Well, glad to see most things haven't changed around here! Not.

Ahhhhhhh, La France, if you are not the end of me, I shall feel extremely victorious.

But before I get to that, let me just say that this is the first time I'm ever suffering from jet lag. Oh, well before I even get to that, let me tell you about the flight over here.

Now, when I got my visa last year, I had to buy a round trip ticket to prove that I wasn't going to stay in the country illegally after. So I used the second half of that ticket to get over to the US. Gilles had a round trip ticket from Paris-NYC, and then I just bought a one way from the US to Paris. Well, obviously we bought these all at different times. We ended up being together (and seated next to each other) on the flight from JFK-Reykjavik (Iceland), where our layover was. We arrived in Iceland at around 11:40pm. I looked at my next ticket and the flight wasn't leaving until 7:40am, so, ok, an 8 hour layover. We asked if we could leave the airport, but the security woman said no (well, Gilles could have because he's European but I couldn't) but nothing would have been open anyway really between the hours of midnight and 7am. So we just got some food there (there was almost nothing left because it was all closing) but luckily there was a padded bench with pillows and such on it, so Gilles and I laid down and talked for a while.

At one point, an airport worker came over the loudspeaker and said, "Would the last passenger on the flight to Paris please report to the gate- we are ready to leave." At first, Gilles and I were confused, because our flight wasn't leaving until 7:40 so why would they be calling us at a quarter to 1? They made the announcement 2 more times and I was like, "Well, maybe they're calling a meeting for all the passengers who are leaving later, or maybe something happened" so we decided to go to the gate anyway and see. About halfway there, I saw the board with all the flights and turns out, there was a flight to Paris leaving at 1:05am and I was like, "Ohhhhhhhh there's a passenger on THAT flight who hasn't shown up yet. Ok, it's not us." Just to make sure, I took out my next boarding pass just to make sure and sure enough, it said the flight was leaving at 7:40am. So we turned back towards the comfy bench and pillows but the announcement kept playing. I kept thinking, "But it can't be us.... they keep saying passengeR (singular) and we're traveling together." But we were literally the only two people left in the airport. At 1:07am (remember, the flight was supposed to leave at 1:05), it finally hit me. I exclaimed to Gilles, "Give me your ticket, now!" He handed it over and DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNN HEEEEEEEEEEE was traveling on the flight that was leaving! We didn't even take the time to process what had just happened, but sprinted toward the gate and met the two attendants and said he was that last missing passenger. They were like, "Ummmm, we've been calling you for the last 40 minutes," but the never actually called his name, they just said, "The last passenger" and I explained that we had just assumed we were traveling on the same flight and had only looked at my ticket. The plane had already pulled away from the dock, but it hadn't taken off yet so it came back for Gilles. It all happened so quickly, there was no time to realize what had just happened, because the flight attendants were already pushing him out of the door. I didn't even get an "au revoir;" just a quick kiss and "I'll wait for you there at the airport!" and he was gone.

And there I was, left alone at the airport in Iceland from about 1am until my flight left at 7:40.

Even all the attendants left. There was just one security woman in the entire airport who listened to what happened sympathetically and told me there was a leather couch I could sleep on if I wanted. She even turned off the lights so I could sleep.

I couldn't remember the last time I felt so lonely. I mean, Gilles and I aren't married yet, but we had basically just spent every moment we were awake together for the previous six weeks. All of a sudden, he was gone, and neither of us had been prepared for it. I went over to the leather couch and cried, not really out of panic or stress, but just sad that the circumstances had worked out that way. When I bought my ticket (a couple months after Gilles got his), I just assumed that there would only be one connecting flight from JFK to Reykjavik to Paris, not three (there was another one earlier that morning leaving too, which I tried to see if I could get on but to no avail). I later found out that Gilles had cried too during the plane ride. I love my sentimental man <3

So Gilles arrived in Paris at 7am and then had to wait 6 1/2 hours for me to arrive. I had to wait 6 1/2 hours to get on my plane to meet him, but luckily, I slept for most of it. In the morning I went and got a croissant for breakfast with some money Gilles had left me, and then I boarded. We finally met back up at the airport in Paris but THEN came the challenging part- we had 4 suitcases and 2 carry-ons between the two of us. And, we had an hour and a half voyage to get home. So what did we do? Gilles, the amazing most wonderful man that he is, took the two (overweight) larger suitcases and the two (overweight) carry-ons all by himself, and I just had the two (at the weight limit) smaller suitcases to carry. Holy Smokes. And not only that, but, because we're the crazy kind of people who plan to have 3 weddings in 6 weeks and even plan one in 6 weeks, we decided not to go directly home, but to go to a church out of our way to see our pastor's daughter and another friend get baptized. Not to mention that this church was located at the deepest métro stop with the most amount of stairs (and no escalators either), and then once out of the métro we had to walk up one of the most steep hills in Paris with all our luggage weighing us down. We're crazy. But at the end of it all, we both felt it was well worth it to go, and Pastor Mike gave us a ride home so at least that made life 1000000000000000000000X easier.

