Will's First Day/Night (Jet Lag Free-ish)

Upon touchdown in Montpellier, I had no way of getting in touch with Kaitlyn. I went to baggage claim and half-expected my bag to have just finished it's thousandth lap around the baggage claim carousel in Minneapolis thousands of miles away (MPS vs. MPL), but I was relieved to see it tumble down the slide a few minutes later, zippers bulging with my clothes and Kaitlyn's. Unlike American airports, the baggage claim area is separated from the public area, so those few minutes of waiting for my bag took FOREVER. I wanted to see her! As soon as I got my bag, I wheeled it through the opaque sliding doors, and there she was. A big hug or two later (I was reluctant since I smelled bad but she was a trooper and put up with it), we were sitting outside the airport at the bus stop, waiting for our bus into the city. Kaitlyn was awesome enough to pick up a sandwich for me. It was a chicken and tomato and cheese sandwich on a really good baguette. It had some mayonnaise on it but she assured me that it tastes better in France. I agree.  I wish my body wasn't so confused so I could actually have an appetite to eat the sandwich, but I still managed to eat half. 

The bus ride couldn't have been more than ten minutes, and Kaitlyn and I caught up on the previous night's festivities. I couldn't believe I was finally there! I don't think it sunk in for a few days. It was so cool being in a new place. I couldn't decide whether to look at her or out the window, but I don't think she was too offended. The bus dropped us off at a tram stop in a more modern part of town, where we caught a tram to the center of the historic area. From there, we walked a few minutes towards another bus stop that we'd take to her room. The whole time, I was loving EVERYTHING. I know it's super cliche, but it really was everything I imagined and more. I felt on top of the world, a feeling that she'd make fun of me for as the week went on. She would catch me just smiling and looking happy. I probably looked insane but the emotions were genuine. Whatever. Also, side note, I think whoever invents a rolly-suitcase with off-road tires will be a billionaire. Those cobblestones were pretty rough on my wimpy plastic wheels.

The first thing I wanted to do when I got to her room was to take a shower, but being the martyr I am, I sacrificed my hygiene temporarily to give her all of the Reeses Peanut Butter Cups I packed for her as well as all of her clothes. After my shower, I got dressed and we walked downtown. We wandered up and down the narrow streets and alleys, never knowing what we were going to find (I can say that this is 100% true for me, but she assured me that she hadn't been in those particular alleys at that time of day yet so it was an adventure for her too). I felt incredibly lost for that first hour or two but fortunately I got the hang of the town over the course of the afternoon and the next day. I started to recognize places, buildings, and monuments from all of her pictures and it all started to make more sense to me. We stopped at a bar for a beer and sat outside. Ordering the beer was a bit of a struggle for me, but with Kaitlyn's help, we managed. From there, we went to the Irish pub that she's become a big fan of, O'Carolans. I met the guys who helped her out so much over her first few days in Montpellier. I really liked them a lot. On the way home, we grabbed two take-out pizzas (ordering food and drinks was always such an adventure). I think we eventually figured out that the pizza chef was a big fan of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, for whatever reason, so we bonded a bit over the Keystone State. I met the first two of her friends outside of the pizza shop. I would see them again about a half hour later in one of the patio areas of the residences, where fifteen or so of her classmates gathered to taste wine, eat cheese, and talk. It was very cool finally getting to meet everyone. Everyone was super welcoming and friendly towards me. It was awesome.

A few of us decided to head downtown to meet up with another group of her friends, who were already in town, having just watched the Real Madrid versus Barcelona soccer game. I was amazed that I was still feeling so good despite having had about seven hours of sleep cumulative over the past few nights, so i just kept going with it. This other group of friends was in the loft at a pretty crowded, pretty hip bar. It was in a beautiful stone building with vaulted ceilings and great stonework throughout. Unfortunately I found out the hard way that the stonework was real, as I knocked the hell out of my head on a low ceiling a couple of times. This group of friends was just as welcoming as the first and we tried to make conversation over the loud music. At the end of the bottle, we moved to yet another bar. It closed soon after we got there but that didn't stop the party. Everyone spilled out into the alley, sitting around, talking, and laughing, and it wasn't until the third or fourth time that the bar's employees came by to ask us to leave that the crowd started to disperse. Our group started wandering home, taking things very slow and stopping to talk to other friends. I have no idea what time it was but I just remember being so impressed by how much energy there still was out in the streets from all of the people who were out. It was incredible. It was a warm night, all of the buildings were lit up, and I was having a great time, loving every minute. We eventually got home, but did everyone part ways to go to bed? No way! A few of us went to Kaitlyn's friend Dor's room, where we sat around chatting and drinking wine for another hour or so. I think the time change or lack of sleep or maybe just all of that wine finally started to catch up to me as my eyelids suddenly weighed a ton. The night wrapped up and we went back to Kaitlyn's room, where I fell asleep before my head even hit the pillow. 

