Anyway, I've been in France for 13 hours at the time of this writing (I am typing it on my computer, saving it, and then e-mailing it as soon as I get a password to access the school Internet.) I've learned a lot of German... yeah... my television...
I'll start from the top.
After leaving the security zone, waving goodbye to my loved ones (wow, I am crying again right now remembering how far away I am from you) I broke down into veritable sobs as I walked down the hallway. I made my last American purchase buying a bag of Sun Chips, a bottle of Naked Juice and two protein bars all for the low low price of ten freaking bucks. What a rip. I watched a bit of the Browns game before boarding to go to Philadelphia. The flight attendant had to yell at a pair of couples who were talking loudly during her safety presentation. I've never seen that happen before. Hilarious. I was stoked to fly over the Schuykill River, though. I peered down and saw the familiar shapes of crew shells and those wakeless launches following along. I recognized the bridges from Dad Vail and Boathouse Row right before the falls. It was pretty cool. Anyway, once we landed I had to catch a bus to terminal A... and wouldn't you know it, my gate was the very last one, A26. They were already boarding when I got there. Not a fan of the Philly airport. Too big.
On the plane from Philly to Paris, I sat next to a man and his wife. Technically, I was next to the window, he was next to me, then the aisle, then she was in the middle seats. The flight wasn't full, so the man stayed sitting next to me so his wife could stretch out on the middle seats...which was nice of him, but I wanted to sleep, too. Oh well. He was a nice man, on his way to visit his son who lives in Seville, Spain. He had a Spanish book and corresponding speaking tapes on his iPod. He muttered to himself in Spanish/Spanglish and I contented my self with watching a documentary about dolphins and an episode of King of Queens (which made me miss my boo.) I stared out the window a lot, too, trying to make myself sleepy with thoughts on time - what time is, what time does, what time tests etc. The next thing I knew, I was waking up with a crick in my neck and a hairy knuckle rapping my shoulder. I left in a sunset, woke in a sunrise, and only seven hours had elapsed between.
Picking up my baggage wasn't so bad except that is when it hit me full on that I was alone, alone, alone. This is the first time I've been so far from home for so long without people that I know. Add to that a language that I only know well enough to B.S. my way through small talk and the situation looks a bit daunting. Everything looked a lot different than it had in the winter, being a different terminal and all, I suppose, so it took me awhile to get my bearings. When I finally did, I headed for a bureau de change to exchange my money... but it was closed. So I headed for another one, got lost, but ended up where I needed to be to catch my train to Paris. [Classic Mere Moment Alert] Good, I thought, I'll just get on this and maybe there will be a bureau de change there. I mean, it is where everyone catches a train to Paris so... Alas, no. Nothing. So there I was, standing in the middle of the train station, carrying pretty much my weight in luggage and had to get back on the shuttle and go back to the airport. I hunted out the second bureau de change that I missed when I got lost... AND IT WAS CLOSED. Kill myself. I wandered and lugged around the part of the airport that I could still access and finally found an open one. I got ripped off, naturally, but didn't have the time nor the patience to wait for something better. Anyway, I got my money (which came with a free 2007 Rugby World Cup keychain because I changed so much, hahahaha), got back on the shuttle, went to the station, bought a ticket and caught my train to Paris.
And the fun continued.
Anyone who is my size should not carry a 40 lb. hiking pack, a 50 lb. suitcase and a 15 lb. handbag all at once. It defies logic and physics and human anatomy. I hauled it off the RER train into the Gare du Nord and played pack horse, clomping up three flights of stairs and down two more before arriving at my Metro stop, all the while gasping for breaths of warm, stinky, damp Paris Metro air. Gross. Hopped on my Metro line for a two minute joy ride, then hauled off at Gare de L'Est, my wintertime nemesis. It was another four flights up to the grande lignes train station, where they run the land trains. At the bottom of my last flight, a beggar woman helped me carry my bags. I gave her 70 cents, but wanted to give her more, but all I had was a 10, 20 and 50 euro bills. I don't know, maybe I should have given her a ten, but I had no idea what kind of money I would need. Anyway, if I run into her again at that station, I owe her, because I was ready to just sit down and cry.
I crossed the street to Gare de L'Est, filled with unpleasant but hilarious memories of being trapped there for 24 hours in December. I only had to wait for an hour or hour and a half this time. Woo hoo! But within that waiting period, nature called and I remembered why I just looooove Europe so much. You have to pay to pee! (Oh my kingdom for a "free pee.") As I fished around for my wallet, I realized that I may not have enough money because I gave my change to the beggar woman and thought karma was going to bite me for not giving her more. Luckily it gave me a break; I had exactly the 50 cents I needed. (Oh, and for the record, I tried to log on to the Internet while I waited in the station, but I needed to belong to a cellular network. I tried everything to try to send out a message, but no dice.) I snagged a sandwich and a warm Coke (stupid Europe!) at the sandwicherie, and waited.
My train to Romilly came on time and I got on it without any problems. A baby who was just learning to talk was in my cabin. She actually said "goo goo ga ga," which is the first time I have had that happen in the flesh. Pretty rad. I arrived in Romilly without any problems, too. I met an English teacher (the mole lady, Mom) who took me to her car. It had, uh, character. An old 1980s Peugeot... my door didn't shut all the way... yeah... She never drives it because she just walks everywhere. When she speaks in English, she sounds like she has Downs Syndrome or something. But she is super nice and talkative, if not a little eccentric. She took me to her home because she forgot to take her artichokes off the burner. It is a wee little place and really marks a stark difference between American life and French life (think the documentary on Parisian architecture you rented, Brandon.) I don't think I ever want to live here for too long. I like a house with a yard and a garage and all those comforts of expansive American life. Ah, I also met her 10 year old son. She also has two daughters, one who is 23 and one who is 29. I believe the 29-year-old has a new baby.
