The Amazing Race to Vitré

 A couple of weeks ago, I packed up as much of my life as I could fit into two suitcases, my backpack and my dog and boarded a flight from New York to Paris. I wish I could be dramatic and say it was a one-way ticket, but I’ll be headed home for Christmas! What brought me to France was my boyfriend, Eric, playing professional basketball in Europe. So, after months of casually talking about where he might sign his next contact (he was in Demark the year before), he decided on a team in France! It got a little more “real”, but I kept casually talking about it and feeling like it wasn’t actually “real life”. That changed very quickly when I realized how tricky & long the process was to apply for and get a visa (at that point, I had less than two weeks). Long story short, a couple of trips into NYC, lots of stress (and some tears) the super serious and not very understanding ladies at the French consulate handed over my brand new visa! Three days later I was hauling as much as my life you can fit into two suitcases into JFK and desperately trying to not look my mom (Joycie) in the eye, because I was terrified I would cry like a baby. 

 

 

A quick seven-hour plane ride later, Tito and I arrived in Paris! After an extra long and crowded wait at customs (something about an unattended bag and a lockdown), they let us right through. Cellphone-less, and not being able to speak French became all too real, all too quickly. After two and a half hours of trying to find Eric in the terminal, I sat down, had a granola bar and weighed my options. At that point… I didn’t have many. Somehow, I figured out how to connect to Wi-Fi, which is a miracle in itself considering I’m super technologically challenged. As soon as I got Wi-Fi messages and a voicemail came through that Eric couldn’t get me, the car had broken down. Amazingly, I didn’t panic and was able to talk to one of his teammates/friends who was an actual lifesaver. He talked to me and weighed my options (again not many) and ended up talking me through finding the train station, getting a ticket and not panicking. So, I hauled myself, Tito, two 50+ pound suitcases and what I’m guessing was a 25-pound backpack off on a train to Le Mans. All I knew was Eric would be there, somewhere, and we would get to Vitre from there, somehow. A week and a half later I’m still super proud that I held it together!

Tito was AWESOME the entire, extra long trip. I was seriously the proudest dog-mom around and couldn't get enough of his cute face peeking out of his bag.