2 months.

It has been two months now in this new, wonderful, crazy, challenging, beautiful life. Two months, that is 61 days, almost 1/5 of my exchange, it’s 1/6 of a year, and the amount of time it takes for a baby to learn to lift its head.

About a week ago I lifted my head. I looked around, up and down the cobble stone streets, the Seine in the distance, a slight breeze, a nearly cloudless sky, a woman riding a bike with 2 baguettes in the basket, a man walking his dog. I could hear the wooosh of the metro passing a few streets over, and I could see the top of a cathedral that is hundreds of years old, the contrast between the new and the old made me smile. That’s Europe. That’s my new life.

Two months in, and the sight of an ancient cathedral no longer sends me reaching for my camera. Now I look at the tourists, and smile to myself. I no longer thinks its weird to open the fridge and see at least 5 different cheeses. The French milk that I at first hated, is now my favourite drink.

School here is a different world entirely. Class begins with a lovely jingle, not the normal grating bell I’m used to. The students begin writing in beautiful cursive with their re-loadable fountain pens on ruler straight lines, while I sit with a dictionary and a book of scribbled notes. At the end of class everyone dons their 200Euro jackets and heads outside for a smoking break. This includes the teachers.

Although school here is a different world entirely, high school is high school whether it’s a cote de la cathedral, or surrounded by fields. Being an exchange students kind of excuses me from the social chain, we are items of interest with no social status. And that is just fine with me.

In these two months I have settled in, wiggled around and found my niche. I walk down the streets and feel like I am home, I don’t feel like the foreigner on the metro anymore, and I can order a subway sandwich in French. I can find my way from one end of town to another, I know where to buy the cheapest chocolate, and where to find the best Tarte aux citron. I can make rattaoullie (but I can’t spell it) and I can make crepes like there is no tomorrow. I have learned how to cut bread, and how to cut cheese (not in the farting sense). I have changed. It’s nothing drastic, not one specific thing, its like growing, you don’t realize it when your doing it until one day your pants are too short. I have picked up French mannerisms and ways of thinking. The sense of humor which once seemed bizarre to me, I now find extremely funny. I have realized that people aren’t “cold” in France, there is no “lack of warmth” here. They simply communicate differently.

I have lifted my head, and I like what I see. I am living my life to the fullest, and I am loving it.

Thanks you to all that made this a possibility.