Thirty-six hours ago, I was sitting in a cramped waiting room with whitewashed walls accented by the occasional travel poster, "Versailles," "Arc de triomphe". I wasn't waiting to hear critical test results, but rather to hand in documents for my French visa. As I have a government job (teaching English) and I seem pretty innocent as a citizen, this visa is as straightforward as they come. Even so I was visibly shaking. Because this was the moment that light inside, that one that illuminates a huge banner screaming You better get ready, you're going to France soon! belatedly clicked on.
I applied over 8 months ago to the program and was accepted in early April, and sure I surfed some informational websites, sent in my necessary documents. But there would be plenty of time to ready myself in the future, right? So I didn't worry about it. Summer came with all its hysteria and hilarity on Lake George. Working an average of 15 hours a day didn't afford me time to take care of anything beyond the most basic needs of my life outside of camp. So my trip sat, like an unturned stone, so deep inside that I had no idea I even needed to dig it up. But in this waiting room, listening to a self-employed Iranian American argue her way into several business visas, I quickly digested that in 30 days I would be hopping a plane to Paris (via Iceland...) ready or not.
Excited? Ecstatic? Anticipating? Check for all three. Ready? Not.
So now comes the scramble. Insurance, luggage, travel plans, and most of all housing. That's right, I depart from Logan Int'l in barely one month and I have no idea where I will be living in Toulouse. I spent the better part of today emailing, messaging, and surfing. Thus far I've come up blank. I implore anyone who has contacts in Toulouse or any suggestions on the French housing sitch to email me! kristen.d.milano@gmail.com.
Even as all my latent worries come to a boil, I know this must be a good year. How can it not? My sister just (as in 4 hours ago) arrived at some beautiful and isolated island off the coast of Australia to begin her semester abroad. My boyfriend is currently buying a plane ticket to England for his first trip overseas. And I am going back to Toulouse, my favorite and quite possibly the most adorable city in the world, and meeting up with said boyfriend for a fall tour de l'Angleterre hosted by some amazing camp friends. All that's needed to perfect the situation is a downtown, furnished french apartment for a couple hundred euros a month.
Above, below: view of the Garonne river in Toulouse, day and night
