entre ciel et terre // between heaven and earth

Looking back, perhaps my trip to and initial moments in France were a bit auspicious. At the very least, it was eventful.

At the airport, I encountered a bitch who wanted to charge me $50 for being four pounds over weight on my luggage. I also dealt with a very nice man who typed with one finger to exchange my money. I got the bitch back by putting back almost everything I'd taken out after she gave me back my suitcases to take to the security scan machine.

Without an extremely nice woman who randomly let ten lucky people skip to the priority line, I would not have made it through security in time.

On the flight to Dublin, I made friends with Tara-the-art-teacher...who also happened to be a missionary going to Glasgow for two years. We commiserated over the idea of packing our lives into a couple of suitcases and laughed at some of the silly flight safety procedures. Really, who can tuck themselves into even a semblance of the fetal position when sitting in a cramped airplane seat? I ate my last Chipotle burrito for a year and watched The Reader and Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. I wish I hadn't bothered to watch the second one and gone to bed instead.

I also read and reread the majority of the letters (save the one marked "SPECIAL OCCASION ONLY"). I love my friends. I miss my friends like crazy.

I spent three hours in Dublin talking with Tara and spying on this one dude who was sitting a couple seats away from me. He was short and looked like the biggest bro in the world (seriously, a prime candidate for Bro Rape). In a very non-bro-like fashion, he struck up a conversation and started a game with two French children sitting next to him. By the time we boarded the plane, the kids were in love with him. Who knew bros spoke such good French? I suppose that this is supposed to teach me not to make assumptions.

On the plane to Paris, Vincent-the-bicyclist struck up a conversation with me. Turns out he'd been flying in from IAD as well. As an engineering student coming back from a year off--which he'd spent bicycling around Europe and South America--he was excited to learn that I was going to be studying in Paris. By the time the flight ended, I had Vincent's number and an offer to meet up with him and his friends that very night. They were apparently going to get together by the Seine for wine and cheese. I told him that I was probably going to pass out from exhaustion after the trip, and at the very least, I needed to get to know my host family, but that I appreciated the offer. I gave him an email address when he asked me for my phone number after giving me his. He said that he was glad that I had friends and contacts waiting for me in Paris, but that I also had a friend in him and to not hesitate if I needed anything.

Frenchmen are so friendly!

Don't worry, guys. As nice as Vincent looks, Taken is fresh in my mind. Ironically, it was also one of the movie choices during my flight from IAD to Dublin.

It was pouring rain when the plane landed, but had changed to a slow drizzle by the time I got my luggage. I got totally lost (sort of) at Charles de Gaulle, wandering around and trying to find my driver. But it turns out that it wasn't my fault--the driver was just late. Since I was using a shuttle service, I and six other people got on and we took off.

To get a good idea of Parisian driving, think of all the bad Asian women drivers that you know (hah!). Multiply them by 1000 and put them on the streets. Lanes don't really exist here unless you count the small medians.

Due to la circulation (traffic), I also got a very good view of Paris' sex district. I have never seen so many sex shops in my life. Anyone need some DVDs or special toys? It was like...three streets' worth of Fantasy World, except bigger and better, with more "services." Nothing beats sitting in a sketchy-looking gray van while crawling past the sex shops.

...sorry, I didn't take pictures.

To recap:

1. Flight to Paris: 8.5 hours + 3 hours layover = 11.5 hours
2. Wandering around the airport/sitting through traffic: 3 hours

Does anyone else see something wrong here?

I eventually made it to my apartment. Madame and Monsieur were very nice. They complimented my French even though it sucks. The fed me good food and wine.

Still need to learn to drink wine. I couldn't down very much of it.

More to come later about la vie française with M. & Mme du P., my huge room, and my personal-but-tiny European bathroom.