Day 57: 2 months, 8 weeks, 57 days, 1368 hours...

There was no sleeping done. Friday went straight into Saturday and, by the will of God or maybe something else, my body was still functioning at an acceptable rate. I brought my friends, now down to only the three of us (Anna, Jacob, and I) to Boulangerie Julien where I had the revolutionary croissant aux amandes. Opening at 7am, we were there at a solid 7:01…

Hungry is what we were. I ended up with a pain au chocolat aux amandes and a croissant. I ate both. I felt sick.

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Walking back to Les Invalides and to the apartment, we got all the last finishing touches together. I weighed my bag and had to transfer a pair of jeans…that Nutella man. Everything was set, I was showered, clean, and I felt so gross. That is what not sleeping does to you. Amazing, huh!?

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I accidentally took a 20 minute nap with my windows entirely open (I was on the bottom floor). I really didn’t mean to. My body just took over and I had absolutely no more control. I am sure the pastries in the morning did not help but I was feeling quite nasty.

Having my last watery coffee chez my host family, it was weird to say goodbye to a reality that had been all consuming. The time really was here. We wrote a little thank you note on a postcard (because I am old fashioned and I felt that that was the right thing to do).

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We said our goodbyes with the French bis (short for bisous), the same way I had said hello to them 57 days prior. Suitcases, backpacks, and purses in hand and tow, we made our way to the metro station 8. We still had our Navigos; we were going to put them to use. I’ll admit though, getting the fifty-pound suitcase and backpack through the metro was a sweaty, messy hassle. I swear, my legs gave up on me at one point and when I set the suitcase down after a flight of stairs, my knees just crumbled a bit and I almost fell to the ground.

We did have some good luck though as we arrived at the Roissy Bus station right as it pulled up, the direct route to the Charles de Gaulle Airport. Anna and I calmed ourselves down on the long ride and then had to get ready to say bye to one another. She was terminal 1 and I was terminal 2E. With big hugs, I said goodbye to my partner in crime, the person I had spent almost every waking hour with for the past 57 days. It was a weird sensation. My brain was not registering it properly and now, on the plane writing this, I still do not believe that it has registered it properly. Too tired I say. Way too tired. 39 hours straight this body and mind have been up. I am going to chalk that up as reason enough.

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After customs, and an obnoxiously long search for my terminal and gate, I made it through security. Buying my brother some Poulet Rôti Lays chips and myself some gum and chocolate along with a Starbucks coffee, I was ready to take on the eleven-hour plane ride back to Los Angeles.