Under the influence
Of what, I'm not sure
Delving deep tonight
With smoke and mirrors leading the way
Uncovering mysteries I wasn't looking to solve

First off, I just want to clarify that I generally don't expect major life transitions to be easy (especially not ones that involve moving to France on a whim). However, I never thought that leaving life as I knew it would be easier than returning.  Alas, life continues to prove me wrong, as my recent return to the states has been surprisingly hard.

Really *$%@# hard.

The only explanation I can muster up is that Paris became my home, and much more quickly than I expected.  It's truly amazing how well one is capable of adapting to a new set of circumstances.

As I sit here, a mere month and a half after my return, I already feel like I was living another life.  It's as though I'm slowly waking from a dream and coming back to reality, only it's a far different reality than the one I left five months ago.

This was an experience that pushed me to my limits (which I willingly signed up for), but unfortunately also put a strain on the people around me who signed no such waiver.  Many things were fractured while I was away, and I'm finding that it's quite impossible to shape the bits and pieces into something that resembles what once was.

The good news is, I think that's okay. Maybe even a good thing.

Although it may be slightly counter-intuitive from a relationship standpoint to come back from four months in another country and tell your boyfriend that you "don't need him," this risky statement was reciprocated with the understanding that I'd hoped for, and has established itself as a major milestone in this process.  

I think it's good to be reminded every once in a while that life is made up of constant choices, relationships being no different.  After all, at it's very core, isn't a relationship simply two people choosing one another each day?  This is something I've stewed over quite a bit during the past weeks; so much that I think I'm finally starting to get it.

I know what you're thinking..."Here she is again, trying to neatly extract life lessons out of each and every experience".  Granted, this may be true.  However, this time it feels different.

Not forced or clear-cut in any way, but incredibly freeing nonetheless.

Truth.

Just when I thought I was getting ridiculously good at compartmentalizing... 

Meticulously filing away any and all unpleasant thoughts in the file marked "Do not open".

It came out of nowhere. 

A very unexpected slap to the face. 
Apparently you can't prepare for the unexpected. 

Who knew?

And Then There Were Two.

Two nights left.
Two friends saying goodbyes over champagne and cigarettes.  A random puppy in my lap...and being groped by a drunk, homeless man. 
So perfectly Parisian.

"There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lives in it differs from that of any other...Paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it"

If this is true, Mr. Hemingway, then I must have brought my very best to Paris, because what it's given me in return is quite immeasurable.  Looking back through journal entries from the past three months is like reading someone else's life.  One that is far more thrilling, scandalous, and altogether intriguing than my own.  Sometimes I don't even know who this girl is.  

But I'm finding that I actually kind of like her.  

So I thank you, Paris for bringing her to my attention, and Mr. H for reminding me that there's much more where that came from.

Oh, the noise in my head these days.  Louder by the second.  Deafening at times.  Pretty sure there's not enough wine in France to quell it...but what the hell, it's worth a shot.

This is really all I want for today.

Addressing the Rumors.

Despite the often exaggerated and overused stereotypes associated with the French, believe it or not, even the overall bitchy sentiment (not a stereotype) of Parisians has started to grow on me just a bit.  At times, all you can do is smile at the utter ridiculousness of it all.  It's as though they go out of their way to make things difficult, only for the opportunity to throw a tantrum about it.  And take it from me, these people love to throw tantrums.


This being said, they have some incredibly endearing qualities...a few that I will especially miss.


They adore their wine.  Seriously.  I've witnessed people drinking un verre de vin as early as 10 am.  Not to mention, it accompanies nearly every meal.  This is a lifestyle I feel most confident I can adapt to.  Come on Americans, get with the times...didn't you hear that wine is the new water?


People-watching could easily be considered sport in Paris.  This is serious business folks.  If you've ever wondered why French women seem to always be so impeccably dressed, even for mundane everyday tasks, it is because they will surely be checked out no less than 37.5 times in the 3 blocks it takes them to walk to the grocery store.  The peak season for people watching is springtime when cafe terraces fill with onlookers sipping kirs and chain-smoking cigarettes.


In the US, it's common practice when one goes out, to sit across from the person you are sharing a meal with.  In Paris this not the case.  Here, everyone faces the street, turning the sidewalks into a makeshift runway for women eager to show off their printemps fashion and the newest shade of Chanel lipstick.  At first, I found this to be more than slightly intimidating.  However, I must say that it kind of grows on you.  As it's nearly impossible to evade the gawkers, I've learned to stand up a little straighter, dab on some red lipstick, and give my best Kate Moss impression.


Bitches or not, Parisian women are classy women.  Though they may be donning designer duds, there's a good chance their hair and makeup will be understated (yet somehow always perfect).  And when the temperature goes up, you won't see half dressed women prancing around in too-short shorts and cleavage-bearing tank tops. They've mastered the art of leaving certain things to the imagination, while still being incredibly sexy.  Take note American girls...


They say things like "Oh la la," "sushis," "chewing gums," and my personal favorite "It's not grieve" (Ok, so that's from 4-year old, but still).  French is an incredibly beautiful spoken language, but some of my favorite phrases are those that they've borrowed from other cultures and adapted to their own tastes, which they do quite often.


McBaguette anyone? (Yes, it exists)...

    

Indeed.

