Ally in Paris.

Ally in Paris. 2

Since my mothers phone call I have tried begging, pleading and crying but nothing has persuaded her otherwise. Yet all she said is that I need to 'lose the bitter attitude'. And now I have a new student visa and a passport, declaring me: Ally Williams, citizen of the United States of America.

 

As I’m sitting on the plane heading towards Paris, I try to waste the last hour of the ten hour flight and start to think about the things that I know about Paris, which I must say, is not very much. All I have in my head is Madeline and Moulin Rouge. Also I know the Eiffel Tower and the Arc De Triumph. Yet I don’t know what their purpose is or was. Apparently France has good food and they drink lots of wine. And they don’t like Americans. I look over at my mother who is in the seat next to me; 32A to be exact, sleeping peacefully with her head against the window. I rolled my eyes, why did she get the window seat! I haven’t got a wink of sleep.

 

“Mom, wake up!” I gently shook her; even if she was sending me away I’m not going to scare the living daylights out of her, “We are going to land in about 5 minutes.”

 

“Mmm” I shook her harder this time. “What ally?” she snapped at me.

 

“Well no thanks to Ally for waking you up before we land” I snapped right back, she rolled her eyes to that comment.

 

As we landed I looked out the window to see the lights of the City of Light. Paris. I was finally here. As we were heading off the plane I said thank you to the Air France hostesses. But I was saying it French. “Merci” Pronounced like mer-see. After we grabbed our bags we headed for the taxi terminal

 

“Taxi! Pouvons-nous s'il vous plaît aller à l'école d'Amérique à Paris? Quartier Latin.” Mom said in her fluent French. It just rolled off the tongue like it was her first language.