I check my paperwork to find where I pick up the shuttle. As I search for the right exit, I notice several men and women in camouflage and what appear to be AK-47s entering the airport looking very serious. They’re blocking off all the exits and pushing the bewildered travelers back into the terminal. I haven’t the faintest clue what’s going on. I finally find an exit so I can get some much needed fresh air. The curb is lined with police cars.

All the English speakers are gravitating toward each other trying to figure out what’s going on and when it will be over. Someone has managed to figure out that the police have found a suspicious package. Hmmm... I wonder how long this will take.

Without warning, an explosion races through the air not 50 yards from where I’m standing. I almost drop to my knees in response as do most of the crowd around me. Before we can say, “Mon dieu!” we are free to go without explanation. A French person standing next to me says, “Welcome to Paris” in French. She shrugs and rolls her eyes.

The driver of the shuttle treats me to some Deep Purple, American country music, and a ride that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. He does deliver me safely to the 15 arrondissement and my home for the next three months.

Madame Darier lives in a very modern building that faces an enclosed garden. She must be in her 70s since she has six children who are older than me. I can only understand half of what she says, but she’s kind and speaks slowly. She leads me though her apartment, spacious by Paris standards. There’s a small galley kitchen, a decent sized living room/dining room, and four bedrooms. A table and two chairs sit on a balcony overlooking the garden.

My bedroom is about 10x10 with a single bed, a free standing closet, writing desk and a sink. It’s small but very comfortable. I can ever see the tip of La Tour Eiffel from my window – a very welcome site. As I unpack, tears sting my eyes and for a fleeting moment, I want to go home. But as I put out pictures of my mom and dad and the cards my friends gave me before I left, it starts to feel a little less foreign. Maybe I’ll stay after all!

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