Folks, I have officially been in Paris for a month. This is a time to remember, to celebrate, to set down on the page (virtual in this case): a true introvert has survived in a big city for four weeks! I'm imagining a Nice-style parade going on right now, complete with carnaval music and confetti. Except minus the carnaval and the confetti.
Apart from my first test and my first quiz, this week has been unremarkable. I've learned a lot about myself in the process, however, and I know that there are a few lingering questions that I still need to work out, so here we go.
How am I going to be content with living in suburbia after this? When I'm in a moment of weakness, as I often am in the winter months, I'd say I would get along the same as I always have. But that's not going to cut it anymore. The truth is that I've barely done anything in my life that was remarkable while I was at home. It's sad, but that's the truth. The only remarkable things I ever do at home happen in the realm of the imaginary, and I rarely like the things that come out of that state of mind longer than a few months after the mood has past.
My mind is flying in a million directions trying to synthesize what it would be like if I lived like I do here while I was at home. Let me explain, because I feel like this is more for my own benefit than yours.
As an introvert, I generally keep close to what is familiar. I go to classes at school and socialize with the people I live with, and beyond that I don't really stretch my social muscles. If someone says, "So and so is hosting a party. You should come." I generally just smile and make up a ridiculously exaggerated half-truth to get me out of going, whether I like the people or not.
Contrast that with Paris: I take the metro every day by myself. I order meals, go to class and socialize with my hosts all in French. I often walk in the neighborhood, and I do things with a purpose when I am in public. Okay, so not that much different so far. I'm getting there!
What I never do at home is take the time to look around when I'm in public. I don't actually walk around where I live, but if I did, I might be more inclined to care what my neighbors were doing, instead of fearing a conversation with them. At least they would be speaking to me in English.
That's just the tip of the iceberg. What if even in Paris I got into the thick of cultural engagement, and actually went out of my way to understand what makes someone French? That's how I would be able to look at the suburbs differently. After the week I've had, I think that's what I'm most looking forward to enjoying when I go back home. Of course it will be difficult to re-enter the Deep South after living in such a liberal metropolis for a few months, but the difficulty will be inside of me. I won't be able to react to other people in fear, because they share my culture - something I never knew to value before I came to France.
I'm writing this so I don't forget when I go home to remember to be thankful for America, warts and all.
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