Day 1: July 3-4

There is no such thing as the French language. It is just some cruel hoax perpetrated by the people of France on gullible and dim-witted Americans, specifically me. I say this because no sooner than I get a tiny grasp of the language, than they change all the rules on me, and I’m completely lost again. It is my theory that as soon as I board my homeward bound flight, they revert to their usual language--English, like any sane human being.

I was going for the Japan Expo in Paris, and to do a few bookstore signings. This was my fifth visit to France in six years. The last time was almost seven months ago. Then, I had spent about half of the almost three weeks as a tourist. This time, it was strictly business.

As usual, I took the Metro to Union Station, then the Flyaway bus. Both systems had just increased fares, but it was still the best and most affordable way to get to LAX. This was the day before the Independence Day holiday, and the American Airlines terminal was packed. However, they are now allowing international flyers to use self-serve ticketless check-in, so I took less than ten minutes. The line through security wasn’t bad either, because I have an AAdvantage gold card that allows me to enter through a shorter line.

While waiting for my 9:00 flight, I wrote and thumbnailed my Hulk story for a Marvel Comics anthology. I thumbnailed my story for Usagi 108 on the flight to Chicago, and wrote the story for 109 on the way to Paris. I don’t sleep on planes.

We arrived at Paris CDG on time, and passprt control and baggage claim went quickly. One disappointment was that they did not stamp my passport. I’ve been noticing this in other courntries, such as Belgium and Switzerland, as well.

I waited for my friend Fanfan outside baggage claim. His train into Paris had hosted an unpublicized strike, and he had to find an alternate ride.

We took the B RER train to Gare du Nord (North Train Station). The cost was a little over 8E. Paris has two rail systems, the RER and the Metro. They are interchangeable within the city limits, allowing you to freely jump from one onto the other. Outside the city proper, however, they are not. The ride took about half an hour, then we left my bag at the Libertel Gare du Nord Suede Hotel, just a hundred meters from the station.

I bought a carnet of ten tickets for the Metro/RER, and we rode over to the Eiffel Tower. This was my first time visiting Paris in the summer. My other visits were during the off-tourist seasons when there were no queues to contend with. This time, though, the lines to get to the upper floors were huge. We decided to forgo going up.

We took the Metro to Notre Dame. There is an area of Italian restaurants near there, and we lunched at one Fanfan had frequented. We sat near the pizza oven, where we could watch the chef bake. Fanfan had a souffle calzone. I had the pasta carbonara. It was delicious, but it did not come with the traditional raw egg yolk. We had coffee to complete our meal. I don’t drink coffee in the US, but I enjoy it over in Europe.

We metroed over to Pere Lachaise to see the cemetery where so many celebrities are buried. It is a huge area, a city within a city. Many of the tombstones and mausoleums are so old, it is impossible to read their inscriptions. We located Jim Morrison and Simone Signoret. Sarah Bernhardt was difficult to find. Oscar Wilde’s memorial was covered with lipstick prints.

We went back to Gare du Nord to meet Hans from Germany, who would spend the day with us. We walked over to the hotel where I checked in. Like many European business hotels, the room at the Libertel was quite small with the bathroom little bigger than a closet.

A signing at the Manga Cafe had just been arranged yesterday, so it was not very crowded but I was kept busy for almost three hours. The three of us had dinner just down the street. I had the duck with garlic fried potatoes and creme brulee.

It was back to Gare du Nord where Fanfan said his good-byes. Hans walked me to my hotel, then continued down the street to his. I went up to my room and, after a day and a half, I was finally able to get some sleep.

Thursday, July 5

It takes a little while to get accustomed to the idiosyntricities of each area’s rail system. I was in New York a few months ago, with its Uptown, Downtown, and Crosstowns trains. In LA, you have to pay for transfers between lines. You pay according to the distance you travel in Tokyo, and in Madrid, as in Paris, you must hold on to your ticket to exit the station. So it was that I allowed myself a little more than an hour to travel from Gare du Nord to Gare de Lyon in morning rush hour. I caught the Green Line D RER and made it in twenty minutes. I did not even have to transfer.

