Good Morning

Some days I'm thankful my internal clock wakes me up in the early morning because otherwise I wouldn't be able to catch some of the most ethereal moments of the day. 

There's just something about hazy, early morning light in Paris that makes me feel like I'm in the middle of a beautiful dream during these morning walks when most of paris is still sleeping or enjoying a leisurely morning at home.

There are days when living in France {or abroad in general} is not a picnic for many, many {many} reasons.

 But then there are mornings like this that remind you to slow down, relax and be thankful for the opportunity to live out of your comfort zone and within another culture. It's almost human nature to get caught up in details, small things, and the hardships that life, no matter what, will bring. Sometimes it's necessary for your mental sanity to take that big step back.

So while walking along the Seine one morning a few weeks ago, I did just that. I was rushing along, head down, deep in thought when I happened to look up and see the beauty alongside me. Something I don't get to see every day because by this time of the morning I'm either in my office or among the crowds piled into a smelly RER train.

Just pure, bright, dreamy happiness. In one of my favorite places in the world. Just steps outside my front door. My Parisian address will not be mine forever, but small moments like this remind me of how lucky I am to even experience a few seconds of perfect contentedness that sunshine and a little foggy haze can bring.

And Just Like That...

 

...you find yourself in the end of February looking back at pictures that seem like they were just taken a few weeks ago.

Reality: they were taken three months ago.

I love living through the seasons in Paris. They are more mild and subdued in some ways {for example, I'm not missing out on the 5 feet of snow at home in New England right now}, but also noticeably present and each with their own energy. Fall has been my favorite Parisian season thus far, but then again it always is no matter where I go. Crisp air and richly colored leaves speak to my in a way that even pretty spring flowers can't. Can we turn back time just a little so I can spend my weekends wandering little streets and coming across golden and russet colored gardens?

Also to note, I am not missing the seven {s-e-v-e-n} feet of snow in New England right now. Pictures of snow piled up to roofs, more snow days than I can keep track of, and weekly "dustings" of six inches are not for me. I'm happily enjoying the reliably grey skies and drizzly rain that makes for a nice winter change after years of snow.

It's been a long and short eight months since I first arrived on my initial trip to visit my new home away from home. It feels like a few weeks have passed some days, and on others I feel like I know parts of the city and rhythm of life here so well that I am a natural in this city. But this feeling is ever changing and constantly in motion. Some days I wonder how I've made it so far with my {still} incredibly poor French. Other days I wonder how I lived without a glass of French wine and a little bit of foie gras.

I'm lucky to have lived a life that never stands still for very long. One that has allowed me to live in multiple countries, cities and states.  I'm unbelievably blessed with friends and family that support my long stays away, poor return calling skills, and all-over organized chaos that I tend to bring to the table. I also know that I have so much growing to do in so many ways. In every way imaginable. Do we ever stop growing?

It all depends on the day. Some days, as a coworker told me before I even arrived, France wins. And it wins in a big way. Defeating everything you knew in the world and making you question how you've made it through twenty-seven years of life.

And just like that, I realize how much I don't know and at the same how how much I do know. And that's okay.  Somewhere, I know a 50 year old woman is asking herself the same thing. And that reassures me a little.

This adventure is far from over, and my love affair with France has just begun, although some might consider it five years in the making and eight months of committed monogamy. I have so many little things from the past few months to share that I haven't found the words for until now. But for today, these pretty fall leaves and lengthy amount of inner dialogue will have to do.

Tomorrow is another day.

Mostly Settled

And just like that, I am settled in Paris. Mostly.

There have been highs and lows. More highs than lows. Thank goodness.

We can discount the groping in the metro. And the fact that after 3 months I still don't have a PIN number to use my debit card from my French bank. And that time the people at Zara thought I was a shoplifter.

Editor's note: I am not a shoplifter. You can check the security footage yourself.

On the upside, I have a truly wonderful {I could do a lot more gushing, but I'll keep it to myself} group of friends that I was lucky enough to meet just a few weeks after moving here. I can hear the bells of Notre Dame from my tiny, continually dusty but altogether charming Parisian apartment. The kind people of Paris are usually ridiculously forgiving of my subpar attempts at French. Also, the best pain au chocolat I've tasted in my 4 months here is a dangerous three minute walk from my flat. 

I just had to pause because I realized I wrote that I've been here for 4 months. I feel like I've been here 4 minutes. Mind blowing.

Moving on, there is much to tell. Funny stories to share. Adventures that have been had. Adventures that are yet to come. So to get this saga started, a few pictures from my first 48 hours in Paris back in June.

Bon dimanche, mes amis.