(no subject)
Jul. 29th, 2006 02:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
polutropeWell. When on's sleep schedual is already messed up and one sleeps not on the overnight flight, one gets not the jetlag.
So, I saw dawn over the ocean. First, there was a line of glowing blue tinged with orange against the black of the night. It slowly widended until there was a clear division between the blue sky in front of the wing and the black behind it. It was beautiful, but not exactly a sleep subsitute.
On arrival at Charles de Gaulle, I sort of wandered around dazed. I didn't go through customs, because I didn't see it, so I feel like and international criminal now. As soon as I asked the police officer where the TGV was, he switched to English, which didn't help the giant 'Je suis américaine, mocquez-vous de moi' sign I had over my head. Turn out the door, fifteen minutes straight ahead, he said. I suppose it would be, if there weren't people in the way, and the straps of my backpack didn't keep getting stuck in the wheels of the cart.
But finally, I arrived at the gare, where I found that the bathroom cost money, and I had no change. First bad surprise. The second bad surprise was that Lyon wasn't the last stop on the train, so there was no Lyon train listed. Falling back on my experience, I didn't panic, but decided to look at my ticket, to avoid asking anyone. Looking at the ticket, I determined that I had to ask someone.
I asked at Information, and the man told me in English to go to another desk, where the man was uncomfortable in English, so I told him we could speak French. I felt smug.
On the train, I was out like a light, even with the screaming baby in the next seat. When the conductor asked for tickets, I was totally not functional in either langauge - but I did feel that the 'je suis américaine' sign was, if not gone, at least diminished in size.
Once arrived at the station, I realized that I was looking for someone whose looks I was completely ignorant of; the only identfying mark I had was that she would have a Discover New York book. So I walked up and down the platform, with my two cumbersome bags, in about a million degrees (and that's another thing - I won't know how hot it is for three weeks. Silly centigrade!). Eventually, she recognized me.
So, we went to the house, on Impasse Gallimard, which is well named, because it's about five feet wide. It's cute.
Today we went to the bookstore, and I really don't think it's my fault I bought things, because of the 'Littérature médeval' section they had. I am now the proud owener of a dictionary of Français ancien.
This keyboard is totally unfair; I just learned how to type with any kind of speed on an American keyboard. How am I supposed to type now?
And I would really love to see Des serpents dans l'avion, but it comes out August 28.
So, I saw dawn over the ocean. First, there was a line of glowing blue tinged with orange against the black of the night. It slowly widended until there was a clear division between the blue sky in front of the wing and the black behind it. It was beautiful, but not exactly a sleep subsitute.
On arrival at Charles de Gaulle, I sort of wandered around dazed. I didn't go through customs, because I didn't see it, so I feel like and international criminal now. As soon as I asked the police officer where the TGV was, he switched to English, which didn't help the giant 'Je suis américaine, mocquez-vous de moi' sign I had over my head. Turn out the door, fifteen minutes straight ahead, he said. I suppose it would be, if there weren't people in the way, and the straps of my backpack didn't keep getting stuck in the wheels of the cart.
But finally, I arrived at the gare, where I found that the bathroom cost money, and I had no change. First bad surprise. The second bad surprise was that Lyon wasn't the last stop on the train, so there was no Lyon train listed. Falling back on my experience, I didn't panic, but decided to look at my ticket, to avoid asking anyone. Looking at the ticket, I determined that I had to ask someone.
I asked at Information, and the man told me in English to go to another desk, where the man was uncomfortable in English, so I told him we could speak French. I felt smug.
On the train, I was out like a light, even with the screaming baby in the next seat. When the conductor asked for tickets, I was totally not functional in either langauge - but I did feel that the 'je suis américaine' sign was, if not gone, at least diminished in size.
Once arrived at the station, I realized that I was looking for someone whose looks I was completely ignorant of; the only identfying mark I had was that she would have a Discover New York book. So I walked up and down the platform, with my two cumbersome bags, in about a million degrees (and that's another thing - I won't know how hot it is for three weeks. Silly centigrade!). Eventually, she recognized me.
So, we went to the house, on Impasse Gallimard, which is well named, because it's about five feet wide. It's cute.
Today we went to the bookstore, and I really don't think it's my fault I bought things, because of the 'Littérature médeval' section they had. I am now the proud owener of a dictionary of Français ancien.
This keyboard is totally unfair; I just learned how to type with any kind of speed on an American keyboard. How am I supposed to type now?
And I would really love to see Des serpents dans l'avion, but it comes out August 28.