I bought a couple of coissants, then found my train, car, and seat. The TGV train would end in Milan, but I was only going as far as Chambery, about a three hour trip. I had a wonderful seat-mate whol shared many of my interests, such as old movies, travel and food, so the time passed nicely. We passed fields of corn and sunflowers, and even a waterfall. Chambery is in the beautiful French Alps, and three Olympic winter games have been held in the area.

Jean-Norbert from the BDFix store met me at the station, and drove me past their manga store to the one that specializes in French bande dessinee books. I met the owner, Daniel, and the three of us went to lunch. I had the beef brochette, creme brulee, and coffee.

BDFix is a wonderful store, clean, well-lit, and airy, with an incredible assortment of BD. Jean-Norbert told me that there are about 400 new albums a year. France is also the largest publisher of manga, after Japan.

After the two hour signing, Jean-Norbert drove me back to the station. He made sure I knew the right platform, and we said our goodbyes. The train arrived in half an hour. I was about to board, when I asked the station master, just to make sure. I was going onto the wrong train! It was one of those that would split, with the front half going to Annecy, and the rear to Geneva. It reminded me of when Sharon and I boarded the wrong trin to Nikko in Japan, but so were the people we asked. They later realized their mistake, and told us we were on the Tobu-bound train. Anyway, I was glad I asked. They must have announced it, but I don’t understand French (remember what I said about the language?).

We crossed the border into Switzerland, and I could see the Jet d’Eau, the tallest fountain in Europe and the symbol of Geneva. I quickly went through passport control, and saw Marine waiting for me. We rode a trolley to Editions Paquet’s new offices where I again met Pierre, my French publisher.

We went to a neighboring restaurant, and the best food since arriving in Eurpoe. I had escargot in pastry and cream sauce for entree. Main course was veal in a light citron sauce, and creme brulee for dessert.

Friday, July 6

I had five hours of sleep last night, which means I doubled the number of sleep hours I’ve had since I woke up very early Tuesday morning. We had a 6:30 plane back to Paris.

Pierre drove Marine and me to Geneve Airport. This airport is unique because it was built right on the border. We crossed one terminal through glass doors to the next terminal, leaving Switzerland and entering France. So, we would fly a domestic, rather than an international flight. Passport control was there to stamp my passport. I wonder who decides when to stamp, or not...is it the officer on duty?

This was my first flight into Paris Orly Airport. We took the RER B train straight through Paris to Exposition Park where the Japan Expo took place, a half hour ride.

Despite having a confirmation letter and my own page on the Expo website, they did not have any record of me. Check-in took much longer than it should have, but we still got in the hall a half hour before the 10 am public opening. Guillaume from Paquet was already there setting up the booth.

I have 12 books in France--16 if you count the four original oversize editions--so I was kept busy singing all the time. Fanfan was there and, at 4:30, escorted me to a signing at an Album store. The chain has three stores in Paris, and about 30 throughout France. I was at the one in Bercy. Customers were given tickets for the signing, but I went through them, and signed for any one who wanted it.

We dined outdoors at a restaurant across from the store. I had roasted duckling with new potatoes. The creme brulee with ginger bread pieces and fig syryp was too sweet. I also had a banana nector/pineapple drink. I had never even heard of banana juice. It was worth trying once, though not twice.

Marine and Guillaume had checked in the hotel while I was at Album. The Campanile is a hotel chain I’ve stayed at many times. It is built on an American model, so the room was much larger than the Libertel, and the hair dryer did not look like it was made from communist tank parts. It even had free wifi, great if I had brought my laptop.

