Hello World!
Welcome to the inaugural posting of
Becca’s* travel blog journal thing! As
departure day swiftly approaches crawls with agonizing sluggishness
draws nearer, I thought I would take advantage of this weekend of bus ride to
set up my Parisian blog, and get some housekeeping out of the way. And what
better day to start than this, when I am doing a little in-country travel up to
Albany, NY to see my cousins, one them for the first time. I departed on the Megabus this morning, spent
an hour in New York City, and am now on my way upstate, with all the free Wi-fi
and coffee a girl could want.
First things first. For any not fully aware, (which seems like a
surprise to me since its basically all I talk about to anyone, ever) I am leaving for a semester abroad in Paris
(!!!!) France on February 11th, and I will return May 26th.
I also intend to travel other places as
well, including (fingers crossed) Morocco for spring break. This blog is to
help me keep a record for myself, as well as share my experiences and
adventures with my friends and family. I can post pictures or video (if I can
figure out how…hmmm) and be able to look back and fondly remember my wayward
youth.
Now, I’ve never been much of a
journalist. I seem like the type, but I
have about 85 diaries hidden away somewhere with two or three pages in
them. No follow through. I like the idea of diaries, but I never had
anything particularly worth sharing. Most of the time I would start making
stuff up. (No, really, I have a FULL
notebook of my adventures at Hogwarts, circa 1999. Class schedules and homework
lists included.) But now I have an ample opportunity, the perfect set-up – four
months abroad in the most magical city in the world, basically by myself. And look, this diary is all interactive and
technological! So if I start to lag, please pester me- if I feel like I’m
writing to someone, hopefully they will come faster (and funnier. Well, maybe.
Probably not.)
So the countdown begins! As of
today, January 24th, I have 18 days left til I board a plane to fly
across the pond. Feel free to live
vicariously through me- if there’s somewhere you always wanted to go or see in
Paris, France, or anywhere in Europe, tell me! I’ll try to go and tell you all
about it. If you’ve BEEN to fabulous
places, tell me, and I will follow in your footsteps. I’m all about new experiences and exploring
and adventures now, so help me out.
Let’s practice a bit before I go,
shall we? I had exactly seventy-five minutes
from the time I stepped off the bus in NYC and when I stepped on the bus for Albany,
but New York has a way of making an hour feel like a week or more.
The bus drops you off on one
street, and then you have to go two blocks down (up?) and three blocks over to
get to where the next bus picks you up.
The walk itself should take about ten minutes, even with a suitcase to
pull behind you and skyscrapers to gawk at.
I have this thing, however, about walking in the city. I don’t really like walking, in general. As many members of my family can attest (and
some roommates, I’m sure), I prefer a more sedentary lifestyle almost everywhere. But New York sucks me in. I will set on a
course in one direction with three blocks to go. And go. I just keep
walking. The sights and the streets and
the people of the city kind of hypnotize me and I find myself four blocks
further than I needed to go with no intention of stopping. I spent a weekend in November in the city
courtesy of some other very fine cousins with a couple of friends, and they
stopped letting me lead about six hours into the trip when I would walk past
our turn for the sixth time. I just like
walking in the city. I hope that
translates to Paris as well.
In fact, until that November trip,
I had had kind of a rocky relationship with NY.
I’d been a couple of times before, but mostly for very long day trips to
see a show during the summer, and I’d never been that impressed after the
initial shock wore off. I might have
been the only teenager ever to think running off to make my way in the big city
wasn’t a terribly romantic idea, and instead just sounded terrible. I think the combination of early mornings and
the smell of the city in the heat put me off a bit, alongside the touristy
feeling that every person that bumps into you is out to steal your wallet. But the weekend I spent in the fall, with two
good friends in a fabulous apartment right next to the theater district was
amazing. I absolutely fell in love. I
Being able to walk around without a suitcase and a matching group t-shirt and
pretend for a little while to blend in with the natives made me feel so- there’s
no other word for it- cool. I’d never been in the city without my parents
or a capital A- Adult before, and walking out the door of an actual, fabulous, real New York apartment instead of a hotel
each morning made me feel giddy. I felt
so, I don’t know, young professional, you know? Like I could actually someday
feel like a real person** with a job and a life that lived in a city like this
(Hush, I was a sheltered suburban child, alright?). It made me SO excited for Paris, rather than
nervous, because what was any city compared to New York? (Ignoring the language
barrier for now). I was so obviously made
to live in a city.
OK, how did that go? OK for
everyone? People still awake? I probably won’t write this much usually, but
first day jitters got the best of me. I’m
off to spend the week in NY- perhaps you’ll see me next on the plane??
Au revoir!
P.S- A side note of New York, which
I’m sure isn’t news to anyone, but I don’t know how pigeons can live with the
trash they eat. Scientists should be researching them, not the stupid white
mice that die if you slam the door too loud.
They are medical marvels.
*Seriously, guys, I’m not writing
out each name both times, you Erin people will just have to deal J
**Just to clarify, I’m not a real
person yet. I’m still a child
person. Real people have Careers and
Responsibilities and such. I’m working
on it.
