Blue Sky Thinking

As I write this posting I am currently sitting in a taxi going from the airport in Barcelona to the client site. It is cool but bright and there is a glorious blue sky above; I can’t help but have a spring in my step as a result, especially after two days in a grey and miserable Paris (and that was just the waiters in the restaurants).

Despite the soggy weather the two days in Paris were useful – amongst other things I took the opportunity to go to the Irish Embassy where I am trying to get a replacement passport and ensure that Maxime, Gaston and Capucine (MGC hereafter), are going to get Irish nationality. I was particularly surprised to find that I got more advice on having twins than securing official documentation – it turned out the lady who was serving me had had her twins in France 9 years ago so she gave me a number of tit-bits of information ranging from massaging babies to help them sleep, mixing breast and bottle feeding, and being sure to get vaccinations from somewhere called the PME. At the end of the conversation she was also convinced that I worked for Air France. I didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. I also managed to sort out one of my suits in Paris and I even had dinner with some old friends on Tuesday night which was excellent fun – it’s funny to see how people are growing up – one friend who I recruited into Accenture a number of years ago was now married and expecting his first baby.....that in itself made me feel older than having three of my own!

The downsides to the trip to Paris (apart from being away from home) was, as ever, some of the Parisians – I’m always astounded by their surliness – it is as if good will and pleasantness has to be rationed carefully – there’s just not enough to go round you know! I walked into a newsagents to a warm greeting but when I (quite apologetically) asked where the entrance to the local metro station was, the newsagents’ face turned thunderous and as I walked out sheepishly I could hear him tut-tutting and I could feel the daggers in my back. The other thing which always gets me about Paris, as with London, is the pace with which people have to walk in the metro itself and the general unpleasantness of the whole experience. For some reason it also always brings out my competitive side, which I’ve done well to control over the last few years (I think). On Tuesday I even found myself spontaneously clipping the heels of people walking on to the train just because they had pushed in ahead of me. Surely that’s not a good thing.....Something else that struck me when I was in Paris during our multi-cultural training meeting which included French, English, Irish, Dutch, German, Indian and Spanish people, was the fact that despite all being essentially very similar, you just can’t help avoid cultural differences – despite the obvious conversations about head scarves and what constitutes improper and personally intrusive questions, the image that will stick with me is the German who went to high five the Indian. The Indian clearly didn’t recognise the gesture and as a result and in the spur of the moment, he held up a limp risk. The (rather large) German then heartily slapped the back of his hand which almost made it look like he was reprimanding him. It was a most bizarre and awkward moment. Thankfully nobody from HR was in the room at the time.

One of the best things about the trip to Paris was most definitely the fact that it’s only an hour away from Biarritz, so I managed to get home on Wednesday night to see Sandie, pop in to see a sleeping Maxime, and sleep in my own bed. Similarly I am very happy to have discovered a little gem of an airport in San Sebastien. I went there for the first time this morning and although it makes the airport at Pau look like Heathrow, it has allowed me to do a day trip to Spain. This means that I can get home at a sensible time again tonight, before a day off tomorrow where I can spend some real time at home and in the hospital with Capucine and Gaston.