This.
Is.
The end.
My last post, you guys. The saga finally comes to a close. But really, I only told you guys (most of) what happened, what I did, where I went...
How can I describe my feelings about the month I spent in France? Are there words?
"It was the best of times, i̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶s̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶,̶s, it was the age of wisdom, ̶i̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶a̶g̶e̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶f̶o̶o̶l̶i̶s̶h̶n̶e̶s̶s̶, it was the epoch of belief, i̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶e̶p̶o̶c̶h̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶i̶n̶c̶r̶e̶d̶u̶l̶i̶t̶y̶y, it was the season of Light, ̶i̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶e̶a̶s̶o̶n̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶D̶a̶r̶k̶n̶e̶s̶s̶, it was the spring of hope, i̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶i̶n̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶d̶e̶s̶p̶a̶i̶r̶, we had everything before us, w̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶d̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶u̶s̶, we were all going direct to heaven, w̶e̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶g̶o̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶d̶i̶r̶e̶c̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶w̶a̶y̶ - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."
Well, that came the closest.
With a long sigh, (not the kind you do when you're annoyed at work, but the kind you do when you're just about ready to dot your last "i" on a long project) I give to you my last day in France.
It was early.
How early, I don't know. It was a year ago folks, gimme a break here.
I woke up for the last time at my host mom's cute, yellow maison in Malakoff, France. Really the whole getting ready thing is all a blur now. I said my goodbyes to Alice, and Kyril walked me out some of the way to show me the tram stop (up until this point I hadn't even realized there was one nearby. I had only been on them in Italy).
That walk to the tram stop was both long and incredibly short. Silent, but my head wouldn't shut up.
A quick bise, and it was just me.
I had said my last good bye, and it was time to reach the airport.
I realize now the tone may sound dramatic, but that's really how it felt. My heart was heavy for some reason. So was the suitcase.
Eventually the tram came, and I got on, awkwardly lugging my suitcase. As if it wasn't bad enough, I almost got off too early and some French man yelled, "Wait!' (or something like that). Yes, he yelled in English, I was so obviously a foreigner at this point.
From the tram, I think, I had to take the train, which is where I got confused. It was so long ago, I can't remember the exact details. Just know I was confused and wandering around for a bit before I eventually got on the right train.
À l'aeroport, I went through customs and all that jazz and eventually found my friend Molissa. We're both from the central Florida area, so we planned are flights together.
Paris--> Philadelphia--> Orlando
Quick break from the narrative: I just laughed reading the notes on my itouch. I wrote down things about this flight I don't even remember now. But when it happened, I knew it would be in my blog. I knew they would matter at some point. So I'll share:
On the plane were the usual suspects: an "obnoxious tween," with "braces and everything," disrespecting some older man (assuming her father).
Across from her, her (likely) sister wore a shirt that reads, "ponies forever."
A frustrated flight attendant told everyone to stay seated on the runway, but after the passengers ignored him, I heard him sarcastically call out: "Okay, keep going."
Although Molissa and I had the same flight, our seat assignments weren't next to each other.
I was waiting to see who my seatmate would be. For some reason, I was really curious about this, you guys. This flight is the big one, Paris to Philly. I guess I was too excited on my flight going to Paris to think about it, but I was really hoping I'd get a good one for my flight back.
I mean, you're up in the air with this person for hours, you know?
I remember seeing a woman with a huge backpacking backpack (Department of Redundancies Dept?) and the overall unbearable American tourist thing going on. I can't recall whatever crazy stuff she was wearing, but, suffice it to say, whatever it was made me say in my head, please don't sit next to me, please don't sit next to me, please don't let this lady sit next to me.
So she sat next to me.
Naturally.
And then she started talking.
Great.
But she was actually pretty cool.
Oh?
Yes, the latest development proving the cliché "don't judge a book by its cover," however stupid the expression may be, is true.
I remember the first thing that happened when we she greeted me and sat down. She turned to me and asked if I was French, and I let her know I was American.
Then she said, "you never know," which I thought was a weird way of putting it. But she was telling the truth. A lot of people have this cliché of France as a place with a bunch of white people in striped shirts and berets walking around with baguettes, but's it's really a far cry from that.
She told me she was a French teacher in the states who was in France to take classes. And I should shut the hell up about the whole American tourist thing, because she clearly knew more French than I did.
Some lady in front of her ended up turning around to talk to her about something—I can't remember now, she was speaking in French. My seatmate was up on her stuff, responding back in French like she was fluent (I mean, I assume she is, being a French teacher).
Right after that, the lady in front of me turned around and started asking in French if her putting her seat back bothered me, and the most I could muster was a, "Ça va."
You know, now that I think about it, it's sort of funny that the two of us sat next to each other, a teacher and a student. Anyways, after our initial "what were you doing in Paris" schpeel, we didn't talk much.
There was also some drama going on with our flight. It felt like we were sitting for an hour waiting to take off, trying to avoid bad weather, I think. Passengers were acting up, angered at the possibility of missing their connecting flights.
