Leaving on a Jet Plane

Woke up early Monday to shower and get to the Louvre by opening. Well, the shower in the apartment was only spitting out cold water, so I ended up just wiping down with a washcloth and layering deodorant. Because Terra wasn’t sure when they would be back, I needed to take my suitcase with me. Thankfully, the Louvre has a free baggage check, so I wouldn’t be lugging everything around all day. I wanted to walk, not because I was feeling particularly energetic, but I didn’t want to pay for the metro for a short distance (like, twenty blocks, maybe?), and I needed to get supplies for lunch and dinner from the supermarket on my way there, anyway. I got to the Louvre with ten minutes to spare and went to the secret-not-actually-a-secret entrance from the metro and got in line (there was still a pretty long line, but not nearly as long as at the pyramid. The security at the Louvre seriously is lacking! There are signs all over the place saying (well, picturing) no food or drinks, and so when I put my backpack and suitcase through which was packed with food, I was expecting them to confiscate it, but no one said anything. Well, it was the opening rush, maybe they just didn’t have time to bother, or maybe they don’t actually care. I figure most people wouldn’t even try getting food through once they saw the signs.

I got my (free) ticket, from a guy behind the counter who, when I said, “C’est bon?” responded, “Non. C’est pas bon,” and then smiled mischievously. I love sarcasm. Especially in different languages!

I, like everyone else, started with the Italian paintings and the Mona Lisa 

(which is correctly spelled with two N’s? Did not know that), which was lovely and very crowded. There were a lot of other things I saw that I recognized or that I really liked but hadn’t known about. I actually crossed rooms off as I went through them so I wouldn’t repeat anything accidently, and so I could get through as much as possible in the time I had. I probably saw about 2/3 of the museum, but I didn’t spend any time in the garden since I’d already been there with Jenn last time, and I took two breaks in between sections of the museum (it is GIANT) to eat or just sit and not look at anything. Museum fatigue is a dangerous and common disease in Paris, you know, and you have to be careful.

Eventually, I decided I had had enough of the place and wanted to go do something else. That was around one and my train left from Gare de Lyon at 6pm (I checked that time SO often, this time), so I decided to spend some time in Bastille. I took the metro, since I was getting tired of walking with my suitcase, and had some trouble with getting the suitcase in with me (or, more accurately, me in with the suitcase), but an employee came over and helped me learn the trick of putting it under the turnstile and then walking through and I made it pretty easily after that. I saw Bastille 

and the Opera House, 

and then wanted to go to Victor Hugo’s house. 

I walked over and learned that it is closed on Monday’s. Stupid Hugo. So I sat in the park in the middle of the block where he lived and people watched and tried to concentrate on reading HP7(F), but only got a few pages in before I fell asleep.

I slept off and on for a while and then ate some food and went to find a bathroom. I asked one of the park workers, who told me that there wasn’t any in this park, but he was about to walk two blocks to the next park, and there was a bathroom there, so I could just walk with him. I did, and we talked very briefly because there was really not much to say after introductions and “where-are-you-froms” and he was working, anyway, so he was on the walkie-talkie a lot. I didn’t stay in that park long, simply because I wanted to start heading toward Gare de Lyon, since I wanted to walk instead of paying for the metro again. It is only a few blocks away, so it wasn’t that bad at all. I stopped in a couple shops, still looking for presents for a couple of people, and then went to wait at the station for my train. There wasn’t much to do at the station besides wait, and I didn’t want to think about that fact that I was leaving Paris, so I looked around all the little shops there too for a while, to distract myself. It mostly worked, and then, all too soon, I was on the train and leaving Paris.

Geneva

boooring. Seriously- Geneva is boring. Not that I got there at a particularly exciting time- 10:30pm on a Monday night, but still. 

I got into the station and had absolutely no idea where to go. There were no information centers or anything, no one who could tell me where to go for public transport, etc. I knew the address of the Hostel I was staying at, but not how to get there from the station or even where the station was in regards to the rest of the city. WHERE AM I?!

I figured out on the map provided at the bus stop where I was going, but didn't know which direction it was in and eventually I just decided to take a cab. Well, thankfully, when I told the cab driver where I needed to go, he just said "Oh, you really don't need to take a taxi for that. It's only five blocks from here, and a very easy walk. Just go on this street here for five blocks and then turn left and you're there."  

I just appreciated that he didn't just take me and have me pay for something I could easily do myself. So I walked five blocks and got to the hostel in no time, checked in and went to bed. 

I woke up, showered, thank god, and walked to the supermarket after checking out of the hostel to get my breakfast- I love fresh croissants (literally still warm from the oven, amazing). Got to the station, took the train to the airport, and began my long journey home. Nothing too dramatic or intense or scary happened- mostly just long periods of flying and then waiting, with short periods of hurry-hurry-hurry in between. The girl who sat next to me on the plane from Amsterdam to Boston was German but lives in the US so was flying home from having visited her parents for a while. We both watched "Water for Elephants," and "Win Win," which were great movies, especially the latter. 

I got into Boston and went through customs in no time which was surprising but wonderful. I told the customs guy I had chocolate and he smiled and said "okay, you're all set." and I went to wait for the bus that would take me to the right terminal for my flight to KC. 

I was very, very lucky to get out of Boston. It was storming pretty badly and we were only delayed for forty minutes- there are some flights that were supposed to leave a little later than that which are still at the airport now because of the weather. Thank god because I was so tired at that point I was legitimately having trouble keeping my head up. I got to use the free-for-an-hour wifi, though, and managed to contact my mom and let her know I was okay and in Boston; she hadn't heard from me since before I left Annecy, whoops. 

The flight home was short but probably the worst one because I was so ready to be done with traveling. I either wanted to move constantly or sleep and I couldn't do either in that stupid tiny plane seat. Whenever I wasn't sleeping, I was looking out the window. Traveling west that late, we were just chasing the setting sun the whole time and once we got to KC, everything was dark and all the little city lights lit up the ground beautifully. It always surprises me how visible everything is at night when you're flying over a city. 

But anyway, I got off the plane, saw my mom and dad waiting for me, and made it home. 10pm Liberty time, 5am Annecy time, jet-lagged as hell and ready for bed. And tomorrow begins another adventure!