It’s also been a weird one. The first few hours saw me stressed out beyond belief, nervous about being back in Paris, and tired after the horrible horrible Eurostar. Today saw me walk miles and miles, tracing all my old routes and visiting all my favourite places. I met up with friends that I haven’t seen in 6 months and it was like I had never left.
That’s the weird bit. It was like I’d never left.
At around 2pm I said bye to mum for a few hours and walked the 40 minute walk to where I was meeting my friends. Most of those 40 minutes I spent just looking around and enjoying being back. For about 15 mins, however, I forgot that I didn’t live here anymore. I thought about whether or not the supermarket would be open when I got home because I had nothing for dinner. I thought about whether or not I had school tomorrow. When I suddenly realised that I’m actually staying in the hotel opposite my flat, it all fell back down to earth with a huge bump.
My friends were very sympathetic/found it absolutely hilarious. They’re the best.
I find the whole thing weird, though. It’s like the last six months didn’t exist. The whole term at Durham and the whole summer just didn’t happen. Here I am, back in Paris, having a nice time.
A year ago, if you’d said that this would happen, I’d have laughed at you. I’d have laughed right in your face. I missed home and wasn’t too keen on Paris, and my French was hardly improving.
Now I don’t want to ever go home. Ever. I just don’t want to go home. I want to live here again.
But life isn’t like that, and that’s okay. Maybe I’ll get the opportunity again one day.