The first week in Paris is always the hardest. Well, for me at least.
The packing, goodbyes, flying, getting to the city, lugging bags through the city, living in a hostel for an undisclosed amount of time, getting in fights at the bank (a true test of French fluency), and unpacking (finally) are enough to question why exactly you chose to put yourself through all of this. Again. And again.
(The answer to this question is, of course, the croissants, picnics, quality of life, thankfully being reminded that yes you do still remember how to speak French, the 3€ wine and even the weird crab sticks at the Franprix.)
I was pretty quiet here over the summer, mostly because I was busy working three jobs and trying to see as many people as possible. But now I’m back, with a new French view that needs to be reported on and new markets to explore. À très, très bientôt. ♦