Not being a woman of notable balance or middle ground, the term going from zero to one hundred very often applies. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I was experiencing a discernible battle with transition and boredom as the result of new surroundings, lack of money, and a schedule yet to be determined. The following week, things improved drastically! I had social plans, school started, and the makings of a new life began. But why stop at balance and contentment when you can catapult into exhaustion rivaling the most severe form of jetlag? This week I had class every morning at 8am, several students, and I continued on with my epic language exchange experiment. In addition, the battle with the insects of Europe continued, to my utter detriment...
The Parisian weather has been exploring its stereotypical range of rain, clouds, and damp weather that will apparently continue for 95% of my time here. I assume this is why mosquitoes in a big city are continuing to thrive despite evening bouts with low temperatures. As the merciless chill threatens to throttle their existence, they find the warmth of my cozy little body and stunningly attractive female figure a firelit siren enabling them to cling to their desperate lives a bit longer. That is one theory... Another theory is that there is an entire underworld of insects... A seedy mafioso bent on the destruction of American blondes traversing their lands... I have no proof as yet, other than the fact that two nights ago I was actually bitten on the EYELID whilst interrupted from sleep, but I sincerely believe this Insecta Nostra has issued a price on my head...
Meanwhile, Thursday was a day of relentless French, beginning at 8am with my morning classes and continuing with three different language exchange meetings. Three men in a row, all in my general age range, with common interests... Online dating much? Happily, none of these turned into some skeezy afternoon attempt to "romance" my vulnerable heart. An unexpectedly beautiful Parisian day, I also experienced a wonderful sampler of Parisian haunts. My morning meeting was at a traditional café in the 5th, an espresso, facing the street not each other, the blazing sun cutting through the mid-morning chill. The man I met drove up on an old vespa and rambled about politics in an exasperated French way. I then went on to a post-lunch meeting near the Jardin des Tuileries. An outdoor café, MORE espresso, and conversation lasting over two hours. By the time I headed to my evening rendez-vous, I was admittedly exhausted and rather unclear how I would stay awake, especially after having had more coffee throughout the day than normal and consequently dehydrated beyond belief. This time I had two glasses of wine and my first cheeseburger in France while sitting at an extremely crowded pub-like bar near Montparnasse. All of these men were quite nice and delightful to chat with, attempting to force more French out of me as much as they could. When I first meet someone, it's almost impossible to get me to speak in French as much as I should, knowing that they can understand my English better. I have too much to say... always... When hindered by lack of vocabulary, I tend to word-vomit in English to supplement, enhance, and effectively negate the purpose of language exchange. I am, however, learning and improving daily... This weekend's goal? Rest, French, French, more French, and hopefully some new pictures soon... Oh, and French...
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