J'arrive

So. I'm here. I'm exhausted, like, down to my DNA. But je suis ici. Am sipping a Cote du Rhone out of a juice glass while my tomato sauce reduces. (I am committed to being the kind of woman who has both the time and inclination to let a sauce properly reduce. It's the new me.)

I bought supplies at a sweet little market a couple of blocks away. I had fun with the guy who runs the shop...until he stiffed me seven Euro. It was hilarious. My total came to 24.05 and he was pissed off that I didn't have the 5 cents. So, he only gave me 9 Euro back from my 40. I am not a math person. In fact, I am woefully bad at math, especially when I have to do it in another language, on the fly, when someone is trying to screw me over. But, as I learned this morning with the shuttle driver who was just about to drive off without me: the French respond well to yelling and wild gesturing. Qu' est-ce qui se passe?! I'm half French already.

Got to the flat an hour late to find, after slogging up six flights with baggage, that my landlord was not there. My cell does not work here. The payphones do not take coins or cash of any kind. There was a baby screaming the entire night on the plane. I ignore the stares of a gaggle of dudes loitering at the weird lottery ticket vendor/bar. I wander in. I ask for a phone card. I imagine that I look sort of desperate and the guy behind the counter takes pity on me. Much pointing to various cards. Success. I call my landlady only to find that she is standing right behind me. She is, how you say, nonplussed to have waited for over an hour and is running late for work. She leaves.

I stand very, very still. Je suis ici.

I have been overwhelmed with emotions at each and every juncture of this journey. Checking in at YYC this morning. Saying goodbye to Mark. Getting on the plane to Paris. Seeing the little blue sign for Rue du Faubourg Poissonniere about eight feet up on the stone building on the corner. Freaking out over landlady not being here. Ripping into my first baguette. The grand suddenly becomes the simple. I must eat. I must sleep. I must decide to leave the house tomorrow morning and find a place and write. To put my fingers to the keys. To live this dream I've created.