I was too caught up in the concrete landscapes and architecture flashing in front of my eyes to worry whether or not this taxi ride might be my last. My driver barely shaved past the surfaces of many cyclists and a metro bus, whilst shouting arabic curses at the islamic radio station he was listening to. Up since 4:30 a.m., with only a stupid 3 hours of sleep from the past night's crazy "when in france" happenings, I finally made it, an hour early in fact to the U.S. Embassy to hopefully get issued a new passport.
"The Consolate is closed today," a security personnel responded.
What?? Monday through Friday, 9 a.m.-11 a.m., walk-in's, the website had said all this.
The security did not know why it was closed, but just said that it was very unusual and random. The one day of course, a friend (who had lost her passport in the airport), and I buy train tickets, 12-25 passes, taxi and metro fare, and book hostels and hotels, would be the day the embassy would randomly decide to close.
They met are blank stares, with a reassuring "well maybe they can see you" and called up the passport services. In the meanwhile, we sat outside, watching as one-by-one they turned away people needing new passports and visas, unaware as well of today's closing.
Finally we were let in. They said that the staff were in a training, so we'd have to wait for however long, until they could take a break or it was over.
After managing to devour most everything from the vending machines, a few hours later, the windows shutters opened and a lady appeared.
My name was called first. I had been told by everyone that the people at the U.S. Embassy in Paris are extremely helpful and friendly, and it would be a pretty easy thing to do.
The security had failed to tell us how utterly important these trainings were, so important that it could lead a 40 something American woman to yell at me, giving personal attacks about expediting my passport last semester...? It was the most completely bazaar situation i've ever been in. She asked me when I decided to study abroad, and if I knew what day Thanksgiving was this last year, and a series of other completely random, unprofessional questions, in which I finally replied, "What does this have to do with anything?" It's incredibly frustrating when you really want to call someone a bitch, but they hold your emergency passport on the other side of the window. I don't know why anyone wants to come to America after dealing with someone like that.
...someone needs to get some. food in that stomach, angry hungry woman.
After the Embassy ordeal, it was off to find the hotel that the two girls I was with had booked. The deal was for me to sneak in, and we'd all split a single room. We didn't intend for it to be a small shabby hotel, in which I had to call up to even ascend the red carpeted spiral staircase. The hotel clerks were right out of rocky horror, a fake crystal chandelier and a couch were about all that fit in the lobby-there was no way they wouldn't notice me staying.
So, then I was off to find a cheap hostel for the night. A tip from a friend led me to Oops Hostel on Avenue des Goblins, near the Latin Quarter, conveniently a few steps from the metro stop. It's thirty euros, booked the day of, for free wifi and computers, breakfast, showers, bunk-bed dorm rooms-not at all bad. We wandered aimlessly, unaware of the direction of the Latin Quarter, into what seemed like the Asian district, where I had Thai Seafood Soup and Pork Dumplings for dinner, and my friends went back to the hotel, and I then headed to to my bunk bed.
I woke up early before the all-boy room were still sleeping, and checked out. Unsure of where I was going to, only knowing I was supposed to meet the rest of our program around noonish for our Paris excursion near the Arc de Triomphe.
I went to the metro. Got off at St. Augustin around 8 a.m., and bought a mini quiche lorraine at a patisserie next to the St. Augustin Cathedral, and sat on a park bench finishing it, before wandering around the completely empty cathedral. My footsteps echoed and the my eyes grew dizzy from staring up so much at the stained glass. The janitor walked in, staring at me surprised. Thinking perhaps I came in during the closed hours, I left.
Following the signs to Champs de Elysee, I was stopped by a couple, who seemed to think I was french. "Arc de Triomphe" they asked me. I pointed to the sign for Champs de Elysee, and they thanked me in their very spanish French... i barely knew what i was doing myself...maybe i was just tired and didn't care...
I stopped for coffee at a street near the Arc de Triomphe, and wandered around not wanting to spend 6 euros on a ticket to go under the Arc, waiting to hear from the group on where to meet them. Then I walked down the empty Champs de Elysee, the employees of Sephora clapped and shouted trying to draw in customers, a gypsy came up to me asking if I spoke English, I became one euro less, and then an irish couple asked if I spoke English as well, and I directed them too to the Arc de Triomphe. Did I look like some English-speaking Arc de Triomphe expert?
I started to love this walking. Although, my shoulders were in pain from my heavy backpack and my feet were already tired, I didn't really want to meet up with the group...or bother to call anyone to see where they were at. I started to like the idea of not meeting up with them at all. It was exhilarating. Why was I doing everything I was supposed to do? I came here to explore...to learn french. For the first time, I was semi doing this. Away from the English speaking other American students in my program, away from the plans, far away.
so i quit the program and decided to stay in paris for awhile, until finding somewhere else to go.
jk. I met up with the group...but as I sat there drinking my espresso, I wondered what do I want? Do I want to be a Psychology major...do I want to be in France...why do I need a degree...really I see myself wandering, traveling, maybe getting a job at a cafe...learning to cook...eventually coming home to open my own place. All I need is a book on business, a business plan, experience, and a loan...
Was all this, which was my life right now, really for me?
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