Will's Adventure to France

It was finally Friday, October 25th! I couldn't believe it. The three weeks or so since I booked my ticket couldn't pass by quickly enough, but with a day or two until departure, I was trying unsuccessfully to pump the breaks a bit so I could get my life organized and my bags packed before I took off.

I woke up at 4am with no alarm. I blame it on my excitement, but really, who wouldn't be excited? I finished packing my stuff and the majority of Kaitlyn's clothes, trying to make my luggage look as small as possible so I could carry it all on. I then took a very thorough shower because I knew it would be about 24 hours of running through airports and struggling through the language barrier. Finally, because this trip would be putting me into vacation-day debt at work, I hauled all of my luggage into the office for a productive yet incredibly distracted half-day.

A little after noon, I hopped on BART towards SFO and the sweating began. The BART car was warm to begin with, but I was also wearing a sweater to make my bag smaller and was carrying my raincoat and down jacket. When I got there, armed with my pre-printed boarding pass, I went straight to the security line, where I was promptly turned back because I didn't have a cabin tag. Oops. It had obviously been too long since I last traveled internationally. I walked the ten miles back to the Air France counter and got into line. By this point, between the stress, the trekking back and forth across the airport, and that damn sweater, I was full on sweating and probably looking awfully suspicious.

I quickly found out my backpack does not qualify as a personal item and my suitcase was quite a few kilograms above the weight limit for carry on. Well, at least I could get rid of that sweater! I stuffed as much as I could into the bag I was forced to check and then sent it through, much happier (he didn't charge me anything for checking it AND he was sending it all the way through to Montpellier) and much lighter. Security time. I went back to the lady who sent me away for my lack of cabin tags, got through security quickly and painlessly (for me, anyway. The foreigners in line in front of me didn't speak English and didn't know to take off their shoes, take their laptops out of their bags, take off their jackets, etc.), and then grabbed myself a pizza for lunch as I had an hour or so until boarding. The people in front of me in line were struggling with English and were doing a lot of pointing and took forever to pay. When I realized I was judging them, much like I judged the people in the security line, I realized that I need to stop because that was going to be me in about ten hours.

While waiting at the gate in the cloud of cologne from the Abercrombie-clad teenagers sitting next to me, it started to sink in that I was actually doing this. There wasn't a single English speaker in the waiting area. Everyone was chatting away in French, with a ton of shopping bags by their sides. A lot of the young people were wearing Hollister, Abercrombie and Fitch, American Eagle, and stuff like that, brands that strive to be All-American but which Americans my age haven't worn in half a decade. I tried to pick out words here and there from their conversations but was completely unsuccessful. I heard "Paris," "Merci," and "Oui," but that was about it. For all I know, they could have been saying some pretty terrible things about the American doofus sitting across from them. Whatever. While devouring my pizza, my dad called and we chatted for a bit. If you don't know my dad, he is a pretty right-wing guy, so naturally the perils of the European model of government and society ("They are all a bunch of socialists!") came up. I made a comment about the Air France union and their strike the next day, not realizing that my future flight attendants were waiting right next to me. They will probably spit in my food and drinks. Oh well. Boarding time!

I got on the plane, chanting my seat number in my head, and made my way to it, "Excusez-moi"-ing my way back. I sat down and got settled when an older French lady came up to me with the flight attendant and said something in French. The flight attendant asked to see my boarding pass. I looked at it and remembered that I changed my seat that morning so I wouldn't be sitting next to the bathroom! Woops. I tried to make some joke but neither of them smiled. My American charm is apparently completely ineffective against the French. Great. That's what I was counting on for my survival for the next week! I then looked like an idiot as I marched back up the plane and found my correct seat, next to a French couple who knew about three words of English between them.

