airplanes, baguettes, spiraling staircases

Abby and I found ourselves on an airplane crossing the Atlantic Ocean today; yes folks, the esteemed trip has finally arrived! At around 10:30 AM Paris time, we touched down at Charles de Gaulle, and headed through customs with ease. I gloat to Abby—what a genius I am for telling us to only bring backpacks! We skip past the baggage claim without a care in the world. After a frankly horrifying taxi ride, we climb our way up the steps to our loft. Affectionately, we’ve already nicknamed these stairs, “The Stairs of Doom”—in typical European fashion, they are thin, spiralling, and apparently never-ending. It’s a miracle I’m able to sit in the loft to type you this now; I thought I would never make it up.

We’re greeted by our AirBNB host, a lovely woman who shows us the ins-and-outs of this Montmartre loft. Eccentric, draped in shades of red and orange, and filled with trinkets and postcards from different travellers, Abby and I immediately fall in love. I throw open a window and am instantly thrilled—we’re in Paris!

After freshening up, we head down to the Franprix on the corner—to pick up assorted breakfast items (and such). Miraculously, I’m able to complete the entire transaction in French, but the cashier catches us as Americans once Abby steps up to pay. Granted, her shirt does say San Francisco in a bold font. Back at the apartment, we immediately forget that the keys turn the other way here, leading to a debacle that lasted a bit longer than I’d like to admit. But we eventually get in, and take the next hour and a half to fight off our jet lag. I’m wide-awake, so this turns into some pleasant reading time for me, but Abby ends up getting some sleep.

Out we go! I lead us towards the Sacré-Cœur Basilica—the dome peeks through the rest of the buildings, so we just walk until we find it. We’re planning on climbing it on some future date, so we just view from the ground for now.

Here is where I realize one of my greatest travelling flaws—I am horrid at meandering. Something in me must actively repel unique sights and shops, for my random twists and turns down different streets lead us to nothing but rows of residential buildings and every so often, a smoke shop. But what’s important was for us to gain some sense of our immediate surroundings, which Abby and I both agreed was accomplished. First days are for walking around in some sort of haze anyways.

Luckily, I remember the way back to the apartment, and we head back to assess our next move (a.k.a. our dinner plans). Because we’re tired, we stay local—back to the Franprix and a local boulangerie for an impromptu dinner spread. We eat and remark on the surreal nature of this entire experience thus far. We’ve anticipated this trip’s arrival for so long, it’s hard to process that it’s genuinely here—this is what all the hours I spent researching must culminate in. But we’re excited to see what tomorrow brings (spoiler: a croissant).

Note: you may be wondering—Addy, why aren’t you going to bed? Aren’t you tired from the long day with little sleep? Well yes. But I’m happy to announce I have class registration at 10 PM tonight (I am not pleased at all).