Like many other people that have traveled around the world, I too find myself having the need to share my experiences on the internet. Seeing that this is my second time living abroad, I’m crossing my fingers that I can use this second experience of traveling (and of course blogging) as a lesson of things to and not to do. Here’s a brief overview of my life so far in France:

  My friends from study abroad and I decided to start off our new adventures in the place where it had all begun: Paris. Thanks to our adventures studying abroad, diving back into the French culture and customs wasn’t hard. In fact, throughout out week long trip in Paris we kept on mentioning how easy it was to become back into the rut of things. Snuggled up in our Airbnb in Belleville, we used our time in Paris to not only adjust to the time zone (which mind you was a struggle to say the least) but gave us the opportunity for us to realize that we have indeed returned home to France. For months we had been scheming of ideas of ways to move back to France, and we were finally back. Days were spent on our favorite parks, bars, and restaurants brushing up on our French and laughing about memories from the past.

  

As the week progressed, we realized that our vacation in Paris was coming to a close. My old Parisian-loving self would have dreaded the idea of living somewhere in France other than the city of lights. In my past study-abroad-life I had the notion that nothing could possibly live up to the glory of Paris. The only way to know is to actually distance myself away from the city I have grown to love, and force myself to explore new towns.  At the end of the week in Paris things had finally come in place for me. My primary school had contacted me offering an apartment (which I gladly accepted) and before I knew it I was off for Montpellier.

My first day in Montpellier was a blur. Thanks to the germs of the Paris metro, I had fallen ill. As I walked with my 53 pound suitcase up the stairs of my apartment towards the school, all I could think about was how great it would be to go to bed. Unfortunately this wouldn’t be the case, seeing that I had a pile of French paperwork waiting for me at the school to fill out and what seemed to be twenty smiling staff members wanting to introduce themselves to me.  As I braved the cafeteria food, wondering if I had chosen chicken or fish to eat, it finally hit me that I was going to be a teacher. Well, an assistant really, but hey we can be a tad dramatic, right? For the first time I wasn’t sitting in the cafeteria with the students but in the teacher’s lounge- an area that I had always wondered about as a child. It seemed glamourous, maybe in part because it was in France in the Mediterranean coast or maybe because I was high on French cold medicine, regardless of the case it had happened: I had finally become a teacher (in France!).