The trip was planned a long time ago ('a long time' = several months). Postponed twice due to lack of funds. Finally attempted not due to an improvement in financial status, but the scary-as-hell realisation that the ticket to Paris expires at the end of July.
Invitation letter sought. Nervous breakdown approached thanks to many long-distance calls to friends and family in France. Invitation letter stood poised to arrive early next year. Or, a few dozen more calls later, at the end of the scheduled trip. So went back online, booked a hotel, applied to the French Consulate, and waited.
And waited (la la laa!).
Meanwhile, the world went on. Bombings in the UK. Patrick Vieira joined Juventus. HP6 was released. Bastille Day came and went. My blonde highlights got two shades lighter. Another age-revealing (I'm 33) fine line appeared on my otherwise fairly unlined face.
'Tomorrow', said the travel agent. A few days later, he rephrased his reassurances: 'This evening, or perhaps, first thing tomorrow'. It's now Tuesday. My flight leaves for Charles de Gaulle at 7.20 a.m., Saturday.
As I pack for Goa, people ask me why I have no faith. Bah.
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2 comments:
Being world bleary myself, i can totally relate to your 'angst'... enjoyed reading your various posts. There is comfort in knowing that 'another type of you' exists, you see ; )
- GirlInPink's Publicist
Moral of the story, Pink Publicist, is that angst loves company :)
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