back to reality

After my week-end américain, I was quickly reminded that I was in France. On my way home, I first had to cross my old friend le Pont de Normandie, a more than 2-kilometer long cable-stayed bridge, then its neighbor, another bridge of the same length. I think that's the 5th time I've driven across them, and I do believe that my knuckles are less white each time. Could it be that my fear of bridges will soon be something of the past? Might I one day be able to think about crossing Lake Pontchartrain without hyperventilating? Probably not. But I've made a good start.

My second reminder that I was far from home came just 20 minutes from my temporary one... after paying yet another toll on the pothole-less autoroute, I was pulled over by the gendarmes. These officers often travel in groups, park their vehicle at the side of the road, and simply point at drivers to pull over. Since I was virtually stopped when they pointed at me, I knew I hadn't done anything wrong; however, the anxiety attack I managed to avoid while crossing the bridge an hour earlier immediately set in. Tightness in the chest and difficulty breathing accompanied by uncontrollable shaking - I can only imagine how I'd feel if I were actually guilty of something! The officer kindly asked for my papers, and with trembling hands I dug out my AAA international driver license so he'd know that I was foreign (as if he couldn't tell from the accent my friend's 10-year old daughter so kindly pointed out last week...I fear I'll never be rid of it!). Just that morning, Chantal called to tell me she was mailing me the insurance papers, so I wasn't sure if the insurance papers and carte grise that I handed over were even valid. A very long minute later, he returned my papers to me, said everything was parfait, and sent me on my way. I think it took several minutes for me to be able to breathe normally.