White flakes floated gently down from a dirty white sky. Trees shivered in their nakedness. White lay on the ground all over the air terminal at Charles de Gaulle airport. Before we stepped outside of the airport, John pulled the luggage trolley to one side and hastily extracted a pull over from his suitcase. He pulled it on and then replaced his two heavy coats over the top. My thick padded coat I had carried on the plane from Perth was warm enough for me. For now. We stepped out side of the terminal and the cold struck us in the face.
"Taxi", we called. The cab pulled along side us. "Conflans Sainte Honorine," I showed him the address on my phone.
"Oui," he replied and began loading our luggage into the boot of his car.
We climbed into the back of his car. After a long sleepless night on the plane it was a relief to be in a car on the ground and on our way to Allison and Neil's home in the suburbs of Paris. The air travel over , for a little while.
The chatty taxi driver asked if we spoke French. "Un peu," I told him. A little.
"It has been snowing heavily all day," he told us in French. "It is very dangerous on the roads today. The cars are sliding."
"Not for us, I hope," I replied.
When we arrived at Allison and Neil's they were at work. We took a walk into the village centre. Within 30 minutes my ears were aching with the cold. "Must tell Lara to bring a hat to keep her ears warm," we decided.