Paris on My Mind…
Image Copyright © 2010 by Dana Eason Photography
Three years ago I went on a trip to France to attend a photography workshop given by my then photography idol, Elizabeth Messina. I’ve since learned not to idolize people, but that is neither part of this story or why I am writing this piece. As I entered Paris… or rather the Charles De Gaulle airport, I was extremely nervous. I didn’t speak a word of French & I had to be on time to catch my train to Poiters, France (pronounced like the last name of actor Sydney Poitier… but with an ‘S’ at the end)… a city 3 hours south of Paris… for the workshop.
The airport was clean, grand, & filled with stylishly dressed…& not-so-stylishly dressed people. Somehow I found my way to the train station & walked up to one of the kiosks to print out my ticket. As I was entering my information, I noticed a strange dark-haired woman trying to peer over my shoulder. I nervously pulled my things closer to me & tried to block her from seeing the screen where I was entering my information. Then she said it… my name “DANA!” I turned to look at her again & she smiled & said “I’m Silvana!” I was embarrassed. I didn’t recognize her from her photo that I’d seen on our group page for the workshop. I apologized for looking at her like a thief & she helped me get my ticket for the train ride. She, unfortunately for me, was on a different train that departed sooner than mine, so I was left to fend for myself for the next two hours until my train arrived.
As time approached for my departure, nervousness crept in again. I could not understand a word the announcers were saying… even when they spoke English & I hoped so badly that I would not miss my train. Luckily, I heard something that resembled the sound of “Poiters” and I hurried to the train. A stylish young lady of about 25 years & her grandmother who was equally as stylish somehow knew I was a foreigner & they graciously helped me with my bags & helped me find my seat on the train. The young lady spoke a little English so we spoke in broken sentences & I learned that her name was Charlotte and they were getting off at my stop.
Once we arrived in Poiters, Charlotte & her grandmother helped me get my things off of the train & waited with me at the station until my ride arrived. I’ll never forget them… they were truly Heaven sent & I’ll always see them as my Poitiers angels.
To be continued…
xo, dana
A 365 Project 