Pain-a something hotel/motel DayDrill, rather, Daeidrill (I think I'm still spelling this wrong)

What a crazy,crazy first day.  My God. After leaving Le Saint Cochon, I went back to the apartment thinking M. was home.  Nope.  I rang and rang and realized, 'it ain't gonna happen'.  I headed to a building labeled, HOTEL and got a room for 64 Euros a night.  I figured, I'd get up and she'd be around.  I fell right to sleep  but let's back up to the restaurant.  I was about to be tipsy, so I stopped and finished my cake.  It was amazing.  31 Euros was my entire bill, including the wine and the tip.  One rarely tips in France, unless there is some change left over.

Can you imagine?  Me. Late.  On a street waiting for her to get home.  It was quite the site indeed.So I called Lyle and Irina because I wanted to hear a friendly voice.  Definitely comforting.  I called Cindy as well.  Of course, these silly things happen to ME:).  

I woke up the next morning and called the Alliance de Francaise in Lyon.  Turns out Mademoiselle M. was gone for a conference.  She had no way of getting a hold of me, she claims, but I faxed her my information, including my mobile number.  I almost blew a gasket at the Hotel Brittania, which luckily was around the corner from M's apartment.  I threw my head in my hands and almost started to cry.  I took a chance and called Y - the woman I met through the site Virtual Tourist.  I left a message with my dilemma and she called back within minutes. I was amazed.  

Y helped me by calling a series of hotels in Lyon, which I could have done, I suppose.  She found one at 36 Euros a night in a city just outside of Lyon.  That was a great rate and it gave me an opportunity to see other parts of the area, I suppose.  Y offered to DRIVE into the city, pick me and my things up and drive me to the next hotel.  Again, I was amazed.  

I was thankful for the hot shower that woke me up and cheered me up, but more happy that someone was taking the time to help me.  I came down from my room in time for Y to drive up.  One thing I noticed - she smoked alot.  I realized from these French that I will smell like smoke. Oh well.  As I write, I'm near the hotel bar and people are going to light up...

Off we went to check in, have some coffee and review maps.  I learned where I was, how to use the buses and overall travel tips in general.  From here, we went to the grocery store.  I walked around as she shopped and marveled at all the different goodies the place had.  I loved it. 

I'm going to my room, tired and this room is smokey.  More in the morning...

...or shall I say 27 Septembre.  O'hare Airport, Gate C18, 6:25 pm flight to London

Irina gave me this book/journal to record my latest adventures.  I'll have to get used to smaller cursive writing,  but I think I can manage 6 weeks in this book:).

So what can I say.  I'm quite proud of myself today.  Actually went through with it.  Actually quit a job that was giving me a mental breakdown.  Actually planned a 6 week odyssey that includes a once in a lifetime voyage on the Queen Mary 2.  Wow.  I'll miss the Presidential debates, voting and Irina's birthday,  but I hope and plan to come back with a wealth of knowledge.  Knowledge about a new culture, knowledge about new cuisine and most important, more knowledge about me, and confirmation on my beliefs.  This trip is the epitome of a year's worth of daydreaming, talking and wishing.  Oh sure, I thought this wouldn't be a 3 month gig, but 6 weeks in 3 different environments is pretty darn good, wouldn't you say?

This journey is one that involves years of saving money, studying French, researching web sites, making overseas connections and overall, PATIENCE.

We are about to board. Goodbye USA. Goodbye the familiar and hello to me.

11 am, UK Time, Burger King, Waterloo Station

Yes, after the crazy morning I had, I am sitting at a Burger King, slurping down a coke, a chicken sandwich and fries. Let's review the activity that happened in a span of a few hours...

The trip started pleasantly with exit row and a cute flight attendant.  His chair was right across from me and we stole a few glances here and there.  I have no clue as to whether or not he was batting for the other team (sigh).  He was fun to stare at indeed.  I read much of Irina's book, had a glass of white wine with dinner and tried to sleep.  Didn't happen.  As of now, I'll have been up for 22 hours and have 8 to go. Lord help me. 

