A.i.R. Adventures in Running: I Suppose Paris is Pretty Magical...

I am now living in Viscri, Romania for the next 3 months. I won’t say the transition has been easy; even just getting here was quite an adventure. My flights started from Houston to Paris on Wednesday afternoon, so by Thursday morning I was in Paris with a 10 hour layover, so I decided I should go out and explore the city!

This is a lot easier said than done, since I don’t speak a word of French and I needed to find a place to hold my carry on luggage. After an hour of being completely confused about where I needed to go I finally found the place that will watch your luggage for you in the train station. Then the next issue to address was how do I purchase a ticket into Paris and which one is right? All the lines were extremely long, so I hopped into the shortest one I saw and hoped for the best. 30 minutes later and a tiny ticket in hand I searched for the proper train to take me into the city center of Paris. Once again I decided to just wing it and got on a train and took a seat next to the window…a few minutes later an older couple sat next to me. They spoke English!! They sounded familiar too. They began asking me in what sounded like strained French something about directions I assume, and when I answered in English we all had relief wash over our faces. I found out they were from Sugarland, Texas, a mere 20 minutes away from where my parents live and they were on their 33^rd anniversary trip through France. Surprised that I had just jumped on a random train they helped me understand where it was that I needed to be going and how I would get there (luckily I had picked the right train because it had already left at that point!)

An hour later I found myself standing on a platform. Alone. In Paris. I decided to follow a lady who looked like she knew where she was going, she was wearing 6 inch stilettos so I thought one wouldn’t wear such uncomfortable shoes if they didn’t know where they were…My assumption worked as I found myself in the middle of beautiful Paris. I have never been enthralled with the mystique of Paris, I have never even wanted to visit because there have always been other places more important for me to see; however, as soon as I saw the streets and the building I understood. I understood why so many of my favorite authors turned to Paris for inspiration and chose it as their desired location to write. There is something magical about it. With the language, the wine, the flowers, rows upon rows of old books for sale next to the Seine, the boats, and the Parisians on small streets off the beaten path; I was inspired like so many before me to write. After getting lost for a while in my search for Notre Dame, I finally found it and decided to make my way to the Eiffel Tower by walking along the river. I stopped and had a delicious brunch and filled my journal, page after page while sipping on red wine and eating an omelet. I cherished this moment of solitude as I was completely alone in foreign city, a foreign country, and yet I was completely content with only myself. It was one of those moments where I just stop and let everything around me wash over me so I can absorb every sensation and emotion.

Along the way towards the Eiffel Tower, I decided to walk among the residential streets and take a break from the occasional strong whiffs of urine that accompanied the area surrounding the scenic river. This is the second time I got lost while wandering the streets of Paris, and I can say it was the most pleasant experience, especially for being lost. I walked along winding streets occasionally catching glimpse of the Eiffel Tower to guide my progress, then all of a sudden I wandered into a park that provided a picturesque view of the laced, wrought iron structure. As I walked closer and saw firsthand how large it was, I decided I had to go to the top. While I was waiting in line the guy behind me asked if I was alone…well yes. He questioned me further, continually commenting on how ironic it was that we were both alone and he thought it would be a good idea for us to go up together, for picture purposes of course. So up we went, swapping cameras constantly taking pictures for one another, and eventually together. As we neared the top a rainstorm rolled in drenching me (good thing I had decided to wear a white t-shirt), but despite the cold rain and the slightly creepy Lebanese guy continually hitting on me the view of Paris and the river was breathtaking.

By the time I got down from the tower I knew I needed to rush back to catch a train and subsequently catch my flight to Budapest in four hours. I awkwardly said goodbye to Tarek declining his invitation to dinner and briskly began attempting to walk back towards Notre Dame. (I didn’t realize how much walking I would be doing because I stupidly decided to wear cute and unsupportive sandals…my feet were killing me!) Along the way I stopped and had dinner at a cute restaurant, and I discovered that the entrance to the train station I had emerged from earlier that morning was right next to Notre Dame, if only I had turned around and looked!