Ok. So it’s obvious I’m not winning the Blogger of the Year Award anytime soon. Well, that is unless Blogger of the Year Award goes to the blogger “most likely to fall off the face of the Earth,” or “most likely to not do anything they said they were gonna do.”
I’m gonna blame this hiatus, temporary or otherwise, on the stress of being 22 in Paris. Okay, you in the back – stop laughing. Yep, I said it. Stressed. At 22. In Paris, France. My experience there was incredible. Irreplaceable. Indescribable. And any other word starting with I you could imagine. Truthfully – it was the best, worst, hardest, easiest thing I’ve ever done.
I’m home sweet home now, back in the safety of my family, enjoying my cozy room which was beautifully rearranged and jazzed up in my absence, and much to my surprise, life still went on without me 
My last month in France was…amazing. My parents came to visit for a week…and ended up staying an extra eight days thanks to Mount Eoiuaslkdjf;asidugfo;aelhrngkajsdnfkasjdf in Iceland which began to erupt the day before their departure, crippling travel in Europe for a solid week. Not to mention (in true French fashion) trains to and from Paris were on strike at the exact same time, making travel unreliable and any possibility of getting out of Paris nearly impossible.
I bid my parents an unexpected adieu in Paris, and headed to the south of France for a week during the third week of April, and holy moly, might I say I’m in love? I wish I had spent more time on the coast, as every second of my country side and Mediterranean adventure was blissful. We spent a night on a winery in Les Arcs, sipping the literal fruits of the land, as well as cooking a Provencal feast with the olive oil that was “fait a la maison.”
My heart was bursting out of my chest during every moment at the winery, and I was reluctant to leave the next day, although the train ride through Canne, and on to Nice served as an instant mood booster. 
Nice was…nice! Well, if that’s not the understatement of the year than I don’t know what is. The food scene wasn’t to impressive, but the views. Oh my, the views. I do believe I left Nice with bruises on my arm, leftover from the 93284 times I had to pinch my self in disbelief of what was before my eyes.
I tried my hand at gambling too – a little trip to Monaco, anyone? Okay, so I didn’t win big. In fact, I lost a euro checking my camera at the door. But heck, I went to Monaco!
My last few days in Paris were spent being lazy…half dreading ever leaving, and half counting down the seconds until I’d be whisked away to the airport to start my 20 hours of travel back home.
I said my see you later’s to my humble 7th arrondissement neighborhood,
and hugged my strangers turned best friends goodbye as the shoved chocolates and the sweetest letters I’ve ever read into my trembling hands on the day I left.
I’ve been home for about two weeks now, and everything is eerily the same. My friends have seamlessly introduced me back into their lives, as if I had never left. My yoga practice, which I fretted over way too much while in Paris (hindsight: always 20/20), feels mildly uncomfortable thanks to the tightness lingering in my hips from many afternoon walks through Montparnasse and Jardin du Luxembourg, but yet still feels comforting – like coming home for real. Coming home to myself.
My experience is slowly starting to sink in as I settle into my daily life again. Sometimes I’ll be doing some mundane task like washing the dishes, or taking my dog for a walk, or driving to school and have this vivid flashback of a Parisian afternoon. Was I really there? Was that just 2 weeks ago? Did that really happen?
I’m taking my last two finance classes this Summer and will be graduating in August. For now, I’m mooching off of living with Mom and Dad until I really have to put my big girl panties on and venture out into the “real world.” Whatever that means.
But until then…I’m here. Just playin’. And writin’. And takin’ pictures. Talk to you soon 
