In December I went home for the first time. It had been 1 year and 7 months since I had left the states and I was eager to make the trip home.
I was in Montbélliard France for two weeks before my trip and had come in only 10 hours before I planned to be at the airport. In that time I made a last minute grocery run, packed my bags, and tried to mentally prepare myself for the trip ahead. Needless to say I did not sleep, I was too busy planning anything and everything. Nervous about how I would be perceived after all this time away.
The first thing we did when I got home was go to the GROCERIE STORE! Things I got excited over:
-Tortilla chips and all the other thousands of flavors of chips I could find
-Soup in a can (which I totally filped over only to return to France and have them selling Cambelle’s at Monoprix a month later)
-Albertson’s cookies. (Anyone from Louisiana knows what I’m talking about)
-American milk and orange juice
-Peanut Butter crackers
I did however feel somewhat of a “vide” when it came to some things that I just couldn’t find like bottled water in Liter bottles (don’t even get me started on the cheeses) and other details that I’m so use to in my everyday life here.
It was Christmas so a great time to have all my friends gathering in one place. It was nice and I got to see pretty much everyone that I wanted to.
All my apprehensions about not being welcomed after having changed so much in France were quickly erased and I found the only things that my close one’s said about me being different than before was “you just look like you are so happy” and I really am.
It was odd going to the states and then coming back here. Even without the jetlag to take into consideration I returned to Paris feeling gray and upset with just about everything that IS this city. The first few weeks I neither had a desire to be here or there and felt somewhat of a stand still in my desires for my future.
A few weeks after my trip on a rainy evening I decided to veer off my path and go to the quartier that I first lived in when I came to Paris. In my favorite café (that I love despite the very bad music they play) I had two glasses of wine, read my book, ate one of the best croque madams in the city and watched the rain fall and the people walk by in my favorite square against the backdrop of the Maire du 11eme, still lit-up for Christmas. I spent three hours there alone, speaking to no one but the waitress when I was ready to order. I was content and remembered why I love Paris so much. I fell in love again. And I’ve been feeling whimsical ever since.