I’d say today was long day, but honestly that past 48 hours has all muddled together into a muddy recollection of airports and buses and planes.
No matter how tired I am, I am here. In Paris. A city I’ve only ever dreamed of. It is what I imagined? Well, from my first three hours, not really.
First off, it’s cold. Very cold. My thin, Florida blood has not felt cold like this before. Pair that with the grey skies and my lack of sleep, and the whole city feels somber. I suppose this is what a true winter looks like.
Funny enough, I haven’t seen the Eiffel Tour yet, so I’m not even sure if I’m actually in Paris!
Also, and I feel a little embarrassed by this, I’m taken a back by the language barrier. I’ve taken two semesters of French, and obviously, I know people speak French here. But my theoretical knowledge and elementary words pale when I got off the plane at Charles de Gaulle and all I heard was French words from French mouths. I’ve certainly got a lot to learn language wise.
Going off that, communicating with my host mother has been a little rough. She insists on speaking in French, so I have to really listen to what she says and I work out my responses. But she seems very nice, and the room she has for me is lovely, even bigger than my room at home.
I have so many thoughts but honestly, I’m exhausted. I’ve got jet lag like crazy, and I know this coming week will be tiring, so I think it’s time to go to sleep.
Until next time,
Bailey DeVoe