Now onto what I started about the jet lag- I don't know if it was the fact to sleep in the airport or what, but I have never had jet lag like this before. Actually, I can't ever remember having jet lag before (or at least that one night of sleeping didn't cure). But we got home from church around 6:30 and I told Gilles I wasn't going to take a nap, I was just going to force myself to stay awake until it was time to go to bed. Famous last words. At 7pm I was OUT, and I didn't wake up until noon the next day (with a terrible headache and neckache, which still haven't gone away). Then last night I couldn't sleep at all... I was tired until we turned off all the lights and then I was wide awake. I've been horribly tired all day today so I'm hoping that at least tonight I'll sleep well!

But onto today. Today, I began the process of trying to renew my visa. The first thing we tried to do was figure out what my social security number is. On every pay stub I've received, in the top corner by my name and address there's been N° S.S. Now the little ° symbol is the equivalent to our #, so it clearly means number, and I just assumed S.S. meant Sécurité Sociale. Except, when I received a letter in the mail asking for my SS number, I realized that the number on my pay stub was only 10 digits long and a normal social security number is 15 digits long. So, off it was to the Social Security office. Luckily, Gilles went with me this time because I am just sick and tired of having French people yell at me and not understand what they're talking about.

So we went. I explain to the lady at the front desk (who was surprisingly, rather kind), my dilemma and she asked if I worked and I said yes but mentioned that it was only part time because I was a student. She looked up to see if I had a social security number, and she couldn't find one so she told me to sit down and that she would call me up when someone could talk to me. I didn't have to wait too long when another woman called us into her office. We re-explained my situation, and she somehow missed the part about me living as a student and couldn't quite figure out how I had been living in the country only working part time. She asked about three times if Gilles and I were married and we both answered "Pas encore" (not yet) all three times so I'm not quite sure what she didn't understand.

Now, since I've been living here, almost everyone I've spoken to has told me that as long as I'm working in France, I'm covered by social security. Period. And this was my THIRD trip to the social security office since I've been in France (fourth if you count the one time I went to accompany Silvia but that wasn't for me). The first time, the woman told me that I could just be under Gilles's social security since I was living (according to the government) in his house. However, he never had the time to go with me last year to put me under (because he worked full time during the hours the SS is open and he couldn't take any days off). I went a second time and they told me that since I worked, all I needed to do was send in these 7,239,048,592,934,809,275,298,304,725,812,374,925,802,983,475,209,854 papers and I'd have my number (and medical insurance). I sent in what she asked me to- never heard from them again.

OK, so third time's a charm, right? Haha not here it isn't. The woman said that contrary to what everyone in this country has told me, I can't just benefit from Social Security because I work. I don't work enough hours to receive Social Security (the problem is, however, that I don't have the right to work enough hours to benefit from Social Security). She said I needed to contact my school and my school is supposed to give me a number and medical insurance as a student. So home we went, and rather than go to the school like I would have last year, Gilles just called them.

The school said that they weren't signed up as part of the public/general regime of Social Security, so they can't give me any kind of medical insurance, and I would need to contact a private insurance company (and basically pay for insurance every month like people do in the States while all the French people get free health care paid by the government). Yeah like I have the money for that- not. But we called the Private Insurance company anyway just to see if they could give me my number. I think one thing I forgot to mention here- Social Security and Medical Insurance are the same thing. As long as you have a social security number, you benefit from the free health care (unless you are Me). The Private Insurance said that no, they couldn't give me a number, and they'd only let me have insurance if I got a number from the Social Security office.

Welcome to life in France.

You go to place A and they tell you to go to B. You go to B and they tell you it's not right at all, you should have gone to C. You get to C and they look at you like you're crazy for even considering to go there in the first place, and tell you you need to go to D. You get to D and they tell you that only A can do what you need done. And every place you go to is going to ask you for different papers justifying you are who you are.

