A grownup abroad (Paris, part 1)

It's hard to know what to expect when you return to a place that you practically ran from almost twenty years earlier. Back then, I had a better grasp of the language and culture, but college student me was not having a good time. I was stubborn and immature and spent most of those nine months wishing I was elsewhere. I escaped as soon as I could, but by the time my plane touched down stateside, I was having second thoughts. I was left wondering if I'd made a mistake.

After a week living in the city on my own, I can confidently say that Paris is still Paris. A lot of the things that drove me crazy back then are still there. The city still seems overly somber to me. Gray pavement, gray buildings, and mostly gray skies. The French still smoke, drink and complain far more than is healthy for any living thing. If you have to use the bathroom in the park, you'd better dig your centimes out, because you still have to pay to pee. The Metro stations still smell like urinals and are still used as such, even in the middle of the day, possibly by people who couldn't find their centimes. Many of the people who were lucky enough to have jobs seemed rather bitter about it and didn't try to hide it.

It sounds like all the necessary ingredients for a disastrous week, but it wasn't. While the Parisians have gone on being Parisians, with some even making extra efforts, I've changed. I'm still as stubborn as I've ever been, but I find it easier to let things slide. My home is a place that's bathed in sunshine year-round, so a few cloudy days aren't the end of the world. The smoke smell does eventually come out of all your clothes after a few days' airing. It's easy enough to tune out the whinging now that we have ipods. And, best of all, I chose to be there for a few days and not for the rest of my life. Having made all the required museum/monument visits in college, I was free to seek out what I thought was best in the city.