Saturday, July 7

We met in the lobby at 8:30, and walked over to Gare du Nord. The train was packed with people going to the Expo, which opened at 10. There was a mob waiting to get in, but we walked in through the exhibitors’ entrance. I had a constant line until I broke for my first interview at 1:30. My second was at 4, and my third just before closing at 7.

We got back to the hotel, freshened up, then went down the block for dinner at Chez Papa. I had the traditional excargot with butter and garlic, and an outstanding duck confit. The duck was slow roasted so the meat was very tender, but the skin was still crispy. It was on a bed of scallop potatoes cooked in duck fat. Like I said, “outstanding.” Back to the hotel by 10:20, to call it an early night.

Sunday, July 8

We caught an express train to Exposition Park. I had three interviews scheduled, the first at 9:30.

My hand had been hurting by the end of each day, because of the number of sketches and autographs. I did almost 300 on Friday at the Expo and at Album. We limited the number of autographs on Sunday by giving tickets. Even so, at the end of the day, I did about 80 sketches. I was going through three fine and extra-fine tip pens every two days.

I had just completed my first interview when the Expo opened. There was some commotion near me, and I went to investigate. The Expo was giving away Japanese model kits. There were hundreds in a roped off area. One of the staff handing them out asked me a question, so I nodded. He went and got three kits and thrust them in my hands. I knew only two could fit in my suitcase, so gave one to Fanfan.

As expected, the crowd on Sunday was not as heavy as previous days. This was the 8th year of the Expo, and attendance had already hit the 80,000 mark. Marine, Catherine, and Guillaume had a 7 pm train to catch to Geneva or Burgundy, so we left the Expo at 6. I said my goodbyes on the train and departed Gare du Nord.

Dinner service in Paris does not start until 7, so I had a few minutes in my room before walking over to Chez Papa. This time I had escargot with leeks for entree. It was cooked in an old, blackened cast iron pot that must have been new during the revolution. The main course was duck with mushrooms over a bed of fried potatoes. Restaurants in the US tend to overcook duck. This one was perfect. My last visit to France was my “sea food trip”, as I was in France at the start of the mussel/oyster season. This time I was eating a lot of duck. I had schweppes to drink. France does not have Bitter Kas, so I make do with schweppes. I debated whether to have one last creme brulee in France, but decided I had had enought--too much actually.

I took a walk around the area, but, except for the restaurants, all the stores were closed. So, it was back to my room. The only thing on TV that I could really understand was men’s professional volleyball--Spain vs Portugal. Spain won the in the second set. This was followed by the first day of the Tour de France.

Monday, July 9

After checking out, I walked my two full bags the kilometer to Gare du Nord. I stopped at a bakery and bought some croissants and bread for Sharon. It was the only thing she wanted from France. And, yes, they do taste better than the American stuff.

When I reached my platform, a train was already there, but with its doors closed. I assumed it had just pulled in because the platform was full of people waiting to get in. After awhile, though, the doors were still closed. An announcement came over the speakers, and the platform people took a step back. The doors opened and the riders detrained, but nobody went in. Another announcement, and half the people left. I was getting concerned, but I had allowed myself plenty of time. One more announcement, and the people who had stayed hurried walked away. I asked what was going on. I was told there was some (unknown) problem and the tracks had switched. I followed the crowd to the new platform and boarded the new train. It was packed with people who had missed at least two trains during rush hour. I was departing on American Airlines at Terminal 2, so stayed on until the very last stop.

I had allowed myself three hours before my flight, but because of the delay with the train, arrived barely two hours before departure. I thumbnailed UY 109 on the flight to Boston. This was my first time connecting through Logan Airport. I usually go through Chicago, but chose Boston just on a whim. I’m glad I did. Chicago O’Hare was shut down due to heavy storms. It was an uneventful flight to LA. I read Max Allan Collin’s A Killing in Comics, a murder mystery set in the Golden Age of comics with characters inspired by real people. As with all of Max’s work, I enjoyed it.

-Stan Sakai