These Diary Excerpts #1

(Italics signifies added during the type up, '~' signifies a jump in time or a skipped passage.)

Sunday, June 30th, 2013
First flight. Still sunday, 11:45pm in the Icelandic airport (Keflavic). What a strange sight, sunlight by midnight.

Monday, July 1st, 2013
Time is a little fuzzy up here in the clouds, but I'm fairly certain it is monday by now. Somewhere, at least. In the meantime, I am about one hour out from Paris, and from thence, a few hours more to reach Nice by midday.
That's when the fun really begins. Things will either be very fortunate, or very much not so, depending upon the helpfulness of the administrating staff of the Estudine.
~Bloody shaking plane makes it hard to write.
~Sitting here in a small coffee niche in Charles-de-Gaulle (airport in Paris), drinking airport price coffee, sweating profusely after a very thorough bag check, and I can't help wonder...
What the hell am I doing?
~Last flight. Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more into the breach.
~This last flight was most enjoyable, I spent it silently observing the most delightful French family. Two little boys who I am now convinced are the definition of "petit gamin" (French phrase for a excitable litte somewhat difficult to translate), a very exhausted mother with a wan but cheerful smile, and a leathery father with salt and pepper hair and an expression as long suffering as his wife's is wan. The younger gamin has yet to successfully get all of the chocolate snack he ate off of his face, something that I think perturbs his mother more than he.
~Well, I'm here, although I'm still not quite sure where here is.

Tuesday, July 2nd, 2013
I have an apartment now, and, I must say, its not bad for a crappy student apartment. The electricity was bit wonky for a while, but everything is straightened out now. I'm off to walk back into the city now, in search of a clothing store (shirt and shorts, no luck so far), an internet cafe, and adventure.
~Sitting here in a medium sized outdoor cafe (as far as I can tell, there is no other kind here) on a main drag in Nice. The city appears to be swollen with tourists for the Tour de France, which starts at 11am today (supposedly).
~This church is old. I don't know it's name or how old it actually is, but I can feel the years in it. At least, I think I can. Strange, the power of a large quiet place. Ornate inlay of gold colored paint, old paintings of biblical stories adorn statue-riddled niches. Candles, Candles everywhere. A large group of foreigners, mainly children, and the moment is no longer infinite. Camera flashes, cellphone dings, and the general rustle of bags, shoes, and humans.
~Another church. Bigger. Modernized. There is no magic here.