Paris

“Excusez moi.” I’ve heard that phrase before. This time around though, it's not spoken facetiously to sound sophisticated or gay. There was no hint of humor in it, just an urgency to get through. I looked back at the French lady and stepped aside. It then struck me that I was an outsider now, even before the plane left America. I expected that feeling to hit me much later. Excusez moi, parles vous Anglais? Merci boucoup. Au revoir. That’s about all the French I could remember. Memoirize moir French phrazez!! I took out my French phrase guide, put my carry-on baggage in the overhead bin, sat down, buckled up, memorized.

I went to Paris to attend the European Microwave Conference. It’s our biggest European event each year, and accordingly, 3 levels of management (2 shy of CEO) attended and they were all on the plane with me. It’s funny how as we went down the aisle, one by one we got to our seats in pecking order. Needless to say, I was 3 rows shy of the tail. I attended because I was going to deliver a workshop based on a paper I wrote. I also participated in a worldwide product premier there, one of Agilent’s most significant product launches since the product targets a completely new market segment. All of us had hectic schedules – workshops, booth duties, press releases, VIP visits and media interviews. For such a big event, I wore my French blue shirt, my French cuffs, and my French accent. Guess which was my faux pas?

The night before my presentation, I only slept 2 hours because of jet lag. I was tired but restless, and the expensive, tiny French hotel room made me feel more agitated. When the sun finally rolled out, I prayed that my lack of sleep was just a dream. As I dressed up, I prayed about my breakfast not messing up my suit. In the subway, I prayed that all my equipment would work as I tightened my grip on the railing. I thought about everything that day – except for being calm. My co-workers and I got to the conference center and I just ran on adrenaline; I also sweated like a pig. When it was finally time to deliver my workshop, I got so scared during the first 3 minutes that I stuttered. Come on, you’ve prepared 3 months for this… God, help me…Soon enough, things fell into place, and I delivered the rest of my slides with excitement and confidence. The Product Marketing manager even sat through half of it and during the break he gave me such a huge compliment that made me more confident for the rest of the workshop. When I finished, I heard the audience clap and then and there I knew – I really like teaching. As the audience left, I collected the evaluation forms, smiled since they evaluated positively, then I put away my equipment, got out of the conference center, sat down on one of the benches, unbuttoned my French cuffs, looked at the sky, and prayed. So this is what You had in store huh? I feel so drained, but it’s definitely worth it. I stared at the sky until it got dark.

The rest of the week went by with me doing demos on the new product we launched. I got to talk with professors (even saw a UCLA professor I knew), students, competitors, managers and presidents of companies. I enjoyed it thoroughly; the experience reminded me of evangelizing at UCLA. The days were really busy, so when nightfall came we celebrated it away.

Every night my colleagues and I just literally step out of our hotel into the night life since my hotel was along the Rue de Champs Elysses, the watering hole of Paris’ trendiest. Amble a little, you can buy 100% alcohol with anise. Walk a block and you can get jiggy wit the Parisian clubbers. Walk yet another block and you’re at the Arc de Triomphe. The male and female fashionistas of Paris filled the avenue, donned in designer clothing, strutting like ramp models. Their confidence was visible, like a huge mark on their faces. I didn’t see a single overweight Parisian. It was also hard to find one who didn’t smoke. Apparently, my co-workers being English and German were used to this sight so their focus was elsewhere, “Dinner at Bastille?” My eyes were still following these Parisian women, “Yeah, sure, whatever.” We took the subway to get to Bastille.

All my French dinners were superb. My German co-worker has such a refined palate that each time we went out I’d ask him for a recommendation and he’d order a dinner-wine combination that matched my taste spot on. From ducks, rabbits and snails to crème brulees and crepes, Cabernets and brandies to vodka sorbets with mint, Parisian food is enough reason for me to welcome obesity again. When I thought I could guess how they cooked a dish, I was always mistaken as I took a second bite. And a third…

When the conference was finally over, I walked around Paris. There are many memories I plan to keep alive. The way the royal blue roofs projected elegance, the red awnings that hinted of romance, the glittering River Seine that witnessed generations of wars, and became subject and setting of thousands of stories, the rich history invisibly engraved onto buttresses, churches and monuments, the roundabouts that depicted the convoluted and seemingly arbitrary French culture, the ubiquitous cafes and crepe stands where the French watched the world go by, and of course, the French people, both in and out of romance.

Stay tuned for London, Rome, Florence, Venice, Pisa and Chianti.