My flight got in to Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris around 8am Paris time. Despite the fact that I didn’t really sleep on the flight and my body felt it was 1am as though I were back in Wisconsin, I was full of energy. The line for customs was separated between French citizens and all other passport holders. (Big shock there :P) It was probably a 25 minute wait, but when I got to the window, the attendant simply looked at my passport and visa, stamped it, and I was on my way. I didn’t even need to declare my almonds.
I retrieved my checked luggage, which for once was one of the first to go down the conveyor belt and headed off to find a cab. I didn’t really read up on how to go about this, I just decided to wing it. I’m pretty sure the right way is to wait in the cab line, which is how things are in New York, but I ended up just going with one of the least sketchy guys offering taxis to this flight of mostly foreigners.
It ended up being a great introduction to France! I spoke to him mostly in French, which he said I spoke very well. This was very reassuring that on such little sleep, and being so rusty with the language that I could still be understood, fresh off the plane.
He asked where I was from, and when I said the states, he replied:
“Oh, I have music from your country!” He popped in a CD, and we jammed out, singing along to Lana Del Rey all the way to my hotel. I couldn’t have asked for a better arrival into the city, comforted by both my French skills supposedly being competent enough to get by, but also the opportunity to listen to familiar music, and to feel accepted to be an American in Paris.
After a half hour or so, weaving though the slim French cars zooming across the highway, we arrived at my hotel for my first five nights: Hotel Beaunier
It was now close to 10am Paris time, but knowing that check in time wasn’t until 1, I was hoping that they would at least let me leave my bags. The couple that runs the place was very friendly, and suggested I keep the larger two at the hotel without me even asking.
Armed with nothing but a simple map from the airport (I literally only packed a map of the metro…), my computer, and enough euros to get me by, I set off to explore Paris. I have the worst sense of direction, and was a bit concerned about getting myself hopelessly lost in the three hours I had to kill, so I walked two blocks down to a busy street and stayed on it.
I was actually surprised by how…familiar it all felt. This easily could have been a street in New York, except for the glaring, obvious difference: the language. I remember feeling as though I had been dropped off on some parallel universe where humans had developed similarly to my planet, but simply had a different communication system. (I know this sounds like some bizarre Star Trek-esque theory, but keep in mind that I was wandering a strange city on little sleep, now well past 2 in the morning according to my body’s natural clock.)
I began to feel a bit disoriented and overwhelmed, until I saw something that looked familiar: Starbucks. Now I know what you’re thinking…I get off a seven hour flight to Paris, where I’ve only ever dreamed of going, and the first place I go is Starbucks? But I was honestly just so overcome with culture shock and exhaustion that it was the only place that felt safe. Also, I knew it was a safe place to take out my laptop and have access to free wifi.
Not having a phone for this whole process, I was thus able to check in with my family and friends, and kill time without getting lost. I desperately wanted to explore more of Paris, but something told me this wasn’t a good idea in my current state.
After I spent an hour or so on the computer, I left Starbucks and headed back on the same street. At this point I began to get very, very tired. My adrenaline was wearing off, and it was approaching 6am Central Time. I had to stop several times and sit down because my legs were shaking from a combination of exhaustion and whatever heavily caffeinated drink I had scarfed down at Starbucks. Luckily, I somehow managed to make it back to my hotel without getting lost, just in time for check in.
I paid for the room, had assistance in lugging my fifty pound luggage up the sketchy spiraling staircase, and passed out. It was a pretty tiny closet room, but I really didn’t care. It was cozy and I was beyond happy to have a bed at long last:
I managed to sleep for about four hours, at which point I felt very weak and sick. I realized that I might be hungry, because I hadn’t really had lunch…or breakfast. My body was very confused, but luckily I had bought some snack foods when I was out (because sometimes I plan ahead for things) which I enjoyed while taking in some French TV.
Taking advantage of my weakened yet excited state, I plotted out a plan for the next day, my first real day in the city. I somehow managed to stay up until midnight or so, then fell asleep for another four hours. Nothing too exciting, but I was perfectly content with getting settled in, knowing that the next day, I had plenty of Paris to see. 🙂