I got settled and fell asleep about five minutes after take-off. As my eyes were closing before that nap, I remember thinking, "This is awesome. I'm going to sleep through the majority of this flight." Forty-one minutes later, I was wide-awake.

If I wasn't going to sleep, at least I could get caught up on some of the movies I've been meaning to see at some point. I watched the Hangover 3 and Gangster Squad, then I re-watched a few choice scenes from Django just before landing. The food was really good on the flight! And it took the beverage cart a lap or two before I figured out that alcohol was free. Ordering the food and drinks was embarrassing though. I knew "Je voudrais..." and I knew some like chicken and water, but every time she asked me what I'd like to have (in beautiful French, I might add), I froze and mumbled something in English. And then since I was in English-mode, I even said "Thank you" afterwards. I felt like an ass and every time she walked away after our exchange, I would kick myself for being an idiot. I'm also pretty sure that this was her part-time job since I am convinced I've seen her in Sports Illustrated's swimsuit edition before. After Gangster Squad, I read a little Camus (I thought it was appropriate given my destination) and then slept for a solid hour. A few hours later, the sun was back up and they started serving breakfast. The yogurt, fruit, and everything else was solid, but then there was this weird pancake thing that was wrapped around this white stuff. Traveling instantly puts me in an adventurous mood, so I figured I'd give it a shot. The pancake part was good, but the texture of the white stuff threw me off big time. It wasn't until I was walking through the airport in Paris that it hit me that I tried cottage cheese! That was a first for me. It always freaked me out and apparently it still does. After choking down half of it, I looked around and was relieved to see that nobody around me seemed to enjoy it either. By the time they cleared the breakfast, we were on the home stretch, so I flicked through the channels and movies of the TV on the seat and managed to sleep for another half hour or so.

Oh! On the flight, they have live video of the scenery outside. It was super cool, especially on takeoff and landing.

Will visited about a month ago, but finally, we are presenting to you his point of view of the trip.  Beware, he writes like a novelist....LOOONNNGGG.  But at the same time it is good! Enjoy!

William:

We landed at Charles de Gaulle. It was an awesome feeling that I was actually there and that I'd be seeing Kaitlyn in just a couple of hours. I had to walk a good distance to the next terminal but eventually figured it out. Almost all of the signs were in both English and in French and had pictures, and even if it was just French text, I probably could have figured it out. At one point though, I had a question so I approached this guy wearing cargo shorts, a Route 66 Hawaiian shirt, and a Harley Davidson hat. He was probably even wearing socks and flip flops. Sounds like the stereotypical American tourist, right? Wrong. He was very French and was apparently just a big fan of our culture. I figured it out though, and then one woman came up to me and, without hesitation, asked me something in English. I wasn't expecting to hear anything I understood so I must have looked surprised, since she said, "Oh I'm sorry, I thought you were American." I assured her I was and then helped her out. I have no idea how she could tell though. I don't know if it was my clothes or the way I carry myself. Whatever. I am what I am!

I made it through customs with an agent who looked super bored. He glanced at my passport for half a second and handed it back to me. I was thinking, "Really? Is that it?" and I just stood there because I thought maybe I had to do something else. He then waved me through. I was bummed that he didn't stamp my passport! But then I also thought that I could probably stay forever now because they'll have no idea when I got there. I made it through the next security line even though I had no idea whether to take off my shoes or not. I don't think I did but I think all of my fellow Americans and I did anyway. I got to the gate, found fifteen minutes of free wifi, and let Kaitlyn and my family know that I survived. 

Observations from the domestic terminal: French kids are pretty cute. They are pretty stylishly dressed and I think just the fact that they are speaking a foreign language makes them even cuter. Fifty year old men wearing super tight pants and shirts with their beer guts hanging out aren't nearly as endearing. But European women of all ages look pretty good, as far as I can tell so far.

The next flight was over before I knew it. It helped that I slept for 95% of the hour and ten minute flight, so I got three hours of sleep for the night. I was a little worried since I only got four hours the night before and it was only 2 in the afternoon with a long night ahead of me, but I figured I'd have all of the adrenaline and excitement and activity to keep me going. Under gray skies, I finally landed in Montpellier.