Report from the First Trimester

It pains me to think that our time in Paris is already one-third gone.  It seems to have flown by, even though (as the highly-educated, classy, consistent readers of this blog know) we have done a lot.  Here are a few reflections on the surprises so far.

The most pleasant surprise is an entirely personal one.  Before this trip, I had more than a little fear that the great amount of time that we would all be spending together would lead to unpleasant consequences.  But the exact opposite has occurred.  We've had some rough spots, but in general this trip seems to have made us all much, much closer.  That is certainly the case for me and Suzie; we were remarking the other day that despite all the time we've been together, and despite all the stresses that the travel and the move have brought to us, we have not even come close to having what I would call a real fight.  To the contrary, we have immensely enjoyed spending so much time together.  It has made us closer than ever.  It's also the case for the kids.  While they've put on a few outstanding displays of teenage fit-throwing, and while they still have the tendency to fight all the time (and although my youngest son Andrew has suddenly become more volatile and ill-tempered, thanks to the surge of testosterone running through his teenaged system), the boys have on the whole become much closer on this trip.  I think that's because they have had to rely on each other more, and because they have to rely on each other more, they appreciate each other more than before.  In particular, my oldest son Will has matured a lot on this trip; at least sometimes he seems to understand now in a way he didn't before how his actions impact the rest of his family.  I'm very, very proud of the way they have both stepped it up.

Another surprise is how much more freedom the boys have here in Paris, due mostly to the fantastic public transit system.  At home they are dependant on us if they want to go anywhere; here, they can go out anytime and go anywhere they want on their own.  They absolutely love that freedom, and we do, too, as it is helping to make them more mature and more self-reliant.

A related surprise is how much I enjoy not having to drive.  As I posted earlier, our carbon footprint here in Paris has shrunk to a small, small fraction of our carbon footprint in Sonoma County -- no cars, no dryer, no air conditioning, a small space to light and heat.  Everything is a lot more efficient in a way.  Suzie has remarked that since we have to carry all our groceries back to the apartment by hand, we only buy for the upcoming few days, and end up throwing away a lot less food.

An unpleasant surprise (which really isn't a surprise when I think about it) is how much we miss nature.  Sometimes we find ourselves having a deep, deep need for green that drives us to the park.  Related to this is how much we miss the quiet.  On our busy, busy street the traffic noise is incessant, even at night.  Now that it has gotten a little cooler, we've taken to keeping the main windows closed during the day to try to cut down on the constant din.  That helps, but we sure enjoyed being in Aigrefeuille, where (as in our home in Sonoma County) the days and nights were so very quiet and peaceful.

Having been in France previously for extended periods, we haven't had any big surprises with respect to the country or its people, other, perhaps, than our continued amazement at how friendly and helpful everyone has been (our downstairs neighbor notwithstanding -- which reminds me, I never did exactly tell that whole story, did I ... that leaves two posts I have hanging!).  We've also been amazed (perhaps me more than Suzie) at how well people we meet seem to like us.  Even in our language classes, students who are much younger than either Suzie or I make friends with us frequently and easily.  Suzie and I both have made several friends with whom we continue to correspond even though they are no longer in class with us.

My final surprise is a bit of a sad one, in a way.  Meaning no offense to any of my readers in the Western Hemisphere, I have not missed "home" at all.  If I miss anything at all, it is Elsie, our dog, but then only if  if I see a spaniel on the street.  I don't think this has anything to do with how much I appreciate my life in Sonoma County, or the people I share it with there (whom I love), as much has it has to do with two other things.  First, every day here is so full that it is hard to imagine that anything could be missing from it.  Every day seems magical, every street, alley, building, sunset, every new person I meet, every phrase I speak in French, every e-mail I send to my new acquaintances, every trip to the grocery store.  Second, there is something about Paris, and about France, that makes me feel completely at home and in-place.  Even something as simple as the weather:  In just a week, the season here has changed from summer to autumn.  The sun is lower in the sky, and the weather has turned fresh, cool, and, from time to time, drizzly.  Sweaters and jackets have replaced t-shirts and sundresses, the Metro has lost some of its stifling warmth, and the winds carry the promise of yet cooler days ahead.  Having been raised in the Midwest, I have never gotten used to California's seasons.  The lack of rain in the summer still seems unnatural to me on a primal, gut level.  Things are supposed to die during the winter, not during the summer.  And California doesn't really have my favorite season, the fall.  But here in Paris it is fall now.  I can see the leaves starting to think about drying up and turning color.  I can imgine how it will feel in December, when the cold comes, how the homes and restraurants and stores and classrooms become refuges, warm and inviting, how it feels to be bundled under layers of warm clothing.  For 20 years, I have missed the autumn, and I have missed the slow decent into winter.  Now I have a chance to have it again, and it makes me unreasonably, almost stupidly happy, and puts me very much at home, very much at ease.

If the next two months are half as interesting, half as engaging as the past two, I will be very lucky.  At times, none of this seems possible.  And at others, it seems like the most natural, most right thing I've ever done (next, of course, to marrying Suzie).  More to come....