Dreaming of France -- Three Things to Know Before Traveling Abroad

Thank you for joining this weekly meme. Grab a copy of the photo above and link back to An Accidental Blog. Share with the rest of us your passion for France. Did you read a good book set in France? See a movie? Take a photo in France? Have an adventure? Eat a fabulous meal or even just a pastry? Or if you're in France now, go ahead and lord it over the rest of us. We can take it.

This is a blog post I wrote as a guest post for my blog tour.

No doubt, the easiest way to travel to Europe is in a book.
In my novel, Paris Runaway, single mom Sadie chases after her 17-year-old daughter, who has run off to France. Sadie has never traveled out of the country before but feels compelled to follow Scarlett, who might be in danger.
Sadie has no time to think about the things that might make her travel abroad easier, but you do. Go ahead and grab your passport, but take a little time to smooth the way once you get off the plane.
Transportation: Figure out how you’ll get from the airport to your hotel without breaking the bank. In Paris, you can walk between the airport and the train station, just pulling your suitcase behind you. And when you arrive at the train station, you’ll see a huge electronic sign that announces departures for places like Budapest and Milan. It all feels so cosmopolitan. For about 10 Euros, you can buy a ticket to take you into the center of Paris.
Hotel: When you are travelling to a big city like Paris, or during a busy tourist season, like summer, arrange your hotel ahead of time. Sadie didn’t arrange a hotel. She pictures showing up in France, finding her daughter and returning home. But it doesn’t work out that way. After being awake for about 36 hours, she’s forced to beg for a hotel room.
Here’s an excerpt from Paris Runaway:

Then I wandered along the street until I spotted a little hotel just two windows wide in between the packed-tight Paris buildings. Exhaustion led me to stumble in, and I tried to remember some French words from my long ago high school French classes to ask about a room. “Une chambre?” I said, and the proprietor shook his head. I didn’t know if he couldn’t understand me or didn’t have any rooms available.
So I tried again, “S’il vous plaît,” I pleaded. I knew my brown eyes were ringed with circles that shone a pale blue amidst the crinkled lines that had formed over 50 years. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept.
I looked at the man behind the counter at the hotel again. “Please. Any room will do. I’m so tired. Maybe if I sleep, I’ll be able to figure it out.” I’d spoken in English.
I didn’t know if the man understood anything I said, but he pulled out a ring full of keys that clanked heavily. He turned down a hallway behind the counter and motioned for me to follow as he walked toward the interior of the hotel, away from the street. 

Sadie got lucky. Hotel rooms are difficult to come by in Paris during the summer. In the rest of France though, I’ve traveled from town to town without hotel reservations. Each town has a tourism office. Stop in the tourism office and ask if they can help you find a room. Tell them how many rooms you need and what you want to spend, and they’ll do their best to book a room for you. We always had luck with that, even as we rode our bicycles to French towns.

Language: Most places in Europe, people speak English, but they do appreciate it if you try to speak their language. Some of the basics you should learn are hello, goodbye, please and thank you. A recent Facebook sign shows French restaurateurs informing patrons that a cup of coffee is cheaper if they begin their order by saying hello, “bonjour” and please “s’il vous plaît.” It’s important to know that French shopkeepers expect everyone to say hello when they walk into a store.
Don’t follow Sadie’s lead and show up in France without some basics, like in this excerpt from Paris Runaway:

“I’m in Paris searching for my daughter who ran away.”  The words stuck in my throat and melted away in the empty hotel room.
I wished I’d had time to practice those lines in French.

I hope you’ll take a trip to Paris in my novel, Paris Runaway. Then afterward, maybe you’ll be inspired to try some actual travel too.

Thanks so much for playing along with Dreaming of France today. Please leave your name and blog address in Mr. Linky below, and leave a comment letting me know what  you think about my love affair with France, or your own love affair. And consider visiting the blogs of others who play along so we can all share the love.

Adventures with Students

This week, I realized that my family eats a lot more pork than I had recognized.
This epiphany came when I offered bacon to the Jewish boy from California then had pulled pork in the crock pot when the two Muslim boys from Dubai showed up. But I wasn't expecting the guys from Dubai, until they missed their flight home.
Their story is a comedy of errors.
Medhi is a friend of Spencer's who goes to OU. He came home with Spencer for Thanksgiving and missed the bus back to OU because he was standing inside the bus station when the driver walked out to the bus, climbed in and drove away. Medhi ran after the bus waving, like a bad sit com scene. Then he called us to come pick him up, and he spent another night with us.
So on Friday morning, I drove Spencer's friend from California to the airport. He was early, but it fit our schedule.
I set off on another round-trip drive to Ohio University to pick up Tucker and all of his belongings, since he has decided not to return.
Once I got home and we had unpacked the car, I got ready to go teach my evening class at a local university. That's when Spencer's phone rang.
"What?" I heard him say. He repeated it a few more times then said, "I'll be there to get you."
"I have to take the car to work," I called out to Spencer.
"Catch a taxi here," Spencer said. "I'll text you my address."
So Spence explained to me that Medhi and Al, another student from Dubai, had missed their flight. They missed their flight because they  missed the GoBus from Athens.
The story came out a little backward, but this is how I've pieced it together.
Medhi and Al were at Ohio University, ready to take the GoBus which drives from Athens straight to the airport.

The bus picks up at the student center, which is a 4-story building built into the side of a hill. Students often cut through the building rather than walking up the hill. They can ride the escalators inside.
Medhi and Al were at the top of the hill behind the building when they realized that the bus would pick them up at the bottom. Rather than hopping on the escalators, they asked someone to drive them to the front of the building. The roads are rather circuitous to get around to the front of the building and by the time they arrived, the bus had gone.
The two of them paid a taxi driver $200 to take them to the airport in Columbus, about 90 miles away.
Their flight was at 3:30 p.m. They made it to the airport, through security and to the gate by 3:20, but were told the plane had already boarded. They could see the plane through the window, but the airline personnel refused to open the door again.
That's when they sought refuge in our basement for the night.
We were glad to give them a place to stay, but that morning, long before I took the first guy to the airport or drove to pick up Tucker, I had placed a pork roast in the crock pot, covered it with barbecue sauce and planned to serve pulled pork for dinner.
That's why the guys from Dubai might have been a little hungry that night. I didn't know though, because I was gone to work when they arrived.
Late that night, as I lay in bed, I heard them talking.
"We will stay right by the gate! We will not go anywhere," Medhi said.
I knew he was determined to make that first flight from Columbus to Detroit. Then they would board a plane from Detroit to Amsterdam. Then Amsterdam to Dubai.
"We have a very long lay over in Amsterdam," Medhi said the next morning at the dining room table.
"Oh, maybe you could go see the city..." I started. Then I stopped myself, "No. Don't leave the airport. Just stay there and wait for your flight!"
They weren't interested in breakfast, but I gave them some strong coffee spiced for winter in little blue and white espresso cups,
before my husband drove them off to the airport. They were not scheduled to reach home until Sunday evening, but I'm sure their families will be thrilled to see them.