Around Europe in 21 Days Pt. 3 -- La Vie est Belle

As the bus pulled into the station in the village of Bercy, the 18-year-old version of me was having a small fit.  FINALLY, here I was in Paris!  Something I'd been dreaming of since I'd started taking French in the 7th grade.  What would I do first?  Moodily sip espresso at a cafe?  Pair cheeses and wines at a farmer's market?  Wander le Cathedrale Notre Dame in search of a clandestine hunchback?  Get rained on?

I love Paris in the summer when it pours a deluge on my head

Around Europe in 21 Days Pt. 2 -- Planes, Trains, and Hurricanes

I have less than positive feelings about travel days, a stress that I admittedly put on myself.  The first day out is the worst, for everyone I imagine, but definitely for me.  Double-checking that I have everything, remembering at the last minute what random non-essential I didn't grab, giving myself way more than enough time to catch my flight -- I have, more than once, waited in excess of 2 hours after getting through security.  Though I have never missed a flight, I am not proud of myself.

And of course, security.

JFC, TSA.  I would love to know if anyone has really done a full analysis of the before-and-after effects of limiting liquid carry-ons to <3.4 fl oz crammed into a clear plastic baggie.  I wonder if the end of that analysis would be that we've all learned to become Tetris masters of lotion and toothpaste.

I have taken a few pages from the book of my boy George Clooney from the film Up in the Air, as far as packing and surviving security, and I have gotten my own check-in process down to a science.  Still, nothing can ever *really* alleviate the pain of waiting half an hour+ in line, kicking your luggage the half-nanometer down the queue every time someone moves, waiting to step into a magical microwave that says whether or not you are a risk whilst praying that you aren't pulled aside because a random sliver of something in your pocket set off an alarm, and then hastily shoving your carefully separated things back into your carry-ons before you clog the conveyor belt.

In short, blah blah, screw you, it's a huge pain in the ass.

Around Europe in 21 Days Pt. 1 -- The So-so'est Laid Plans

"Be VERY careful.  Don't talk to any strangers, and don't walk down any quiet alleys.  You will get robbed or raped and no one would even know."

^^^ My mom's immediate reaction upon telling her that I was planning to travel by myself in Europe for 3 weeks.  Is it... is it because I'm too young and beautiful, Mother?

Fortunately, the support was there in other places, because I would have totally lost it and given up on this excursion otherwise.  Why?  For those of you who remember my Italy series, you will recall that a.) I am prone to panic, and b.) am somewhat vexed by the idea of international travel.  Add to that the concern that I could even afford this trip in light of the fact that I would be staring at a big ole' student loan bill soon, and we have a base recipe for regret.

But, being the everlasting fount of positive energy that he is, SJH was able to talk me out of my Negative Nancy doldrums.

Pictured:  Pre-planning discussion

Around Europe in 21 Days -- Prologue

I quit my job.

Those who follow me on Facebook and Instagram know this fact by now.  What you may not be aware of is *why* I quit my job.  There are a number of pretty concrete answers that I could give, but ultimately what it boiled down to was:  I hated my life and what my job was doing to me.  I was coming home absolutely miserable every day, and generally feeling utterly purposeless.

Other little known fact: I'd been feeling that way for at least 2 years.

So why leave now?  Well, long story short, I got just the kick I needed when my assignment was about to lead me to a fairly uninspiring position in the middle of Wisconsin, a choice that was made with little to none of my input.  My options were essentially take it or leave it.  So I left it.  In February.

This was actually a pretty bold move, as I had nothing really lined up for afterwards, except the vain hope that I would be accepted into a master's program, a decision to which I wouldn't hear about until mid-March at the very earliest.  At best, this void left me kind of panicking and floundering, particularly as I had also recently lost a big part of my support network.

Other other slightly less known fact:  I also became single in February.

I'm well aware that I've never really gone into the details about my relationships, save for the fact that I am in one as implied by the fact that I've done something with them/gone somewhere/received or given a present.  Per the norm, I'm not *really* going to get into it today either.  However, my ending of a relationship is pretty seminal to this tale.  The long and short of it is, after being in a serious relationship for 3.5 years and engaged for several months, we found ourselves in irreconcilable place, not burning with anger, but cold.  And so we left.  On good terms, mind you, but we left, all the same.

So, let me set the stage for you, friends:  It's February.  I'm both recently unemployed & single, living above my sister's garage as a part-time babysitter (in a really nice au pair suite, I'll grant you, but still mooching above a family member's garage), all the while, waiting for the letter that will change my life.

CUE THE DRAM-COM MONTAGE.