Home Again, Pt. 4

When I last wrote about my saga of international flight misadventures, I had finished a vaguely confusing day in my Paris hotel room and fallen asleep.

Being the over-planner that I am, I set about 7 alarms on my iPod (since my phone doesn't work internationally), but they ended up being a waste, since I woke up every hour on the hour starting at four. I got out of bed at seven and took my time getting ready, since I didn't need to be to my gate until 9:30.

After buying a pen and my final pain au chocolat, I returned to my room and had to take the elevator three times to get to the lobby (it was only partly my fault...) where I returned my key and headed back into the station.

From this point on my trip went almost completely as planned -- sans one small adventure during the security checkpoint! After setting all my belongings into the bins and waiting my turn, the metal detector beeped as I walked through it. The security attendant waved me to the side and patted me down -- I wasn't wearing any metal, save a necklace! After deciding that she didn't notice anything, she was handed a metal detecting wand, and when she waved that over my limbs, it beeped like crazy on my knees! After asking if I had prosthetics, she shrugged and waved me on. Safe, right?

I arrived safely in Charlotte after a very pleasant flight seated between a French girl headed to AZ and an anthropologist who incidentally came to France on the same flight as me. As a side note, during this flight I watched the films When In Rome, Couples Retreat, What Happens In Vegas and the biopic Temple Grandin, which was fantastic. More about that in another post.

I arrived home to a warm welcome from my parents and my handsome boyfriend and we headed home, with a well-needed stop for Mexican food on the way.

All's well that ends well, eh?

Here's to hoping you have some wild stories for me to hear about! Any trips planned for the rest of your summer?

Home Again, Pt. 3

Waiting outside the train station to catch a shuttle, I heaved my carry-on (I put all my heavy non-liquids in it. I didn't want to pay for my checked bag being too heavy!) on top of my suitcase and rolled into the shade. It was hot in Paris, almost 90 F, and humid.

When one finally arrived, I rolled over and asked the driver if he went to the Ibis Hotel. He pointed back at the station, sending me to the door that exited the other side.

I thanked him, confused, and rolled myself and my belongings back through the glass doors towards the other side of the station and realized that in fact, I didn't need a shuttle, because the hotel was just outside! I went in after a huge sigh of relief (I was hoping to avoid a Liam-Neeson-necessary adventure...) and booked a room for the night.

I took the elevator up to my room on the fourth floor, slid my stuff inside the teeny door, tossed my carry-on on the double bed and -- no shame here -- I cried. After a stressful day of missing the flight that I was so ready to be on, having to fend for myself in a different language and foreign and confusing airport, I was tired and sad. I settled myself, ate a less than mediocre lunch in the hotel restaurant and then rested in the room.

I headed down to try dinner, hopeful that the restaurant would be better this time around. However, I did hedge my bet by choosing to skip the salad and go straight for some hamburger -- steak haché -- and fries and a dessert. That dessert was the best thing that happened to me all day; three scoops of ice cream - two strawberry and one mango.

I eavesdropped on a conversation happening behind me and it turns out I wasn't the only person to miss the flight -- evidently the flight seemed to have left nearly half empty! I went back to my room and watched a strange film in what I assume was dutch, and then passed out.

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The journey is almost over!

Hope you all don't mind that I've broken this into so many parts, but I don't want to bog you down with seventeen pages of me whining.

Do you wanna share some travel stories to make me feel a little better about missing my plane!?

A France!: Some History

Bonjour mes amis!

Today I think it is pertinent to give you a little background of my trip. I probably should have thought of this a week ago, but you know what it's like before you leave on a trip -- crazy! So here's the deal:

When I was about three, my parents opened up our home to a young french exchange student, Christelle. She lived with us for the summer and had a wonderful time. We all kept in touch over email, and actually visited her once after taking a family bus tour of Europe. Fast forward to today, a few months ago, I asked Christelle if (being a french minor and general lover of france) I could come and visit her for a month to become fluent in the language and just be in france. She said "Mais, oui!" and the planning began.

After saving all of my paychecks for a few months, I bought my plane ticket and just two days ago, I arrived at the Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. After taking the TGV (which is the european speed train: Train de Grande Vitesse) I settled into Christelle's apartment in the city and soon met her husband Yann and their sweet bébé, Achile.

Though Christelle works in Grenoble, her husband Yann works and they live in the nearby city of Voiron. Both cities are full of old buildings and more history than you could imagine! So for today, only some photos of the cities. I don't want to fill you with too much information in one day.





Oh, and here's a bonus! Everyday that I post in France I will share a french word or phrase with you.
So for today, le petite dejeuner. Le petit dejeuner means breakfast and is pronounced like: luh p'teet day-zhu-nay.

C'est bon, non?
Until tomorrow!
Stephanie