J'arrive en France!

I like to imagine that all of you have been sitting by your computers this past week, perpetually refreshing my blog, hoping, praying that I will finally post an update. Although most likely a falsely created illusion inflated by my ego, I hope that this post will not go unnoticed, because it is a pivotal entry: I have arrived in Saint-Pourçain-sur-Sioule, France. 

Leaving NYC was just as hectic as I anticipated, despite my decision to opt for a $60.00 cab ride from my friend’s apartment in West Village to JFK. We hit terrible traffic, and even my Fast and Furious cabbie couldn’t manage to maneuver around it. Finally at the airport, he dropped me off and five minutes later I realized that I was at the wrong terminal. Shit. I hauled ass to terminal 7, practically riding my suitcase through the airport, sweating like an American pig. I’ve always wanted to be one of those women who travel so beautifully—hair swept up, polished outfit, one carry-on bag, maybe a Chihuahua. But no—I am the frantic, frizzy, cursing, sweaty one.

Anyways, to spare you more boring details, I caught my flight. I flew Iberia into Madrid, a Spanish airline. I tried to speak Spanish a few times and it back fired. Sort of fell asleep, ate two questionable meals, and woke up jet lagged. More rushing. I grabbed my mega ninja turtle back pack, jam packed carry on and yoga mat (yes I carried it solo) and went through customs, more security, and then got on the plane to Lyon.  This is where I got really tired. So tired, in fact that I didn’t realize that I was sitting next to another language assistant. We made this connection when getting off the plane and helped each other through customs and baggage. Now back with my full load of luggage, I boarded the Rhônexpress, a train that travels every thirty minutes or so from l'aéroport Lyon-Saint Exupéry to le Gare de Lyon Part-Dieu.

Thank god I finally had a chance to breathe. I arrived at the station early and sat down and ate a delicious sandwich—olive bread topped with pesto, tomatoes and mozzarella. Then I found my train, boarded and fell asleep despite the screaming infant two rows behind me.  I woke up startled, just in time to grab my bags and get off at Saint-Germain-des-Fossés, the station where my contact from the school was picking me up.

I could not have asked for a nicer welcoming. He hopped out of the car, grabbed all my bags and drove through Saint Pourçain briefly to give me a tour. Even though it is a small and quiet town, it is undeniably charming and beautiful. Then we went to his house, where his wife was cooking dinner. She is superwoman. She was in her work out clothes, whipping up this French meal like it was no big thing. We had champagne, toasted baguette with a sundried tomato tapenade (home grown), some sort of vegetable soufflé that is apparently distinct to the Auvergne region, quiche, salad, beets pureed with cream. And of course cheese. Then fresh yogurt with a raspberry apricot glaze. I was so incredibly impressed, she told me that I can come over and she will teach me to cook things sometime.

So now I’m in my apartment, which is HUGE. A little too big, I feel like 14 people should live in here. But at the moment it is just me. My room is looking good, I tried to decorate it with all I have, and I hung all my clothes up. It’s a bit lonesome, but honestly nice to have some quiet and a place to put my things.  These next few weeks will be hectic; I go to orientation in Clermont Ferrand on October 5^th, and start officially teaching on October 10^th. Missing everyone, I promise more updates and photos to follow!