We parted ways, and I learned my first word in French; after leaving a line I went through a door labeled "interdit" which I thought sounded a lot like "exit". Apparently it means "stay the hell out of here" because several policeman began blowing their whistles at me. The French police like their whistles, for they blow them at people walking on the grass in the parks, at cars that have gone through red lights without slowing down, and when the mood strikes them. The police at the airport turned me around and directed me to the "sortie".
It's amazing what a little French can do for a person. I've pretty much mastered "Bonjour, mademoiselles, je ne parle pas francais, parlez-vous anglais, s'il vous plait?", which is usually met with a roll of the eyes and a "Yeah yeah, what do you want?". Mastering "Oui oui", "Merci boucou", "Pardon" and "sept franc" round out the bare minimum phrase-set required for Paris.
The phrase "Sept Franc", or "Seven Francs", is needed to buy a ticket on the Metro. I've found that the Metro is actually a bit easier to navigate than the London Underground because it is less complex. The Metro has a number of lines that each have a starting and ending point, whereas the Underground has trains that make complex transitions from one line to another, and sometimes make a complete loop. While this makes the Metro easier to understand, it also requires far more transfers, which in turn makes for more opportunities for being whisked away in the wrong direction.
On my first morning in France I made off for an office in Buc. Armed with a FAX that explained exactly how to get there in complete and entirely erroneous detail, I stopped at the front desk of my hotel to get an idea how long it would take to get there. "Buc?" said the desk clerk. "Buc, France?!?. "Oui." "I have never heard of this, Buc...." I considered this. "Well, how do I get to the Metro?" "Ah! Le Metro? Out zee door and gauche".
I found the Metro station a half a block down the street, and walked up to the window. "Bonjour, mademoiselles, je ne parle pas francais, parlez-vous anglais, s'il vous plait?" I asked sweetly. "Non!". "Hmmm" I thought to myself. I tried "How do I get to Buc, France", but this was met with a blank stare. "Buc, France, Buc France....". I tried holding up a map, and shrugged my shoulders. Then I tried showing her my FAX with the Buc address, and she began speaking rapidly, seeming to indicate that she'd never heard of Buc, France, or that her dead brother-in-law used to go hunting in Buc, France, it was hard to tell which. She ended by pointing to the stairs and repeating "Montparnasse, Montparnasse". Such was my first experience with the Paris Metro.
When I got back to the street level, with my computer bag beginning to get heavy, I began asking passersby "Montparnasse?" An elderly man stopped and said "Montparnasse?". He seemed a bit surprised, but pointed definitively up the Rue de Guirard. I set off up the street, occasionally asking "S'il vous plait, Montparnasse?" and confirming that I was going in the right direction.
About an hour and 15 minutes later I arrived at a Metro station called "Montparnasse". Why I was sent here on foot rather than on the Metro is still unclear to me, other than the fact that I was afforded more photo opportunities on the street level. My shoulders were quite sore from my laptop which felt that it had gained 20 pounds.
I walked up to a ticket window and tried out my "Bonjour, Mademoiselles, je ne parle pas francais, parlez-vous anglais, s'il vous plait?" again. The woman began speaking rapidly to me in French, and seemed to me vehemently denying that I didn't speak French. She ended her diatribe by patting my hand and smiling. I hadn't understood a single word. "Buc, France?" I asked meekly. "Ah, Buc...Oui, oui..." she said, and pointed to a different window that had a picture of a train rather then a subway.
Thankfully, this window had a British flag on it, indicating that the clerk spoke english, and I bought my train ticket without any problem. An hour, and 15 stops, later, I arrived in Buc and took a cab, with a garrulous driver who talked to himself the entire way, to the facility where I was to meet with people. In the end, it had taken me 3 hours and 15 minutes, and 45 francs, to get from my hotel to the business complex. That afternoon it took me 50 minutes and 15 francs to get back. I guess I'm learning.