Aussie animal in France

Zach in Andorra, 2014

For a number of years, Zach has expressed a wish to go to France during the winter.

This became particularly pressing once he had seen snow in Andorra during a trip in April 2014. In the years thereafter, Zach learned to snowboard in the Australian alps.

And so, a winter in Europe was firmly on the agenda.

While I had indicated that I would make this trip happen, I felt my feet cool on the idea of heading to Europe in the winter as the year moved along.

After having a discussion with Coline, a young French woman who Zach and I had known for years, I spoke with Zach about the matter.

"Zach, you know how we talked about going to Europe this Christmas?"

"Yeah, it's okay Papa, I know that you're not keen. It's not that important."

"Okay, well, I've had another idea."

He gave a non-committal shrug.

"How would you like to go to France around Christmas this year ... on your own?"

The response did not have words.

His eyes opened wide.

They narrowed briefly (translation: "Are you for real?").

And then his face was split with a smile and his eyes nearly popped from his head.

And so, December 25, 2018, I took Zach to Brisbane airport for a flight to Paris via Dubai. In Paris, he was to transfer from CDG-1 to CDG-2 to catch a plane to Toulouse.

We got to the airline check-in queue and waited patiently. Zach's turn came up and he stepped forward boldly to the check-in person.

She glanced in my direction and saw that I was not advancing with him, and turned to this bizarrely suited kid wearing an animal hat with long furry sides that hung down by his side.

She asked him: "How old are you?"

"Sixteen" Zach announced proudly even though his birthday had passed just some 20 days earlier.

"Okay, let's see your passport."

And from there, they got down to business.

The only glitch was that Zach had planned to take just one carry on bag. The airline (I can't remember which one it was) had a silly rule where no bag could exceed 7kg, but you could carry on up to two bags for a total of 10 or 12kg or something like that.

Zach like me tends to travel with carry-on only. And we did not have a spare bag.

So, we trooped back to the car to see what we could find. And there, in the back, was a green Woolworths canvas shopping bag, and so we transferred half his stuff into that bag and returned to complete check-in.

We then walked to the escalators down to Customs and Immigration and I stopped.

Zach asked if I was not coming with him.

I pointed to the sign that said "passengers only beyond this point" and smiled.

He came up to me and gave me a great big hug.

He stepped back with a smile-wide on his face. He then stepped forward again, bent his tall figure down and put his arms under mine and wrapped them around my body, then lifted me up and shook with me delight.

He put me down, waved and took the escalator down to departures.

From the viewing area above the departure hall, I watched until Zach walked out from the Customs and Immigration.

He looked a strange beast.

Atop his head was his beloved furry, animal hat.

He had a loud black, white and blue plaid jacket (for the cold of France) wrapped around his waist (even while it was the height of summer in Australia).

And in his right hand, he was towing a burgundy pull-along cabin bag, and in his left, he carried a green Woolworths bag.

And that was about the last time I saw him or even heard from him for about a month.

No news is good news, right?

Well, that seems about right as he only contacted me once during the month he was away.

One night with only about a week or two to go, I received a call from Zach at 23h30.

I had been asleep but answered the phone as his name and number showed up on my phone.

"Salut Papa! I'm okay."

"Wha? 'Course you're okay."

"Well, I just called Mum and talked to her, and she's really upset."

"Huh?"

(Have you noticed how sleepiness enables us to communicate in the same monosyllabic language that adolescents so like to use?)

"Well, I called her to tell her that I was skiiing up in the mountains with Florian, and I had a fall. Then I was taken off the slopes in a helicopter, and now I'm in hospital. And I'm okay!"

Now, I was awake.

To my shame, my first thought was how we were going to pay for the helicopter.

Florian hearing my agitation through Zach's phone speaker took the phone and assured me that in France, the ski-pass comes with insurance that covers all these issues.

He then went on (gently reminding me of my fatherly responsibilities) indicating that Zach was okay, had hurt his back, but x-rays and scans suggested that there was nothing wrong.

A week or so later, Zach returned to Australia.

Despite the fall while skiing, the trip had been a great success.

Béné's "6th" & "7th" children (Zach & Jean) & two grandchildren, Garance & Leopold

Even before Zach returned home, his hosts and my dear friends Marc and Béné, assured me that Zach has been a wonderful guest and that he was safely on his way home.

When Zach got home, he told me how Béné had enjoyed his company so much that she had decided to adopt him as her seventh child.

Zach corrected her: "I'm your sixth child."

Bénédict reminded him that she already had six children.

Zach acknowledged this, and then pointed out that as he was older than her last child, Jean, by about a year, he (Zach) was her sixth child, and Jean her seventh.