Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Getting ready

Ok, the big move is in a week.  Exactly a week from today, I'm going to be on a big plane making my way across the pond to that country named France.  It's weird how I always feel like a little kid when I say that I'm going to France to spend 9 months.  It's like asking a child where they want to go in the world. 

"I want to go to France, mommy."
"Sure darling, you can go anywhere you want."

But now, I'm doing it.  It's a four-year dream that will finally be achieved.  And how do I feel about it?  Oh God, what was I thinking? I know, I know, I majored in French; this shouldn't be as bad as I think it's going to be.  Oh God, I should have studied more.  

Yep, I'm freaked out, excited, nervous, anxious, worried, happy, ecstatic, and a million other things that would make this list really long.  But I suppose c'est la vie.  There are a million questions that need to be asked and answered and I have no idea where to start.  I need my visa to be ready SOON.  I don't know what's taking so long.  I don't know if I should just go ahead and close my Wachovia account and travel (with every penny that is to my name!) and just open an account with a French bank.  I don't know.  It's scary and worrisome, but somehow I know I'll be just fine.  Everyone has rough patches, and everyone can get through them.

On a happy note, I have found some very promising housing ideas.  Rent will only be 300 euros.  So YAY!  I have a job; I will be an English teaching assistant in a school, lycee Auguste Renoir, in Limoges, France.  I have a roommate who is in the same program as me, which is exciting, and we have sworn to only speak French in the house.  So on the whole, a lot of things are going pretty well.

But packing may be another issue.  So many shoes I have to leave behind.  It makes me sad to think of leaving my beautiful Chinese Laundry high heels that go so well with that yellow dress of mine.  Or leaving the red hot BCBG peep-toe heels that flatter any black dress. 

Right now, my mantra is to just go with it.  Whatever clothes I take will be the clothes I wear.  My lack of shoes will just have to... well, I could always get more shoes there.  And everything will work out because it has to, right?

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