My friends, I will tell you this:
When in Paris, there is hardly time to blog.
And so begins our first story from a week+one day ago.
Kate and I were all ready to go- we even had flowers for our host family. We were the last of our shuttle to get dropped off, and as the cabbie took off, we looked around and thought, "Hm... this isn't what it looked like on google maps..."
With three suitcases, a duffle bag, and our giant backpacks, we were stranded on a street, outside of Paris, with the ominous skies brewing above us. We were at 9 Bis and we need 9- just 9, no bis. After a lot of walking around, we decided to try the creepy alleyway in between 9 bis and 11. We dragged out suitcases as far as we could down the pebbled street, left them there, and continued onto the house behind 9 Bis.
The shutters clearly bolted, all lights seemingly off, we decided to knock anyway. I get to the door and see a sign warning of a mean dog; I immediately think, "We are about to get mauled by a dog. We will no longer be able to study in Paris. This is the worst way to go."
Lucky for us, like the rest of France, the mean dog and the mean dog's owners were on vacation.
As the thought of the dog subsided, the rain reentered the picture as I felt the first droplets assault me.
By then, an hour and a half have passed, and we are no closer to knowing where the house that we're supposed to live in for the next three months is. Desperate times call for desperate measures. We phone Dr. Hodson, our study abroad director, and after five+ phone calls with him, he calls our host dad who comes to save our sorry souls. He even brought his car down the alleyway so we didn't have to keep dragging those ridiculously heavy things through the pebbles. We like him.
Best part? Our house is at the end of the creepy alleyway- aka the third house to share the number 9 on our street. Because clearly, that's how addresses work. Who would want only one #9 when you can have 3? The more the merrier, right?
Also, I realize the alleyway doesn't look creepy. However, when it's night, and you've just gotten off the metro with some very funky people, and it's pitch-black, it's dang scary to walk all the way down to #9.