I am dreaming in French. Every single night.
I don't usually remember my dreams, but I am pretty sure that when I am in France, I dream in English half the time and in French half the time. Here, I only dream in French.
I passed someone while running this morning and said, "Bonjour" before thinking. It just came out. It was sort of weird.
The food here feels really heavy to me. It tastes fine going down, but then it is as if it just sits in my gut for days. I won't go into the ways this is being manifested through bodily functions, but suffice it to say that I am having culture shock in the digestive department.
Nevertheless, the suitcase is filling up with Lucky Charms, Jelly Bellies, Pop Tarts, Girl Scout Cookies, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, and all sorts of other distinctively American delicacies. Of course, they are not all for me.
We keep marveling over things like the fact that every store is open on Sunday and that nothing closes down during lunchtime. Traffic lights seem to be more plentiful than we remembered, and we have driven morekilometers miles in the past week than we did in the previous seven months combined.
Food and clothes seem cheap and gas seems expensive, until we remember that the price is for gallons and not liters. My mom asked my Dad to set the oven to 400 degrees, and I nearly fell off my seat. Then I remembered that her oven works in Fahrenheit and not Celsius.
I keep being surprised by who is on Facebook in the morning, wondering why people are up so late, and then I remember that I am in a totally different time zone.
TV commercials are so bizarre. And annoying. And sometimes sickening.
Strangers smile. Sweatshirts abound. Sadly, I still seem to stumble over words when trying to communicate. We are definitely back in the good old U.S. of A.
I don't usually remember my dreams, but I am pretty sure that when I am in France, I dream in English half the time and in French half the time. Here, I only dream in French.
I passed someone while running this morning and said, "Bonjour" before thinking. It just came out. It was sort of weird.
The food here feels really heavy to me. It tastes fine going down, but then it is as if it just sits in my gut for days. I won't go into the ways this is being manifested through bodily functions, but suffice it to say that I am having culture shock in the digestive department.
Nevertheless, the suitcase is filling up with Lucky Charms, Jelly Bellies, Pop Tarts, Girl Scout Cookies, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, and all sorts of other distinctively American delicacies. Of course, they are not all for me.
We keep marveling over things like the fact that every store is open on Sunday and that nothing closes down during lunchtime. Traffic lights seem to be more plentiful than we remembered, and we have driven more
Food and clothes seem cheap and gas seems expensive, until we remember that the price is for gallons and not liters. My mom asked my Dad to set the oven to 400 degrees, and I nearly fell off my seat. Then I remembered that her oven works in Fahrenheit and not Celsius.
I keep being surprised by who is on Facebook in the morning, wondering why people are up so late, and then I remember that I am in a totally different time zone.
TV commercials are so bizarre. And annoying. And sometimes sickening.
Strangers smile. Sweatshirts abound. Sadly, I still seem to stumble over words when trying to communicate. We are definitely back in the good old U.S. of A.
Hahaha! That's funny! I guess it must be weird for you guys, being in the U.S. again. Have fun! :-)
ReplyDeleteI wondered how your system would handle the food here since your body is so cleaned out from all the toxins. So sorry :( I do hope you enjoy your time here! Lord bless you guys :D
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