The
last time we chatted, you left me waving goodbye to my teacher friends in the
Bologna airport. That was around 8 pm on Thursday night. My flight to Paris
left at 6:30am. An Italian chocolate bar, a new copy of Gone Girl, and an entire bag of bread rolls later… I probably
could’ve slept, but had to get my passport cleared at the RyanAir check in desk
before I could even go through security and sleeping in an area where anyone
could come and go just didn’t seem smart. The check in desk opened around 4am
and then it was to the front of the security line where I got the inside scoop
on what it looks like when security opens for the day. It’s uneventful, in case
you were wondering.
I
remember taking off, sporadic jolts awake because my jaw had fallen too far
open, and being on the tarmac. Paris Beauvais. Plane, bus, metro, and short
walk was all it took to get me to Hotel Andre Gills. There, after a brief
struggle to get in touch, I met one of the other COST interns from Auburn who
is currently in Ireland. We met at the hotel and put our stuff down – check in
wasn’t until later that afternoon, then set out. We began wandering the streets
of Paris. She had a couple days of down time before our adventure and had
picked out a ton of different sites and activities for us, which was lucky for
me since I really knew nothing about Paris. With the weather on our side, we
soaked up the sunshine and just wandered around the city center. Naturally,
stopping in front of the major landmarks to finally get our chance to be
stereotypical, American tourists. We covered huge chunks of the city by foot, Arc du
Triomphe, Eiffel Tower, Avenue des Champs-Élysées, the Lourve, that bridge with all the
locks on it, and everything in between. 
The
longest line we waited in was outside of Laduree, which is apparently a famous
macaroon shop. I had never heard of it, but let’s be honest, when it comes to
France – I’m a bit on the “uncultured swine” side of things. Despite the chill
that was steadily increasing in the air, the wait was worth getting to go
inside. The line snaked around a long counter covered in lavishly decorated
desserts and macaroons in every color imaginable. We ordered, purchased, and munched.
Words cannot properly describe the deliciousness.
As
the sunlight started to fade we decided to grab a quick cup of coffee and
strategize on the evening’s plans. I was starting to feel the strain of being
awake for so long and definitely needed a caffeine boost. Caroline had found a
company that does nighttime boat tours, so we decided to make our way back to
the waterfront and see la belle France by the glow of riverbanks.
I
should mention now, Paris’ streets are not straight. They’re curved, so
whenever you think you’re going in a straight line down a road, you’re actually
not. Most excessively confusing. I’m typically okay at getting my bearings in a
new city – I know my multiple stories of getting lost might say the opposite,
but my ratio of lost to not lost is pretty decent given the circumstances. But, not
in Paris. I was one hundred percent turned around, all the time. Luckily,
Caroline had a map app that didn’t require internet, so we spent a good portion
of our wanderings huddled around the phone trying to figure out which street
was which.
So,
when we set out from the coffee shop, we got a little mixed up in our
directions and ended up walking farther away than intended but, it worked in
our favor – like most lost and confused situations do. As we finally made it in
the direction of the river, the Eiffel Tower lit up. Lights sparkled up and
down as if some massive toddler was standing behind it with a giant, overturned
bottle of glitter. It was fantastic.
After
ooh-ing and ahh-ing for an appropriate amount of time we pressed on until we
came to the river. Reaching the dock just in time we quickly purchased tickets
and got onboard. It was sit-down and had heat – I would’ve paid for that alone.
The boat glided down the Seine, passing by historical buildings and bridges
glowing in the dark evening. I couldn’t help but imagine cannons and wooden
barricades lining the street as the proletariat fought to overturn bourgeoisie
society. Only problem with that was that I only really know about the French
Revolution because of Les Miserables and it being one of the major influences
of the Romantic period literature. So, all of my imaginations might not have
been totally accurate. Oh well, se la vie. 
We
had discussed trying to find somewhere to grab a glass of wine after the tour,
but by the time the boat docked, we were both exhausted and decided to call it
a night. Scrambling toward the nearest Metro, we made our way back to the
hotel, stopping briefly to pick up some bread and cheese, a piece of quiche,
and, of course, dessert from a shop down the street. We feasted in our room and
decreed that we could not walk another step. 
I need to sign off here for tonight. There’s much too much to write about and this teacher-in-training needs some sleep before her six-thirty wake up call. You can have the last part of my journey tomorrow, dear friends. Until then, au revoir!
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