End of Summer Cold Front

It is official: I have gotten sick. Although sooner than expected, my dreaded immune system has caught up with me, and is attacking me full force with every ailment under the sun. I will spare you the specific details. The homesick part of me wants to believe it is because I am going through Mexican food and sushi withdrawal seeing as in Chicago these are my two major food groups, (oops) and while in Paris I have yet to have a bite of either. I suppose, however, I must not overlook the fact that I am running on five hours of sleep or less every night after long days full of exploring the city. There is simply too much to see to waste my time sleeping! Alas, I pulled myself together, held in the nausea, pumped myself full of strong coffee and went to my very last first day of class.

            Overlooking how terrible I felt, class got me really excited for this semester. The professor reminded me of some of my favorite professors at Columbia. He seemed to thoroughly believe in the course he put together for us and eager to get the ball rolling. On top of it, he is German and seemed pleased when I told him I took three years of the language in high school, and was able to correspond with him in his first language. The school here is so small, which is a big change from Columbia. All of the classes are in one building, and all of the people running the school seem to be really involved with the students. I am confident this semester will be one to remember.

            Having been here for a week now, I am still struggling to navigate, shop and correspond gracefully. Every time I go to the grocery store I seem to be doing something wrong. I will forget to weigh my fruit before taking the bag to the register, order in pounds, or share a cart with a friend and anger the woman at the register when we split up our food. When asked by a friend today what words I have used the most while being here, the three that instantly came to mind were: sorry, oops, and awkward. Here’s hoping this changes sooner rather than later. Fortunately, I have found it is easy to win French people over even after a catastrophic mishap with a simple compliment on attire or makeup or a hair flip/smile combo. Thankfully, flirting is an international language that is understood by everyone.

Seing as this post is not as scenic as the previous three, these are instead some photos of the dorm I am staying in. Those of you who know my apartment in Chicago, will understand how much adjustment is needed. I am in the St. Germain Arrondissement, just across from Le Bon Marché.