My last post was from my 7 hour layover in Newark three days ago. It’s amazing what can happen in three days. This is a recap of Day 1 in France:
By the time I landed in Paris I was on hour 19 of my never-ending day. My flight from Paris to Nice was not a connecting flight but a flight I had to book separately, so I went through immigration with what seemed like the entire population of North America. When it was finally my turn to have my visa inspected I made sure the officer stamped my passport because I required an immigration stamp for my work papers. After fighting in line for my bags, taking a shuttle to the next terminal and finding my gate, I realized that the stamp the officer used had no ink! This is a problem because the most loved invention in France is the Xerox machine and I knew my stamp would never show up on a copy.
At this point I was tired, dirty, hungry, and a little confused by my new surroundings. I went to the information desk to ask about the stamp, where the kind women there suggested I ask the airport police. I went to the security checkpoint to ask the police where an equally kind woman suggested I go backward through immigration at that terminal and ask the officers there if anything can be done. It seemed like a long shot and I was nervous to un-immigrate and then attempt to re-immigrate in time for my flight that afternoon, but there was no way around needing that stamp. So I started down the stairs, around the corners, through the barriers, etc asking everyone I saw where I should go. Finally I reach immigrate and wave at one of the officers, then explain my situation. He seemed a little unwilling, but after seeing that I was near tears and that I had a valid, recent boarding pass he gave me my much treasured stamp.
I went back upstairs to wait for my flight and decided to lie down on the floor just to rest my eyes. Next thing I know I had been fast asleep for about an hour and my 12:45 flight was being called! The flight to Nice was uneventful and I had no trouble getting from the airport to the dorms to leave my bags at the lyce´e where I’ll be teaching. While riding the bus my very tired eyes strained to comprehend the amount of sunlight all around me, the green of the grass, the blueness of the water, the extreme white of the buildings and the towering palm trees. In spite of all my research and all the pictures I’d seen, this was all a bit surprising.
After checking in at the dorms in Sophia Antipolis, I had to make my way to Nice to stay overnight at the Relais de la Jeunesse Clairvallon with the rest of the assistants for orientation. My stay at the Relais was covered by the school district, so I wasn’t as bothered that I had to pay 10 euro to leave my bags in a room I wouldn’t be using that night. To get to Nice I had to catch a bus from the lycee to the Gare Routiere in Nice and then a local bus to a northern suburb of Nice.
By this time it was 6pm in France and getting a little dusky outside and I was on hour 31 of traveling. Getting to Gare Routiere in Nice was no problem, but after that I had to find bus ligne 22, which turned out to stop two blocks over from the Gare Routiere and only 1 of 5 people I asked had any clue what I was talking about. By the time I got on ligne 22 I was fighting back tears of weariness and frustrating and wondering why I had decided to come here in the first place. Luckily when I arrived at the Relais dinner was about to be served, English was being spoken all around me, and I could finally relax and look forward to a good night’s rest.
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