La Vie en Lavande

Where have the past 6 days gone? What a wonderful blur they are. Rewind 6 days to arriving in France, realizing my ride was not there, using my broken French to manage a free bus ride because of lack of Euro, trudging along directionless with probably 70 pounds worth of luggage until I somehow ended up at the doorstep of my new home on Rue Thiac.

The past week is snippets in my mind of so many different new experiences.  Jet lag. Getting lost in Bordeaux alone, asking where things are and understanding perhaps a tenth of what the reply is. Using my French regardless of how silly I might sound. Searching endlessly for Wi-Fi. Eating dinner with my new French roommate and never quite communicating thoroughly but still laughing and connecting. Eating French meals with all of their parts - appetizers, breads, cheeses, wines, desserts. Drinking "large" coffee that is 2 inches tall. Asking for the internet and being lead to the toilet. Consistently going to the bathroom (salle de bains) accidentally, instead of the toilet (in Europe, they are seperate). Going to a nightclub, smoking a cigarette indoors even though I don't smoke and because I can. Wandering around the grocery store for hours, buying unrefrigerated milk (that's all they drink), accidentally buying pineapple flavored apple sauce (note: "anana" is not "banana"). Gawking at buildings that to me are castles, but don't seem to phase the people of Bordeaux. Terrorist attacks in Paris that affect everyone in France. A new school, new english speaking friends.  Clubs, discotheques, a glow party that I would never attend in America. Baguettes, raspberry tarts, boulangeries, well-groomed dogs. Notebook paper that only comes in graph paper form. Toilets that I don't know how to flush. Forward French men. The best hamburger I've ever tasted in my life. Cobblestone streets, lack of traffic laws, drinking in public and beautiful women with perfect style.


I honestly don't know how I will ever be able to adjust to regular life again after living this fairy tale. I walk out my front door to tiny girls in peacoats speaking French to their moms. Miniature cars drive wherever they want, everyone is wearing scarfs. Everything is ornate, aged and classic. You can rent a bike to ride to the "magasin" (grocery store), fill up your basket and ride your fruits and vegetables home. There are endless bread and pastry shops. I wonder if the pidgeons and cooing in French, and the babies are crying in French, I wonder if the trash is being blown around the streets in French. It is all so picturesque, so effortless and to me, it's perfect.

The first breakfast I had in France. Typical.

My first foreign currency - ever!

In France, this is a "large" coffee. Um.

Basking.

Found: Tiger Cat.

Tarte Aux Framboises.

Ma chambre.

Non-stop journaling.

Out my bedroom window.

I feel so blessed to have this opportunity. I worked so hard for all of this and it is truly, already, the best thing I have ever done for myself. So, so, so excited for the things to come.