How I got Back to Paris

When I flew out of Paris last August after a 5 day holiday, I was certain Paris for me had come to an end. I was sad but ready to turn my face towards new horizons. However, after a year in Zimbabwe, Pakistan and several weeks in both the USA and Zambia, I realized exactly how much Paris meant to me. I did love it there. Additionally, out of the 6 or 7 places I've lived, it was the only place I blended in, as a white girl I mean (Africa and Asia don't really work when you have blue eyes). France is a taste of beautifully preserved culture and art from another part of the world. I loved the order, the structure, and the beauty the greeted my eyes everyday in a million different forms. I loved seasons, trains, metros, recycling, funky graph paper, lilting whispers in langauges I'll never understand. I loved the people I met, friendships I still cherish.

This summer my sister and I are spending just under a month back in Paris at the same language school we attended over the academic year of 2006/2007. It's a refresher three week course my dad thought we would enjoy it after the extremely difficult challenges life in Zimbabwe presented (mainly no food, showers, water, Internet, oh don't get me going).

I recalling once being asked if I fell in love in Paris. According to popular folklore, there's something about Paris that inspires love and romance and so it's idealized as such. I did fall hopelessly in love in Paris...with an entire language. I no longer dream in French but I dream about speaking it well, fluently and using it to edify others. It's nice to be back for a bit to speak French again, improve my vocab and see just how well I'm remembering the subjunctive and conditional. Not romantic according to some, it sounds like just plan ol' work by gosh who wants to do that!! What can I say? It's is a strange city.

Bonne Journee à vous! Vive la France!