Last summer I flew to Ecuador on a student trip through my school. Two weeks, in a foreign country, without my parents. But I was lucky, because I spent it with my two best friends. They held my hand as we traveled through another airport security, hiked up yet another unforgiving mountain, and spent night after night plagued by homesickness. I didn't think it was possible to survive nearly two weeks of my life in another country without my family. I was beyond thankful that I had my friends with me.
But now, well, I was in for a treat this summer. Because I was about to do exactly what I feared: spend two weeks in a foreign country without my family - and this time, without my friends too. And yes, I understand how this sounds pathetic, because I'm visiting one of the most admired and competitive travel destinations in the world, France, and I'm upset? Maybe I should clarify: It's not that I was dreading this trip, I wasn't sad that it was happening. I was scared of the unpredictability of it, without the comfort of a family member or friend when something went wrong.
Boarding the plane wasn't especially hard. I said "goodbye" to my mom, walked through the hallway and up to the door of the plane and mounted its entrance, filled with at least six flight attendants who stared at me as I stepped inside. "Bon soir", they immediately said. And I replied the same. I was happy and hopeful the communication would be that easy throughout the flight. Spoiler, it wouldn't be.
As soon as I approached my seat, I found another woman, along with her displayed belongings, filling the space I was meant to be taking up. Ugh, of course this would happen to me. After conversing with the woman (in English thankfully), I discovered that she and the woman sitting next to her were both assigned the same seat, a seat that was in fact not mine. After alerting the attendant and discussing the mix-up, she offered me to either evict the woman already in my seat so that I could sit in the window seat I paid for, or to reside myself in a random aisle seat nearby. Rookie mistake #1 was letting my kindness get the best of me and taking the aisle seat because I felt bad asking the lady to pack up her camp..
It's fine. I'm fine. I kept telling myself that. Was I though? Debatable. Because within the first hour of the flight, I noticed my phone battery was low and as I reached for the charger inside my bag, I so unluckily discovered that the charger I bought was incompatible with the USB port offered by the airplane. Of course. Questions raced through my mind: How will I contact my host family? How will I stay in touch with my parents? I can't listen to music. For twelve hours I am unable to do anything on my phone. I mean, not to sound like a phone-addicted teenager, but when you're alone, 33,000 feet in the air, knowing you'll need to search through a foreign Charles-de-Gaulle airport within a few hours to find your friend and her mom, of whom speak a minuscule amount of English, trust me, that iPhone 11 is the only thing keeping you from crying your eyes out. To my luck, however, the couple next to me had a charger, and after an awkward interaction, yielding quite the language barrier, my second challenge of the night resolved itself. Thank you thank you thank you.
Maybe this won't be so bad. I arrived that night and after losing my way a few times in the airport, I finally found my host family. It was nice to see them again, but I could barely function, I was so tired. A quick dinner at an Italian restaurant was exactly what I needed before I threw myself at my bed once we arrived home. There was still a lot to do before I fully settled but first, I had to sleep.