Bonjour from Paris!

Hello!

So sorry it's taken so long to update this blog! I've had sketchy internet connection since leaving the US, and the story hasn't changed here, but I woke up early, walked down the street for du pain au chocolat (a chocolate croissant!) and came back here to write you all. I won't begin with Scotland... There's too much to say in too little time! So one of these boring days (yeah, right!) I'll have to talk about my many wonderful Scottish adventures. For now, I'll relay the adventure that was my first night in Paris...

Months ago, I booked a ticket from London to Paris so I could take the channel tunnel. Unfortunately, last week there was a FIRE in the tunnel! http://news.sky.com/skynews/Home/UK-News/Channel-Tunnel-Closed-Due-To-A-Fire/Article/200809215097705


So when I arrived to check in for my 2 o clock train, they said I could be on the 6 o clock. No worries! Helen, my good friend from an exchange program four years ago, met me at Platform 9 and 3/4 to lunch and window shop. It was so much fun until she dropped me back off at the station, and when I checked in for my 6 o clock train, they put me on the 8 o clock. Joy!

To make matters worse, my international cell phone wasn't working! Thank goodness for debit cards and pay phones is all I can say. I had the number of the place I would stay once I got to Paris, so I called it, and a man answered who could not speak English. You know when they say that desperate situations call for desperate measures? Well, my desperation meant that it was now or never that I begin speaking French, so I did. And do you know what? He understood me! I would be on the 8 o clock train, arriving in Paris at 10. Perfect.

Except for not really.

Because Paris is one hour ahead of London.

So I got of the train at La Gare du Nord (the North Train Station) and waited about 30 minutes for a taxi. (Time is now 11:30 in Paris). I got in the taxi, told him the address of the Foyer where I would stay, and borrowed his cell phone to call Marie Claire, the directrice of the program.

No one answered. I called again.

No one answered. I called the foyer.

No one answered!

Commence the panicking! We got to the foyer and I was so close to tears. I knew, though, that I would knock on the door and everything would be alright! So I knocked. And no body answered. I knocked for a good ten minutes, and the poor taxi driver tried to comfort a sobbing American girl with rapidly disintigrating French and a 65 pound bag she can hardly lift. His words of comfort roughly translate to: "Oh, don't worry, this isn't a problem! I'll take you to the police, you can sleep at the station!"

A solution preferable to sleeping on the street, oui, but I would much rather sleep INSIDE the iron-gated building! There's a reason they have big, heavy gates!

Thank the Lord, and I really mean thank the Lord, my beautiful angel named Sylvie happened to walk by at that exact moment when I was sure I'd have to go make friends with police men. She lived in the foyer, let me in, carried my bag, and let me point to the names of various Gonzaga girls who lived in the same building.

Eventually, we found Audra, a Gonzaga junior who was instructed to give me my keys when I arrived. She had been sitting there for 3 hours poor girl, and finally decided she really really had to use the bathroom right as I was arriving! (The bathroom is on the 7th floor, up 120 steps). She and Sylvie helped me with my huge bag, showed me my room, gave me big hugs, and told me goodnight.

And then I sat in my room and praised God I had a room! Especially when I looked out my window; being on the seventh floor has its benefits. I look North accross the courtyard in the middle of the Foyer to a pretty cathedral I have yet to find, see rooftops and chimmneys, and the ever changing sky. Beautiful.

I hope that you can come visit me when I'm here, but I can already tell you that once I leave I will be trying to get back! So I promise I'll be an excellent tour guide for the future.

I love you all!

-lyss