As it's just recently begun to dawn on me that my time in Paris is coming to a close, I've been feeling especially nostalgic these days.  As a result of much time spent scrolling through pictures and blog posts, which I realize have been painfully vague at times (but trust me, there's a reason for this), I've decided to dedicate a post to some of the highlights of this crazy adventure that I'm infinitely happy I chose to embark on...   

Day 1: Reunited at last (he's thrilled, I swear) 

The realization that this is my city.

...and that this is the view from my room.

Aubs in France!

          

         Mornings in Bretagne...relaxation at it's finest.

          

Despite an incident that included throwing up into a bowl next
to my bed, this week spent in the country was incredible.

If this isn't happiness, I don't know what is.

Ok, maybe this...

Paris, you've been good to me. Very, very good.

Yes. Yes, I do.

http://charleskinbote.tumblr.com/

And then there are days that I hate it.  And I hate myself for hating it. The frustration is overwhelming.  The city is out for revenge, no doubt for one of my countless indiscretions.  Why must it be so difficult?  Nothing is simple and everything feels wrong.  The wind torments my already disheartened self, and the sun burns my eyes.  The tears are angry, not sad.  Angry that I'm succumbing to the pressure.  Angry at the world.  The days that I want to run home, pull the covers over my head, and scream. 

Loudly.

Because sometimes we just need to be reminded that it's there.

"But Paris was a very old city and we were young and nothing was simple there, not even poverty, nor sudden money, nor the moonlight, nor right and wrong, nor the breathing of someone who lay beside you in the moonlight."

-Hemingway

Crossed paths
Mixed signals
Missed opportunities
Misunderstandings
Mental hangovers
and
Too much time to think.

Thanks for the support, Dad.

Sometimes I deeply 
underestimate my 
ability to create messes 
where none were before...

There's nothing quite like zipping through the city in a Parisian cab on a Saturday night to make a girl feel alive (and/or about to die).  Jesus christ, these people don't fuck around.

Obviously.

Still working on the "editing" part...

Happy Birthday To Me

Spending the morning battling with myself...
These things never end well.

This is, in fact, part of my job description. I ♥ France.

"It's kind of hard to have a meaningful conversation with you when there's a big fat stupid elephant in the room..."

Quote of the week.

I've been known to make the occasional rash decision in my lifetime, which has landed me in some rather interesting situations.  However, none as interesting as the one I'm in now.  This time, it would seem as though I have a partner in crime.  And as luck would have it, this someone appears to be equally as erratic free-spirited as myself.  So here we are, together in one of these "situations" that we've created for ourselves...one in which the ending is somewhat uncertain.  I can't help but think we are either the most logical, mature people in the world, or the most delusional.  

I suppose only time will tell...

                                                                                      ...C'est moi

No wiser words have ever been spoken...

You win today, Paris...you win.
However, this does not mean I won't be back tomorrow, refreshed and ready for round two.

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The Most Talented Person I Know.

.Breaking the rules.

For those who know me personally, you'll know that I am the type of person who craves order and structure in my life.  I'm the list making queen, ruler of all things tidy, and as my boyfriend knows, nothing makes me happier than bath towels folded just the right way.

This being said, in the spirit of cultural immersion, I've allowed myself to relax just a little since I arrived in France.  As a result, I've learned some important lessons that I felt the need to share (in list form of course). 

1. The French are all about pleasure.  They simply don't see the point in doing things that are not enjoyable (and really, can you blame them)?  They drink, smoke, and... [gasp] eat carbs!  All of the things that Americans feel guilty about.  After a month in France, I find myself wondering, why all the guilt?  Why should we feel bad about indulging in the little things that bring us pleasure in life?  

2. Since I've been here, I've been on a steady diet of Nutella, wine, and some of the most incredible cheese I've ever tasted.  For those of you who really know me, you'll know that this is an even bigger accomplishment.  There really is something to the notion that "French women don't get fat".  Read the book people...

3. Being out of your comfort zone is THE best way to learn about yourself (and in my case, learn another language).  I feel ridiculous every single day and often find myself mentally exhausted and clinging to a bottle of wine at night.  But, I honestly wouldn't have it any other way.  I've never felt more engaged and excited to learn in my life, and that is worth more than any of the self-imposed, arbitrary rules I can come up with.  

It may be due in part to the fabulous vintage handbag I scored today, the glass of red wine I'm currently sipping, or perhaps the subtle hint of spring outside my window on a near-perfect Paris evening.  Whatever the case may be, I am having a serious love affair with this city tonight...  

.Every Moment.

Lessons 1...2...3

1. French markets do not stay open past nine (despite a girl's desperate need of chocolate and cold meds).

2. Stereotypes aside, stripes aren't just for mimes. As far as I'm concerned, they're the new black.

3. There are no traffic police here and people take full advantage. It will be a miracle if I don't get run over.

Paris thus far has been everything and nothing like I'd imagined.  I've spent the past two months trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I was moving to Europe.  The girl who didn't even own a passport was suddenly packing her bags for France.  

Since I arrived a few days ago, I've been riding a wave of excitement and awe, which thankfully has allowed me to function despite my severe sleep deprivation and jet lag.

The last few days have been filled with long walks, boutique shopping, trips to the fromagerie, Parisian cafes, and of course plenty of le vin rouge. The wine here is .spectacular.

Alas, the jetlag has finally caught up with me in the form of an awful cold.  Hence, the reason I will be staying in tonight and making a pathetic attempt to catch up on some homework...

...Or perhaps I'll just gaze out my window instead.

It's Official.