La séparation est (vraiment) une très douce douleur.

Bill Shakespeare must have been a traveler. He knew the dichotomous emotions only describable and exuded during periods of testing the effects of distance. Travelers have malleable and resilient hearts. They leave a little bit of themselves wherever they go. Or, conversely, take a little bit of wherever they go, with them. Life is essentially a series of hellos and goodbyes illuminating the incandescent screen before your eyes.

The room that I had come to call home for over 3 months is empty, save for a few leftover dust bunnies, my next morning's outfit, and the wrinkled bedsheets -- to be stripped off and folded up in a couple of hours. A young couple will move in here afterward and wonder why the kitchen smells of Christmas cookies and why the bedroom wall has a mysterious Sharpie stain on it. But then they will open the kitchen windows and peel off the old wallpaper and all that was left of my existence here will have been aired out and discarded.

My bags are (mostly) packed -- uncustomarily, there is no method to my madness. Everything is thrown in there with everything else. I'd say, 60% souvenirs (40% of that, food specific), 30% clothes, 5% random stuff, 3% books/notebooks, 2% toiletries. The state of the interior of my baggage is literally the state of my mind right now. This week has been a constant renewed denial of my reality: I'm leaving Paris.

I know that when I board that plane tomorrow, there will still be that lingering denial. The only instant that it will hit me is when I see the gates of LAX. Then it will be too late. Then I will be crying belligerently in the arms of my parents when I really wanted to give them the most suffocating hugs in the world and tell them how glad I am to be back. Hopefully I will be telling the truth.

But anyway, I suppose I should update you on my last few days in Paris. Yesterday morning was a Christmas miracle. The city had it's first snowfall of the year! (Apparently it's rare, in general, to snow so early, and in the city) This was, evidently, MY first snow. Of course, being a California girl, I'm not completely oblivious to snow. I've seen it, felt it, ate it, played in it, etc, but I've never... LIVED in it. I was so excited that I jumped out of bed 3 hours early and trumpeted the news to friends (who probably could care less) at home. I even had to ask Caitlin what I should wear. It honestly puzzled me.

Paris is enchanting underneath a sheet of snow. Everything was newly breathtaking. A smile was permanently on my face the entire day because I couldn't believe that what I was seeing was real. As the snow fell, I went to have hot chocolate with friends and we walked around the Tuileries gardens. Today snowed as well, and I'm sad to be leaving with such marvelous weather, but I'm happy to have experienced it before I left.

Me & E.T.

The courtyard between La Catho and ILCF, the foreign exchange sect.

They set up a Christmas tree in the main courtyard.

At the Tuileries

Vin chaud and Apple cider. Warming up at a café after frozen limbs!

These puppies were so playful!

Georgey :)

Young again . . .

Morning of snow, giggling & looking out the window

Outside my apartment, first hour of snow!

I will miss this girl. Our last Sunday dinner.

Assortment of cheeses: Tomme & Morbier

Baking sugar cookies with Caitlin

Will miss this numnuts too.

Sigh. Pastry party. Last night in Paris...

It was heavenly.

This has been heavenly.