Still having trouble finding words for the first week in Paris, which is due in equal parts to my mental language inequities/fallacies as well as its overpowering beauty and immaculate presence.  Undoubtably, the city is unlike anything I've ever seen in my life; everything, and I truly do mean everything, even the ugly things, are some of the most aesthetically pleasing things I've ever seen. And perhaps it's this starry gaze that will soon be my enemy (or perhaps I'm just paranoid due to the "health and safety" orientation I sat through with the group yesterday).  After a week that included walking around for 5 hours until there emerged blisters on 6 out of 10 toes, becoming hopelessly lost more times than either me or my precious San Diego native, Coachella/carb/boyfriend-loving roommate are entirely comfortable with, consuming bottles of wine under the radar of student housing, and finding out that maybe I'm in way over my head, I think I'm ready.  Every student on the program has been sweeter than Florida honey, genuinely desiring to converse and learn and grow and not necessarily just post Instagram pictures, although a lot of that has been done too. And although it sure feels a lot like a bunch of idiot Americans drinking beer and bumping into each other without any direction, that feels good enough for right now. 

H