In other news, I arrived safely in Paris, and (after a ridiculously long and arduous journey through the Parisian public transportation maze) was efficiently shepherded into my temporary lodgings.
I admit, I cried a little bit on the plane. It was pathetic, but I kept thinking about how much I like my life right now and how in the movies when people go off on grand adventures to new places, it's always to fill a void of some sort, and I couldn't remember anything I liked about France. All I could think about was everything I like about home and how I wouldn't get to see it for months.
But then... Bam! After leaving Charles de Gaulle (which is a total clusterfuck and couldn't make anyone fall back in love with Paris), after carrying my gigantic suitcases down a million flights of stairs, I got on the RER. (The RER is Paris' less deep, more rural underground train.) And all of a sudden, everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. I had successfully pulled off a crazy amount of luggage carrying. I was strong! I was independent! I was on my favorite train! People were speaking French!
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| The contrast between verdant foliage and graffiti gets me every time. |
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| Who's a cute wittle hwotel? You are! Yes you! |
Anyway, I'm not allowed to sleep for another few hours and I can't Skype anyone for at least another half hour. Maybe I'll just "not sleep" until then. "Not sleeping" sounds really nice. I want to be "not well rested" for my Skyping.
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