Thursday, July 18, 2013

She Was Born Near Kiev



It was a cool autumn morning in Paris.  I was heading to the airport on an empty stomach as the breakfast at the four-bedroom pension did not start till 7 am.  England’s rugby team was badly defeated by South Africa the night before and there were still quite a few tourists, near the arches of La Defence, wearing green and holding bottles of beer.

It was Sunday morning and they did not search my knapsack at the airport.  Perhaps the security team was also at the rugby game the night before.  I bought a Campagnard sandwich and a double Espresso.

I had an hour to waste.  I could take a nap, write a few notes about the trip, or just watch the people around me.  A young lady rubbing her bare feet caught my attention.  A couple holding hands while jointly reading the newspaper was another tender sight.  So, I got another Espresso and waited for the gate to open.

A platinum-blond caught my eye.  She was rhythmically swinging her right foot while watching people go by.  She reminded me of someone I had not yet met.  At some point we were looking at the same person, an overweight woman wearing stiletto heels.  It was France, after all.

Boarding was on time and my aisle seat perfectly comfortable.  I said hello to the man sitting next to me and started reading Le Figaro.  Then Le Monde for better analysis. 
A few minutes after take-off I wanted to listen to French songs and do some writing.  I felt like writing.  I often do so on planes. 

The headset outlet was broken.  I tried to listen in mono mode, but that was not working either.  I called the flight attendant.
“Do you have another aisle seat I can move to?”
“Je vais voir, Monsieur.”

A few minutes later she told me that there was one three seats back.  And I moved.

It was a two-seat row, and the platinum-blond woman was sitting at the window seat.  I smiled.  And she reciprocated.

So I tried the headsets again.  This time Yves Montand was magnificently audible.  The first song was “A bicyclette” and I shut my eyes remembering my teenager years around the Mediterranean, on a bicycle.

On était tous amoureux d'elle
On se sentait pousser des ailes
A bicyclette
Sur les petits chemins de terre
On a souvent vécu l'enfer
Pour ne pas mettre pied à terre
Devant Paulette

After a few songs I rubbed my eyes and looked to my left.  My compagnon du voyage was struggling with the headset.  Not with the outlet, but in figuring out how to put those ungodly single speakers around each ear.  The loops around them are counter-intuitive.  But also she had a thick head of hair and her ears were hardly visible.

“Je peux aider?”

“Sorry,” she said with an accent, “my French is very poor.”

“No problem,” I replied. “English is a fine travel language.”

So I tried to help her with the logic of the headset.  Showed her how mine goes on each ear.  How the loop is a mirror-image to fit the left rather than the right.

Did not work.  She did not seem to have a three-dimensional view of things.

“How about you pull your hair up?”

She smiled.  The reading lights were on and the window shades down.  Platinum hair has almost an aura around it under the reading lights.

The headsets were now well placed upon her ears.  Somehow, I also realized that she did not know how to use the movie selection feature. 

“What kind of movie do you like?”
“Mystery!”

And mystery I found.

…. I wrote for a short while, and then tried to shut my eyes and think about what I wrote.  Instead I turned left and asked:
“Please let me know when you need to go to the toilet.  If I am asleep, just wake me up.”

She did not reply, just smiled. She had an elusive attitude to things.  A bit European, a bit deterministic.

“Where are your roots from?” I had to ask.
“The Ukraine. And yours?”
Armenia.”
“Ah, neighbors!”

When dinner was served, we talked about, what seemed to be, totally unrelated topics.

“I do not like American coffee,” she said and asked for tea during the beverage service.
“But I love French and Viennese coffee.  Why do you think the same coffee tastes soo much better in other places?”
“May be it is the seasoning of the machines.  One has to allow previous cooking or brewing to leave a mark on the environment where new cooking will take place.  That way, they will influence the taste.  Perfectly cleaned, polished and spotless pots have no memory, no taste, and no character.”

She looked at me.  Her hair was still pulled up and the headsets somehow still hanging on to her ears.
“People are like pots, yes? Past experiences shape the taste and nature of new ones.”

“What do you do?” I asked.
“Oh, the expected question!  What difference does it make?  You are just a taxi driver.”

A taxi driver??

“Yes.  You see, I will never see you again; you will never meet me again.  So, we feel ok talking about things stuck in a seat for eight and a half hours.  You do that with taxi drivers, no?”

Well, in a way…

“Tell me, what is the biggest challenge for a scientist?”

Oh la la!  What kind of a question is that?

“I do not know if I can answer.”
“Of course you can!  Tell me one thing that immediately comes to mind.”

“Well, perhaps knowing the difference between causation and correlation.  Perhaps the bigger challenge is teaching people about that difference.”

“Hmm, that is a good one!  What is correlation?”

“It is believing that you really do not know how to use the movie features on a plane even though you have been traveling for years.”
“And what is causation?”
“That I thought I was able to help you understand how to use the movies feature on this plane.”
“So correlation is the same thing as superstition?  Just because two things were of a certain order at one point in time when a third thing happened, one should not keep on believing that it will happen again if those two are in the same order?”

“Yeah, something like that…”

  “So, you travel for some kind of work, you use highly technical and academic language, you are interested in social issues, and you do not like American coffee.  And oh, you are Ukrainian.  How is the taxi driver doing so far?”

“Pretty good.  I also find that long flights are difficult without an interesting person next to you.  I am glad that the headset outlet was broken at your original seat.”
“Yes, I am glad too. Now, what should we discuss next?”

“Genomes.  You are a scientist in that area?”
“No.  Not in that area.”
“Neither am I -- so we can talk about it.  See, you were talking about correlation before.  Historically people have looked to the skies to figure out why two things came together when a third one was happening.  Now, through genetics and genomes, we are looking into the microcosm within us.  Are we asking the same questions?”
“In a way we are, yes.  In fact, we may even learn about causation in some rare instances through genomics.”
“Yes.  And then we may not accuse people of faulty lifestyles; we may not create classes of people based on their body weight; and, we may even understand why some people gamble, yes? That they gamble with their money or with their life.”

We were getting close to Washington.

“Would you like gum?  Helps with the descent pressure change.”
“Yes, I would.  Thanks.”

Then, there was a malfunction of the landing gears.  We circled Dulles airport for more than an hour till things were working safely again. 

I did not have luggage to pick up.  So, as she was heading toward the conveyor belts, I shook her hand and admitted that “it was truly an intriguing time up there, for ten hours!”

“Yes, it was”.

Then, she slightly turned back and almost without looking at me but in a whispering voice said:

“Hey, taxi driver, if you write about the past ten hours, do not forget to mention that it is always good to not clean pots totally.  Artists cannot write about seasoned pots because they are unseasoned themselves.  And I found that living in America all these decades has not scrapped your pot to a shine.  That is good.  It was good to learn about your résistance to becoming polished.”

… When I exited the airport and called a taxi, the driver was a gentleman clearly tired of driving, but he put on a fake smile and “So, Sir, how was your flight?”

I looked at him, and almost laughed!  No, I was not ready to talk to this “taxi driver”!

September 18, 2007

©Vahé Kazandjian, 2013

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