I am writing this entry in Gare Montparnasse, Paris, in (yeah, say what you will) Starbucks. This Starbucks is the same one I said good-bye to Sari after the day we spent in Paris at the end of our exchanges so long ago.
It's hard to say right now how I feel being back because I'm tired. So I'll just write about the day so far in order to save me time from needing to write about it in my journal later.
After getting around three hours of sleep, I got up at 3:45 this morning, showered, finalized my packing, and went to the reception to check out. The concierge recognized me from the other day and greeted me with "Dzień dobry!" (It was way too early in the morning to try and speak Polish but I made a valiant effort anyway.) The taxi left at 4:30 am as was scheduled.
Once again, I found myself at the departures wing of Vienna International Airport. There were already so many people but the line went quickly enough. I ended up having a Filipina check-in agent, which brightened my day already.
I arrived pretty early to my gate, still in disbelief at the route of the flight I was about to take.
As I am right now, I was pretty sleep-deprived, so I drowsily boarded the plane and took my window seat and fell asleep for most of the first part of the flight, before the snacks came in of course. (At this moment in time I reached into my bag and ate a few pieces of the Manner Mio coconut chocolate pieces I brought from Vienna.)
I spent the rest of the time looking out the window. When the announcement came that we were descending upon Paris in French (after the German), tears welled up in my eyes. I was really about to land in France again.
Upon landing, I performed my usual routine of packing up my stuff and exiting the plane. I thought back to the day I first landed in France to start my exchange, entering the very same airport, thinking "You're going to remember this day for the rest of your life." That felt like a lifetime ago, and the reality I was living felt almost completely removed from it.
Everything was in French. I heard French all around me. (With the occasional German, since I was just leaving Austria.) It felt so right.
I spoke French in France once again. The first thing I said was "Bonjour!" to the customs agent.
I eventually found my way to the RER, the train that would take me into Paris itself. There was a couple sitting not too far from me on the train, and I could swear they were Filipino. I never spoke to them, but they both looked at me and smiled somewhat knowingly, so I figure they were. I ended up sitting in a booth with 10-year-old twins, a boy and a girl, whose parents were in the booth next to them, due to space issues. They were adorable. I couldn't help but speak with them in the language I missed so much, and they were happy to speak it back to me. I couldn't help but think that that is the language I want my own children to be speaking. Their parents were talking to some Americans who were sitting by them, and the kids were trying to understand what they were saying. They started teasing each other about who knew more words in English and who paid more attention in class, and one of them said, "Well, we're only ten years old, we've got time to learn." I told them, "When I was ten I didn't even speak French." The little girl asked, "So what is it you speak?" I told her, English. The little boy piped up, "Wait. Does that mean you speak English really, really, REALLY well? Or is your French still better?" I smiled at that thought. The little girl corrected him, "Of course she speaks English well, it's her first language!"
I was highly entertained at the exchange, and just so, so happy to be back in France.
After a metro transfer, I made my way to my beloved Gare Montparnasse, a place I had been in so many times before that this time felt no different. There, I met up with the first French friend I ever made, Aurore. It was amazing to see her again after all this time.
Such good timing too, since she's actually flying to India today from Paris and so had to be here anyway. We got lunch and walked around the area, chatted, and I overall relished the inimitable feeling of being on the streets of Paris. I had to laugh. It was so surreal.
She had to leave to get on a bus, though, so we bade good-bye for now and I went back to the Gare. I sat in the waiting area for a bit but then got unbearably tired, so headed to Starbucks (where I have been for more than three hours now) to get a coffee and sit and play around on my laptop. Nobody has questioned the fact that I speak French.
That brings me here, I guess. Still disoriented, still in disbelief that I'm actually in this train station again, in this Starbucks where I said bye to my best friend, convinced we would pull off more crazy adventures in the future. (We did.)
I'm going to board a train to Poitiers soon. Ah, the Paris-Poitiers TGV, a route I have already taken. Will report more later, but so far, France has been France. Neither too hostile, neither too welcoming; rather, just France. And I wouldn't want it any other way.
