he did call, one day later. He hadn't realized that the tabac where he got the phone cards would be closed on Sunday... We are so used to having everything available, all of the time, we don't stop to think that different countries will not subscribe to the belief of instant gratification...everything is now....everything works, trains and buses run on schedule, stores are open, if not all night, at least really late, and pretty much every day of the year! Not so in Paris....the metro goes on strike it seems every other day, and when it is running, schedules are, at best, iffy.... you very quickly get used to waiting...patiently....because, where else are you going to go...? chances are, if the metro is not running, neither are the buses...so you can either get a taxi (expensive) or you can walk....like most parisiens...wearing black...

I started following his whereabouts, via google earth. earth.google.com For the first 8 days, he was at the 3 ducks, he had left the U.S. a week early because he really wanted to explore the City before he had to  check in at the Cité Universitaire, which is the dormitory for non-parisian students, his program only allowed for him to stay at the Maison des Etudiants Canadiens for 10 days, enough time to find housing.  

The University provided a liason in Paris, the micefa.org the organization provides among other things, housing referrals - a very lucky thing indeed, because that is how he came in contact with Madame Renaut, the loveliest of French women who would prove to be invaluable in the months to come....

3 ducks

what followed was a flurry of documentation, permits, passports, visas, letters of recommendation and endless trips to 'The City', where the French consulate is located, which meant several traffic tickets, but also opportunities to visit museums and parks we don't get to that often... this busy period culminated with a final trip on August 14th to the International Airport , where I watched my son dissappear into the crowd of travelers....there was no turning back. 

He had reservations at a youth hostel in Paris called 'The Three Ducks", www.3ducks.fr  which was chosen solely because of his nickname for me.  He calls me 'Ducky'.    I expected to hear from him soon after his arrival, if not precisely upon landing, at least as soon as he checked in.... how was I to know that he would begin to explore the City of his Dreams the instant the airplane landed...? At the other end of the state, my sister called constantly:"Have you heard...? Has he called...? What if.....? "So, in a panic, I skyped the hostel, which by now, conjured terrifying images of drunken european backpackers somehow taking advantage of my helpless son. They told me that indeed, he had checked in but was not there at the moment,  would I like to leave a message?  My message:

 "Tell him to call his mom, si'l vous plait?"

Not in my life plan...

I must begin by saying that, no, visiting Paris was never on my 'bucket list'...and not necessarily because I had anything against this lovely city - yet... It was simply not on my priority list...I did not, after taking my first French language semester, start plotting and planning on just how I would someday make it to the "City of Light", the way I know many students of the language do...

I am more of a realist. I am a stay at home mom. I homeschool my two youngest kids. Travel is expensive. Europe is far, far away. You do the math.

The Dream, however, was kindled in my oldest...he picked French as an elective in middle school, and immediately fell head over heels in love with the language, the culture, the food, the history... you name it - if it is remotely French or French-related, he'll buy it, eat it, wear it, read it..he is a true blue Francophone...Francophile...? And boy, does he like to show it off...!

So it came as no surprise, then, that in the Spring of 2008, he announced that he would be studying abroad for the year - at the Sorbonne, nonetheless...!