Dear Diary,
Well, here I am, on the airplane travelling to Paris. This almost feels like a dream, like I’m not REALLY experiencing this.
Yet, at the same time, I feel SO ultimately ready for this that I’m quite calm inside.
I think my leaving was a huge eye opener for people around me. It made them think about the purpose of life and going for your dreams.
I have such a heightened comfort with myself right now. In fact, I am remembering when I used to travel on planes with David.
I would look around at people travelling alone and feel sorry for them that they had no one to talk to…and yet, I secretly envied them. How were they able to travel all by themself?
And now, look at me!!! I am totally content being by myself! No pressures, just able to do what I want when I want!
I am in LOVE with this feeling of comfort and security.
Only 4 more hours until Paris!!! Wow…
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Dear Diary,
I’m here!!!! I’m in Paris!
Yikes!
All their phones need cards – no change! So I had to figure that out.
Then I had to figure a way to use la toilette while lugging my 2 HUGE suitcases. The toilet paper is dark pink!
I got my period – the timing! Thank God I had something in my purse!
I am starting to feel tired but I have to try and stay awake until I catch the TGV to go to Nantes.
My CD player stopped working which isn’t nice as that would have kept me awake.
Oh well, maybe I’ll get to see a lot of the countryside.
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Dear Diary,
Okay, I should be in Nantes, but I’m not! I’m still in Paris!
I have just survived an incredible ordeal. I REALLY need to sleep now and I just want to cry to let out my frustration!
Everything was going well while I was waiting for my train. I didn’t see it arrive, even after the scheduled time, so I asked someone to watch my baggage (NOT SMART!) and ran up to ask someone what happened.
The ticket lady said the train had already left. Oh My God!!!
Now I had to take buses with my 2 heavy as hell bags and buy a new ticket.
I put the ticket in the passway and while pushing my first huge suitcase through the barrier locked! It wouldn’t let me or my second suitcase pass through!
My back is aching and I’m exhausted beyond belief so I thought, “Screw it!” and decided to take a taxi.
Well…. the cab drivers dusted off my seat and were SO nice to me and I’m thinking, “Paris is so great!”
The cab driver starts asking me if I want to see the Eiffel Tower and La Louvre because it’s so close to where I need to go.
I say sure but then I see the meter running FAST! It’s now up to 172 francs!
So I tell him to just go to the station as I don’t have much money.
He keeps talking and driving, showing me the Paris tunnel where Princess Diana died, La Seine, etc. etc. and now the meter is 240 francs!
I am frieking out inside so I tell him, “I only have 270 francs so please just go to the station.”
He got really angry and scoffed, “I should just drop you off here!”
I say I’m sorry and we don’t talk the rest of the way.
We finally arrived at the station and somehow I got my bags in an elevator, not knowing where I was going. Suddenly the doors opened and a girl stood in front of me and said, “Do you need help?”
I believe she was an angel sent from up above. There was just such an angelic energy in the air.
I felt like weeping at her feet I was so grateful! She took me exactly where I needed to be and was gone as quickly as she appeared.
Lord, please let me sleep soon, this is enough…
Au revoir.
Join me HERE where I share my first days in France and the very unexpected things that occurred.
Have YOU ever travelled or moved to another country? What were your first experiences? Any funny, odd, or angelic experiences such as mine? I’d love to hear about them in the comments below!
Or, perhaps you’ve always wanted to but are nervous. Let me know as I can give you some great pointers that will save you from having to experience what I did – LOL!
A bientôt!
4 Comments
I moved to Israel from the UK seven years ago – just me, no family or friends here at all. And I love it! I also felt your sense of calmness on the plane over, even though I was seated next to a screaming toddler for 5 hours (and I’m not good with kids!) lol
I think living in another country gives such a huge sense of freedom. I pretty much reinvented myself here. I was shy and reclusive in the UK but I made myself a promise that when I got here I would “yes” to anything and everything that wasn’t likely to get me killed or put in jail! It worked! I met people I would never have come across otherwise, I’ve made friends in unexpected ways and I’m having a wonderful life. “Everything you want is on the other side of fear” – AND outside your comfort zone 🙂
Wow, how utterly similar our stories are! Well done to you for gathering the courage to move – I know how it can feel.
Erin, finally read/listened to this and was chuckling all the way through….oh, have I been “there”. One thing after another just going ‘wrong’ while you navigate foreign countries. I arrived in Paris for my six week stay via chunnel train and made my way to the metro stop, only to have something (no idea what, as I don’t speak French so couldn’t understand the announcements) go wrong, so the peak hour crowd was banking up till the platform was absolutely jam packed. And there I was with my luggage, worried about pick pockets so ubiquitous in France. Then the police arrived to (I assume) help ensure that said pick pockets were less likely to strike. It was hot and I didn’t know whether to try to get on the train when it finally came or not. They’d shut off the stairs and escalators onto the platform by this time, so I couldn’t even make my way off the platform and wait for it to return to normal. Somehow I made it on to the train and to my metro stop. Ugh. Fun times – then I found my air bnb and it took 90 minutes to work out how to ring the door bell. Then I had to cart my very heavy luggage up three floors (my male host did not offer to help!!). Ahh….it makes me laugh now.
