Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Re-Entry

In 12 hours, I will be waiting outside my apartment for a shuttle to pick me up at take me to Charles de Gaulle for the last time in the foreseeable future. This morning I packed up the kitty and we took the RER and then a bus to some remote freight area at CDG. When I walked up to the office, the agent poked his head out the window to welcome me. After the days I spent on the phone with this guy, I'm sure the only little girl holding a baby blue pet carrier would be me. After swiping my credit card (and holding my breath until it cleared) and filling out some paperwork, his assistant drove Puck and I over to a warehouse to pass him off. Something went wrong with his paperwork. I didn't even bother to ask what was happening, mostly because I was too busy trying not to vomit everywhere. My some miracle, they let him through and the assistant dropped me back at the RER station. I will be freaking out until I pick him up in San Francisco. Or I get the text message that he's been put in quarantine and hence held hostage in the UK. Fucking England and their ridiculous laws.

I came back today to my quiet, messy apartment and tried with all my might to take a nap. The hum of nerves has kicked in and I was only able sleep about 20 minutes. So instead I've been packing up all afternoon, and soon I will be cleaning. All of my stuff seems to fit in my bags, so that's a good sign. At 7:30 tomorrow, cross your fingers, the shuttle will pick me up and I'll be gone.

I don't even know what to expect, or how it's going to feel. The way I deal with things is to throw myself into the present and push out any longing for the past. So I've basically, totally forgotten what my life in San Francisco was like and totally thrown myself into this life in Paris. I know that 9 months is a drop in the bucket and that I'm no where near calling Paris my "home," but I'm so entrenched here that the thought of starting over -- again -- is terrifying. That's what I do, I make a life. I go to school, I work, I find a gym, I pin-point which supermarkets sell which stuff and the best place to buy beauty products (it's the Champion at the Italie 2 mall, so you know). I've triangulated which newsstands are open on Sundays so I can always picked up an Elle or Glamour on the way to the gym. I have my favorite restaurants, favorite crepe stand, favorite boutiques. I'm comfortable here.

I haven't romanticized Paris in the least. Before this year, I'd already spent two weeks doing the "ooh, ahh" touristy thing, and this time it was just about making a life here. I don't have endless pictures of the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame and all the other places. In fact I don't have many pictures of it at all. The past couple days, I thought about going to buy souvenirs and take pictures and visit my favorite places again. But instead of doing all of that right now, while I'm a nervous wreck, I'll save it for when I come back.

So this blog is more or less dunzo. I'll post about my re-indoctrination into American life, and I will definitely post the completely tales of Lauren and I's adventures in Greece. Until then. . .à plus.

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