It’s strange how quickly a place you love can start to feel like home. On my walk down Blackstone Boulevard this morning, I noticed an actual feeling of disappointment as the people I passed didn’t greet me with Bonjour, but instead texted on their phones or kept their headphones on and their gaze towards the gravel. Even as I sit in my big, beautiful, spacious, didimentionhowhugeitfeels? apartment in Providence, I find myself zoning out into a daydream of Paris. I imagine walking out the door and starting out on my way to a brasserie or the canal for some wine but being stopped in my tracks by a new clever piece of street art (can you spot the space invader on the Opera Garnier in the photo above?) hovering up high on a building- none of which are over 6 stories in my little Place Leon Blum. I imagine passing by at least 15 well-dressed men, 8 people on razor scooters and several Parisians on their commute home from work, baguettes in hand. Because of course it is almost
18 heures 6 o’clock over there by now…
I know I should just be happy to be home and grateful for the experiences I had living abroad for a month (and believe me I am!), but this intense longing for my life in Paris has caught me completely by surprise. By the time I was boarding my flight, my excitement for returning to the states where I could relax, speak English freely, drive my car, and not hang on quite so tightly to my purse everywhere I went was obvious. But when I woke up in my bed in Providence on that first morning home, my heart sank. I heard the sound of construction through my window, realized I wasn’t up in my loft bed and tears actually formed in my eyes before I even had a chance to open them.
I suppose this is all a good sign. Proof that I truly enjoyed my time in France and soaked up the real Parisian culture in the most positive way possible. But there is so much more I need to see and do there…so planning the next trip to overseas commence maintenant! Which reminds me, I must continue practicing my french skills! #summergoals