Long overdue, short review of weeks 1 &2 (ish)

Dateline: Jan 20th, 2009 Paris, France

... and by short I mean, not short at all.  Have any of you ever known me to tell a brief story or write a truly short email?  yeah, i didn't think so.

So I'm here!!  Holy crap!  I'm living in Paris.  Though I have yet to figure out where it is that I will be living.  So far I've been "the girl on the couch" and the squatter.  Awesome.

Here is the story of my first week, and a day or two before my departure....

As many of you are aware, there was madness regarding my visa.  The Friday preceding my departure, when I made my 3rd attempt to get my visa, they took my papers, and my passport, and told me that it would not be ready until Wednesday at the earliest.  My flight, out of NYC was scheduled for Tuesday.  I begged - full on shameless begging, tears and all.  I went home discouraged and exhausted.  I called B, who came over and helped me feel better, and pack and then we went back to her place.  It was a much needed girls night and break from all this.  And good to get a little extra QT with B.  While we were packing, on that same Friday night, I got a call from the consulate to tell me that my visa was ready.  I think they just like to scare you so that you'll kiss their feet when they give you your visa.

In NYC the night before my flight out, Josh and Julianna helped me lighten my load slightly.  I removed from my packed items a few more articles of clothing, a jacket, a pair of shoes, my knitting/sewing projects... what else?  But, somehow I still have TOO MUCH STUFF.  Somehow I still have two bags that are not even packed full but are so heavy that I was asked "Why, Rachel? Why?". Blame the laptop - I swear it weighs 15lbs.  

I was nearly late for my flight from NYC to London, in true Distler fashion.  I got through security quickly and got to my gate with a little time to kill.  My flight was really really rocky for about the first hour and a half.  I actually was a bit worried and anxious, but then it smoothed out and all was well.  We got to London an hour early for our arrival time (all that turbulance must have given us a bit of a speed boost).  But because 6am is apparently high traffic time at the airport, we got stuck in a holding pattern for 1/2hr.  Once finally permitted to land, it took them 1/2 hr to bring us a flight of stairs so we could exit the airplane and pile onto the buses that would take us to the Terminal area.  After the stairs arrived, it took the nearly 1/2hr to offload everyone and get us to the terminal building.  

Once we reach the terminal area we are packed into a security line and it takes us 1/2 hr to get through.  Thankfully I'd given myself a 2hr layover in LHR.  I finally get to the area where I am supposed to wait for the announcement of my gate for me connection to London. It is nearly 8:30am.  My flight is scheduled for departure at 9:10am.  

I spend a few minutes trying to get online, and eating my stash of granola bars in an effort to avoid buying any kind of food in LHR.   Next thing I know the board tells me my flight is delayed... until 9:45... no wait, make that 10am... no no... scratch that, 10:30... oh now, actually, 10:45.  Oh good lord.  I start frantically trying to call Sylvie in Paris to let her know I will be coming in later.  I go to the currency change desk and convert some Canadian money I have into British Pounds (do not ask for an explanation for the Canadian money).  The $30 Canadian nets me just over $10 British Pounds.  How sad is that?  I never manage to get through to Sylvie and decide to get a little food.  I eat the most expensive yogurt and orange juice known to man and return to check the board.  It's now 9:30, and the board now shows my flight as "Boarding" ... at the other end of the terminal.  I run - as much as I can after hardly any food, no sleep (oh yeah, failed to mention - I'd taken cold meds to prevent problems from the pressure in flight since I'd been congested, and it prevented me from sleeping the whole overnight flight and screwed up my appetite.  Awesome.  Totally better than the headache... ), and a heavy as can be carry-on bag slung over my shoulder.

I just make it to the gate before they begin boarding my row.  The flight was delayed on the runway for about 1/2hr due to fog.  London was absolutely encased in fog.  Apparently the fog had also eaten Paris, causing the initial flight delay.

I arrived in Paris at nearly 2pm (about 3 hrs late).  I managed to get my bags and eventually managed to figure out how to get a ticket for the train.  I fumbled my way through (and I mean this literally - you should have seen me with all my bags, utterly ridiculous), found a payphone to call Sylvie and get directions to her house.  It took me 6 tries, at least, to work out how to work the payphones.  I later learned that these may have been the last remaining payphones in Paris.  The rest seem to have gone the way of the Dodo - before getting my phone, whenever I asked anyone where I could find a phone booth in Paris they would reply: (cheeks puff, lipse purse, air releases, eyes roll skyward) "In Paris??  I don't think so..."

The tremendous generosity of complete strangers who saw me lugging twice my weight in baggage is the reason I was able to get unstuck from the metro turnstiles, get onto the train, get off the train, get down the stairs to the other train, and then get up the stairs to the street.  This last one, a very nice man probably about my age litterally carried my bag up 4 very long flights of stairs.  I probably would have eventually succeeded in conquering the stairs myself, had I been left to my own devices.  But it would have taken me an extra hour to do it and I'm sure I'd be permanently bent forward.

I arrived at Sylvie's lovely Parisian apartment on Wednesday afternoon around 4pm.  I was a complete mess: sweating like mad (it's not nearly as cold here as I was expecting) in my sweater and down coat, having not slept since Monday night, having hardly eaten, and utterly disoriented.  Thank god for Sylvie, who showed me to the shower and fed me.  Finally I was human again.  

There was a mix-up with Arthur, my couch host from CouchSurfing (OK, let's be honest - I wrote down the wrong address) and so I stayed on a roll-out futon mattress in Sylvie's dining room that night.  But I have never been happier to get horizontal.  I'd have laid on a 2x4 and been happy as a clam.  

My adventures in Paris thus far have been great.  Apartment hunting is a nightmare, but I suppose it's really not that much harder than finding one in Boston.  I just have the added burden of not really knowing where I'm going when I look, not having the insider network, and not having a place to live while I am looking.  

continued....