One Year in Paris

 We have now lived in Paris for a little more than a year.

We recently came back after visiting America for the summer and by the end we were ready to go "home." Home...meaning Paris. Living in another country is a wild experience. You find yourself showing up in different ways as you adapt and change to a new environment. (Mostly because you have no choice.) 

 I feel the same as the California Catherine, but some things have changed. For instance, I have definitely added more things to my wardrobe (hello, trench coats and winter boots). 

I have learned that I can only control a small portion of things in my little world and have realized that Paris doesn't care if you missed the bus or how it starts to rain ONLY on days where you forget your umbrella 😜

Besides feeling more adaptable I feel like a more refined Catherine is showing up. It's probably all the gold in my apartment or the original European paneling on my walls, but whatever it is, it's a vibe. We definitely don't live in a "farmhouse" now and the sun doesn't shine like it did in California. But, I love the excitement of the city. More than I thought I would. 

I can count on Paris to never give me the same day twice. I love that. Living in Suburbia felt like I was in the Truman show sometimes. I love that about suburban life! The familiarity and comfort and convenience of it all. I respect it and admire it. I still love my America and look forward to moving back after this adventure. City life throws you some opinionated taxi drivers, sweet old men talking to you at the bus stop (I understood nothing, but appreciated him trying), constant people watching, and charming alley ways to discover. 

                         

When we first moved here I told Peyton that I would run TWO errands and be EXHAUSTED by them. Given, I couldn't read the labels on the groceries, or convert lbs to kilos (I'm THAT girl), the buildings were tall, old and ornate and the honking from cars everywhere over-stimulated me. I wasn't used to living in a place where all the buildings were high, instead of easily being able to see the sky and the horizon. It was something that I had to get used to. Have I mentioned I have slight claustrophobia? 

Instead of fast food chain after fast food chain I had to engulf myself in my surroundings trying to figure out where I was. My head was always in the clouds as I looked at  store signs, trying to decipher what the shop was. Coiffure was hair-styling salon, Fleurs was a flower shop and Monoprix is the equivalent to a French Target which translates from French to "my supermarket" in English. The more you know!

Don't worry, I never messed up the stores boulangerie and fromagerie. Because, this girl is a carb girl through and through. This is actually how I learned a lot of my French. Seeing a sign and then googling it. It became a game to see how much I could translate and put together before I turned to my trusty app. Must admit. I wasn't that great at it. 

A year later I have become better at not getting overwhelmed at the cars honking, it's become background noise. I still can't convert measurements using the metric system. This is where the gift of an engineer husband just keeps giving and I usually just ask Peyton to do it if he is around. He loves that. The good news is I now can convert Celsius to Fahrenheit. One small step for mankind. 

So there it is, our first year in Paris included lots of adaption and flexibility in our lifestyle, becoming croissant connoisseurs, embracing the public transportation system (which is very easy to navigate) and basically just living this crazy, beautiful, loud, exciting, second-hand smoke, and patisserie filled life. 

Switching gears, I would like to close this blog post with a tribute to the Parisians. I know you get a bad rapport with the Americans. People may say that you are rude, annoyed and unenjoyable people. From things that I had heard about Parisians before moving here, I expected that people would be treating me like a feral animal. 

I'd like to take this moment and give my opinion on this subject. (As if this blog isn't already a whole slew of my opinions). I have met one delivery person who was frustrated at my lack of French--but to be fair, I would be frustrated too if I was carrying an Ikea dresser up the stairwell and this random girl didn't know how to say what apartment floor was hers. Am I going to floor 2 or 7, lady?! 

Daily, I meet some women who think my children are too loud on the subway. But to be fair, my kids are loud and obnoxious and I think they should be quiet, too. What I have been most surprised about is that in a whole year of living here I have only been rudely spoken to by ONE woman. And to be fair, she worked at the post office, so I would be annoyed too. 

The people here are good. I have truly fond of the men I get my fresh produce from. They ask about the kids, they sneak free fruit in my bags, help me find my next destination and they love helping me with my French ;) They are good people. 

The Parisian women that I have tea with once a month with some American friends. A sisterhood of talking differences and similarities of cultures. We drink tea and ask each other vulnerable, no judgment questions, whether it is about the school system in France or parenting in America. It's a connection. Parisian friends I know that I needed. They are good people. 

The waiter that turned down all of the people who were coming up to the front of the restaurant because they didn't have a reservation. She turned and then saw two tired parents and two of the children who were begging to be fed at 9pm. She then went and asked his manager for an exception and cleaned a table for us in one quick motion. She is a good person. 

I am not perfect and there have been many times where I have complained to my friends about a cultural difference or an inconvenience that happened here with customer service. Also, I know I must have a different view of the city and its people since I live here and see them more frequently and not in as many tourist areas, but I think it is important to not lump them all together as being ornery. Would you want someone to meet one mean American and consider all of us mean? Grace. It's a beautiful thing. So all that to say, "Vive La France."