November 1, 2019
4am. I awoke today, All Saint’s Day, to voices singing, a choir belting out Amazing Grace, their sounds carried by the wind from the church down the street. I’m living in Eastern Paris, near La Place d’Edith Piaf, à la “Campagne à Paris”.
It has been a week since I've returned from San Francisco, a place I lived for 27 years. I realize this is now my home and California is a place of the past. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision that led me here, although I believe deep in my soul that it was meant to be long ago.
Sadie (Pooey), my 10 year old GoldenDoodle is here with me, she's adjusting too. She loves the food, and any ailment she had while living in SF is gone. If it were not for her, I would feel completely lost at times; every day I am grateful she’s here to ground me.
New challenges await daily, as my University and tourist French become more localized, as I make a complete fool out of myself, ego put aside, every day.
So as I speak of the trials and tribulations of my days, leasing an apartment, trying to get a “permanent” (vs tourist) cell phone, heading out to Bobigny to pick up an Amazon package (all of this for an ink cartridge?), getting a Navigo card, the list goes on, I also know I’m in my flow.
Despite the challenges, I feel like I’m living in a dream. Here’s what I’ve noticed so far….Read More