The French Saga: Looking Back

It always happens this way. You get there, you stress, you want to go home. And then, before you know it, the dream is gone. You're going home and there's a million billion things you haven't done yet.

But you still want to go home.

I just reread my first Paris post, and I feel as though there is a world between yesterday, when I got here, and tomorrow, when I'm going home.

So let me take, remake, reiterate and reform.

It is spring now and Paris in the spring is everything it ought to be. And more. And less.

I am proud and I am disappointed. I did what I came to do but I didn't, proved to myself I could but left some lacking. Sort of.

I'm so confused.

I want to go home but now with it looming over me I realise that the me in Paris I had in my mind four months ago and the me in Paris I am now is different. My fault for expecting, for planning, for worrying. You'd think I'd learn.

Well I have, sort of. Yeah. I've learned. I've changed. I've grown, if you like.

There's a long way left to go, but I'm getting there.

And when I come back to Paris, one day, some day, it's gonna be a whole new gig.

Rock on.