Several hours before I go to LAX, I managed to arrange lunch with my mentor. Looking back, I was very glad about the decision. The lunch was great, The Athenaeum was such a beautiful private dining resort at Pasadena, and she was such a nice lady with serious determination. I really look forward to our further correspondences. I did not get pictures of the dining room since we're busy conversing, but I would like to share the library (claimed to be one of the most requested private room there) and the Einstein Suite.
Everything’s arranged at last. Storage for my stuff, storage for my brother’s car, tickets, everything’s OK. It’s too bad that the iPod shuffle that the company I worked with this summer sent has not arrived yet. I would’ve brought it to Paris with me. My cousin drove me to LAX and we arrived way earlier than I thought. 2 hours to kill in the Tom Bradley International terminal. How to kill time? How about some pictures?
Anyway, after a stupid purchase of a water bottle and an overpriced earphones ($15 as opposed to $3 for a similar model sold at one of the later stores), time flew by so fast and I was inside the plane going to France. After minding our own business for the first 9 hours, my neighbors finally started talking with me. To my right was an Irish guy who left home for Australia and New Zealand for the last 8 months, whereas to my left was an Australian woman who was going to Amsterdam.
After some interesting conversations about how great Australia and New Zealand were, how bungee jumping was not as enjoyable as sky diving (I always want to do sky diving, by the way), and how the lady was surprised to know that I originally came from a neighboring country (Indonesia and Autralia - hello!), they both agreed that the London Heathrow Airport that we were headed for was messy (a far cry from Beijing or Singapore’s Changi airport), but the CDG airport is even messier since nobody would want to speak in English. Great. Now I am terrified. How would I even survive on the first day? Darn it.
The lady was very nice to agree to go from Terminal 1 to Terminal 4 with me since she’s also going outside of England. We parted ways as soon as we arrived at Terminal 4, which is the International Terminal. Anyway, the International Terminal of Heathrow was actually cool with a lot of British vibe. Here are some pictures:
I silently pleaded that CDG will not be as bad as my two ex-neighbors said.
God, help me please.
- To be continued... -
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