La Belle France.

Where to begin: perhaps with the time I gave the bus driver a five-dollar Canadian, instead of a euro bill; the moment I realized that my apartment is not air conditioned; or just one of the many times in the past few days that I walked twenty minutes in the wrong direction ?

« Bienvenue à La France, Hayley.”

It’s only been a few days since I left Miami but it feels like longer; between the jetlag and the change of country it’s as if I traveled through a vortex in time, or as close as I imagine I will ever be to time travel. The realization that I’m in Perpignan, France is still fighting its way through my consciousness; I’m in such shock that I could probably convince myself that I’m in Guam, but for now I’ll stick with France. The All Mighty knows that I’ve encountered enough cultural differences to notify the neurons in my brain that I’m not in Miami anymore.

In typical French fashion, my apartment isn’t air-conditioned and my bathroom consists of a toilet, shower and sink jammed into a pre-fabricated box that feels as it was simply placed in the room from above. The unit is so narrow that I can sit on the toilet with my arms stretched out in front of me and reach the end of the shower. On the plus side, I don’t have to worry about cleaning the bathroom because I do so each time I shower. The best part is the loud creaking sound the step in the doorway makes as I enter or exit the shower ; I’m just waiting for the whole thing to topple over with me trapped inside. I shouldn’t complain ; however, I feel as if that is what us, Americans do when we travel over-seas : gripe about the quality of accommodations. Why be cost and energy efficient when you can blast you’re A.C. all day so it feels as if you’re walking into an icebox?

The weather here is nice, cool in the mornings and evenings, but quite roasty in the daytime. The wind here is delicious ; I hear it can be harsh in the winter but it has felt glorious against my sweaty self the past few days. I don’t know what it is about being in France but I started to smell like the locals. Maybe there is something in the air. On the train heading to Perpignan my nostrils detected that distinctly European body odor, and I was horrified to realize my contribution. Mind you, I had been traveling for two days straight and hadn’t showered during the three hours between my nine-hour flight to Paris and the five and a half-hour train ride to Perpignan ; nevertheless, I wanted nothing to do with my self on the train or taxi ride to the university, to then have the driver drop me off as far as possible from the registration office. After lugging my at least eighty pounds of luggage uphill, I left my fifty pound suitcase at the bottom of two flights of stairs, without a care as to what might happen to it, and at which time I just about Stank!

All that is to say, “HELLZ Yah”, I'm back in France!

A bientôt.