Touch down ...

With a spring in my step I headed to the carousel to collect my big ass backpack. I reached the baggage claim area, stood up right, adjusted my watch to its tick ,carefully collected the strands of my hair and tied them together in a bun and wishfully waited for my backpack to arrive .A swing and a miss, another swing and a miss.  I remember waiting for its arrival as though I were five years old eagerly waiting for dad to get back home from work and help me steer my balance on the wheels while I dodgily attempted to complete one round of the park.

"Is it there yet? Is it there yet?” is what raced through my mind. I could feel the tension in my legs building up.’What if' thoughts began to pour in but before they could hog all that was left and drive me mad, there it was --  my only steady companion, naturally progressing towards me ,dying to be held up and piggy backed ! I managed to roll my baby over effortlessly and buckled its waist belts tightly enough to hear them click .I was all set, ready to rock n roll...

The Parisians oh so knew that Paris was about to be set on fire! I could already hear the sizzles!! :P 

Minutes later I found myself making way to the information counter. As I waited in queue to be called upon on, I scurried through my purse foraging for relevant address print outs, slid them in my travel guide and clasped it tightly to my side. Momentarily I was face to face with a mid age, gray haired woman. As she glanced through her round glasses, I picked the unsaid hint and hurriedly reached out for my phrase book that lay buried in my cluttered purse. Amidst the labyrinth of items , I managed to skillfully locate it in time and out went the mighty words , " je je je je  vuuuuu aeeelleeer " which read " je veux aller " ( I want to go to ... ). As retarded as it may have sounded to the woman behind the desk , I went full on with my attempt !

"Madam , Je veux aller Rue des Morillons , aaaa Arty hostel ".

I heard a voice replying back in a language that sounded familiar.

"Let's not waste our time. Let's just talk in English! How may I help you? Where do you want to go? "

Both embittered and delighted, I gave in and asked her directions to Arty hostel. She directed me to take the Air France bus, line 4 to Gare Montparnasse and told me that I could walk the distance from there. So there I went ,happily prancing out of the airport, locating the bus station, playing with the ticketing machine, reaching the correct spot and boarding the bus. I offloaded my backpack in to the luggage rack , showed my ticket to the bus driver and parked myself on a comfortable seat by the window ,all ready for the ignition to ignite me even further .45 mins to an hour later with a few shut eyes in between , I reached Gare Montparnasse terminus.

Gare Montparnasse !  Ah ! Gare Montparnasse !  Teeming with people, Gare Montparnasse is one of the largest stations in Paris. Confident, based on my airport experience, I headed to the ticket conductor and asked him for directions to the hostel and WOOOOAAAAHHH ! What do I hear? Blah! Blah! Blah! Blah! I repeat my question a few times, make hand gestures, point out to my print outs, play charades with him but all go in vain. I then head to snack stalls to hear the same story. I stop passengers walking past me and yet again the same story .I remember literally going "Holy Smolly!!What do I do now? No one here understands English!!! “I was about to have panic a attack when my navigational instincts (LOL! -- if you knew me better, you would know that I don't have any) directed me to get out of the station and try asking people outside, conveniently pretending that people outside were any less French than the ones inside :).I laugh at that thought till date but comeon I was weary, tired, lost in an unknown land and didn't speak their language .What more could be expected of me? 

I walked a little further up and came to a stop. I saw a bunch of white tents, trinklets and charms hanging, pottery and other art forms on display, brightly colored fabrics swinging in the direction of the wind,vin chaud ( hot wine ) and hot chocolate stalls and tones of people -- selling , haggling, buying , exchanging glances, laughing but all in an incomprehensible language .It was a street fair , one of the kinds I had imagined but instead of being bedazzled, I remember feeling like a spectator of a silent film. I could see the reel roll in action but it was all mute. I continued asking the same question," How do I get to Arty hostel? Rue de Morillions? Can you tell me which direction? “. Alas! No luck .From their gestures I could understand that they didn't get a word of what I spoke and I didn't get theirs. At this point, my neurons were frenzier than ever and I decided switching on my international data plan and using Google maps completely ignoring a well known fact that I'm directionally challenged and that reading maps has never been my forte. Yet, hoping that today I might behave differently, I took my chances and gave it a shot. I started walking in the direction that I thought was correct and from one 'rue de something something' to another  'rue de something something' ,I got so 'rued' up that I was pretty close to having a nervous breakdown. It didn't take me long to realize that I was going in circles around the terminus. At least one thing was deduced from all this seemingly futile activity - the GOD DAMN terminus was ovular!! I will never forget that! :D
 

Completely despaired with options running out, my eyes located a hotel nearby and I thought to myself there could be a fair possibility that the hotel staff might know English and to my delight I was right!!! It worked!! The receptionist was kind enough to not only direct me to where I wanted to reach but also to tell me that the distance might be a little too much by foot and that it would be wiser to take a bus which would drop me a few steps my destination. She also told me that the 'rue de something something' meant roads/avenue/blvd/streets or whatever you call them in US. What a solid piece information that was!!!