For Molissa and I, we could have been a little nervous, but our connector was later than the one for all the angry people. Plus, I really wasn't in any rush to get back to Orlando. The journey was over, and the destination was home. I would be arriving at an aeroport, so no excuse for Cinnabon.
Of course, it was eventually time for lift off.
I know you should have your head straight back in the seat for lift off, but as the plane was rising in the air, I looked out the window and mouthed, "Paris, tu déjà me manquerai.
OK, that was really grammatically incorrect French, as some of you reading this blog may realize. I got confused where to put déjà with the whole subject object reversal thing. And it really should be in the present tense.
But, I digress. Point was, even if incorrect, the words mean "Paris, I miss you already."
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EPILOGUE
You know, it seems much shorter—the journey back. None of the hopes, anticipations, excitement, fear, that fuels you the first time around. Just a heaviness, a weight, a what now?
Molissa and I met back up in Philadelphia, where we looked a bit at the gift shop cuz we had time.
It's weird, huh? I've never been to Philadelphia before, but even now I can't say I've really been there.
Anyways, there was a delay, a gate change, a blah, blah, blah—I'll spare you the boring airplane talk.
We finally got on the plane to our final destination. Not like the movie, obviously or it could've been some weird "Snakes on a Plane" situation.
All right, time to tell you all about my seatmate.
This is the last flight as you know, the much shorter Philadelphia to Orlando deal, and I sat next to quite the individual.
This man was a ray of Latin American sunshine. I really wish I had written this earlier so I could tell you all about our conversation. He was quite the talker and was just all smiles, telling me about his faith, his family and his life as a musician who traveled all over the world.
He keeps a person's spirits up, you know? Just one of those exciting people who just make the world go 'round.
Anyways, eventually it was almost time to land. The plane began it's descent downward, and the second its wheels hit the ground something weird happened. I had this feeling, which I can't put my finger on now, but had I written about it earlier I would be able to explain it further. All I know is my feeling was nothing like my seatmate, who started clapping next to me.
We said our final good byes. He took my hand and kissed it and gave me his contact information— just because he's one of those friendly people you meet, people who never throw up borders, people who like meeting people. The world needs more folks like that.
Anyways, I had to rustle through my old leather carry-on, but to this day I still have a crumply bit of paper with the name Giovanni Hidalgo, an email address, and words "GOD Bless!!!"
During our conversation, he told me his music had gave him quite a bit of fame and said I could find him on YouTube. I half-thought he was talking himself up, but you know what?
I found him on YouTube, and he's quite the talent.
So, I got off the plane, met up with Molissa again, and we started waiting for our luggage.
And then I saw my Mom.
And that's when I knew it was over.
That's when it hit me for the last time, when I realized the chapter had closed, when I knew I was no longer living this trip—that it was now just a memory. And that's where I'll let the story end.
For all of you reading I just wanted to say thank you. But a more deeper thank you to all of you guys who have read every single post, who have been with me every step of the way, from the fall that got my flight delayed to fishing for my shoe in a fountain at Versailles, to now. For everyone who has put up with all my tireless movie and pop culture references I've somehow managed to incorporate into just about every post. Thanks for listening. I wrote the word listening because this blog, for me at least, feels like I'm talking to all of you guys. You know, those of you who have read this blog I'm sure know me better now than most people.
I really didn't know what to name this last post. I had been thinking about it, then suddenly when the right thing came to me, I gave one big smile, threw my head back and laughed.
So, without further ado, I'll repeat for the last time: It's over.
No P.S., no P.S.S. no P.S.S.S.
I just leave you with a question. The answer may seem obvious, but there's actually a little more to it. You know, I told myself the next time I'm in France, I won't be doing a blog, I'll likely be more busy and don't want to get distracted from my work. I do plan on living there at least for a short time at some point, folks.
But I decided against it. I realized how much I loved writing this blog, how important it is to me, and how much I'll treasure it even more some day. So, the next time I'm back in France, I will have a blog, and its first order of business will be to answer this question:
Do you know what au revoir means?
P.S.
OK, I take it back. I wonder how many of you guys still looked?
Anyways, I really didn't mean to add this, but it was killing me to not tell the story behind the photo above. This was taken at Jardin des Tuileries, shortly after I realized I couldn't find my wallet. My friend Lizette thought it would be a funny idea if somebody posed, and I volunteered like, yeah, why not? This picture is my favorite from the trip, but looking back I realize how important it is. Even though I had just lost my wallet, I could still breathe, take in the moment, and remember I was in Paris, France. Now, when I look back and laugh at the photo, I remember the circumstances surrounding it and see a life lesson, too. Sometimes, even in the worst of situations, you have to smile and take a snapshot of life. It's worth it. Even a year later, it'll all seem so long ago.
"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
P.S.S.
Check back in the (hopefully near-ish) future for a P.S.S.S.
P.S.S.S. (as of Sept. 2018)
If you are reading this you are one of my best friends or a super creeper! This blog is like 4 years old! Anyways, I promised a P.S.S.S. and the plan always was to make it the link to my new blog whenever I went back to France. So here it is!
