The 27th annual meeting of the Society for Behavioral Neuroendocrinology was hosted this year by the University of Tours. When neurobiologist Dr. Diane A. Kelly decided to present a poster session at the conference, my response was, "I guess we're going to France, then!"
So we did. The plan was to cross the Atlantic a week early, base ourselves in Tours in order to see the region and eat some stellar meals, and then I would leave once the actual scientific meeting got underway. The whole journey was bracketed by two key dates: the "Pomme de Terre" fencing tournament in Boston on June 17-18, and the mandatory meeting with my teaching assistant for the Smith summer writing program, which had to happen by June 30. Diane couldn't leave until the 19th, and I had to get home on the 29th.
On June 19 we got dropped off at Bradley Airport, to take advantage of Aer Lingus's international service from there to various places in Europe. Our flight to Dublin was long but uneventful, we made our connection with plenty of time, and the trip to Charles de Gaulle airport outside Paris was shorter and also uneventful.
The two of us got off the plane and went through passport control with no problem. Got my suitcase from baggage claim, no problem. Picked up a sandwich because we were both pretty hungry, no problem.
We did have some slight difficulty finding the right platform for the TGV train from De Gaulle to Tours. The problem was that we both misread the letter "S" on the announcement board (meaning the South end of the station) for the numeral "5" for the platform. Even after we figured out the right end of the station we still wound up on the wrong platform, and it was only when the train's arrival was announced that we realized our mistake. So we hurried up, and across, and down, and got to the train in time to board.
And that's when I discovered the really big problem neither of us had noticed: my suitcase was gone. With just a minute before the TGV pulled out I made a quick decision: I told Diane to go ahead to Tours while I stayed behind to find it. "I'll get there somehow," I promised.
From the platform I retraced our steps. It wasn't on the wrong platform, it wasn't in the waiting area, it wasn't where we had paused to figure out the north vs. south end issue. Finally I sprinted up the escalator to the restaurant where we got the sandwiches. Yes, they remembered I had left my bag there. As with all unattended baggage, it had been taken by airport security officers.
I asked where I might find them, and was directed to the "Objets Trouvés" bureau (i.e. the Lost Luggage office).
France has a reputation for bureaucracy, and I have to say it is one they have earned. Despite one bloody revolution and civil war, five less bloody changes of regime, and a period of enemy occupation, the French bureaucracy has continued to grow and thrive.
The Objets Trouvés office is a great example. Back in the bad old days, if you lost your luggage, you went there and asked if anyone had found it. They would look around and you'd either find it or not.
Now things are more advanced. You can't just look at what's been handed in any more. Now you have to scan a QR code in order to go to a Web page to file a missing item report — be sure to set up your Objets Trouvés account first! You furnish a complete description, and your contact information. If the object turns up, you may then make an appointment to come in and recover it.
Meanwhile, as near as I can tell, the staff are still on duty, just secure behind steel shutters so no pesky travelers can bother them about missing bags. (At least two French citizens apologized to me on behalf of their country for the bureacratic runaround.)
With no suitcase, I boarded a later train to Tours. It got me there by about 6 p.m., and Diane met me at the station. We bought me some essentials on the way to our hotel, and then got dinner at the lovely old Place Plumereau, a square in the old section of Tours lined with bars and restaurants.
Here's what Tours looks like. Like most European cities, it's a medieval town inside a Baroque town inside a Victorian city inside a modern city. Tours itself dates back to Roman times: Julius Caesar mentions a tribe of Gauls called the "Turones" who lived in the Loire valley. This view is from the north bank of the Loire looking south at the Pont Wilson. The cathedral is on the left, with twin spires. The large pointy-roofed building is the municipal library, and the biggish buildings at the end of the bridge are some of the stores and hotels along the Rue Nationale, Tours's main axis.
After a long flight and a stressful day, I had a big glass of wine with our dinner, then went back to our hotel room and collapsed.
Tomorrow: Vouvray!
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