Jour 5 - Wilfried and Pope John Paul II

Le Petit Prince and Le Furet du Nord

I braved Lille on my own to search for “le furet du nord”, which is the biggest (le plus grande) librarie (bookstore) in Europe (so legend has it). I was after a French classic called “Le Petit Prince”.

Earlier, when I arrived in Paris, Ceren had proudly shown me this same little book that she was taking as a special gift to a friend. Then, yesterday, Sandrine mentioned the book too, along with showing me a French Atlas. I decided I would have my very own copy of Le Petit Prince. Sandrine indicated I could probably get it in English, but I replied that I wanted the French version, to help me learn the language.

“Salut (hi)", I said to a jeune femme (young woman) working at the librarie. “Est-ce que vous parlez anglais? (Do you speak English?)", I continued. “A little”, she replied with a worried look. (So far, the French always look worried when I ask that question.) “Do you have The Petit Prince?", I asked. Her worried look disappeared and was replaced with a little smile. “Yes”, was her proud answer, and she led me right to it. I think this book is well loved here. I can’t wait to love it too.

Left to Right: Emily, Amaury, Ceren, Justine

Amaury provided Ceren and I with our last walking tour of Lille as we made our way to the train station pulling carry on-sized luggage down cobble stone streets (little wheels going “bumpity bumpity bumpity”). Ceren’s friend Justine was in Lille too and was traveling back to Paris via a car pool arrangement she had found via an on-line advertisement for that kind of thing. We were to join her, thus saving 50 Euros in the process (over taking the train). We met Justine and Amaury’s business partner, Emily, at an outdoor café for a quick lunch of “Trout with Almonds”.

Emily and Amaury own a production business called “Elixir” and go by the nicknames Witte and Motte. I never asked about the nicknames (hmmm...). I believe Emily focuses on capturing the visual images and Amaury specializes in editing and aftereffects. They create things like music videos and advertisements for clients.

We said our goodbyes, including a kiss on each cheek between me and Amaury (as is customary among Frenchmen who are friends). Then Ceren and I headed out with Justine for the car pool pick-up location.

We arrived to find a minivan and four other people to share the ride. It wasn't what we expected; a private owner looking for a few riders to share costs. Ceren and Justine later remarked that they thought this was a black market operation (i.e. “for profit”, which they said was illegal). We didn't mind though. We were saving money!

Justine with Wilfried and Pope John Paul II during our Carpool

Justine’s really cool. I got to know her a little on the 2-1/2 hour ride to Paris. By the way, the region between Lille and Paris is flat farmland – perhaps a lot like parts of the Pacific Northwest or Midwest USA. Justine is from The South of France, a bit inland from the Mediterranean coast. Her father owns a vineyard in the region, which Justine sometimes works on. Justine has her own house and proudly told me of her garden, which I learned means ‘all the manicured grounds around a house’ (not just the place where produce is grown, as is my definition of “garden”). What Justine is most proud of and attached to, however, is her companion and surrogate child – Wilfried the Rooster. She pulled out a large photo of Wilfried, along with one of Pope John Paul II for comparison, and declared that, ‘they look alike – see!’ I inspected closely, and I think she’s right.

Apparently, Wilfried sits on her lap and closes his eyes as she pets him. Justine sadly expressed that Wilfried’s nervous without her. I joked, ‘why, because he’s afraid he’ll be eaten?’ It was a bad joke though. The thought of Kentucky Fried Wilfried hadn't been in her mind until then.

We arrived back to the outskirts of Paris around 1630. The polite way of saying this is that, 'it wasn't the most affluent part of the city'. Justine asked if I was scared to be in Paris. I assume she was talking about the inner-city ghetto look. ‘Nope’, I said, ‘I’ve seen this stuff in big American cities before.’ By the way, I asked Justine if she had travelled (thinking she probably had not done much). She replied affirmatively, listing more states in Etats Unis then I've visited, along with a 5-month stay in Quebec. She says the French Canadians have an odd accent. We may see more of Justine on this trip.

Dinner in Paris

I spent the evening walking around the neighborhood, stopping in at a couple cafe's for beer and dinner. I totally flubbed my prepared French lines and felt like an idiot. I tried to say, "J'ai ne' parle par Francais (I don't speak French)" but just stood there stuttering instead. Did I really NEED to say it? (LOL) The kind bartender, seeing my troubles interjected, "what would you like?" "Beer, Heineken", I replied. He quickly filled a tall mug, set it in front of me, and winked.

Painter and Bridge in Paris

Pastries in Lille

Première Expérience de la France

Jour 5 – Wilfried and Pope John Paul II

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