l'arrivée

Made it! 27 hours, 3 flights, 1 bus ride, lots of speed-walking and over 5,000 miles later, I'm in Grenoble. It looks like this: 

Totally ugly, right? Poor me.

Now for every inane detail that comprised those afore-mentioned stats...

Took off from Spokane long before the sun had come up, and got in to San Francisco at 8:00 am, where I entertained myself for a good seven hours. It involved lots of walking back and forth with my bags, talking on the phone, and watching out for suspicious behavior. Eventually I made my way to the boarding area for my Lufthansa flight, and at first I was alone. Then one German came. Then a few more. Then dozens and dozens of Germans. And then all of a sudden, the escalator was flooded with German Lufthansa flight attendants smiling and speaking German and laughing at the lone American in their midst (that was me. they weren't really laughing at me. people always think I'm german). But I really might have been the only American on the whole flight.

But I learned something interesting about Germans. The ones who are in charge are in charge. They come around weighing carryon bags to make sure they aren't over 8 kilos (My 9 kilo bag was miraculously spared), telling everyone to sit down, and then making sure everyone lines up in their complicated, yet efficient, pattern. But the Germans who aren't in charge really don't care. They'll pull on carry-on bags the size of Great Danes and stand when they want and push people around and line up willy-nilly (using the term "line up" very loosely).

So the Germans and I board the enormous, 2-story plane that is to be our home for the next 11 hours. It really was the most efficient boarding process I've seen- why can't other airlines get the memo to board the back of the plane first? I sat next to a very argumentative couple from somewhere in eastern Europe,  finally saw The Avengers (way better than I expected), and tried so hard to sleep and actually managed it for a couple hours. And then some man wanted to talk to his friends across the aisle from me, and stood leaning on my seat, butt in my face, for an hour or two.

Then came Frankfurt, and I longed for those glorious hours of nothing I'd had in San Francisco. Getting in to the gate at 11, and boarding the next flight at 11:40 meant shameless speedwalking and perspiration because guess who wore her sweater and coat and boots because she couldn't fit them in her suitcase? That indian summer I was loving at home was not so kind to the winter-dressed me in Germany. Gross. But I made the flight and sat by a boy who threw up the whole way. Grosser.

In Lyon, I had to figure out a way to get Grenoble, and luckily saw a bus that said "Grenoble" on it, so I bought a ticket and got on it. Um guys? France is gorgeous. We passed tiny little cottages and a castle and more old, stone houses than you could shake a stick at (p.s. anyone know where that phrase comes from? I don't get it).  Then we made it to the bus station, which I hadn't counted on since I'd planned on taking a train, but I found the tram station, bought a ticket and hopped on with all my stuff, which had somehow gotten really heavy. So I was all sweaty and gross again, and refused to make eye contact with all the handsome people on the tram. And then we were at the stop I thought was mine, so I dragged myself off and bullied two old men into telling me where my street was.

Made it a little further, fervently hoping new home of mine actually existed and I hadn't wired my deposit money to some sneak, and then there it was, in all its vine-covered glory! I checked in, went upstairs and unpacked in my own little room with yellow window-panes and door. So cute. Then I showered because I was completely disgusting, and used a t-shirt to dry with because I mistakenly thought "linens provided" meant "don't bring a towel." And then I laid on my bed because I could. not. take another step. I don't remember ever being so tired, even after climbing Mt. Sinai with food poisoning from the Egyptian train food. So I went to bed at 7:30 pm and woke promptly at 1 am even though I was still pooped. But never fear, I went to sleep again and then got up at 9:30 (you thought I was kidding about the whole "inane details" thing, didn't you?).

And then I went out for a walking tour of the city. For about four hours, I wandered around and looked at things and tried not to get run over by trams. The car drivers are really nice though, and waved me on almost every time. Okay, so this place is gorgeous. Surrounded by mountains, split up by a river, dotted with bakeries and chocolate shops? I'm ok with it. About two hours in, I realized I was still reeeally tired and it would be nice to have some food (since I hadn't really eaten in two days). So I stopped at the next café and got a quiche, and then wandered for about 30 more minutes until I found a place to eat it (one does not merely eat while walking in France). Some more walking, and I realized I was completely lost (but somehow, that is never a bad thing in France). So some more walking, and I figured out where I was and made my way to the Monoprix grocery store and stocked up on things that I hadn't put in my suitcase (including a towel).

Then back to my room and my bed, where I again laid down and vowed not to take another step. So far I've kept that promise, which is why you've been blessed/cursed with this giant post.

All in all, of places to be, this one is not too bad. Over and out.