Decalage…The New Jet Lag

It’s 5:45am and here I am sitting on the bathroom floor of my husband’s tres cute, centrally located, yet tiny Parisian studio apartment typing away at my computer. It appears that I am suffering from an acute case of decalage…the oh-so-fancy French term for jet lag. (Being that I just returned to Paris, this lag comes with the territory.) In an unsuccessful attempt to not wake my slumbering hubby, I figured I’d make the most of this newly afforded extra time and steal away into the only private spot in this place, the bathroom aka the after-hours office. The result of these actions is what you are reading now.

So, how did I come to find myself cuddled up computer in hand on a cold bathroom floor of a tres cute, centrally located yet tiny Parisian studio apartment at 5:45am? Let me tell you a little story…

 It all started in March of 2009. (Actually, it all started when I was born, but that is a whole other blog.) I was working a conference in San Francisco when a dashing, handsome man approached my booth interested in getting some information. In my ever present state of professionalism, I happily obliged his request…all the while secretly undressing him in my mind. As we exchanged niceties, I noticed his that this tall drink of water in front of me had a very sexy French accent. (And I am a sucker for accents…oui, oui!) I glanced down at his badge to find out that he came from the far away land of France. Ah, the land of wine and unpasteurized cheese where the croissants are fresh and the men are Grade A lovers. Or, so I had heard.

 

Me and My man...oh la la!

Three days of conference passed, and I bid farewell to my new French acquaintance sure I would never see him again. Such is the way of large, international conferences. But, what would appear one week later in my LinkedIn inbox? None other than a message from…Pierre. (I will take a moment to explain that Pierre is not really his name, rather I have changed his name to protect the innocent. And well, Pierre is as French of a name as one can get short of calling him baguette.) Pierre had returned home to his far off land of berets and brie only to realize that his baguette had been piqued at the site of a petite yet fiery Latina girl that apparently spoke way too fast for his rudimentary English comprehension level.

 

And so this began the beginning of a beautiful friendship.Over the next few months and across multiple technological platforms, thanks mostly in part to the wise folks over in Silicon Valley, Pierre and I got to know each other. Long hours were spent pouring out our hearts and souls, dreams and fears through online channels such as FB, LinkedIn, MSN chat, Gmail chat, Skype…you name it, we tried it. We gave online dating a whole new definition. (Seriously, we almost made Mark Zuckerberg Best Man at our wedding.)

Then we took our relationship to the next level…  in person dating. American, Continental, Delta, United, and Air France (my personal favorite being that they offer complimentary alcoholic beverages the entire flight!!) would become our personal (and economical) chariots as we forged across our respective continents in order to build what would eventually become our engagement. (I digress a moment here to mention that the engagement proposal itself was one of the most romantic engagement gestures known to human-kind, definitely fitting for a solid rank amongst the top ten list in the Best Proposals Ever book..should there ever be a book like this written.)

Ain't it grand!

Six months after our engagement, after the hundreds if not thousands of late night hours spent on computers and on inter-continental flights, we got married. Married! December 11, 2010 marked my first day as Mrs. Gorgeous-Man-From-Paris otherwise known as Mrs. Blanc (Madame Blanc to the Frenchies). It was a beautiful wedding celebrated in two of the most beautiful towns of France surrounded by those whom we love dearly. I couldn’t have written it better myself. Trust me, as a fine connaisseur of romantic comedies (anyone who knows me knows I heart rom-coms even if I deny to death it in person), this was the perfect Nora Ephron wedding ending a girl could ask for.

 

Finally, we were ready and legally permitted  to settle down…on one continent; and being that the French were far more willing to give me a visa, that is after the numerous visits to the consulate, the multitude of forms that were filled out, and the general bureaucratic hoops we jumped through, we chose Paris as our home… for now.

 

And voila, (yes, the French actually do say “voila”) here I am at 5:45am sitting on the cold floor of my new tiny Parisian studio as my new hubby sleeps sharing with you how it all came to be. You see, right at this particular moment in time life couldn’t get any better than this…although it would be really nice if I could actually sleep, too.

Paris...my new home!