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The home straight

March 25, 2011

My sojourn in France is now well and truly coming to an end, with only four weeks left on my contract. In that age-old paradox, time feels like it’s gone so quickly, yet it seems an age ago since I first stood on that street corner in Vieux Lyon, unsure of which way to take to the hostel. The impending end of my adventure is made all the more real by the letter I sent off today, announcing my intentions to move out next month.

As is always the case when something is reaching its end, the next four weeks are going to fly by. And yet, there seems like there is so much that still has to be organised before my departure: booking post-work travel, changing my return flight, not to mention the myriad of administrative formalities (bank, social security, gas, electricity, etc, etc.) that need to be taken care of between now and the last week in April.

My time here has overwhelmingly been positive. Despite the first few trying weeks (take the good with the bad, and so on), I have enjoyed my time in France immensely. In fact, it seems like I’m only really getting settled in now and already it’s time to think about packing up. I could go on about the learning experiences, being a changed person, and all that crap, but it goes without saying. To be honest, there hasn’t been an earth-shattering revelation (not that I was expecting one). The only real major difference is that I’m now far better at French than I was when I got here. Evidemment.

And yes, I will miss the bread, the wine (the cheap booze in general), the cheese, the meat, and most of all, the lifestyle. I was out today at 1pm and you’d swear it was the weekend, given the number of people out, sitting at cafes, enjoying a long lunch, and generally putting pleasure ahead of business. I know Australians are supposed to be laid back, but there seems to be an air of, I guess, almost nonchalance here. The French are quite happy to take their time doing everything, and this has been one of the hardest things I’ve had to get used to (NOTHING happens quickly here). To the outsider, it is beyond infuriating at times, but I think I’ve grown to like it. Almost.

And so, it’s off to the supermarchĂ© to buy une baguette. Bonsoir!

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Rusty permalink
    March 25, 2011 5:56 am

    Not to mention the upcoming reunion with your old travel buddy. I think we need a collective name – the obvious options are either “Retch” or “Flusty”.

    Lyon isn’t going to know what’s hit her. Let the good times (and soft cheese) roll!

  2. atravelingwilbury permalink*
    March 25, 2011 7:17 am

    Yeah, I think we should keep brainstorming. Retch just sounds gross and Flusty could be a brand of dog food. Flara? TESM? Trusty? Oh, the irony!

    Soft cheese rolls ’cause it’s a wheel! Right?

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