Although I've now been safely back home in America for over 3 weeks, certain members of my immediate family, who have now had ample opportunity to talk to me in person about France, demand that I write one last blog post since I didn't write one in the airport as I originally suggested I might. To those few individuals, I give you one last kkinfrance.blogspot.com post. Now I know how J.K. Rowling must feel, with people begging for more Harry. Celebrity is a burden I must learn to bear.
When I last left you, I was in the process of finishing up my assignments, taking my finals and packing up. I was able to pack all my possessions, new and old alike, back into my suitcases without much trouble, although I had socks shoved in every possible space. We're talking shoes filled with socks, water bottles filled with socks, socks popping out of my sweatshirt hood. I didn't even have to wear 2 pairs of pants on the way home as I was planning if the packing didn't go well. After saying my goodbyes to the Von Trapp family, I hopped on the shuttle to Lyon with plenty of time to spare. And I mean, PLENTY of time. I arrived at the airport at 11:10. Check-in for my flight opened at 1:15. This left me plenty of time to lug my two 23-kilogram suitcases, backpack and my other carry-on bag around while I passed the time. "Here's a sandwich stand," I thought to myself, "I'll get a panini now before my flight". I ordered my sandwich in flawless french. I told the employee that yes, I would like a tray for my sandwich, yogurt and drink. I realized rapidly that is is impossible to carry a tray of food, 2 suitcases and 2 carry-on bags all at once. Luckily, a table right near the register opened up immediately, so I only had to awkwardly leave my luggage in front of the cash register, completely blocking all further customers from ordering, for a few seconds. The second dilemma came when I had to throw my trash away. It was impossible for me to navigate the treacherous terrain of chairs and tables to the trashcan with tray and luggage in tow. I made a bold decision to commit the ULTIMATE AIRPORT SIN: I left my baggage unattended while I disposed of my lunch materials. I justify it because, although it was technically unattended, it was really only out of my field of vision for a few seconds. I had my eyes on it the whole way to the trash can and back, much to the poorly disguised amusement of some British travelers who tried and failed to pretend they weren't watching my suitcase struggles and who didn't feel the desire to offer a hand to a poor American. Finally I was able to check my luggage, and I proceeded through security and on to my flight without any problems.
Despite the snowstorm that had paralyzed the rest of Europe, my flights from Lyon to Zurich and then Zurich to home went of without a hitch. I had to show my passport more times in the Zurich airport than I did for the entire duration of my stay in France. I forgot to spend my last 4 swiss francs in Zurich, so I had them jangling in my pocket the whole way home.
I enjoyed a quiet ride home to America, sharing a row with a nice young German going to visit his girlfriend in Boston. Swiss Air did the trick again, providing me with plenty of delicious meals and in-flight entertainment. Despite all the amenities, it was a long flight since I just wanted to be home. And finally, I was, and boy does it feel good.
FAQs: Do I consider myself fluent? Frankly, no. I felt fairly proficient in french by the end of my stay, but by no means fluent. I still planned out what to say in several possible scenarios as I waited in line at a cashier or as a waitress approached me. Thoughts did not roll out of my mouth with out some measure of thought and construction, and in my mind, that's not fluent.
Do I miss it? Of course. It was a beautiful place and I shared it with wonderful people. But don't worry, I missed you more.
Would I go back? I'd love to go back. In a parallel universe, maybe I'd go back and live in France for a while. In this universe, not unless I could take my life here with me. I don't like to feel stuck between two places.
So there you have it. KK goes to France... and comes back home. The end.
