, I found maps, figured out the streets, where they changed names, and where I had to turn. To this day, I am still amazed (and more than a little proud) that I drove straight in and got us to our hotel without a single wrong turn. Piece of gâteau!

Then, of course, I had to get the rental car back. Because we had rented it in the 1st Arrondissement and we were now staying in the 5th, the rental company would not come and pick it up. That meant another excursion. But now, I was an experienced Parisian driver. Alan insisted on coming with me, even though he still was weak and sick. So I took my little map, figured out the route, wrote down all the street names and turns in large letters so that I could read them at a glance and off we went. It is a point of pride that with the exception of one wrong turn (because of a one-way street), I got us straight to our destination. By that time, I could cut in and out of traffic with the best of them.

Next up: Walking (and Running) in Paris