I have not forgotten the promised vlog. I attempted to record it three times, but I am so jetlagged and haggard looking it is ridiculous. Mostly it’s a lot of me staring at the camera saying, “Uhhhhh.” Suffice it to say that a lot has happened in the last couple weeks.
Waiting to depart my first flight, I had a sudden wave of the jitters. I am sure the fact that I had not had a proper night’s sleep in days, was being powered purely by the grace of endless caffeine, and was freezing my ass off did not help matters. Mostly, though, I was struck by that first wave of, “Oh shit, this is really happening.” I sent a panic stricken text message to my mother and an email to a few of my favorite girls / life support system, but I had to turn off my phone before I could get my comforting responses. (Although, Lor’s “Sweeney, you’re the bravest girl I know.” was nice to see when I turned my phone back on.)
But I am in Paris. I made it.
I had a bit of a debacle with luggage and a near-meltdown at the St. Louis airport, and additional, though lesser, problems in Chicago. LOT weighed my carry-on bag. What the hell is that? Who does that? They forced me to check it because it weighed too much, but she took pity on the arm, leg, and two weeks of food money I had to give United in St. Louis so she didn’t charge me any extra fees for that. My super sturdy Samsonite bags are nearing the end of their lives because of the hell I put them through — the middle size one has a crack in the plastic. Oops.
Otherwise, the flights to Warsaw and Paris were uneventful (which is generally what we’re going for, right?) I got to Paris and quickly realized that my plan to save money and take the train was laughable, given the ridiculous luggage haul I brought with me. I took what was probably a gypsy cab to my hostel. It was only after getting into the unmarked white van that I began to process the fact that I allowed a perfect stranger pass me off to two more perfect strangers immediately upon arrival to a foreign country where I scarcely speak the language. It belatedly occurred to me that this was not one of my better life choices, but by that point I was in said van with my shit so…you know. I made it, alive, albeit down 70 Euro. (I should probably figure out how to make that little E symbol thing at some point.)
I have been at my hostel for two days now, spending my time working, sleeping, and getting lost. It has been pretty wonderful. I am still in this “WHERE AM I?” haze. Orientation started today and I was passed from desk to desk being inundated with information about the thousand things that are going to happen in the next week and then BAM! classes will start. Yesterday the freshmen started their orientation and it was awesome coming down to the lobby and just seeing all of the madness. I am ridiculously excited to be back in college.
I have been saying that I came here mostly because it was Paris and it was an opportunity to live abroad more than anything else. Certainly that was a big motivator for me, but I have to admit that I have missed college like crazy. I miss classes and I am all the more excited that this is now graduate school and I will be in smaller classes surrounded by people who are just as excited about this as I am.
Speaking of what a spazzy mess I am, I have also managed to prove, repeatedly, what a debacle of a human being I am. My new program friend whose fake blog name I have yet to come up with pointed out last night RE: some stupid thing I did that, “That seems to be a running theme.” Why, yes. Yes it is. I had hoped I could fool everyone for at least a week or two into believing I am a real person and not some catastrophic cartoon character, but I suppose it’s best to get that out there right away.
Yes, I am the girl who forgot half of her important documents and who managed to set a personal record by getting lost within 60 seconds of leaving the hostel. (My plan for yesterday was to get lost — I think that’s an important part of getting to know a city, but I thought I would at least make it to the Metro before I got started…)
My first night in the hostel I realized as soon as I crawled into bed how glad I am to be here. Not just because I was grateful for the bed after endless travel, but because there was light and sound coming in from the outside. I get why people love small towns, but I am just not a fan of living in a desolate area where someone could break in and there would be nobody to hear you scream. Just saying. I love cities. I love the metro. I had a ridiculous geek out moment thinking about how a solid public transportation system is so accessible to everyone because it is pure symbol recognition to figure out when you reach your destination. Metro maps in most places are remarkably simple and idiot-proof and for a couple bucks you can get anywhere you want to go in that city and THAT IS AMAZING.
I could go on for, well, forever. This is just me checking in to say I AM HERE. I AM ALIVE. I AM SUPEROMGFLAILSTOKED.
The epic vlog of 20sb summit flail probably won’t happen until I am in my new apartment, but then we can do a two-for-one special, right? SUMMIT AWESOME + PARISIAN APARTMENT AWESOME = ULTIMATE AWESOME.
Or something like that.