Over the Atlantic Ocean

I did it! I got over the huge pond we call the Atlantic Ocean. It was so stressful at that, beginning with wishing my family farewell at the security gate. We were delayed an hour in Detroit to Newark because it was “rush hour” in Newark, and we could not lift-off until they said it was “less congested.” I was convinced I missed my much-awaited connection to Paris, France. I got to Newark and asked costumer service what I should do if I missed my plane, and it turned-out they delayed the flight, and I could make it in 15 minutes. Little did I know that with my two heavy carry-on bags, I would have to run across at least a mile or two through the airport to get to my gate.

I was so mad because I wanted to talk to my parents and some friends while I waited for my flight, but no it was impossible. Then as I walk into the cabin, I was bewildered by how gigantic it was with 10 seats per row, like nothing I had ever seen before. As I found my row, I see that I am late and there was no way my bags would fit. I was embarrassed that I had to make the man in my row get-up and help me with my heavy bag and somehow he fit it in the overhead.

I had the window seat, and it took me a few minutes to compose myself from being embarrassed, the stress, and being out-of-breath from running. 5 minutes later, the plane starts moving to start to leave, and it turns out that the other man and I had the whole row to ourselves with room in the empty middle seat.

Did I mention that the man happened to be a good-looking Belgian man? His name was Dennis, pronounced Denny in French. Since I didn’t sleep the whole time, we found ourselves talking to whole time. We must have talked 75% out of the 7 hour trip. He gave me some contacts and suggestions about Aix, since he had studied there when he was an undergrad. This man has a career that I want, for he has been EVERYWHERE, no kidding. He also speaks French, English, Spanish, Portuguese, and German. WOW. Also, his girlfriend is Mexican :(.

Anyway, I arrived in Paris and immediately made my way to my connection to Marseilles. It was easy, but I was a little overwhelmed with being in a French-speaking country, all alone, hauling my luggage everywhere, and with lack of sleep. I took a shuttle to the Metro for 8 Euros, and waited for Julie for about an hour. It was funny because I had to go to the bathroom badly while I was alone, but there was no way I could leave my luggage (with French regulation of terrorism, if you leave anything unattended, it will be blown-up for security reasons), especially since they look like these large black cases…bomb cases to be exact. I thought of my earrings in the suitcase, and decided that my bladder could hold that much longer.

One Comment

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  1. Donde estan los fotos del dormitorio? Y el vistazo desde la ventana?

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