A couple hours of waiting at the airport terminal, two meals, four movies (Twilight, Four Christmases, Journey to the Center of the Earth, Nick and Norah’s Infinite Play List), six TV shows (two episodes of Friends, two episodes of The Simpsons and two episodes of Sex and the City), and a short nap later, I found myself waiting for the shuttle at Charles de Gaulle International Airport to take me to my new apartment that I would be calling home for the rest of the year.
I arrived at the building 30 minutes earlier than my appointment with the landlord. As I stood waiting in front of the blue French doors, I suddenly felt like Alice right before she opened the door into Wonderland. My Wonderland was a walkway leading up to a very dark and narrow, red spiral staircase that made me dizzy just looking at it. The climb up to the Parisian sixth floor (equivalent to the American seventh floor since the French consider the ground floor as zero) with my smallest suitcase, laptop and camera bags in hand left me breathless.
I stood in the middle of the 20 square meter studio, painted canary yellow, and looked out the window to marvel at the view I had… a view of none other than La Tour Eiffel. Home at last.