Well, I’m unspeakably bored on my unspeakably long flight, so I might as well write this post now.

The End. The End of my European adventure. (At least for this summer….)

A lot of things happened. It was nuts. It was crazy.

I lived in the middle of a great European capital, where I finally got to test out my knowledge of the language and art and culture and history that I have been learning about for eight or nine years, and I was proud to find that my knowledge was not found too wanting.

I learned how to be dropped in the middle of the culture of another country (France, Iceland, Netherlands) and to use observation and cultural cues to figure out what life is like out there. I watched the people on the metro and started holding my knife and fork like them without even noticing.

I learned that I cannot live in a big city (though surprisingly I did miss those big city vibes a bit while wandering around Iceland, but I think that was just because of the change from what I was used to because that went away pretty quick—)

I got to hang out with people I never would have expected to hang out with. Like now I have a bunch of Spanish friends! And there’s a couple of French old people who have a piece of my heart.

I also got creeped on a lot in Paris. Creepy old men and creepy young men and creepy middle aged men and honestly it kind of sucked. It also kind of sucked to be in constant vigilance to avoid being being pick pocketed. You’d be surprised on how that kind of thing wears on you when it’s every day.

I took a billion pictures. I didn’t like to drag my DSLR around because it took up space and because of the whole pickpocketing thing, but I used my iPhone camera to document my whole existence and just kind of keep a record of my days.

I ate a lot of wonderful food. And a lot of kinda crappy food. French meat is not the best. And they’re oddly obsessed with juice and mayonnaise salads. But the crepes, the salads, the sandwiches, the macarons… 🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌 Also sushi. And Indian food. And Moroccan food. It was rad.

I could also kind of eat wheat for part of it! Which was nice. I got to try croissants and baguettes and mille feuilles. Then eating too much all caught up with me and then I couldn’t anymore without feeling like I was going to die.

I got to practice my French, to try to absorb the colloquialisms of the language, which is why I say “Bon bah…” all the time and speak in French constructions when I’m trying to speak English.

A lot of things happened. A lot of people, places, museums, things.

If you fill your head with stimuli like filling a balloon with air, your subconscious will sort it all out and make it part of you, right? Will put it in your memory, make it part of your soul, help you draw connections when you’re at home later working on a piece of art of a design problem? I hope so; that’s what I’m banking on. Because every day is like drinking from a fire hose and even though I write these things like a madwoman, I know I can’t synthesize it all. I’m banking on my subconscious to do that, which is a part of me but doesn’t feel like a part of me, it feels like a friend or some kind of higher power, but I digress— 

I don’t really know what I was doing in France this summer. I did some art and design stuff, made some friends, served some people, lived in a city to see if my education had paid off.

But I guess you don’t need a grand Reason for everything.