Upon arrival at Heathrow, the walk to the passport line, then packing up luggage was nothing compared to wheeling the 64 pound beast to the Underground.  God in heaven!  The rides were fine, but the STAIRS!  What about the handicapped?  A nice college fellow helped with my bag up 2 flights of steps.  I thought (..scratch that, I'm getting KICKED out of this cafe).

9:12 pm French time, Some cafe/restaurant near M's home. My hostess wasn't home. I found a cafe nearby to 'wait'. Little did I know she wouldn't be home for a few days.

She's not even HOME.  I ordered some food just to do something and will waste more money than expected.  I have a whole bottle of wine to mself because I was too tired to order anything else.  Great.  I'll be drinking alone and spending too much money in my first week.

(*did some calculations here with what I spent so far)

Dinner tonight will probably be $40. UGH.  I'm taking her up on breakfasts and dinners.  'She' being the ghost woman.  I'm so irritated now, but have to look at the good of this.  I found a new restaurant, trying new cuisine and got myself out of the street looking like a girl straight out of a sad immigrant story (you should SEE all the s*** I'm lugging on these cobblestone streets).  I bet she went to the train station.  There was confusion with when I was coming.  If I was coming of getting picked up from the station.  If worse comes to worse, I get a hotel if it's too late.  How I laugh at my tribulations.  I finally get here and THIS happens!

I bet she's worried sick about where the hell I am.  (This risotto is quite good! Oh crap, I am NOT going to be able to finish this wine!)

But wait a second.  I'm in FRANCE.  (oo, the restaurant name is: Le Saint Cochon, btw).  I am here speaking French, getting by and filling my little life with stories.  But how I would love to sleep. How I'd love to lay down for a while.  Now if she did go pick me up, would she hang out there for an hour?  I mean, come on.  I know Im getting a little suspicious, but after the day I had, I deserve a platinum medal. Forget gold.

I made some notes earlier and might as well elaborate on them. (*at this point, the wine made my cursive pretty bad) The bag was the main event today.  Cute boys helping me lug it around, the topic of getting stuck in the turnstyle of the tube, I had to get assistance from the actual London Underground Police.  My bag was so big, it fell to the floor and was just plain stuck there.  We pushed and pulled and finally released the damn bag.  This was after a nice boy helped me lug it up 2 flights of stairs transferring from Leichester Square to The Northern Line.  Then I was sweating through my shirt like no one's business.  I figured the Waterloo Station would have bathrooms. True, but, they had MORE STAIRS.  I thought, 'Oh hell no'. I saw a handicapped door and said that's it, I'm taking it.  I had no shame in hogging up that room for 30 minutes.  I took a mini shower in the sink, changed my shirt and made myself look like I wasn't dead.  My normal, typical under eye bags were even worse. My Casper the Friendly Ghost complexion was more pronounced.  

I came out of the special handicap area refreshed, semi-awake and wanting to sit down.  I managed to find a Burger King. Yes, a silly American BK.  My feet hut, I was irritated and was really early for my train ride to Lille. I planted myself down, gulped down a coke, fries, chicken sandwich and tried to relax.  After leaving BK, I wanted to sit at a cafe and write.  I attempted to do this, but was quickly kicked out for not ordering anything.  Jesus. So here I was was. My train leaving at 1:41. It was 11:15 am. I needed a place to go and wait.  I resorted to sitting on my luggage ( I just ordered a chocolate dessert to spend my time, might as well). I was a walking live zombie.  Feeling odd speaking French at first, I eased into it.

I found myself on the train somehow.  Again, men people who offered to help me with my luggage in all the cubby holes. (Man, it's 10:17 pm, where the hell is she?) I'm trying to think of the route from London to Lille.  It's all such a blur.  Oh, yes, this sweet red-headed guy.

Damn, this chocolate cake is heavenly!

End entry. I was still at the restaurant, drinking too much wine, around the corner from where I was supposed to stay in Lyon and my hostess wasn't home. In next week's entry, you'll learn how one person I met on a travel website came to rescue my homeless self for a few days.