Arrival

I was excited and a little scared, as I hugged my sister in her room at the Marriott Rive Gauche in Paris. She is a flight attendant, and had been kind enough to allow me to fly from the US on one of her passes. Since she was flying the Paris trips that month, I flew from my home in the San Francisco Bay Area to hers near Miami, spent the weekend with her, and then was a passenger on her flight into Paris. I spent the night in her room at the Marriott, and left the hotel in plenty of time to make my 8:40 train.

The morning was overcast, with a bit of a chill in the air. As I walked out to the taxi stand, I wondered how much colder it would be in Metz, since it was a little farther north, and regretted not packing more warm clothing.

The TGV ride was quiet and uneventful. The train pulled into Metz, and I moved to the baggage rack to wrestle my two huge bags down. As I waited for the other passengers to file out, a man passing by helped me pull my bags down, then let me go in front of him. I rolled my bags all the way to the door, and then blocked everyone as I tried to lift my bags down to the platform! I was panicking, because no one could move while I was in the way, and then, the same man carried them down for me. He asked where I was going, walked me out of the station to the taxi stand, told the driver where to take me, then walked off into the sunrise, my knight in

slacks and sweater. All I know is that he is a TGV engineer, medium height, medium build, brown hair, which describes most of the men getting off the train Wednesday morning, the 9th of April 2009. But if he somehow ever reads this, I am forever grateful for his kindness.

The Hotel du Centre is a moderately priced hotel in the middle of town. The rooms have names, rather than numbers, are small, but clean and neat, and for an extra 7 € per day, they serve a breakfast of coffee, juice and an assortment of breads. I checked into the hotel, picked up a visitor map, and made my way out to buy a phone and find housing advertisements.

My tiny studio by Metz Gare

Two days later, I signed a 4 month lease on a tiny studio near the train station, just in time for Easter weekend. I chose the wrong weekend to move into an apartment in France! Both Friday and Monday were holidays, and in France, businesses actually close on Sundays and holidays! And since it was a long weekend, many places were closed Saturday as well. However, the landlord, Rosalie, seemed to sense my rush in wanting to move into a place as quickly as possible, and without asking for credit information or even having security deposit in hand, she handed me the keys to the studio. She did not, however, prorate the rent for the first third of the month I wasn't in the studio, but I can forgive that.

I stayed in the hotel two more days, while I cleaned the apartment, bought housewares and moved in bit by bit over the weekend. I noticed, quite happily, that the last occupant actually left three rolls of toilet paper in the bathroom! In the US, you will never find any toilet paper when you first move into an apartment -- Americans take their TP with them. On Monday, the 13th, I checked out of the hotel, and checked into the apartment full-time. I was on my own.