My luggage is lost. I won’t point fingers, but someone I know is praying for God to heal Air France. And I agree. The good news it that my guitar made it through. I was worried about it because I forgot to loosen the strings, but in the end, all was well. Just no luggage. So here I am. I have a toothbrush. No make-up, just some lip-gloss. I guess that takes off all the pressure of what I am going to wear every day. It will be these jeans, this blue shirt, these socks and these boots. And this face.

My flight arrived about 40 minutes after Pastor Jim and Rachel got in, but when I got through customs and into the area to pick up my luggage they are still standing by their carousel waiting for their bags to come through. Now I’m waiting here hoping that maybe my stuff will come. Another kind young passenger discovers me and a few others who had transferred in Paris. All of us have missing baggage. So they translate for me and help me fill out the lost and found forms.

I’m staying with Maria. Jim and Rachel are staying elsewhere. We are so tired that we decide to nap, eat supper, then go back to sleep. They feed me like crazy for supper. And they are pretty aggressive about it. Extra meat is placed on my bread as I raise it to my mouth, and other things offered right in my face as if they are going to feed me themselves.

I feel so bad when I look on the counter and see “American products” which I assume they’ve bought for me to make me feel at home. Cereal and milk. I ant to eat their food. . . that is, unless I don’t like it. We’re eating meat, cheese, bread, chocolate, macaroons, tea. They are shoving food at me and I’m full. I close my eyes and shake my head, making “uh-uh” sounds. I open my eyes. They all look a little bit surprised, but no more food is being proffered towards me.

I go to my bed. It’s a couch. Nice and wide. A crib with baby toys in it is by my head. Ceiling high storage against the wall, a tv, stacks of books, a mirror and low table dresser… this I someone’s room. Maria’s I guess. I think she lives alone. And I’m wearing her pajama’s. I have none. This is very funny to me. I am wearing a Ukrainian Babushka’s nighty. Good night.

Comments

sue baby said…
Ah the luggage...seams to be a trend these days. Only ours was Air Canada. On the way back from Vermont our 1st flight was cancelled altogether the 2nd one was 21/2 hours late which made us miss the connecting flight in Toronto to Vancouver. We were told we were re booked for the next day and we had to say no not good enough we need to be at a wedding. So they accomodated us on another flight altogether which was good except their was no luggage waiting for us in Vancouver. After spending time in a looong lineup we at least knew our luggage was still in Toronto. Along with camera equipment I needed for the wedding. Such fun this travelling that we never get to do and then when we do.. ah well such is life.

The wedding went on without my nice flash and we finally got our luggage 3 days after the fact. We think we will just stay home from here on in.
motherearth said…
dearest Heidi- now I can`t think of anything wonderful to write-seeing I was NOT a blogger before-all my amazing comments disappeared into thin air- so let me think- mmmmm-I felt like I had snuck into your room and have read your diary-your writing is fantastic-love your humor-just wondering- did I miss parts about what you did there??

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