But I’ve also had some amazing miracles. I had exceptionally warm, sunny weather for those six weeks in September. I walked almost everywhere, the length and breadth of the city. I would walk till my feet hurt, then pray for a quiet salon du the, and one would be in the next block, empty and happy for my business. I found the most amazing George Canon salon du the, where they gave me a cool moist towel upon arrival and had the most amazing array of teas. Ugh….. Another time, it was late and I’d had dinner at a friend’s place and wanted to catch a taxi home but had heard they were hard to find, and likely not to take you if you weren’t going far enough away. Plus they rarely spoke english. We got down onto the street and a cab went by. We hailed it and the driver spoke english and was happy with my trip! Ugh – relief!! Also, early on, I’d read in my travel guide about a guy who hosted meals for ex-pat’s, and you book in and pay 20 euros and about 30 people would turn up. I booked and was nervous for finding the place and getting home, as it was not a busy area so no taxi’s. Turns out, when I looked it up on the map, it was in my street!! About 20 minutes walk, but my street. Absolutely easy to find my way home and the street had numerous cafes along the route, despite being very residential, so it didn’t feel too scary and remote walking home late at night.
But my most amazing travel story was an early trip, when I was going from Switzerland to Venice. I had stayed 2 weeks at a spiritual retreat centre in Switzerland and met a guy I didn’t want to leave. I was 22 years old, scared and heading off for my 9 month back packing adventure on my own. I got on the train, got my period so was emotional off the charts, really sad and feeling very alone. I got to the border with Italy and the Italians were having a train strike (not uncommon). So I thought “damn it, I’m hiring a car and getting to Venice” – ah, the boldness of youth….how would I know how to get there? and once there, how to get where I needed to go? These questions didn’t even cross my mind, if you can believe it. I just needed my own space and a car would give it to me. plus I needed to keep moving or I’d fall apart. So, I found a car hire place (god knows how, it was a pretty small town) and took the last car they had, at great cost. Decided to buy a map too, just in case.
Drove off, found my way to Venice, god also only knows how I found the car return place at the Vaporetta stop to get to the Venice islands – I have absolutely no recollection of that. Returned the car and went to buy my vaporetta ticket. I had my travel guide to tell me where the youth hostel was, so I bought a ticket to that stop. Asked the ticket seller how long till the ferry came, and she said 20 minutes. OK.
It was dark and peak hour and cold, and I had a back pack on my back, a front pack on my front, a plastic bag in my hand…..”HELLO, I’M A TOURIST!!!”. Well, a ferry came in 5 minutes and I didn’t know whether to get on it or not – was it the right one? Italian time tables are hardly reliable…..so I did. It was packed. It felt like only men were on the ferry. I felt vulnerable and worried. I had visions of spending the night back at the vaporetta stop. We started stopping at these quiet little ferry stops with no signs to say which stop it was. I realised I was in trouble. Even if this was the right ferry, I wouldn’t know the stop. I was silently freaking out, wondering what to do, when I heard this broad Aussie voice say “Are you Australian?” behind me. I turned to see a guy, smiling. I said “yeah…how did you know?”. He said “You’re carrying an Australian duty free plastic bag”. I laughed. He asked where I was going and I said the youth hostel. He said “Ahh – that’s where I’m going!”. OMG. Thank you Lord! “Is this the right ferry?” I asked. “No, this one goes all the way around the whole of Venice and eventually gets to the right stop. The right one would have gone fairly directly there. I catch this one because I like the scenic route.” I was so relieved and happy. We finally got to the right stop (I would not have known it) and he showed me to the youth hostel, which, even if I had found the right ferry stop, I would never have found as it also had no sign and by now it was completely dark. I checked in and got the second last bed. The person behind me got the last one. After that they were telling people to try the convent down the road. I was in total exhaustion and relief. I rang home (had promised my mother I would whenever I was travelling between countries) and burst into tears. My brother talked to me, asked what time I got on the ferry, (I had told them all the whole story). I told him the time and we worked out what time that was in Australia and he said “you know, last night I woke up at that time with the strong feeling I should pray for you, so I did, I prayed you’d be safe”.
Amazing. That’s not my brother’s normal spiritual way of being at all!!!
OK – enough rambling. I’ve got a million stories. I’ve done so much solo travelling. But I’m tired of it now. Ready to have a travelling companion!!!! But I still love what I understand they now call “slow travel”, going somewhere and staying there a while. I’ve done that a lot. I love the independence and challenge of navigating a new place and finding my favourite hangouts, cafes, places. But as I age, I do get a bit tired of the effort that it takes. I think freedom has been the underlying theme of my life and I certainly feel freedom when I’m not at home. I am writing this in Bali, where I seem to return a lot. Love the freedom of riding a motor bike on country roads. I think the challenge for me is to feel this free at home. How???
You are TOO funny, Naomi! Loved reading your story – so, so similar to parts of my story! Keep living the adventure, girl!!