and so it begins..

Why Paris?

After over a year of self-reflection, the answer to a certain ubiquitous question has become clear...

I used to blame my ancestral roots. I used to blame a burning desire to master a language that has always struck me as being the most musical and poetic. I used to blame a certain lovable monster named Muzzy (although not one person to this date has a fathom of a clue as to what I am talking about). My most recent justification is that it was the French culture that enticed me to travel to the land of frog legs and foie gras.

The latter explanation is the closest to the truth, although I do not eat meat and therefore have not been able or willing to try frog, among various other French delicacies. Not to mention that I did not know anything about French culture before setting foot in Aéroport Paris-Charles de Gaulle.. I would like to thank Ellington High school for my ignorance; growing up in a land of cows and corn tends to be isolating at best. 

But really, why Paris? 

If you want to know the real answer: I chose to leave Connecticut because I had become entrenched in a fleeting and tragically one-sided love affair. I was coerced by both a burning lust and a certain ennui with my current practices of festival-going and whiskey-guzzling to pack up my bags and set up camp at in the land of cheese.

Who's the lucky guy? He stole my heart with his enchanting tale of Jean Valjean, Cosette, and his impressionable way of painting Paris to be a center for passion and eros.. Paris as a land of philosophy, revolution and desire. A tragic city like no other: Fluctuat nec mergitur.

Isn't he just dreamy?

I still become lustfully reminiscent at the thought of my month spent in Loveland, sitting on my terrace with my feline companion, tearing hungrily through Les Misérables, English translation of course. Shortly thereafter, I applied to University of Connecticut in Paris for the Semester, was accepted, and after a memorable bon voyage gala, many Phish shows, and five trips to the French embassy in NYC, I found myself seated next to two gorgeous French girls on a plane headed over the Atlantic Ocean.

And so, here I am and here I stay, that is until my visa expires and I am forced to battle the infamous French Administration system and demand a new one.

Over the last year and three months I have discovered a culture and a way of living that has, most importantly:

1. Inspired me to take up an instrument

2. Shown me how to speak a language with a colloquial slang that resembles that of Pig latin

3. Brought to light the utmost importance of the art of making vinaigrette

Not to mention that I found myself a lovely Parisian boyfriend who cooks, smokes and enjoys cheese with the most offensive odor that has reached my nostrils thus far.

After being cajoled by the father of the family I work for -slash- live with, I've decided to record my misadventures in my quest to become a full-fledged ex pat. In addition to serving as a form of immense entertainment, I hope that I can provide advice to anyone that finds that their life is taking a turn in the same direction as mine.

bisous!