i’ve been avoiding blogging, partly out of plain laziness but mostly because i knew however optimistic i started it, it would eventually devolve into an enumeration of my various problems that would cause my parents undue stress.
but in the interest of future me, you know, the one who will Look Back On This And Laugh, i’ve decided to stick to the promise i made to myself and blog about my experiences. even if they’re bad and just make me depressed to expound upon them. so here we go.
i suppose my most immediate problem is having no apartment. it’s funny how much i took for granted before coming here: a comfortable bed with sheets, and a comforter that wasn’t damp, having access to electrical outlets, bathroom floors that don’t flood, WIFI, WIFI, WIFI, being able to sleep in past 11…a small sample. i appreciate the hostel for being my home for the past week or so, but at the same time, i…loathe it with every fiber of my being…?
my diet has never been worse. food in france is disgustingly expensive, especially vegetables…not that i have anyplace in which i can cook them. and when wifi is only in subways and mcdonald’s…well…at least i’m walking everywhere all the time. i’ll say that. going up and down the narrow stairs of the hostel, too–my legs have never been in better shape.
every muscle in my body aches.
i am always. always. exhausted. always.
it’s both hilarious and alarming, how quickly i vacillate back and forth between all-consuming panic and optimism. i’ll be walking down the street, no doubt inflicting some kind of lasting damage on one my shoulders with my insanely heavy computer bag, searching for a cafe with wifi, hearing french flying back and forth all around me, thinking about my crazy heavy suitcase in the drippy basement of the hostel, my crazy heavy backpack in whatever room i happen to be staying in that night, about how difficult it will be to transport those to my place that i’ll get eventually, but will i ever get a place? what was i doing in france, anyway? why did i think this was a good idea? as for my job–i have no idea what i’m doing or when i’m doing it. and my first day babysitting nearly killed me! and it’s cold and three of the toes on my right foot have been numb since i got to france and I AM HOMELESS!!! thoughts like this just pile up until i feel like i just want to curl up in a corner in the fetal position and say “forget this. it’s too much.”
then, i just take a few deep breaths and keep walking.
it’s all i can do, right?
i’m going to see an apartment in about two hours, and another one tomorrow. i also have my first meeting at my school tomorrow. oh yeah, and tomorrow is my last day at the hostel. so i’ve been sending messages like crazy on couchsurfing.com, trying to find a place in paris to crash for a couple days while i continue the housing search. word on the street is that paris is one of the hardest cities to find a couch in, especially last-minute. so, as with everything else here, it seems i’m in need of a miracle.
you move across the world. you meet amazing people you already wish you didn’t have to say goodbye to. you laugh so hard you cry, you cry until you start laughing. you get impossibly lost, for hours, nearly every single day. you struggle to understand and communicate in a different language, which seems, i suppose, like a fairly obvious event for one living in a foreign country, but it’s completely overwhelming to realize that you can no longer open your mouth and just speak freely have people understand you. you want to scream and tear your hair out seventeen times a day. you surprise yourself. you disappoint yourself. you berate yourself. you applaud yourself. you’re still you, no matter how many miles you’ve flown, no matter how many journal entries you’ve scribbled teeming with notions of evolving, of change. you’re here. wherever the hell that is.