my story begins . . .

Dear Friends,

How to begin . . . I had envisioned my first entry on my arrival to Paris to be a poetic journey describing the romance of this city . . . but alas this would be a lie as my first few days have been everything practical and nothing the least bit romantic. So this is where my story must begin, with the practical mishaps of learning to live in a foreign country.

But first, let me back up to the drive to the airport. As my dear Dad was approaching the departure loading zone - I received one last phone call on my American cell phone. A much dreaded call from my doctor informing me that after several consultations over 8 weeks, that his diagnosis was incorrect and in fact the MRI I had insisted upon showed a complete sever to my ACL to which surgery is required for repair. As you can imagine, this news (and timing) was distressing -

1. I had just left my company and insurance (although there is hope for Cobra),
2. I was on my way to Paris to endure three months of walking on a bum knee and finally,
3. Surgery terrifies me. On the bright side, Pairs is ahead of me, my knee will just have to tough it out and surgery will have to wait.

Now fast forward . . . I arrive in Paris (the next day) and voila! It is snowing and very cold - East Coast cold not sunny Colorado cold. I arrive at my flat and find myself with two bags (one marked HEAVY from the BMI agent who lectured me on the inappropriateness of my packing) and three extremely steep spiral staircases to climb. So one bum knee, two heavy suitcases and three step staircases. I put on my iPod, turned the dial to Queens of the Stone Age (because you need rock music to climb stairs) and I managed to make it up with both suitcases in only four songs which is about 10 minutes but these were very steep stairs.

My apartment (which I have an exterior picture that I will post soon) --- take the size of an average American bathroom, double it and you can imagine the size of my studio (and not worthy of an interior photograph.) It is cozy as we say back home but it is home sweet home all the same - however, for those of you wishing to visit, I would recommend waiting until next month after I upgrade.

The next day I successfully buy a Metro pass and am on my way to school. (S.T. - Remember the Hanson concert? Well if you were wondering what happened to them, I am happy to say they are alive and well, touring in France - with posters blasted all over the metro.) I follow the "Sortie" signs up more steep stairs and find myself in the heart of an old Parisian arrondisement (neighborhood). I am in wool pants, turtleneck, hat, gloves, scarf, coat and boots, but still the snowy/wet weather penetrates through all of my clothing and freezes me to the core - but finally - finally I feel like I have arrived! The buildings are stunning, so old and majestic, the streets are quaint, narrow and lovely, full of boulangeries and brasseries. The shops are beautiful, the smell of fresh croissants is wonderful - but argh - I am so turned around! What is this? Who decided to arrange Paris in an outward spiral where no street is perpendicular to the next? It is on my list to discover the meaning behind this - to confuse dumb Americans, n'est pas? (I think I am finally understanding what you guys did at CV - to plan against spirals, yes?)

But here is the beauty of it all, after being lost for nearly an hour making my way through the tangled web of rues and boulevards - I was the first to arrive at school! How could this be? Hmm - guess the French are not caught up on punctuality. (Dad - you would go crazy!) The French are going to force me into relaxation. It is perfectly normal to show up 30 minutes late for school, fix a cup of coffee (un cafe creme pour moi), converse for another 15 minutes and then perhaps commence class (plus you get a mid-morning 30 minute break to run down and grab a quick snack from the closest boulangerie).

For those of you still reading, I will not bore you with too many more stories as you can just as easily imagine my first few days spent trying my best to communicate with only un peu de francais --- to buy a phone card (sorry we were cut off Dad), a knee brace (a story in and of itself) and food! I ordered a Tarte au Fromage and ended up with a chicken sandwich. (A Tarte au Fromage is a cheese quiche - not sure how I ended up with chicken.) The one area I have not been successful in is in the purchase of a hairdryer! Where do you buy hairdryers in France??? (M.O. - I SO miss our trips to Target!) Also, I do not recommend storing Camembert cheese in a small studio. Although this cheese is very popular here it reeks of bad broccoli which is unpleasant to come home to. (By the way T&T - I am afraid I will have to update our New Year's pact - as I cannot find any vegetables in Paris.)

Last night (my second night in France) I was unable to sleep. My heart was racing all night as the hours ticked by - 1 a.m., 2 a.m., 3 a.m. - it reminded me of my anxiety attacks of days past when overwhelmed with the perpetual Inbox. What is the cause? At first I thought perhaps I was nervous for the day and new experiences ahead but I think perhaps I am a bit homesick already. I had one of my most favorite weeks last week - how lucky was I to spend so much time with my dearest friends. I watched our videos from Aspen around 4 a.m. and found I miss you all terribly! Who could not miss friends that play dancing Karaoke Yahtzee or something like that! :) I miss you all and cannot wait to return and see you all again . . . but not yet!!!

And now as soon as my iPod finishes this Keane song, I am off to meet Rachael and Sam. We are going to see my French teacher, Stephanie perform in a band at a cafe in Montparnasse. The genre is "Passionate Pop". That is French for something in between Rock and Pop.

A bientot!

b.

p.s. (new pictures coming soon . . . )