No Use Crying Over Lost Luggage

It is commonly believed that when a young lady travels the world and lives in different countries, she becomes cultured, wise and well rounded. Here’s hoping this is the case with me.

            My name is Coco and I am spending my first semester of my senior year of college abroad in Paris, France studying fashion business. I am coming to the city for the first time not knowing a soul, speaking no French, and having little clue of what I’ve actually gotten myself into. One hundred pounds of my clothing and accessories have been crammed into two suitcases bigger than I am, and I boarded the long flight with a Zanex and a glass of wine in hand. When arriving at Charles De Gaulle airport nine hours later, I discovered one of my suitcases was missing in action, and I would later find out that this would leave me with no makeup or pants for the next day. After breaking the language gap with the luggage claim service, I realized I was an hour and a half late to meet my driver… who had left. After almost having a Veruca Salt level meltdown trying to contact the car service, I was finally able to get a hold of my driver, who, as you can imagine was not as happy to speak to me as I was him. He came in about ten minutes later, rather peeved, but alas, after being slightly reprimanded, I won him over and received a complimentary tour of the city. I saw the Eiffel Tower, the Arc De Triomph, the river Seine, the Champs-Élysées, and the most amazing architecture, little cafés, bookstores and shops I have ever seen. After about an hour of sightseeing, my driver dropped me at my door in St. Germain. The large green door resembled the entrance to Emerald City, and suddenly I was very thankful I packed my red pumps. I stepped in and tried to prepare myself for my first time living in a real dormitory.

            As previously stated, I knew no one going into this fashion program, so I was a bit nervous about getting to my floor and meeting everyone. I immediately felt relieved, however when I got on the floor and heard them all in a room talking about watching Mean Girls. Thankfully these days, finding commonality among my generation is as simple as sharing the same bad taste in entertainment. My room was small. Very small. It was about half the size of my bedroom in my apartment in Chicago. Seeing as my roommate goes to a different school and would be arriving later that week, I took the top bunk, unloaded my suitcase, took a deep breath and found the communal bathroom. There is one stall, one shower and one creepy shower/stall combo for ten girls. Ever read Lord of The Flies? Something about this makes me think of that book.

            All of the people in my group (nine girls and one guy) are such pleasant surprises. Believe it or not, fashion students are not always the most enjoyable people to be around. Fortunately, everyone here is delightful. I got to know them and then headed out with a few for grocery and (the now necessary) makeup shopping and dinner. For my first French dinner I had a salmon burger. Not very French, but seriously, who really likes snails? Not this girl. I need to progress slowly.

            During the little time I spent that night exploring our area of St. Germain, I must say I am completely looking forward to my next four months of adventures. The city is so much more beautiful than anything I every imagined.