Changes

I knew that moving to France would be a big adjustment.  Obviously there is a new language to experience; political views, the food and new social norms.  I didn't think of all the small adjustments though.

I can't tell you how many times Bill and I have asked each other what day it is!  We don't get a daily paper (yet).  Programming on French TV seems to have no schedule at all...back home if House was on at 8pm, you knew it was Monday!  (Sidenote:  House is on French TV, earlier seasons of course and is entitled Dr. House.  Sadly not in the orignal version  (VO) nor with subtitles.  Hugh Laurie's House is definitely lost in translation.)  We don't have a radio...no Loren and Wally in the morning! Waking up at the crack of dawn everyday doesn't help either...dawn cracks around 8:40 am!  So I don't know what day it is and I am late to boot. 

Do you realize how much we take for granted in our lives?  I didn't until they were gone or replaced by other things.  I miss the smell of my laundry detergent!  I can't find prepared chicken broth or stock.  It is s good thing I had some peanut butter shipped over for Reilly with our belongings.  The French think Jif is disgusting! I miss my beautiful birds out by the feeders...here I have pigeons and strangely enough, sea gulls, oddly amusing in their own right. I miss drying clothes on my drying racks and having a deck.  I didn't realize until arriving here that I went out onto my deck just about every day.  Whether it was to have a cup of tea and watch the birds or just to take a breather, literally, opening the door and taking in a deep breath.  Reilly always enjoyed that too.

I have to learn a whole new series of emergency numbers.  No 911 here...if you want the police dial 17, the paramedics 15, fire department 18...and who the heck is 16 or why did they choose to skip it? 

I miss grass.  I miss the countryside.  I have always been a suburban or rural route girl.  Now, I am no country bumpkin.  I have traveled quite a bit and explored many a major metropolis at home and abroad.  But there is something different about visiting a city and city living.  Your pace changes.  Your timing changes.  Your 'radar' becomes attuned to new priorities like watching where you step. I have noticed over the past few days that when I take Reilly for her walks, I am moving way faster than before...and I try to slow down.  The pace of Paris doesn't always appreciate that adjustment on my part...but tough.  I still want to see the city, not get swept up the sea of humanity.  And Parisians have a whole different concept of personal space.  All space around them is theirs and watch out if you are walking in the opposite direction...they will not veer from their course, no polite "excuse me."..just plow right into you because you entered their space..even if you are just standing there.  Pardonnez-moi and je suis desolee (I am sorry) are regular parts of my French lexicon; I say them without hesistation or shame.  Mom would be proud.

I miss country noise.  Birds chirping, acorns cracking down on the roof and the sound of the wind in the trees.  The sound of neighborhood dogs barking...oh believe me dogs bark in Paris, but there is something a bit more urgent in their barks, whereas Penny, my Airedale  country neighbor, would howl and yawn a howdy-do, the dogs we've encountered have a harsh yap, kinda like they are saying, "Who are you stranger.?"  I guess as we meet more city dogs, I'll learn to understand and appreciate their language too.

I have noticed too that my 'ear' is changing.  I am understanding more French conversation.  I think some of it is intuition, but I am becoming accustomed to the dialect, cadence and emotion.  It is funny...when I am walking about and I hear English being spoken, it sounds foreign for a moment.

City noise...it is not annoying...except for the zingy whine of the ever racing motorobikes...that sound for some reason runs right up my spine to a spot behind my left eye!  But city noise is like a new symphony.  With each passing day, I hear a new part, supporting the others, creating the whole.  Today, it is dark and foggy, so the bass line is predominate.  Busses running their routes drone to and from the busstop outside our building.  Yesterday it was the sound of sopranos and tenors...children on a field trip lined up outside the musuem, laughing and shouting over each other.  And then there are the brasses...the horns of cars and trucks, the whoosh of brakes from busses and trucks.  Paris's unfinished symphony.  I am sure as the seasons change and my comfort level grows, new harmonies and melodies will emerge.

I suppose in three years, I'll miss city sounds.