It honestly seems like yesterday that I was boarding a plane out of Logan airport and setting off for my first time to a foreign country. As we like to say, takeoffs equaled landings, and I found myself walking onto the tarmac at Charles De Gaulle in complete disorientation and joy. It was strange and confusing at first. I had no idea how the metro worked and was terrified to get lost. I thought everyone knew I was American and therefore must have hated me. Week one: museums, The Seine, trying to figure out how to get a decent meal without being swindled. Week two: shaping up a bit, figuring out how to get somewhere, setting out on my own. Week three: Normandy, finally feeling like I fit in, getting annoyed at other tourists who had yet to wise up. Week four, feeling like I live here, figuring out how to “pass” for a Parisian (until I opened my mouth), forgetting that 1 euro equals 1.20 dollars and spending a bit to much on wine, cheese, and pastries. Love.
How can I go back to Strafford, PA now? I have three days, 4 pages of an essay, and 8 hours on a plane before I am a native again and no longer a stranger in a strange land. Saturday night in New England, Sunday coming down the East Coast, and Monday back to day-camp counselling at The Upper Main Line YMCA. Strange? Yup. But I do miss camp, Wawa, the Farmer’s Market, OGC, and Minellas. Plus, all of you at home.
I guess I’m just going to savor these last few days and know that one day, I will come back. I must come back! And quietly be happy about finally going home, even though I have had such a great time here.
Back to the Tour Eiffel for Caitlin’s birthday tonight and getting another L’as Du Falafel. Tres bien.
