I Love You a Latte

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

On the morning of my second day, I was unexpectedly woken up by the beautiful shine of the golden sun that peered through a gap in the boring beige curtains that I had yet to replace. I rolled over and stretched out my arms to retrieve my phone from the nightstand.

"Ugh! Five-thirty am?" I groaned, secretly cursing myself for not closing my curtains properly the night before.

I threw the covers off my heat-flustered body and swung my legs around so that I was sitting on the edge of the bed, my feet barely touching the ground. After minutes of contemplating as to whether I should try and get more sleep, I decided against it. Instead, I carried through with my daily routine of showering, brushing my teeth and getting ready for the day ahead.

Today was orientation day, so I spent the next couple of hours handpicking an outfit, most of which was taken up by my indecisiveness. To say that my inability to make a simple decision is severe would be an understatement. This took me to eight o'clock, with orientation not starting until ten o'clock that morning. Therefore, I decided to use the few hours of free time I had left to grab some breakfast before my life as a university student officially begun.

I strutted down the same street that I had ventured along the day before in search of somewhere new to try for breakfast. The weather was crisper and much warmer than the day before, but luckily I came prepared with a bottle of factor fifty (you've always got to be cautious, especially when you're as ginger and pale as I am!)

Despite wanting to try somewhere different, I wound up in 'Je t'aime un Latte' again. I was greeted by the glorious grin of none-other than my new favourite barista, Pierre.

"Ahhh, bonjour Madame!" he exclaimed, with a look of pride and satisfaction in his brown button eyes, presumably due to the fact that I decided to visit his café two days in a row.

Once our exchange of greeting each other was over, I deliberated between getting the almond and apricot croissant or the apple and cinnamon scone. Pierre must have noticed the struggle I was having.

"Pourquoi ne pas avoir les deux?" suggested Pierre, which basically meant that he thought I should get both the croissant and scone. "Je vais vous en donner un sur la maison!"

"Oh, I couldn't possibly!" I responded, not quite believing that he was going to give me one of the treats to take with me for free.

His insistence proved to be successful as I ended up walking out of the small little coffee shop with two brown paper bags and a much-needed take-away cup of freshly brewed coffee.

Orientation didn't start until ten thirty, but I suppose the call for us to be there at ten was the faculty's way of ensuring that everyone was there on time. It was held in the main hall located in the middle grounds of the university campus. Like an owl in the night, I turned my head to examine my new surroundings. Crowds of people were gathered in the hall, and by 'crowds' I mean hundreds, if not thousands! I couldn't help but think how crazy it was that all of these students were here for the same reason; to study a degree that will take them one step further towards a career they have dreamed about pursuing their entire lives. This sent shivers up my spine as I sat up in my chair to examine more of my unfamiliar surroundings.

Once settled, I began to make small talk with my soon-to-be fellow peers, with each conversation mostly revolving around the fact that we were all miles away from home and that for most of us this was a completely new experience than what we were used to. All of a sudden we were hushed to silence as the head of campus began to speak.

"Bonjour to all of our new students!" exclaimed a woman with brown, mid-length hair, who also appeared to be dressed in a very casual pink dress that was decorated in a floral print. "Welcome to the University de la Notre Dame!"

After a very brief but informative introduction made by the head whose name we later found out to be Madame Flemming, we were each assigned a colour depending on the degree we had chosen to study. As my major was in Creative Writing, I was given the colour purple which represented anyone who was studying a degree that fell in to the category of humanitarian studies. We were each given a map of where our classes were going to be held in regard to the room numbers and buildings. Mine was located on the very top floor of the building that was the furthest one away from my dorm complex. Great.

Once I had collected all of the necessary leaflets that each lecture recommended for me to take, I managed to escape the hall before the traffic jams of trying to exit the premises had begun.

By the time I reached my dorm room to drop off all of the leaflets and booklets I had collected, it was almost one o'clock. I pulled my phone out of the satchel that hung from my shoulder, noticing that I had two missed calls from my mum, along with a text:

Tried 2 phone u but remembered u were at ur orientation. Dad and I want to know how ur getting on so far, we miss u. Please call when u get this. Xoxo

I pulled down the sleeve of my top to wipe away the tear that had escaped my eye, rolling down my left cheek. Even though I knew before coming to Paris that it was going to be a massive change for me, nothing can ever prepare you for the heartache of leaving your friends and family behind. Being the youngest sibling of three sisters and one brother, I couldn't help but feel guilty that I was leaving my parents behind. Regardless of the change, I hoped they knew that I'll always be their little girl, no matter what part of the world I ended up in.

Once this little spiral of unwanted emotions had subsided, I dialled my mum's number and wasn't the least bit shocked when she picked it up after just one ring.

"Hello? Rosie?" answered my mum, with her tone being one that was a mixture of relief and consolidation.

"Hi, mum! Yeah, it's me." I responded through the snuffling of my nose, adamant to contain my emotions of missing the one place that I longed to be in; back home in Belfast where all of my friends and family still lived.

"Ohhh, it's so good to hear from you wee pet!" she replied, her voice trailing off at the end.

I knew her faded voice was a sign that she had been crying, making the sadness of missing her lay heavy on my adolescent heart.

She asked me how orientation was, dropping hints throughout the conversation of how much her and my dad missed having me around the house.

"Mum, I've only been gone a few days!" I joked, whilst she stayed silent at the other end of the line. I knew I had to lighten the tension I had caused, feeling remorseful for my insensitive response.

"Well, at least Dad can watch the news in peace without having me chirp in every second like a little bird who doesn't know how to be quiet!" I blurted.

I heard a soft, happy laugh at the end of the phone which made me smile, something I never appreciated hearing when I was back at home.

"Now, Rosie, just make sure you ring me or your dad whenever you get the chance wee love, because hearing from you will let us know you're okay." she continued, her tone as light as a feather; a tone that lay heavy on my sympathetically, sensitive heart.

"I will mum, I promise!" I retorted.

"Love you to the moon and back." she said.

"I love you too. Speak to you later!" I replied, waiting for our call to end.

After that heartfelt phone call with my mother, I spent the rest of my day unpacking the remainder of my luggage. In the process of doing so, I began to imagine what the next few years would be like whilst living in this amazing city, most of which I had still yet to explore.