There was a slight drizzle...

...and a nip in the air when we landed in CDG terminal in Paris at about 6:02 p.m. on Monday. Our legs were a little stiff after an almost 11-hour flight from Beijing, where we had a 2-hour layover before flying to Paris. As we made our way to the carousel to claim our bags, a funny memory came to mind of a learner apologizing to me in advance for what she calls 'one of the worst airports in the world.' Clearly, the lady has not been to Manila yet. :D

After I collected my bag, I assumed that Anj's bag would come out soon thereafter, particularly since we checked-in together. So, we waited. And we waited. And then, we waited some more. The crowd was thinning out considerably and we were both starting to get worried especially as this wouldn't have been the first time for Anj to have her luggage 'misdirected.' We sent a not so silent prayer of thanks to our guardian angels and breathed a sigh of relief when the hot pink/gray backpack finally made an appearance, along with the last few stragglers.

So, with our bags strapped, we boarded the free train shuttle that would take us to the train terminal to the city and where we can purchase NaviGo cards, which would be our train ticket and our unlimited 7-day pass to public transportation in all zones of Paris. Unfortunately, I couldn't find my ID picture necessary for the card. So, we looked around for photo booths in the terminal and luckily, found one.

It's one uf those self- service photobooths that normally woukd have been a cinch to operate, but proved to be a challenge since of course, everything was in French. Thank God for the kindness of strangers! A man sitting nearby, who was either disturbed by our bickering since the machine already took my money but had yet to deliver the goods or felt pity at the look of counfoundment on our faces, approached us and offered rescue. He operated the booth for me and advised me on the appropriate picture size for the card. When the photo came out, I almost gave him a hug. Almost!

Off to the counter we went to get the cards. I don't know if it was the long flight, the tiredness or the hunger, but for some reason, neither Anj nor I could understand what the lady at the counter was saying. Yes, she spoke in English. But no, it just wasn't sinking in. So, she took the cards back, asked for our pictures and put it together. Another angel sent to help us.

With passes in hand, we took the train to get to the metro line that would take us to Montmarte and the apartment that would be home for the week that we will be in Paris.