The flame is lit and my 1st Olympics have officially begun. Now where's the coffee?

At the world's biggest sporting event, it can be the little things that really make the difference.

Earlier this week I flew into Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris feeling both happy and scared. This Olympic assignment will be the longest time away from my dog. It will be the farthest I've ever been from my home in Mistissini in the Eeyou Istchee territory in northern Quebec. It was also my first time stamping my passport.

Local time was around 8 a.m., but for my body it was 2 a.m. I needed coffee. 

I lugged my baggage from the train station to the hotel. 'I'm here'', I thought to myself. After settling in, I added a new sim card to my phone and set out for some sight-seeing.

I made my way to the heart of the city, which was mostly closed off due to prepping for Friday's opening ceremony. I couldn't contain my excitement, I had to see the Eiffel Tower. 

I turned a whole 360 and really took it in. "I'm in Paris. I'm at the Olympics," I thought to myself again, only this time, I got to see the Olympic rings on the city's most known architecture. 

It was touristy, as we're all here for the same reason, to be part of something bigger than ourselves. The Olympics is the embodiment of competition, representing where you're from and connection to one another. 

I have been keeping my ears open for accents, I've chatted with a few Australians, Britons and local Parisians. I've had a few people ask if I speak Spanish, I tell them I'm not hispanic, but I am Cree and Ojibwe from Quebec and Ontario. 

I grew up in Quebec, so I'm testing my French skills, but locals respond in English when I struggle to speak the right vocabulary. C'est la vie. 

Paris is huge, and I walked almost 20,000 steps the other day to see Le Petite Parais and