It was 1:30 in the morning when I arrived at the station stop for where I would be staying. There was a long set of stairs to go down and no elevator. I had two heavy suitcases and a large shoulder bag to manage, and at this point—thirty-six hours of travel with no sleep—I had little strength left to do much of anything. There were two teenage boys hanging around on the platform, and I simply asked one of them, "Est-ce que tu peut m'aider avec mes valises s'il vous plait?" And immediately he responded with, "Oui bien sur madame!"
Soon after, his friend bounded up the stairs and asked me if I needed help with the other. I am always pleased and grateful for good people, good manners, and generosity wherever I go.
At the front of the station, my ride was waiting for me. Even though it was so late for them on a work day, they were so warm and welcoming. I had finally made it.
I don't remember much else except managing to shower and find pajamas before crashing in my room. Oh, and I asked my hostess if I could please open the window for some air. It was a cool, damp night, and there were no screens, but I pulled mosquito netting across the front, and that worked fine.
Sinking into a comfortable warm bed with one of those giant down comforters that are so common here, I really did pass out. The next thing I knew, a single bird awoke me before the light. Then there were more, and then many, many more with all types of songs as the light shone through the soft netting, and suddenly they blended into a very loud chorus. That's the way to wake up in the morning, and I appreciated it so much—an awakening especially designed by God. If I had any advice for anyone, it would be to throw your alarm clock away, open the windows, and let the birds wake you. These birds in particular, in a Parisian suburb, rivaled the ones I knew in Hawaii with their voracious, passionate singing, waking all the world.
The garden in the back is lush and green—with a giant yellow rose bush, of course—and below my window is a climbing wisteria vine that must be at least fifty years old. It is ginormous and attracting many honey bees.
I am in the perfect place. I'll tell you more about why tomorrow. In the meantime, I am so grateful that although I waited until the last minute to book, and there was nothing left in Paris proper, this wonderful home was graciously opened up.
I had tears of joy from so much happiness this morning, really. The journey to get here has been much more than the last few days. It really has been about six weeks. Deciding is always the first step to anything you want to go for. You must simply make the decision. Everything after that is cake.
Ya, there was fresh homemade chocolate cake for breakfast, too, with crème fraîche. And an espresso machine. Who could ask for more?
One of the things I am able to offer my clients while I’m here is Private Intensives. In fact, I’ll be doing them all summer, all over Europe.
Do you think this is your time?
Make sure you fill out an application and book a discovery session before you go! We can always discuss other ways that can serve you better if getting away does not work for you at the moment. But DO consider it! What an incredible experience it can be for your life and your future.