Ok so I have approximately 40 days to write 10 more posts and thus make it to '100 posts a year'.
I will try my best. On the 23rd of February it will be one year since I arrived in France! It has flown by, and now that I have a departure date in mind it seems to be going even faster.
For the sake of practicality and a good friend's wedding, I have decided to aim to return to NZ around the middle of September. Having spoken with my employer about this, she has decided that she won't need me this summer and thus my job will come to an end at the end of June. Good news I can keep the apartment til the end of August, bad news I will be out of an income.
Incidently, does anyone out there know of someone who is interested to coming to France to work as an au pair? I made a good impression and my employer thinks that Australasian girls might be the way to go from now on. I can absolutley recommend my family so if anyone is interested do email me: sofahuber@hotmail.com.
Suddenly there is a little bit of pressure to do, see and learn all the things I want to before my french sejourn is over. Today in french class we talked about the meaning of 'bonheur' (happiness) and we each had to recounta recent moment of happiness. Here is mine, sadly unaccompanied by the photos that I did take.
It is Sunday afternoon and temperatures are unseasonally mild. I don my raspberry coat and mint gloves and wander down the street to the bustop. The number 93 chugs slowly through the 16th arrondissment, past place Victor Hugo, down and around the Palais Chaillot, through the crowds around the Eiffel tower and finally by the impressive golden dome of the Invalides. I descend and take a narrow ruelle towards the heart of the 7th. The tiny rue récamier houses a modern art gallery and I spend a little time perusing before continuing my walk. I let the streets decide my direction, choosing the smallest and most interesting and always looking up. The most intersting things are found by looking up. Eventually I come to the cafe Flore and sit down in the small park opposite with my sketchbook. A little sunday afternoon people wathcing. Soon enough my sweet tooth leads me towards the Seine, past the Ladurée boutique. This sumptuous patisserie makes incredible goodies and I wait the obligitary 10 minutes in the queue to buy my lemon macaron. The paper bag matches my gloves and dusk falling I march quickly towards the water. Standing on pont Solférino the sky is streaky pink over the Notre Dame and Ile de la Cité, golden yellow towards the Grand Palais. At 6 the Eiffel tower begins to glitter and the Seine is reflecting all the colours of the sunset. The macaron crumbles perfectly on the outside and my mouth fills with perfect lemony goodness as I stand and love Paris.