"And something's odd-within-
The person that I was-
And this One-do not feel the same-
Could it be madness-this?"
Emily Dickinson
Sometimes I feel like this country is slowly driving me towards insanity. I'm getting to the point where I've been here long enough for the newness and excitement to wear off a bit. It's interesting because I've officially hit the end of my sixth week here, which is the exact time I left Spain. So I'm now entering into unknown territory as far as living abroad goes. And don't get me wrong, I still feel like this is exactly where I'm supposed to be and exactly what I'm supposed to be doing right now. But when living in a foreign country, nothing is ever simple. For instance, our host mom apparently does not believe in doing laundry on a regular basis. We've been here for a month and a half and it's only been done twice (we've paid for a laundry service once a week). There are a few things that are awkward about this situation. First and foremost, I'm running out of clothes, and as someone who does laundry only when it is absolutely necessary, this is saying a lot. Secondly, there is no real tactical way to approach Mme Dugan about the subject. Finally, we would go to a laundry mat, but we have no detergent, no money, and no idea how the french laundry system works. I'm not even sure I could approach someone about this subject in English, let alone trying to find the words to express myself politely in French.
This is of course another thing that is so overwhelming about living here-the language barrier. Most of the time it's not too difficult, and I actually surprise myself with how much I am able to communicate. But living in a different language messes with your brain, plain and simple. After a long day of classes I find myself actually thinking in French, and last week I had my first dream in French. This is exciting and slightly exhausting all at the same time. Gabi and I have started mixing our French and English when we talk to each other. If there's a word that better expresses what we want to say in French, we say it in French. I'm afraid when I come back to the States, no one will be able to understand me when I speak!
The French language has started creeping into my English as well. When Gabi asks how many people are coming out with us, I find myself responding with "We will be five." We say things like "I'm going to install myself at this table," or comment how we are "profiting from this experience." Thankfully everyone here is thinking in the same manner and doesn't find these random "frenchisisms" the slightest bit bizarre. It's especially difficult to re-tell things that happened in French, in English. I find myself fumbling for what I want to say, and I end up not being able to express myself in either language because somehow all the words have gotten shuffled around in my brain. When this happens to either me or Gabi (normally after a particularly stressful day for one reason or another) we normally look at one another and very slowly annunciate "I. Can't. Say. What. I. Want. To. Say." This is typically followed by deep breaths and chocolate.
It's also sometimes I little mind-boggling to be living somewhat of a double life. I literally am in a different world here, and therefore am a different person in a lot of ways. They're not necessarily concrete things that I can identify easily. But I'm living a life here that's completely different than the one I'm living back at home. I really enjoy being alone here for some reason. Much more so than at home. I love, love my metro rides in the morning where I can just listen to my music and unwind. I like going for walks by myself, I like going to museums by myself. Sunday morning I went to the Louvre for a bit on my own--it's nice to be able to go at whatever pace you like.
On Saturday I wandered around Le Marais and Hotel De Ville area. I did some shopping and debated going to a museum but decided the Saturday tourist crowds weren't really worth it. So I went back by the Canal and grabbed a sandwich (goat cheese and tomoato) and a pain au chocolat from our favorite boulangerie on Rue de Lancry. I found a bench along the Canal and people watched for a little while. All was well and peaceful until I started eating my pain au chocolat. I was then attacked by at least 10 birds at once. This did not sit well with me in the slightest. I scrambled to pick up all my belongings and ran off in the direction of my apartment cursing up a storm and giving the savage pigeons looks of disgust as if this would teach them a lesson for next time. I'm certainly not holding my breath.
This next week looks like it's shaping up to be a pretty hectic one. As we attempt to finalize spring break plans, we start to realize how quickly the time is passing and how much more we want to do. Gabi and I are always finding opportunities to check more things off our lists. Tomorrow we're meeting Carolin and Emily for some tea and pastries and then exploring a labyrinth. That's one thing, no matter how insane I feel sometimes here, at the very least I have three other people who are feeling just as crazy right along with me. And on some days, that's the only thing keeping me afloat.
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