July 2014
It had seemed like a good idea. How had it seemed like a good idea? These were the thoughts running through my head as I sat on my suitcase crying in a silent Parisian courtyard in the Seventh Arrondissement. Several months before this pitiful scene took place, I had made a plan with my dear old friend Marianne to travel to Paris by myself and stay with her during the summer before heading to Geneva to see my grandparents. My Mom was horrified. my Dad couldn't wait for me to experience something akin to his adolescence in Europe.
Fast forward to my arrival in July. Marianne was not yet in the country (she herself was flying home the next day) and I somehow did not have her house number. So arriving at her address I pushed my way through the heavy 18th century door of her residential square to convince my cab driver that I in fact did know where I was going and no he should not kidnap me.
Alas, inside there was no big sign saying MARIANNE LIVES HERE. Shit (or rather merdre). I called home crying to my mother (it was hardly 6:00 AM back in the states) telling her of my situation and that I had officially forgotten all of my 11 years of French.
My savior was a passing gaurdienne to whom I managed to blubber a question about the whereabouts of my friend's home. The only person at home when I arrived was their housekeeper who did not speak a word of English. --- Deep Breath --- I could handle that right? Ok yah sort of, I managed to hold it together.
Not an auspicious beginning to one of the best weeks of my life? I would say not.
Flash Forward 48 hours, Marianne and I are sitting in dappled sunlight in the blissful gardens of the Musée Rodin. There was something magical about that moment for me, we were surrounded by exquisite art in a beautiful landscape, each completely engrossed in the words of a master. I was reading Brideshead Revisited for the first time, a book that is very important to me and has since become my favorite book. Maybe what made that moment so perfect was the contrast between its serenity and my stressful arrival? As lovely as that was, it was only the beginning of our exploits that week.
