An American (Almost) in Paris

I have precisely four days until the next unexpected adventure. Recently I told my dad that I feel as if I'm being whisked away by the wind from Rome, to Indiana, to Michigan - just blown about wherever it appears is my duty to go. Personally, I believe a hot air balloon would be the ideal way to travel, but I don't know what happens when it rains.

Back to the subject at hand, however. I've spent shy of two weeks total at home so what on earth am I talking about? Well...

This time it's Paris.

Yes, the one in France. I have an internship at an architecture firm in Paris. It's crazy. I'm crazy. I know. I don't believe it either.

I wish I could rent a closet because I'll be barely making enough money for food. I am beginning to excitedly budget how much Parisian cuisine I will not be eating. (Ok, confit de canard is delicious and I haven't really had escargot...but seriously, I will be cooking for myself A LOT.) Disorganized mental lists are being composed of all the things I want to do or see on weekends. Roundtrip train tickets to Lisieux have already been looked into. I've been metaphorically dusting off my French "skills" (riight.) and literally dusting off my French books. (High school was eons ago.) Also, my friend working at the same firm asked me if I wanted to attend the Chartres pilgrimage. That shouldn't even be a question. We're going and I am more than pumped after hearing about it from family friends for years. That's three days of walking from Notre Dame de Paris to Chartres with hundreds from dioceses all over the world. 

Now it's time to pack up the wagon (no more than 62 linear inches and 50 lb., of course) and ditch the unnecessary. (Packing sort of feels like Oregon Trail when you got stuck in the quicksand and had to lighten the load. Who brings grandfather clocks with them anyway?) I've also been watching my email inbox obsessively waiting to hear any word back about housing. Please say a prayer it works out. I'm getting more nervous about that as the days go by and few responses are received. Maybe I'll write my own counter-book to Hemingway's A Moveable Feast entitled A Moveable Bed. Let's hope it doesn't come to that for everyone's sake.

After all of this I haven't even gotten to the adventure wedged within the span of this one. I'll probably fill you in shortly after it happens. I'm not anticipating having an internet connection during that odyssey. The truth is I feel immensely guilty even mentioning that I'm interning in Paris, but I suppose it's almost a duty to tell my friends why I won't be in the country until late July. There's a fine line between bragging and sharing excitement and I can be rubbish at determining when I've crossed it.

Slight humourous digression. Last week my family was talking about a professor's whereabouts and - ever the anglophile - I misheard "New England" as "England". I asked "Ooh, where in England?" and my mom retorted "New England. Not everyone is as cosmopolitan as you." This phrase quickly became the perfect joke whenever I unsuccessfully tried not to bring up culture shock. So, I'd like to formally apologize if I'm being obnoxious. I don't feel "above" anyone for travelling, in fact, it's pretty humbling. Seeing the world makes one feel much smaller.

More to follow soon.