Bye, ‘merica! Hello, Paris!

I don’t think I’ve mentioned I’m heading to Paris tonight.

I’ve never been. Or not outside the train station at least. When I was studying in Sweden, I bounced all over Europe and saw a lot of places, but I was 21 and cheap AF. I ate bread and moldy cheese in my backpack for every meal and I slept mostly in a tent all over wooded properties and hostel backyards around Ireland and Scandinavia. Hostels in big expensive cities weren’t an option for me.

I never left the Paris train station, despite being there on a long ass layover once, because I didn’t want to ruin the magic of seeing this legendary city for the first time. I avoided a lot of places I have always wanted to go for the same reason-The Netherlands, France, Germany (except one day layover) but promised myself I’d come back one day when I could actually afford it.

Well, I still can’t. Not really. And despite being freak’n FORTY, I’m still an eat-moldy-cheese-in-my-backpack kinda gal. the climber dirtbag mentality never quite leaves you. But I do have a little bit bigger of a budget this time and I might even eat at a few restaurants. I don’t have a tent and I won’t sleep on a lumpy bunkbed in a hostel room with 73 other people either. I’m staying in an apartment (for free!) and have a French man to show me around and explore with.

My trip home was awesome, but it was no vacation. It was hard. Hospitals are hard. Having jet lag twice in one week is hard. Watching someone deal with the death of a parent is hard. Not knowing if I’ll see my dad again or if he’ll remember me when I do is hard.

But I’m lucky I had a stepmom willing to fly me home and a family and friends who reminded me of what I can always come back to. I’m super lucky and grateful for all of this, even the hard shit. Cuz it’s easier than most peoples hard shit.

But now it’s time for coffee, cafes, the Eiffel Tower, and some Brown-chicken-brown-cow if you know what I mean. Vive la France!

Bye, America!

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