We went back to the Social Security place (this is now my 4th time trying to get a SS number from them), and they tell me that since my visa's expiring in a month, they can't do anything for me. I showed her that I was re-enrolled in the school and that I was going to the Préfecture to get my new visa tomorrow, but it didn't matter. She yelled at me for not having done it in the first place when I first got here. I apologized and told her that no one had told me what I needed to do . She yelled at me again for being "ignorant" because obviously when you change countries there are things that you have to do to be legal. I explained to her that it wasn't my fault- I LITERALLY asked people at my school, asked people at my work (including my boss), asked people at my church, and asked my host family and friends what I needed to do and everyone said I was okay. It's not my fault, because I did ask already what needed to be done all last year and I had been to the Social Security Office three times already and no one had told me the right thing to do. The woman said,, "Well, even so, there are things that you needed to do a year ago already... I mean, I couldn't move to the United States and not do anything" and I didn't say anything but the expression on my face changed so quickly to a "Don't even go there woman" expression that she immediately added, "Well, I mean, I guess things are different in the United States." She then told me that if I was able to renew my visa, I could come back and I would have the same social security number as Gilles and be considered as his spouse. Here in France, unlike the United States, people don't have their own SS numbers until they're independent. For example, all children will have the same SS number as their father until they start working enough hours to have their own Social Security number (Ironically, Gilles's been working long enough to have his own number for years and he didn't go until today too- but because he's french even though he was YEARS late in doing this they gave him his SS number and full coverage medical insurance in 5 minutes. It's just that I'm American and go to quite possibly the only school in Paris that doesn't provide you with student medical care and I don't have the right to work enough hours to get free health care and a social security number like everyone else. France is out to get me). We explained to the woman that Gilles and I weren't married yet, but she said that since I was living in his house (according to the government because I actually haven't lived in his house since November before we started dating), we'd be considered as spouses and until I gained the right to work enough hours to have my own number (which will be after we do get married next July). Just goes to show- France doesn't make any distinction between living together, civil unions, and marriage- if you're in the same house and you're not siblings, it's all the same thing. Gilles even told me today that it's legal to marry your cousin here!

The bigger bummer is that even if I have his SS number, I won't be able to benefit from his medical insurance. So, until we get married, if I get sick, I'll have to pay for it all out of pocket. Last year I spent almost 300€ (about $432.75) with the hopes that one day I would be re-imbursed for it all because health care is supposed to be free here. Little did I know that I would be the one exception who gets nothing. Now not only will I not be re-imbursed for last year, I won't have coverage for this year.

Then Gilles and I had to go into Paris to get my birth certificate officially translated into French. When we had originally contacted the woman, she said it would be done in 2-4 hours. When we gave it to her, she said it would probably take about 2 days to do. Really? There's about 7 little boxes that need to be translated. How in the world could that possibly take 2 days? I could do it myself in about 20 minutes!

OH, AND I forgot to mention all this time, for all I work, the Social Security still takes money out of my paycheck every month. They get to take my money and I dont get anything in return.

Why am I here? Seriously, God, You better have a good reason, because it's not looking like it right now.

Take 2.... whatcha gonna do???

Well folks, after almost a year hiatus, I'm back and willing to give this a second go.

As most of you know, my fiancé Gilles and I spent the past 6 weeks in the US. It was a nice trip- a bummer that we couldn't see all the people we wanted to and do all the things that we wanted to, but thus were the circumstances and I suppose I should be grateful that I got to go at all and I am definitely super happy to have been able to see the friends that I did.

So now, here I am again, for another year (at least) in France. And I have to admit, it's weird being back. Everything feels so normal, but it doesn't feel like home. Granted, being in the US did not feel like being home either, and it DEFINITELY did not feel normal. It just felt absolutely wonderful to be in the most blessed country in the world, but it didn't feel like home, I didn't feel like I could stay there for long. And even though it's where I grew up, the way of life didn't feel normal either because it's so different from life in France. It wasn't home, it wasn't normal, but it felt amazing to be there. Now I'm back in France, and everything around me feels normal, like this is the normal daily life routine that I'm used to running, this is the way I'm used to things being, but it still doesn't feel like home and it definitely doesn't feel good like in the US to be here. Maybe because there's so much uncertainty.

The United States of America is so blessed to have huge supermarkets with anything you could possibly want inside of them. We're blessed to have cars that can bring us directly from door to door without having to depend on public transportation to take you on the most indirect route possible and then make you walk anyway in the pouring rain and below freezing temperatures to get from A to B. We can buy watermelons all year round. In the US, Obama's "Yes We Can" is like the 11th commandment- we have freedom and the sky is the limit.

Last year, I brought that American optimism with me. This was a new frontier for me to discover, an adventure to be had with new lessons to learn and experiences to grow from. This past year has killed that optimism. France (especially Paris) is the world where "No, You Can't and Never Will Be Able To" is the 11th commandment and people keep that pessimism in every aspect of their lives and will do everything to put it into your life too so that you can't spread some sunshine on their rain parade.

So I'm not really sure what to write here. I have no idea what to expect. Right now, I have no job, no income, no apartment, and my visa expires in a month. What am I doing here? I thought I knew, but I guess only time will tell.