Back to France!

Wednesday, September 29th 2010

BONJOUR family! (and friends who might also peek at this).

First, boring stuff:

I am alive and well in France, finally about to embark on the final leg of my journey to Besancon, where I'll be living for the next 7 months. I'll be teaching conversational English in a high school called Les Haberges in a small town called Vesoul until April, and then farting around in France/Europe until I have to come back to grad school in Minnesota in August.

Now, fun stuff:

I made it through my two flights with no problems and was rewarded with a pleasant tram ride in Paris that included a nice chat with a tiny old French woman who recognized me from our flight and a man who stepped on board with an accordion and continued to play several songs that would cheer up even the most jet-lagged traveler.

And then I got gloriously and impossibly lost as soon as I set foot off the tram. But who's surprised, really?

However! There is no great loss without some small gain, right? So what if I missed my first train and had to wait three hours til the next? So what if I had 3 pieces of luggage to carry up and down steps? And so what if one of the handles broke and I had to carry them up and down stairs one at a time?

If these miserable events hadn't happened to my grimy, greasy, bad-breath self, I would have never met my new friend Joel, an easy-going, kind, ready-to-help-the-lost-American kind of Parisian (WHOMP to your stereotypes!).

Turns out, Joel saw me attempting to carry my bags up the stairs and decided to take pity on me, overwhelming me with his kindness, and consequently I burst into tears in underground Paris. Awesome.

After assuring him that I was simply a baby and not in moral peril, he not only helped me up the multiple sets of stairs (where did the escalators go?!), but continued with me on the metro and to the train station I was headed for, going out of his way to ask people several times if we were at the right place (making me feel better that even a Frenchie had to ask for directions).

Oh yea – some of you may be remembering some horror stories from Senegal that included strange men following me or acting suspicious, but the entire time Joel was a gentleman and did not ask me to marry him, as you may recall happened frequently in Dakar. He did show me his rosary, though.

Turns out, Joel has lived in Paris for 12 years, and wouldn't you know it, he also studied in Dakar, for 3 years! He's some kind of business man, and was on vacation, hence being able to drop everything and spend the next 2 hours helping and hanging out with me.

I bought my new friend lunch as a thanks-for-saving-my-ass, and we sat next to a window with the glories of Paris just beyond our reach and ate teeny tiny sandwiches and chocolate tarts with too-expensive beverages, discussing our philosophies on life and both being surprised that my French was up to par for that kind of conversation. We exchanged our condensed soup-version life stories and before boarding, admired the view from outside by stepping out, almost instantly regretting it because about half of Paris was smoking before getting on their trains and I practically felt my lungs shrivel from the smoke cloud.

Joel was a hero to the very last minute. I had lost my contact's number (Aurelie, who will be picking me up in Besancon) and he called a help line, got her number, and connected me so I could tell her when the train will now be arriving.

Then, he made sure I got on the right car and loaded up my bags for me, and with my first French goodbye bisous (kisses on the cheek) we said farewell.

I'm so ready to pay it forward.

I am currently passing beautiful French farmland and being charmed out of my pants by the cute little clusters of French homes and farms that look a thousand years old.

Love,
Katie