Doorknobs, Cross Walks & Severe Jet-lag

Well I made it! I’m finally here in Paris. I find myself repeating these words often to remind myself this isn’t just a vacation. My first few days are still a bit hazy as I battled je lag and shock. The jet lag is pretty self-explanatory. The shock is a little bit harder to explain.

My second day in Paris, I decided I was already getting a little stir crazy. I felt like a drunken person falling in and out of sleep all day and night. Our bedroom has a blackout shade which makes it even more difficult to gauge time. Eventually, I found that I was feeling anxious to be normal. So I asked Joe to write me little directions to a store where I could pick up some necessities while he was in class. I finally stumbled out of bed, grabbed the keys and headed to the door. I reach for what looks like a doorknob oddly placed in the center of the door. It doesn’t turn. I fumble around for a few minutes feeling like a blind person. “It can’t possibly be this hard,” I say to myself. Ah ha! I finally feel a latch and manage to push the door open. This is just the start…

Still feeling a little unbalanced, I decide to take the elevator down. It’s a tiny elevator barely big enough for two. I push the first floor button. As I wander out onto the first floor I realize that the first floor is not like the first floors in the US. “Stupid American!” I then notice there is a 0 floor. As you know, in the US most ground floors are actually floor #1, and basements are actually floor 0, right? Well Europeans seem to like to screw with Americans! I walk down one more flight of stairs to what seems like a door to the outside world. A tiny little knob is on the door. I turn it left, then right, then right, then left, etc… All the while I am talking to myself saying, “This is ridiculous!” I nearly start having a panic attack and I’m not even out of the building yet! I imagine that I am stuck in this evil building that has a life of it’s own and has decided to play tricks on me. I’m tired, disoriented and suddenly feeling claustrophobic. I almost give up when I just happen to push a little on the doorknob and it suddenly frees me from captivity! I’m free…well not yet, another dark corridor awaits. “This has to be a joke!” I make my way to yet ANOTHER big door. At this point, I feel a bit like Alice in wonderland. Another door, another oddly placed knob, another latch to figure out. As soon as I push the door open, I nearly knock a deliveryman in the face. All I can think about is that I’m finally outside.

The frustration of making it out of the apartment building has left me even more exhausted. I make my way towards a crosswalk; start walking when the little man turns green. As soon as I am in the middle of the street, I start to hear a high-pitched mini honk. I freeze and realize there is a motorbike headed straight for me. Confused, I stop in the street. I notice the other pedestrians ignoring the warning and keep walking without evening turning to look. Eventually I take off running the rest of the way toward safety. Though I’ve been in Paris before, I usually just follow Joe around not even paying attention to things like doorknobs, floor levels or cross walk etiquette. Apparently, in Paris, you just walk, don’t hesitate, don’t stop! I finally make it to a store where I can get things like shampoo, conditioner, etc. I’m starting to feel normal. I tell myself I can get around this city just like New York City! I just need to adjust. However, I am still feeling like I am having this weird out of body experience. I am still incredibly jet lagged. Twenty minutes later, I am still standing in front of the hair products staring. “Shampoo, Shampoo, Shampoo…where the hell is the conditioner? Do they not use conditioner in France?” I’ve had Rosetta Stone for French for a few months at this point, but I guiltily have not made it past Lesson 2 of Unit 1. Hmm… I ask the clerk finally. He doesn’t speak much English but eventually figures out what I am asking for, “Apres Shampoo!” Oh, After Shampoo! (Again, stupid American!) Ok, maybe this doesn’t sound very important, but I’m a girl used to walking out her door and getting anything she wants at any time of night or day. It never occurred to me that finding a hair conditioner would be such a task.

On my way back to the apartment, I bounce like a ping-pong ball back and forth through crosswalks until I make it to the side of the street where the apartment building is located. I make it into the building with a lot more finesse than it took to get out. I start to head up to the apartment, when I realize I don’t remember what floor the apartment is on. Damn jet lag and disorientation! I sigh a big breath, sit on the steps, text Joe and wait to hear back…