It’s bizarre to think I’ve only been in Aix for a little over a week. Both my housemate and I agree that in spite of our unwavering awe with being here, we feel as though we’ve been here for ages. I’ve got the walk through Cours Mirabeau down. I know the general suggestion-rule to stay on the sides of the streets to avoid annoyed taxi services. I’m already getting irritated with the constant presence of tour groups, even though I’m technically always touring the city along with them. I’ve found my favorite gelato and my favorite pastry at Paul’s and my favorite bread from the outdoor markets.
Beyond all of that, I’ve just booked two of my grand trips around Europe – one to Rome, and the other to Amsterdam. Is this the kind of life Europeans always lead? One where another country is just a bus stop away? Why did we ever leave Europe, America? I can never get out of Florida fast enough, but tomorrow, I’m spending the day in Monaco. Grace Kelly is two and a half hours away from my new home, at least by bus.
The abroad bug is a strange and unusual illness I don’t think I’ll ever get over, but that’s okay. I don’t think I’ll ever want to get over it.