What is normal?

I wish there was something interesting I could tell you, but there really isn’t. Life has settled into a pattern. A very hectic, busy pattern, rather akin to my life at school. I’m taking 6 classes (20th century Euro history, Classical Literature – Epistolary, Literary Genres, Sociology of the Media, French Art History up to the 20th Century, and Photography lab) which is more than most people, I’m teaching English at a school in the 16th (well, I met with the teacher this week, but I don’t start actually teaching for a few more weeks), and I’m in the process of trying to find a tutoring or nannying job in order to have a small income to support my extravagant lifestyle.

In other words, my friends and Virginie consistently bug me about why they don’t see me enough, and I wonder why I can’t get enough sleep.

All that said, I’ve been thinking lately about how wonderful life is here. I absolutely adore my host family, as a rule, and Virginie and I are becoming good friends, which makes me super happy. Liz and I told her of our plans to make a huge Thanksgiving dinner for the two families, and she was very excited. We’re quite excited ourselves. :-D

Also, it’s funny how much my perception has changed in the two months since I’ve been in France, the month and a half since I’ve been in Paris. Has it really only been that long? It feels like it’s been so much longer. I was thinking about all the things I’ve come to take for granted here, the places I go and see daily that just a month and a half ago were so new and exciting and thrilling. Not that they’re not anymore – because, believe me, they still are very thrilling and fascinating – but the newness is gone. I am slowly becoming Parisian. There is a pride of this city, a deep love of it, and going anywhere elicits a warmth in my soul which I cannot explain, but at the same time, I do not feel the need to keep my gaze trained upon the Eiffel Tower, or any other wonderful place/structure, because I know it will be there. I know my way around. I know the streets and the monuments and the busy areas and the less crowded areas and the chic and the cute and the funky and the sketchy; and every day I learn more, but I am not ruffled by it. As we were discussing today, we are at home, and it is evident. People ask us for directions – native French speakers – and it doesn’t matter that we aren’t French, because we live here, and they do not; we are Parisians.

I promise that my next post will be more action-oriented.