A jet-lag (almost) disaster...

Writing from right next to the window in my daughter's cousin's apartment in Paris. We are poaching an unsecured wireless connection but it only works if the chair is at precisely the right angle...

I took a nonstop flight which left Charlotte at 4:30 on Saturday afternoon and got into Charles deGaulle airport at 6:30 Sunday morning. That meant that right about the time I might have been ready to go to sleep on Saturday, the pilot was telling us we'd soon be beginning our descent - oh, and it was morning.

It was a little chilly and almost-raining in Paris yesterday. I couldn't check into my hotel until 2 pm so I stumbled around, dizzy, for almost eight hours. I went to an open air market, attended mass at Notre Dame cathedral, sat in the Vosges park throwing baguette to the pigeons, and finally I could get into my room.

I woke up and it was light out. I thought it was Monday morning but imagine my horror when I saw it was 4 in the afternoon! That meant, not only had I missed my whole first day of class, but I had missed my rendezvous with Hannah and Derek - and Hannah hadn't been able to tell me the address of this flat, only that it was "near the cemetery." And she and Derek were already en route, and none of us had our cellphones.

I jumped out of bed, slammed all my things into my suitcase - almost tearing off a toenail in the process - and threw myself down the three flights of the narrow, steep staircase to the lobby.

In the lobby I apologized profusely to the concierge for sleeping through checkout time. She looked very confused. "But you only checked in two hours ago."

Oh, it was still Sunday. Sheepishly I apologized again for being such an idiot, went back upstairs and went to bed. Later I woke up, feeling much better, went out and found a nice cafe and sat eating a salad and watching tout le monde pass by.