I followed her advice and got to the bus stop .The display showed 18 mins to my bus's arrival. I checked the route on the board and put my back pack on the ground .It was getting a little too much now .My jet lag had started to kick in and the load on my shoulders wasn't of much help. I decided to give myself some rest and landed my butt on the tiny blue seat behind me. A few minutes later, a young black woman came by and I was tempted to cross check with her about my route. By now I had become adept in asking questions with incomplete, unstructured statements.

"Bon Jour ! Aaaa bus 59 ..aaa Rue de morillions (spoken in the manner the receptionist taught me) ....aaaaa Arty hostel " 

And to that she nodded. I felt at ease and went back to my spot. Soon after , an old woman came by and I felt obligated to get up and offer my seat .She gestured me not but I did any way .2 mins to the bus's arrival and I thought it would be a good idea to load up and get ready. I stepped forward for my bag and swung it by one of its arms and as soon as I did that ,I felt a tender touch helping me put the second arm around .I turned back to see who it was and found the old lady ,who was half struggling to keep herself balanced, there. It just melted me .Such an act of kindness! A few moments back I was overwhelmed with the idea of being in this unknown land and the very next I was being so warmly welcomed by a complete stranger. My spirits restored. I thanked her "Merci !", and boarded the bus. 10 mins later, I saw a familiar image, the one I had seen on Google Earth while making hostel reservations in October. The building looked familiar .The flags of different nationalities hanging outside the building also looked familiar. I pressed the stop button and stepped out of the bus. I knew I was at Arty, my destination .I knew I had touched down ...

Up in the air ....

Here I was barnacled to my 18 x 31 inches space,  41,000 ft up in the air , flipping through the crisp ,glazed pages of my Lonely Planet Parisian Guide trying to create a vivid mental image of the 'City of lights',visualizing the stupendous architectural fossil ground hosting everything from the classics to the contemporary , imagining picturesque cafes on almost every nook and corner,conjuring cobbled streets that screamed Picasso, Van Gogh , Hemingway and countless others,envisioning markets bustling with watercolors, portrait sketchers and caricaturists,dreaming countless bridges crossing the Seine begging for twilight strolls and stolen glances,fantasizing dashing young men in lively conversations over expressos,fancying couples caressing each other on the grass with the Eiffel tower in their background.Aaahh !! The sheer thought of Paris had started to cast its magical spell on me.I knew it then that I was going to fall down rightly, precipitously, perpendicularly, steeply in love with her and so I did ...

My newly found 'silly school girl' self ,who was all set to be swept by the Parisian charm, could no longer sit still .Between drumming my fingers and fiddling with the pen , doodling my travel guide with stars and lines and folding the corners of its crisp pages, chewing the back of my pen and tapping my foot , I realized that it was time to distract my mind with some Bollywood Masala unaware of what lay ahead of me :) There I was skimming through the International Cinema section , fatefully designed to pick 'Yeh Jawani hai Deewani ' and for those who have seen the movie , you know the answer :) Ranbir Kapoor's first few international travel escapades take him to..... Yes, you got it ! Oh ! you so have it ! They take him to .... to.... to .... PARIS !!!  Ah  !! Why did I not see this coming !?! The song 'Ilahi' from the movie casting Ranbir is shot with Paris in the backdrop. It opens up with a panoramic view of the city highlighting the Eiffel Tower  , taking us to pyramids of Louvre and then to the steps of Sacre Couer.Lost in the bass and drums that get introduced to the song ,one gets swept to backstreets of Paris where Ranbir , the avid traveler is shown stroddling with his camera greeting musicians on the cello , street sketchers and caricaturists.He wanders on the banks of Seine and saunters down Champs Elysees . As the days turn into nights , the city changes colors .Illuminated and neon-ed ,the city divulges itself in a completely different panorama .The song had it all ! Gastronomical adventures with french chefs and bakers, fine wine and dining , sunset cruise on the Seine,the famous love lock bridge by Notre dame , the neon lit streets of Montparnasse.It was enough it keep the drama in my head going.By now ,I had had it.The more I saw , the more I fell in love .The more I imagined , the more I wanted to stay in love.The more I resisted , the more I wanted to latch on.There was no running away from it now. I had to accept it in its entirety .I had to acknowledge it .I had to embrace it and so, coyly and sheepishly, I did ...

From making my weeks worth of sightseeing plans to endless playing 'up n down' with the airplane window shades to watching 'Yeh Jawani hai Deewani' to getting lost in my 'La La' land to snoozing off to the ritualistic dropping of my spoon on the floor while eating , to striding up and down like a bumble bee , to having 10 minutes mirror conversations in the crabbed flight restroom to more doodling to solving Sudoku , time flew and what seemed to be ten tormentous hours away was just 20 minutes from my reach .

