Moving to Paris was an adventure in and of itself. I was supposed to leave on January 25th but heavy rain and wind on the East Coast resulted in two cancelled flights and one rerouted flight through New York where the connection was so delayed that I would have missed my flight to Paris. Needless to say, I did not leave on January 25th.
January 26th roles around, beautiful day not a cloud in the sky. Get to the Portland International Jetport and get through check-in and security in about 5 minutes (for those of you who have not had the pleasure of flying out of this airport the name "International Jetport" is a bit deceiving - the entire airport has 1 terminal and about 10 gates). I wait around in the airport making phone calls to friends and family before boarding my plane on time and having a very smooth and on time flight to Philadelphia. In Philadelphia I meet Belal (my friend who is also currently studying in Paris), we have a few drinks at the bar, and then board the plane on time. So far, so good. It is not until we are on the plane that the pilot announces there is an indicator light on that needs to be investigated before we take off. This is now about 8:30 pm. For the next 4 hours we watch airplane mechanics take apart the plane with nothing but screwdrivers and flashlights and start replacing parts (I get a front row seat to this as I am sitting in a window seat directly next to the faulty wing). Not only was sitting on the plane an additional 4 hours on an already 7 hour flight not exactly fun but it is not reassuring to watch the plane that is supposed to transport you across the ocean being disassembled. Apparently whatever they did worked however, the plane held together all the way to Paris and I arrived in one piece, only about 30 hours late.
Luckily our friend Stephen met us at the airport to help us move to our hostel because getting from the airport to the hostel involved one train, two metro lines and about 8 billions stairs. Dragging our 100 pounds of luggage (which did not include my entire thesis research in my backpack) while seriously sleep deprived and in a foreign city is not something I am eager to repeat.
Belal and I stayed in a hostel our first week in Paris while looking for an apartment. After much searching and frustration (exacerbated by our incredible lack of French) we found a pretty ideal place not too far from school in a good location. That first week was also consumed by things like getting a phone, setting up a bank account, and signing up for classes.
I have been here three weeks already and I am not sure exactly where the time has gone. I have been settling in, starting classes, and getting myself acquainted with my new home. So far I really like it here but am eager to learn French so that my interactions with Parisians are not longer limited to smiling, pointing, and butchered phrases of basic French (i.e. je ne comprends pas and je ne parle pas le francais).
More adventures to come soon, especially when I am procrastinating writing my thesis...
