The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1926-08-13
A WOMANS
.eIhAb&RS63A M
BY Allene Sumner

Through Normandy to Paris. The
dinners they are full madame. till
five o'clock this afternoon. viii
you buy ticket for to eat them"
Thus does France greet us at high
noon.
We have disembarked at Cher,
bourg. We have battled the boat
porters grabbing at our purses. We
have collected our various luggages
and at high noon, weak and weary
sunk into our train compartment
for a moment before seeking lunch
IF you do not get to the diner
now" a Serbian girl in our compart
ment tells you. you must wait till
a station stop, get off the train
walk back to the diner. eat. and get
back here before the train starts
again, or wait until the next stop.
We make our pilgrimage only to
be told by the guardian ofsthe gate
that tables are booked five hours
ahead.
And we eschewed a boat breakfast
because that pristine meal was
served at 8 a. m. in order that the
cabin dining room might be ready
for the French immigration officials
when the boat dropped anchor.
The first class Tolls in downy ease
until s o'clock on docking day, a
steward takes care of their visas, but
we hoi polloi are herded into the
dining room two hours before the
harbor official enters.
But ones lowly estate has it's ad-
vantages when tipping time comes.
Only poor students and professors
and newspaper writer's are supposed
to be in this class, and the night be-
fore docking a slip is passed around.
stating the decent amount of tip ex-
pected.
One dollar and a half to table
steward, reads the edict. Same to
stateroom steward, and deck stew.
ard who serves the daily morning
bouillon and afternoon tea, same to
library steward who dishes up the
writing paper and stamps and prat.
ties on the virtues of such books as
Alice in Wonderland" and East
Lynn" as he takes them from the
case.
They told me that baths were
booked for n week after the boat
docked," a girl at our table said. 81
shall tip the bath steward nothing"
"I haven't had any water. since
the first day" said a college lad
bent for oxford. "I'll make it q
zero"
One does not exit from steamer to
tender via romantic rope ladder.
Merely a tippy gangplank.
Now begins the great national
sport betwixt American and French
men.
"Pourboirer' "Pourboire." cry the
boat hands on the tender to passen-
gers vi TIC Dlb DOdl dbONt WIN -
them pennies, .nickels and dimes.
The white chalky walls of old
Cherbourg rise in the midst.
Hundreds of Cherbourgians scuttle
down to the wharf on bicycles. all
crying, "Pourboire."
We and our four bags are hustled
to customs.
"Du tobac, du cigarets?" ask the
mustdched customs man. We an
swer Non"
"Ouvre." says he. We open the
handbags. A shake of kimona and
hair brush, sniff at box of candy
and he marks our bags with his
number. The two larger ones are
marked without opening at all.
Some one has settled for us the
little matter of porter tipping by
telling us to give about what we
would in our native heath.
We proffer our porter a ten franc
bill, which today is about 80 cents
There rains upon us storm of pic
turesque verbiage. pigs of Ameri
cans. Daughters of goat. Dogs
of a bandit. Can we not see how
worn his shoes are from his labors
Have we no mercy for a man who
| has eleven children to feed. We can
travel. He carries bags and we bleed
his heart!"
Only another ten franc checks the
cloudburst.
You're too easy" says compart.
ment mate. "You will learn. These
boat porters know that they catch
Americans before they realize what
franc can buy. They get ten times
what those in Paris think a lot"
And dinner five hours away
Meanwhile an eye feast of lush
green fields afire with peoples, wild
bachelors buttons blueing the grass,
silky-haired goats, women in the
Normandy head dress beating their
washing upon the brooks stones
gay flowers growing from, messy
matched roofs, the farmers two.
wheeled cart drawn by numbering
oxen
So this is France!
The longest railway tunnel in the