After that, things get blurry. She brought me back to the school and I met... uh... everyone possible, I think. There is no way my jet-lagged mind stored any information. I embarrassed myself in front of Annie while she was giving a French tutoring lesson to a Portuguese student here. Those of you who know me academically know that my French grammar is 100% horrible. Give me a book, I'll read it, and tell you the concepts, but my grammar will be horrific. Anyway, she told me that they are teaching English with a whole new method this year, so I am going to be making stuff up as I go just as they are. Who knows, maybe some things that I do will be worked into the actual curriculum.
Afterwards, one of the women I met walked me to a little grocery store so I could get some food. You have to take in your own bags (would have been nice to know before I got there...) so I could only get what I could fit in my big handbag. I have some apples, some dried mangos (I think) some dried apricots, juice, lettuce and some noodles. Yeah, uh huh, I am going to starve. (Wait until you see pics of the hot plate, my one pan, plates, one glass, and several knives and forks, but no spoons. Woooooo!!!) On my way back in, I stopped at the office to ask about my ID card which unlocks the main gate. Apparently this is the same card that I use for my meal plan and I got myself into a royal ordeal with the lady in charge of those. This language barrier thing sucks. I got flustered. Twenty euro later and I am still not really sure how many meals I bought.
I returned to my room and cried. I couldn't hold it in anymore, I just sat down and cried. Fell asleep with my head buried in my teddy bear, watching a German dubbed version of King of Queens, which just made me cry harder. I woke to a knock at my door and opened it to the assistant headmistress' secretary, Jerome, who had come to take me to dinner. He is a short, soft spoken man. Really... weird. But I think it is just the fact that I can't really understand what he says and he speaks no English that makes it so hard to communicate with him. He was telling me all sorts of stuff about the building and alarms and whatnot, but I caught maybe 10% of it. He lead the way to the cafeteria, but I don't think I'll be able to find it again. Anyway, Jerome is one of the teachers that lives here on campus during the week and goes home on the weekends. We met his friend Said (I am guessing on the spelling, pronounced Sa-eed) who I am pretty sure comes from a North African decent, just like Jerome, but I've yet to ask. He's a Spanish teacher here, I think, but wants to practice his English, so he asked me some questions in English and I responded in French. We also ate with a girl friend of theirs. I didn't catch her name (I actually don't think she ever told it to me,) but she speaks at a rapid pace and I had to stumble to keep up with her. She is super nice though, asked me a lot of questions, but didn't grill me. She ate a really stinky cheese though... eeehhhggggg. She and Said left, and Jerome and I just looked at each other awkwardly. I have a feeling that my English teacher contact, Valerie, put him to the task of being a nice neighbor to me. He came to check out the empty room across from mine because he needs to move into a vacant room, something about electricity and a burst pipe in his room. I don't know. The headmistress told me that they are going to do a renovation of this building, so sometime this year, I am going to be moving so they can do repairs (like my caving in ceiling) and repaint. Anyway, I mentioned that my television has a lot of German channels, so we spent an awkward two hours (it was probably more like one, but felt like two) trying to figure out why I get German channels and not the standard French ones. He thinks the TV used to belong to the German assistant who was here last year and the cable box is actually some weird German transistor or something. But he would flip a channel and stare. Like a total vacant shut down. It was weird, but I was totally grateful to have someone to go to dinner with. I am going to be short on friends here for the first few weeks, so even an assigned neighbor friend is a comfort.
If I did the math right, I've been awake for over 32 hours with only 3-4 hours worth of nap time thrown in there somewhere. Ew, that also means I've been in these same clothes for that amount of time... nor have I brushed my teeth... gross... and I just watched the French equivalent of Grey's Anatomy (as far as I can tell, having never worshipped the show like others that I love, haha... hot doctor men with wavy hair and sultry eyes, hot doctor women with big boobs, wavy hair and sultry eyes...) so that is a double gross. (But Crossing Jordan is on now, so that is a plus.) I am going to finish unpacking, shower and then go to bed in the smallest bed on the planet. The room isn't that bad, it just isn't home. I'll try to get some pictures out as soon as I can find an easy way to do it.
As for here, I already have my shrines to Brandon, friends and family set up, and put out all my Bon Voyage cards and letters. I suppose I should put away some clothes and shoes. Tomorrow I plan on wandering a little farther out from the gated school grounds and find somewhere that has clothes hangers and toilet paper. (I am living off my pack of tissues that I bought for the airport, so that is a pressing need.) 0o0o0o, and bath towels. Le sigh.
Don't worry about me, loved ones. I'll be ok. I am sorry the video chats and Internet calling may not work out, but we'll see. This really sucks and I have a feeling that I am not done crying, but I'll work something out.
Love you all,
Meredith
Family members: Check the addresses. If there are any more Jensens and Wonovs that I should add to this list, let me know or forward this on to them so they can let me know.
Friends: Je suis en France et je ne comprende rien. Je suis suck a big one.
Boo: I don't think I remembered to write it in your e-mail, but I finally broke my brown sunglasses. I figured that out after my money crisis. Karma? Anyway, I love you and miss you.
Addendum: The shower wasn't bad after I let the rust run out of the pipes and I executed some stellar Appalachian engineering with the shower head. I mean, there was the standing in ankle-deep water, but at least I have a shower, eh?
And I've already used the first-aid kit. Sliced my thumb on a suitcase buckle. Thankfully, God invented Tide pens for blood stains.
One last fun fact: They don't change class to a bell. They use the chorus of Outkast's "Hey Ya." I kid you not.
No comments:
Post a Comment