It's hard to say right now how I feel being back because I'm tired. So I'll just write about the day so far in order to save me time from needing to write about it in my journal later.
After getting around three hours of sleep, I got up at 3:45 this morning, showered, finalized my packing, and went to the reception to check out. The concierge recognized me from the other day and greeted me with "Dzień dobry!" (It was way too early in the morning to try and speak Polish but I made a valiant effort anyway.) The taxi left at 4:30 am as was scheduled.
Once again, I found myself at the departures wing of Vienna International Airport. There were already so many people but the line went quickly enough. I ended up having a Filipina check-in agent, which brightened my day already.
I arrived pretty early to my gate, still in disbelief at the route of the flight I was about to take.
As I am right now, I was pretty sleep-deprived, so I drowsily boarded the plane and took my window seat and fell asleep for most of the first part of the flight, before the snacks came in of course. (At this moment in time I reached into my bag and ate a few pieces of the Manner Mio coconut chocolate pieces I brought from Vienna.)
I spent the rest of the time looking out the window. When the announcement came that we were descending upon Paris in French (after the German), tears welled up in my eyes. I was really about to land in France again.
Upon landing, I performed my usual routine of packing up my stuff and exiting the plane. I thought back to the day I first landed in France to start my exchange, entering the very same airport, thinking "You're going to remember this day for the rest of your life." That felt like a lifetime ago, and the reality I was living felt almost completely removed from it.
Everything was in French. I heard French all around me. (With the occasional German, since I was just leaving Austria.) It felt so right.
I spoke French in France once again. The first thing I said was "Bonjour!" to the customs agent.
I eventually found my way to the RER, the train that would take me into Paris itself. There was a couple sitting not too far from me on the train, and I could swear they were Filipino. I never spoke to them, but they both looked at me and smiled somewhat knowingly, so I figure they were. I ended up sitting in a booth with 10-year-old twins, a boy and a girl, whose parents were in the booth next to them, due to space issues. They were adorable. I couldn't help but speak with them in the language I missed so much, and they were happy to speak it back to me. I couldn't help but think that that is the language I want my own children to be speaking. Their parents were talking to some Americans who were sitting by them, and the kids were trying to understand what they were saying. They started teasing each other about who knew more words in English and who paid more attention in class, and one of them said, "Well, we're only ten years old, we've got time to learn." I told them, "When I was ten I didn't even speak French." The little girl asked, "So what is it you speak?" I told her, English. The little boy piped up, "Wait. Does that mean you speak English really, really, REALLY well? Or is your French still better?" I smiled at that thought. The little girl corrected him, "Of course she speaks English well, it's her first language!"
I was highly entertained at the exchange, and just so, so happy to be back in France.
After a metro transfer, I made my way to my beloved Gare Montparnasse, a place I had been in so many times before that this time felt no different. There, I met up with the first French friend I ever made, Aurore. It was amazing to see her again after all this time.
Such good timing too, since she's actually flying to India today from Paris and so had to be here anyway. We got lunch and walked around the area, chatted, and I overall relished the inimitable feeling of being on the streets of Paris. I had to laugh. It was so surreal.
She had to leave to get on a bus, though, so we bade good-bye for now and I went back to the Gare. I sat in the waiting area for a bit but then got unbearably tired, so headed to Starbucks (where I have been for more than three hours now) to get a coffee and sit and play around on my laptop. Nobody has questioned the fact that I speak French.
That brings me here, I guess. Still disoriented, still in disbelief that I'm actually in this train station again, in this Starbucks where I said bye to my best friend, convinced we would pull off more crazy adventures in the future. (We did.)
I'm going to board a train to Poitiers soon. Ah, the Paris-Poitiers TGV, a route I have already taken. Will report more later, but so far, France has been France. Neither too hostile, neither too welcoming; rather, just France. And I wouldn't want it any other way.
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