Getting Back

The flight from Rio to Copenhagen was eleven hours. I don’t think I slept at all. I watched two movies: Pitch Perfect, which was cute and had really cool music, and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, which was surprising. I really enjoyed that one. Then I played hangman in French, and did freakishly well. I was also more violently sick at the end of that flight than I have been for many years, so that was depressing. When we arrived in France, we left the airport to amble through the streets of Paris (after a minor currency issue, namely that no one had any euros). It was lovely, but everyone was too tired to appreciate it. I went into the Notre Dame for what I think was the first time in my life, so that was lovely. The place was enormous, even for a cathedral, but I expected no less. I got “God Save the Outcasts” stuck in my head as I stood before the enormous round stained glass windows. (To my disappointment, they cast no interestingly colored light upon the floor. It was a cloudy winter’s day, though.)

I fell asleep in the Gallerie Lafayette. A few friendly ladies working in the nearby shoe shop nearly called an ambulance because they couldn’t wake me. We walked by the Louvre, we walked over the Seine, we walked through picturesque streets and past closed restaurants. There was a bridge over the Seine absolutely covered in padlocks. Each padlock had a couple of names on it, so it was easy enough to guess what they meant. The bridge was beautifully golden from all the padlocks.

Eventually no one could take it anymore and we went back to the airport. My sister fell asleep at the gate, and my mom almost did too. I made sure not to sleep until I was on the plane, and it worked: I have no recollection of the trip to Copenhagen at all. For once we got a cab instead of taking the metro, as no one had the strength to drag our suitcases from the station to our apartment. We got home shortly before midnight, and my sister made rice. There was also, somehow, ham, which we mixed with the rice. It tasted wonderful, but then most things do when you’re that hungry and exhausted.

I got up the next day at about three in the afternoon. I spent the day happily doing nothing. I went to bed at ten or eleven and spent the ensuing five to six hours chatting with my sister. I didn’t even feel tired. My mom finally came in at four and told us off for staying up so late.

She woke us up the next morning, thankfully. An alarm clock just wouldn’t have done the trick.


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