Centre Pompidou and the Things We Do

After an almost missed train from Montpellier, I found myself like I’ve found myself quite often these past seven months : slightly confused, slightly shaken, slightly weighed down by suitcases and backpacks and faced with a huge city to explore. In no way can Paris be explored in a day, perhaps not even months and months. So I narrowed my choices to accessibility and headed to the ugliest building I have seen in France yet. Centre Pompidou is steel framing with glass tube escalators attached to the side. But it can't be judged that easily : the views are amazing and sifting through the large galleries is lovely. After being refused from the exposition with my measly student ticket (it’s scary how accustomed I’ve become to the bureaucratic “no’s”) I spent the afternoon looking Matisse’s, Picasso’s and some other shtuff. Then I headed to the airport to tuck myself into a bed of ceramic flooring and the sound of a jackhammer.

At first it seemed very doable. However, I was slowly realizing that it would be a long night if I had to continuously watch my bags. Luckily, I met Ms. Better-Than-Mary-Poppins (she named herself this). A German au pair sat next to me nervous to be all alone but prepared beyond belief. As we started talking she whipped out and willingly shared juice and chocolate bars and she might’ve been the most practical-minded person I’ve met; I mean she secured my charger in an outlet with a Band-Aid. We took turns napping and although we’ll probably never cross paths again it was an honest learning experience sitting next to her. And so perhaps we can trust strangers a little bit because otherwise I might’ve died of thirst or had a dead computer. But instead I am watching the sunrise in a Charles de Gaulle airport terminal.