[finally, I am in a 24-hour wifi zone! here are some posts i’ve written over the last several days…]
Here I am, safe and sound on French soil. I’m writing from a cafe in the Toulouse airport while waiting for GB’s flight to arrive. I have a couple of hours to kill, during which I’ll celebrate the fact that Air France did not go on strike and ruin all our plans.
I’ve already been speaking un peu de l’Francais. Oui! Pretty awesome. I successfully ordered my tea and attempted to chat up the rental car gal anyway. I’ll call that speaking a little French (very little).
For the record, Brussels airport? Avoid! To get to your connecting flight, you have to leave the secure area, get your passport stamped (literally, the border security guy did not say one word to me, simply stamped my passport after I had waited so patiently for 45 minutes in a swarming, stifling assortment of global body aromas due to vastly differing concepts of personal space), and then re-do the entire security she-bang (wait in huge line, take off shoes, unload electronics, give away firstborn) ALL OVER AGAIN. Seriously! I was like, okay, this would actually not happen in my country. People would throw shoes. I guess I’ll just be grateful that I did not have to check my pregnant snake (what The Man called my carry-on bag this morning before I left). The whole time I was suffering through that I was relying on some serious yogic breathing techniques to ward off the inner gale force winds of panic and anxiety around possibly missing my connecting flight. Hooooo. Deep breaths.
Anyhooser, I have to say I’m in surprisingly good spirits considering I’ve just spent the last 24 hours traveling and I still can’t seem to sleep on planes. I practically jumped into the airport bathroom sink just now to wash up and attempt to look human for GB. It’s almost 2 p.m. here and I have to try to stay awake until evening to get my body on the local clock. From here we’re off to the village! Next stop: Monflanquin!