I was here for her. She was here for me.My romance for Paris began 'Up in the Air' ....

I'm leaving on a jet plane ...

15 minutes into take off and I knew I had to write to calm my frazzled mind which was all over the place.

From an exhaustive , relentless work week to mid night landing to packing bags to running to banks to closing credits to shopping to cleaning to all the mad driving  to drafting last minute work emails to making calls ,I was this close to giving in to the swirling vortex of stress when miraculously it all cleared up. I had it under control .I was finally flying out , just a few hours away from realizing my dream. Yes, I was leaving , leaving on a jet plane ...

Let me rewind a bit so that you can draw context from there.It's November 8 , 2013 , 11 am PST , sunny blue skies in San Francisco .

I arrived home last night from Denver where I delivered a Tech Deep Dive, something I had been burning the midnight oil for over the last few months.Glad it was a success.By the time I reached home , did my laundry , ate dinner , the clock had struck 1 and I was all set to hit the sack.I had no preparations done for the D day . Nothing what so ever . Null. Zero !

In case you are wondering what 'D day' I'm talking about , let's turn the calender back to one mighty frustrating afternoon in early October when I had it with work, with life , with myself and had my mind made up on setting the office on fire . That was the day I got up from my chair , went to the pantry , made myself a cuppa coffee , came back and booked myself a trip from San Francisco to Paris to Rome to New Delhi and I gave myself exactly a month to convince my family, get a schengen visa and plan my trip. Since this was my first crazy step out of US , the rest are usually inbound :P , I decided to take some calculated risk and planned an itinerary for 17 days .It looked like this -- San Francisco to Paris ( 6 days ) to Rome ( 4 days ) to Florence ( 3 days ) to Pisa ( 1 day ) to Venice ( 3 days ) and finally to  New Delhi for three weeks .

So here I was , exactly a month later , taking off from San Francisco to Paris , only this time with the convincing and visa taken care of :). My planning involved bare minimum - 2 Lonely Planet Guides ( Paris and Italy ) , 2 Phrase books ( French and Italian ) , a 4 days Eurail pass for Italy , hostel bookings  and 7 sets of clothes in one GIANT rucksack.I had no clue where on the map of the city of Paris would I land , how would I get to the hostel, how would I find my way through , what would I do if I lost my way ,whom would I call if I ran into any issues  .Nothing .I hadn't an inkling , a clue.All I had was an unwavering faith that I'll be fine and that I'll be able to handle it and that I needed this real bad and that this was it .The only time in my life when I get to do this , to live it up .That never again will this moment come back , never again will I get to experience what I'm experiencing right now and that this will be one ride that I shall never forget and so it was ....

November 8, 2013 .A momentous day of my life that etched an indelible mark in my memory.

I set 3 alarms for 4, 4:30 and 5 am and finally woke up on the third one .Put my laundry in the dryer, made myself breakfast , did my morning chores and started putting things together in my backpack.At 9 am , I hit the road and went to the bank to collect some foreign currency, headed to work to file my expense reports and then to the store to get some essentials.As the clock struck 11 am , Gul (my roommate, my friend , my family) and I reached home and I  gave 'my turkey' its final stuffing :P and at 11:20 am ,we were out ,heading to San Francisco International Airport .

It was then when I got my first strike, my first kick , my first jolt ,my first sinking sensation  ,whatever you call it ,that 'THIS' was finally happening .Gul and I had a cuppa coffee at Starbucks, exchanged a few bear hugs and then bade each other good bye.Farewells are never easy and it is then that you truly and sincerely realize how much an individual means to you.Bidding her good bye just reminded me of how much she meant to me all these years .How we transitioned from roommates to friends to best friends to sisters.I was slightly miffed leaving her behind and not being able to celebrate Thanksgiving with her and at the same time grateful to having her in my life as such a dear friend.


Soon after, I went past the security check and there I was at the gate , 45 mins away from take off .Before I could enjoy the 'Yay ! I'm going to Paris !' feeling , I realized , I had yet a bunch of tasks to complete :) I made a note of my traveler's checks, sent out a few emails, called AMEX to nullify my outstanding balance, tried to unsuccessfully locate my hostel on Google maps , made a few final phone calls to family . 15 mins to boarding and kick 2 struck me . Partially excited , partially nervous , partially pumped up , partially freaking out and amidst all the toiling , I took my attention to the boarding announcements and voila , I discovered that 'FRENCH' sounded nothing like English and that there was no freakin' way on this planet that I could possibly speak French even with a phrase book in hand ! However, it was just too late to turn back.I boarded the flight , dumped my hand bag in the cabinet above , parked myself in my seat , switched off my phone and took a deep breath. This was when I had truly , deeply , totally accepted that I was leaving to Paris and as soon as acceptance poured in , anxiety left the room.

Yes ,I was leaving , leaving on a jet plane ...