Arrival in paradise
"May I 'elp you?" She had come from Paris 20 years ago, had got married, had children, became American and still was French, deep within her heart. A face like a biography - powdered white, cheeks rouge, hair blond, combed like a turban, too vain to wear her well-earned spectacles. Toulouse-Lautrec could not have drawn her better: Madame, an anachronism with knitting needles.
17 jet hours away from Paris, she sits here in Honolulu in one of those 40-squarefoot-boxes which have to serve as an office in every airport on earth. Madame is the official tourist information, at least one of them. They placed her far away from the mainstream, way out of the main hall. No one ever gets here. She hasn't got anything to do. So what does she do? She knits.
And now, at last - humans! She can put away her wool and talk to somebody. Now isn't that something! From Germaniiiie! And you really have been to Paris once? How nice! And you do speak a little French, here in 'onolulu, Saturday afternoon at three o'clock! It is really such a joy!
It gets quiet. We all take a bath in this happy feeling of finally having come home, at the other end of the world. It's so nice. So ... well. My grin begins to freeze. I realize that I don't smell too good. I should change my shirt. We would need a hotel room. With bathroom, please. And we would like to rent a car. No, not here. Next island. Maui? Do you think that would be possible?
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