A First Glimpse

            After 17 hours and 22 minutes of flying, I have reached France. The first clear sign that I’m in another country is the escalator to Immigration, which doesn’t unfurl in regular steps, but in a series of smooth, rolling hills. As you drift along, you are not-so-subtly acclimatized to Paris (or maybe only a popular conception of Paris) by strains of La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf, and ads for Parisian fashion featuring women with miniature Eiffel towers strapped to their heads.

            However, I don’t have a chance to see Paris today, and after negotiating the airport shuttle and the Charles de Gaulle train station, I am on my way to Angers. Unlike the American trains I have experienced, the French train almost tempts you to go to sleep, gliding along as if the tracks were greased with butter. The warmth inside is deceiving, however, and my arrival in Angers is accompanied by below-freezing temperatures and snow.

            Although Angers is not included (or given only a few words) in most guidebooks for France, my first impression is of a thriving city with much to explore, whether you’re interested in art, history, Cointreau (a type of orange liquor), or shopping. In between modern storefronts, you can catch a glimpse of the restoration of a 16^th Century hotel, and the spires of the Romanesque and Gothic Cathedral are visible above the rooftops in much of downtown.