A message to Charles de Gaulle officials: your airport is in disrepair.
One of every two elevators is out of order. It’s a similar story for the escalators, moving walkways, cash machines, and phones. Those phones that do work are of such poor quality that everyone on the other end sounds like vintage Buzz Aldrin, regardless of distance.
The only positive side affect from the lack of maintenance is the sparrow nest inside Terminal 2, which provided some entertainment while I waited for you to locate the bags you lost and damaged.
The rest of the day, however, was ripe with delight and wonder. I met some of my best friends, previously only known to me through the interweb, embarked on a leisurely teaser tour of Paris (which took us under the Eiffel, over the Seine, and in the tres cool Pompidou), and engorged on fine cuisine.
The night ends with this report from my own private apartment on a narrow street made for postcards and movies. I’ll be back home in Salt Lake tomorrow. What a long week this has been.