Head Full Of Lightning: Driving on the wrong side of the road

Today was the day I drove in Europe for the first time. I had requested an automatic but in Europe they're as rare as koalas. It's weird driving with the pedals in the right place, but the gear stick and your entire body in the wrong place.

My first driving lesson was in the middle of a busy city, in peak hour, on a day when all public transport was on strike. Somehow, somehow, I didn't have an accident. In fact, despite my body locking up faster than an all girl school before a visit by The Butterfly Effect, I did pretty well and picked it up quite quickly.

The drive took about eight hours - much longer than it should have, but the first two hours was city gridlock. Throughout the day it was very dark and gloomy, as if every time had taken the day off and left 5pm in charge. At 5pm he threatened 8pm with a knuckle sandwich if she didn't do a shift, and she acquiesed in just as gloomy a mood. I had to drive through some pretty thick fog to get in too - Sydney fog is like having cellophane held in front of your eyes, French fog is like being put in a hessian sack and beaten.

I arrived just before the Hertz office closed (phew!), and went off in search of the Pilgrim Office. This proved quite difficult. It was hidden in the labyrinthine corridors beneath the Notre Dame Cathedral, and those I asked directions of could barely speak enough English to figure out what I was looking for. Man, I really should have learned French before I came here. I'm not finding anyone being rude - they all seem to genuinely want to help but just can't understand me.

I finally found it with the help of a Cathedral priest who spoke English. He dropped me off and thankfully acted as translator between myself and the managers for a bit first.

There we were - four people trying to understand each other. A Frenchman who spoke no English or German, a German who spoke no English or French, an Australian who spoke no French and only a tiny bit of German, and another German who spoke a little French and less English. Unfortunately for her, she found herself translating for everyone. We managed somehow and had a great night. We all cooked dinner together and then played Rummy, two things that required very little understanding of conversation.