Conclusion to the longest day ever

Notmuchroomforadjustmentwhenyouarrivelate.

I got the fast introduction to the program at the API center. Hours of safety and cultural orientation were condensed into a few minutes.

API was nice. I got the lowdown (in English) from an American who works at the center. She's fluent in French. Curly brown hair. Preview staffer-esque.

Luckily, we met for class at the center that afternoon, so after I got the whole intro I just waited for everyone else to show up.

Everyone was really nice, of course.

So in our tiny classroom in that sketchy little building I had my first class.

I learned a bit of interesting stuff like "Wesh," a way some French kids say "Yo."

But really, I was trying my hardest not to fall asleep in my chair.

My eyes were heavy. Blinking suddenly took time. Effort. Sometimes I had to force my eyelids back open with each blink.

Hours of French lecture + jet lag = I don't really do math, but I bet the answer's really horrible like pie divided by infinity or something.

So, the Metro ride home.

It was simple.

Again.

But wait, this is me we're talking about.

I got off at the correct stop: Malakoff Plateau de Vanves. That was easy.

No prob, Bob. (Benson?)

Sorry. Didn't mean to bring "Mad Men" into this (but I swear I saw a Lucky Strike box on the ground over here).

Anyways, I got off thinking it would be pretty simple to find the house.

I mean, I walked from the house to the metro station that morning.

Well, I kept on walking.

And walking.
And walking.
And walking.
And walking.

And nothing looked familiar.

I don't think I've ever been more lost in my entire life, and I was in a completely different country without a cellphone at the time (I still needed to buy a sim card).

But the strange thing is, I was perfectly calm.

Cool as a cucumber. Cool as a cat. Cool as the Kool-Aid Man (Oh yeahhh).

This was my logic: I can't possibly get any more lost. Like, I have no idea where I'm going, so why not keep walking.

I mean, I can't be lost forever.

So that's what I did.

Call me Forrest Gump, except instead of running I walked and this analogy isn't really panning out so I'll stop here.

You, see, I was so lost I just went all "Bohemian Rhapsody."

"Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters." (Better?)

And that I did. Keep Calm and Carry On and wrong country so I'll stop again.

I asked someone for directions and found out I wasn't in Malakoff.

Great.

So I kept walking, realizing I should probably be looking for the Metro.

Soon, I passed the cutest pair of old people in the world—they were super nice and gave me directions.

I still remember the old man's rich French voice. I thought of Lumiere from "Beauty and the Beast."

Au revoir, belle enfant!

But I was still confused. So I kept on walking, so hopelessly lost I figured I should start looking for a telephone booth now. Maybe try to figure out a way to call a taxi.

Finally, I spotted a taxi and saw it parked in front of some café or something.


So being me, I awkwardly stood on the sidewalk by the car until the taxi driver came out of the café.

Et Voilà.

My first day ended just as it began.

In a taxi.

I told the taxi driver the address, and said (in French) I didn't speak French very well. He was also super nice about it.

Anyways, it was a quick ride to Malakoff.

In fact, I was so close the ride ended up only being about 6€

Or one twentieth of what I paid Amady that morning.








But I was wrong.

My first day didn't end how it began.

That evening, I ended up having my first French dinner with Alice and her boyfriend, Kyrille (kee reel).

Crêpes jambon fromage, salade tomate-mozzarella, this really good vegetable whose name escapes me and le vin rouge.

Beaucoup du vin rouge.

We sat around the table and talked (mostly in English. Definitely some French though), and I kid you guys not...

It is my best memory of France so far.

We talked about music, our lives, French, English.

Alice played some Busta Rhymes on her Mac while we tried to decipher what he was saying.

Kyrille did spot-on impressions of an American accent.

It was great.

Because being here isn't about getting six more credits for my French minor or taking a thousand cliché Eiffel Tower pics.

It's about embracing new people. A new language.

A new culture.










   




P.S.

I just found out the voice of Lumiere was played by Jerry Orbach ("Law and Order" dude).

Life changed.