Day Nine point Five: Nighttime Thoughts

I just had to write a journal entry for class and wanted to share it with you all.

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Personal Account of Paris—A Bittersweet Love

This now being my fifth essay, I decided that all my writings were informative. While that is important, I began to think about something as I was walking along Seine tonight:

This will never happen again.

In all honesty, I doubt that I will ever spend another month in Paris. Despite the fact that I have only been here for a little over a week…I feel like I already have begun to take things for granted.

Viewing the Eiffel Tower in the distance and walking past the Pantheon every morning on the way to class is already overlooked. Grabbing an entire baguette and it being normal to eat the entire thing for breakfast has now become routine. I want to remember the way the cobblestone feels beneath my boots. The way the skin of my face feels tight and dry after from the dehydrating air. The way my hair frizzes in the night time fog. The children walking independently to class in their scarves and messenger bags like miniature men and women. The way the bakery on the corner of our street smells like dough, even after it has closed. The way the students of the prestigious high school conjoin in the morning like the French version of Gossip Girl. The way the sun doesn’t rise until 9 am and the confusion I feel awaking in the darkness. The way I get to spend my day in a classroom playing with feathers and dyeing scarves. They way I can take the metro anywhere. The way the buses are always more confusing. The way I can hit Dior, Lanvin, Hermes, and Chanel all on one block. The way I can pick up fresh fruit every morning.

Every building in Paris is beautiful in its own way. The historical French architecture is awing. If only I could capture these moments forever in my mind. I came on this trip not knowing anyone. I have been blessed to be with girls who share a similar mind set to me. They are here to learn and appreciate Paris as a city. We have had so many laughs. From standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower in the pouring rain at night to having a mass herd of wild senior citizens join us on the elevator ride down—all laughing to tear. From having a man behind me at dinner put my scarf on his chair thinking it was his to speaking minimal French with a terribly awful American accent. The times I have had so far have been unmatchable.

But I will be honest. I miss home. I miss my family. I am so happy I have this experience but I am already counting the days until I arrive in America and can hug my mom and dad. I miss my bed. I miss sharing stories with my sister. I miss curling up with my puppy in front of the TV. I miss my house in DE. I miss watching silly shows with roommates. I miss water from the tap. I miss Netflix. I miss going to church. I miss Lauren Blakeley. I miss not spending the rest of winter break with my friends at home. I miss my comfort zone. I miss working out everyday. I miss eating my own food. I miss large coffees. I miss dry winter air.

I feel a constant battle here that is bittersweet. The culture, though similar is also very different. I am appreciating Paris for its beauty, rich history, fashion, and artwork. Yet unlike most of the girls I am on the trip with, I don’t want to stay here forever. I will be ready to leave. But I want to be sure I don’t forget all that I love about this place.