Day 1: August 15, 2013

Here I am! Safe and sound in my apartment after a long day of traveling. Fifteen hours and seven time zones later.

I started in Kansas City, with my mom and sisters, enjoying my last American meal at Cracker Barrel. They all made fun of me for being ridiculously demanding, but by golly if it's my last meal in America and I'm at CB, I want chicken fried chicken, mashed potatoes with white AND brown gravy, sweet corn, cole slaw, cottage cheese, a side of dumplings, and some of Kaitlin's fried okra.

I arrived at KCI only to find out that my flight had been cancelled, so they rebooked me. Oh! And then that flight was canceled. You've got to be kidding me. I was two hours early so there was no need to panic, but my mom was definitely her frazzled self. The receptionist asked me if my stuff was ready to go, and seeing that I was standing in front of her ready to check my bags, I said yes. Literally ten minutes later I was boarding and headed for Dallas.

I spent the majority of my hour and a half layover riding the Skyline air tram in circles around DFW. If you weren't lucky enough to see my Vine videos, just know that it was less than entertaining. When I had enough of that I went in search of some true southern' cookin'. I devoured my barbeque pulled pork and tater salad in preparation for a 9 hour flight.

Seat 27B put me next to another college student. Charles is studying law at Sorbonne and needless to say his English far surpasses my French. He taught me a few icebreakers and offered me some basic "Paris" advice before sleeping the remainder of our flight. I tried to do the same but my anticipation got the best of me and I ended up watching movies instead. Thank goodness for free TV on international flights!

After landing at Charles de Gaulle, I made my way to the baggage claim, struggled to grab my two 50lb suitcases, and wandered over to the train platform. But wait, the train was closed for construction! (C'est domage!) I hadn't been in Paris for 10 minutes and it was time to improvise. Instead I bought my ticket and boarded Bus #4 for Montparnasse, which landed me near the metro station I was looking for. I again lugged my two 50lb suitcases and a backpack down the stairs, which was quite a sight... it didn't scream "YOUNG AMERICAN GIRL" or anything. Soon enough I was headed towards Cite Universitaire on the 3A tram.

When I finally arrived out front, I nearly cried. I was feeling as emotionally confused as Taylor Swift in her song "22" -- happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time.

I stared at the familiar entry gates. I had seen them a million times on Google images but there I was, in real life. It took everything in me not to sit down on the sidewalk with my over-stuffed suitcases and bawl like a baby. 

Here is the picture I snapped of myself in front of the main building on our campus.

And yet again, I was faced with a complication: it is a French holiday and all offices are closed! I couldn't catch a break... Luckily "le guardien" of my subdivision was available, and after struggling through a "Franglish" conversation, I had my room key in hand.

"Ma chambre" is on "le deuxième étage", which would be "the third floor" in English. And, considering the buildings were constructed over 100 years ago, elevators are non-existent. Just try to picture me dragging my suitcases up that many stairs and chuckle. My hair was clinging to my face, my lower back was practically a swimming pool, and my arms were glistening. Let me just tell you, it was disgusting.

Finally, I turned the key to my bedroom and plopped down on my bed. The apartment was actually bigger than I expected. After consciously deciding not to care if there were other students within earshot, I let out a humongous scream of excitement -- I MADE IT!! 

My desk, mini-fridge, and window!

My bed, nightstand, and shelf. 

Cité Internationale Universitaire de Paris is a housing community in the middle of Paris for students, artists, and researchers. Within the community there are several different "fondations" that identify with a certain culture. I was placed in Fondation Deutsch de La Meurthe, which is the German division. There are six buildings for housing students and we all share a kind of "recreation center." It is where we have our mailboxes, study rooms, vending machines, pool/ping-pong/foosball tables, and huge saloon-like lobby.

Everything here is absolutely magnificent, and so rich with history. Yeah, the floors are scuffed and the furniture is worn, but it is kind of fun to imagine all the people that lived here before me. It is remarkable how so many students from so many different cultural backgrounds have inhabited one place. Not to mention, all of us that are living here now.

(I can't wait to make friends!!) 

Unfortunately though, school doesn't start until mid September so it is pretty empty... The good news is I can eat, sleep, shower, and sing anytime I want without bothering anyone.

Anyways, I decided it was time to open my windows, air out my room, and head for the shower ............and I didn't pack a bath towel. So yet again I made do with what I had and dried off with an old Hays High t-shirt.

The shower and toilet is just down the hall, but I do have a sink and mirror in my own room. And, since I didn't pack soft soap, my hands will be smelling like Garnier Fructis.

At this point I was starving, and dying to explore what was beyond my housing campus, so I grabbed my purse and hit the streets. Just across the road is an enormous park with a small lake in the middle - Montsouris. There were lots of people running on the trails, doing yoga on the lawn, laughing over their wine and cheese picnics, or just passed out in their swimsuits. Can anyone say, Paris? I want to be like these people. Literally every person that I passed had a smile on their face. C'est la vie! La belle vie!

A little further down the road I came to a small cafe, I didn't know what to order so I started with a bottle of water. Little did I know that it was going to cost me 4.90 euros! I savored every last drop like I was stranded in a desert, and left without having anything else. The city of love is mighty expensive.

Finally I found my jackpot - a supermarket! I was able to buy my first French baguette, a bottle of wine, assortment of fruits and cheeses, and these odd-shaped jugs of milk. The juice I bought was Sicilian Orange juice, if you ever get the opportunity to taste it, DO IT. It is like a magical cross between grapefruits and oranges. Yum, yum, yum!

My arms were loaded with as much as I could carry so I slowly made my way back to my room, trying to absorb all the sights, sounds, and smells around me. 

All I can think is: Holy macaroni. I'm in Paris.