I’ve always felt like I could relate to Buddy the Elf.
My idea of a perfect date…
But in Paris, I’ve really empathized with this guy more than ever!
À la Sorbonne, where the other students are all a. 17 years old, and b. Parisian, i.e. 1/2 my size.
When I know I’m speaking at least 2 octaves above everyone else.
When they expect me to drink my coffee black everyday.
When I smile in public (a serious faux pas around here)
When they don’t quite get my American customs at family dinner
When mysterious liquids drip on me in the metro…
When I run into my host sisters on the street and they pretend not to see me…
When I have no idea how European devices work and they’re looking at me like I’m a cotton-headed ninny-muggins
When I finally find a cab on a Saturday night
When I break everything in my host family’s house…
When I’m boarding the night bus at the Bastille
When I’m speaking what I’m sure is perfect French and no one understands me
And, last of all…
When I go home in 2 weeks 😦
this is divine.