Home.

Well, that was crazy. In one of the biggest surprises in the history of Paris, the cable company actually disconnected my phone and internet service early.

Which is a bummer for many reasons, but mostly because I had to spend a good 2 days holed up in the bathroom with le bébé as the movers packed everything up around us. And sitting in a bathroom with a squirmy infant for hours on end without the internet to distract you is kind of like chinese water torture.

Of course it also meant that I was completely unable to write the beautiful farewell post I had planned. And now, after living out of suitcases for couple days, then hauling all 8 of those suitcases to the airport, boarding a plane with a 4 month old and 3 carry-ons and then somehow surviving a 10 hour flight (complete with unscheduled stop in Bangor, ME), I’m home.

Not exactly the long lingering au revoir I imagined. But perhaps it was for the best. No time to get sappy and nostalgic, no time to think about all the things I’m going to miss. Like:

• pain au raisins
• Coca-Cola in glass bottles
• walking in Parc Monceau
• the little old ladies at the grocery store who stopped to kiss le bébé
• my Saturday market
• foie gras showing up in every entrée
• the fact that entrées are actually appetizers
• my chance to visit the sewer museum (sorry Madhu!)
• butter. ohhhhhh the butter!

Yep, it’s a good thing that I’m going to be too busy reacquainting myself with the motherland and catching up with loved ones to pine away for la belle France. And if I do find myself daydreaming about champagne straight from the source, I will just have to remember all the things I’m not going to miss. Like:

• dog poo
• little old ladies at the grocery store telling me what to buy
• crappy TV
• endless forms and rules and regulations for everything
• cold dark rainy months
• super pasteurized non refrigerated milk
• the lack of egg and cheese breakfast sandwiches
• the annoying dogs barking upstairs

Yeah, keep thinking about those yappy dogs and their stinky poo all over the sidewalk. And remember how those glass bottled Cokes cost 10 euros. Totally awful. I can’t believe I survived 2 whole years there!

(sniffle)

Who am I kidding. I miss it already. And no matter how much I love being home, I can’t shake the feeling that home is also over there across the pond. Stay tuned for hilarious tales of reverse culture shock.