Traveling is always surreal because you're sleep-deprived, lost in strange locales often at times of the day when no one else is around and then there’s always the confusion that comes with customs, tickets/documentation, and foreign languages. Finally arriving at Charles de Gaulle was such a relief and when I saw the first airport signs with their French writing there were tears in my eyes. I made it in one piece and all my baggage made it too!
The trip in total was an awful 16 hours long. Leaving from San Diego at 6:30 am, with a three and a half hour layover in Philadelphia, and then on to Paris (Charles de Gaulle) was quite the trek. It was a long trip with only a few minutes of sleep here and there because of uncomfortably small seats, loud talkers, crying babies and a singer-songwriter with a guitar in the terminal. Yes, a guitar in the terminal… five seats away from me.
My French mom M met me at the airport which was a godsend. I hadn’t initially thought about having anyone come to get me, but I don’t think I could have made it out of the airport, let alone the city otherwise. With two huge rolling suitcases packed to their 50lb limit, a small duffle of all books, and a backpack brimming with electronics, I could barely roll out of the baggage claim on my own.
M had come to pick me up the first time I had come to France, back when my high school did an exchange for a short 2 and a half weeks. Seeing her again in this capacity and stumbling over my first French conversation with a vrai français/vraie française gave me a real feeling of déjà vu in a good way. It had been almost 10 years since that trip (and almost 6 years since my last time in France) but at that moment I felt like I was starting again on that original path, with an open heart and full of excitement for all the new things that were going to come.
When we got out to the car she had a surprise for me: two pieces of pain au chocolat!
Le décalage horaire – jet lag
L’escale (nf) – layover
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