The Washington times., 1935-09-20
NOW
The W W1nderer
Goes to Paris
GALLO TRAINS
BY HELEN ESSARY
LIE HAVRE, France

SANSAS "SNSAA ~A ~@@~~S
The purser says:
"The passengers will please
take their passports and land
ing cards into the lounge"
We wait in a long queue.
Small, neat Frenchmen look to
see if the documents of identl-
fication match our faces.
"Where to, Madame?"
"My daughter, Peggy, and 1
are on our way to school in
Switzerland-that is, my daugh'
ter is"
"Bon, Madame"
Twice the pass ports are
stamped with the French visaS.
| Then good-by to the ship
mates we know best.
Hope you have a pleasant
trip"
peggy! Don't leave me for
an instant"
On the top deck, our room
steward is struggling with a
great pile of baggage. Drag
ging it across the bridge to the
wharf, pumping it along the
steps and into anxious travel
erS.
Hurrying down the long flight
of steps, we find the Douane,
the custom inspector.
How many bags, madame?
Seven? Six? Oh dear, how
many?
"QuickIy, 1adies!"
It is a new American voice
speaking.
"There's not a minute to
lose"
A big woman customs officer
with a white sleeve badge is
looking at our bags. "Open!
she says, and points to a bat
tered old duffle bag.
"But there are no cigaretteS!"
"Open!" says she.
The bag is full of ship souve-
Mrs, shoes, odds and ends that
wouldn't go into the trunk.
"Close," says Nine. la Douane,
and marks the sides with chalk.
Half a dozen French porters
arrive. Fall on all the baggage
in sight. The same American
voice is saying:
"Please, lady, your baggage
will follow. Get into the bus at
once. You cannot miss the
Paris train"
The first bus is crowded. A
door slams. We see half Of
our things being borne away
from us into a wild, foreign
world-a world made up for
the moment entirely of bag.
gage.
We squeeze into a second
bus. Whizz through streets.
Skid around corners. We can't
even pretend to read the name
above the shop doors. With a
great jump and a jolt and a
hurrah We stop.
We crowd through the sta
tion gate to the platform.
Rush past long, squatty train
to a car marked II Second
class. Thank Heaven, our
luggage! We thoug we'd
never see it again.
With anguish, with stumb-
ling, shouted at by Gallo
voices, we finally reach COM
partment big enough to hold
Is and our confusion. The only
other occupants are two young
boys at the window seats.
Resting our heads against
the lace scarfs on the seats. we
sigh:
"Thank Heaven! We're this
far"
The train pulls out with in
credible ease. LIE Havre is soon
behind. All! France is such a
beautiful country! Flower and
vegetable gardens are close to
the train tracks. The trees are
planted in precise rows. The
fields, villas, farm houses are
exquisitely shining and glow
ing.
But there is no diner on the
train. It is half past two. At
one station we reach out the
window and buy long, fat sand
wiches. The bread is in tough
slices two inches thick. The
ham is of paper thinness. No
butter. No mustard. Not a
drop of water on the train. And
four more hours to Paris!
Beyond Rouen, the hillsides
are deep and green. The cows
are sleek and fat.
Said the drawing voice of
one of the young men by the
window:
Gust look down there! Oh,
boy! Those chickens sure are of
frying Size!"
We laughed joyously, in re.
lief from the recent strain, and
asked:
"Well! Where are you frOm?"
"We're from Memfis, TenneS-
see. We're just wOrkawayS.
YeSSum, we polished braSseS
down in the engine room, clear
across the ocean from New Or
leens, for a dollar a month. Just
to get us all to Paris"
"nNFV EAR