what to pack

Well the difficulties of travel began in the forming of packing.  what to pack and not what to pack lead quickly into packing everything.  Thus leading to the heaviest pack in the world.  The best advice I heard on packing was to not pack your past in your back back. Which turned out to be about the only thing I didn't bring along with me.  The shock set in sitting in the airport in Memphis.  I was sad to leave but so excited to go and definitely nervous about actually getting there and our general lack of plans...

On the plane I was lucky enough to not sit next to any criers (although there was one that cried the entire 8 hour flight) or a drooler but instead a very nice man my parents age that was excited for me and my journey.  He proceeded to inquire about the itinerary and I proceeded to fib a little pretending we had one..After a few hours of wrestles sleep the plane landed in amsterdam for a 3 hour layover. By that time I had lost all concept of time.  I had no idea what time it was or what time it would be.  All I knew was that I was dead tired and it was bright out.  I slept soundly for what seemed like hours but was probably only about 20 minutes and boarded the plane to my final destination, Marseille.  This was where the challenge lay...France...meaning French.  The airport was easy enough and I gathered to take a shuttle to a metro station and take a metro to viex port.  Little did I know the metro station would be a zoo with no signs, just a giant mass of French swarming around in flocks knowing exactly where they were going.  I wandered down the stairs and up to an information desk and very self consciously told the lady, in french, I wanted to go to viex port.  She responded with a stream of unrecognizable syllabals.  After seeing the shocked/blank look on my face she brokenly asked in English if I understood French... Nope. Sooo she treid to explain to me what I was supposed to do and pointed in a general direction.  I wandered aimless off in that direction before the kindest French girl took me under her wing.  She was headed to viex port and was happy to show me the way.  She was meeting a friend of her's, whom she failed to mention was the most beautiful French man I have ever seen.  The two of them lead me all the way to the hostel before parting ways.  Already I loved the French.

Of course the hostel was located completely up hill from the train station ( a theme I have found common).  Sweaty and out of breath, I opened the hostel door and climbed the bagillion stairs to my room. I set my stuff down and ran to find Savannah.  I had finally made it.