Well, we are 43 days into my life in Europe. I don't have much to write about, because life is decidedly similar as a student no matter where you live.
There are always classes -- always earlier than you'd like them -- and they always bring homework. There are always intelligent students, ignorant students, entertaining students and lazy students. There is always have enough money to live, but not enough money to spend. There is always enough food to eat, and not enough motivation to cook. There are always responsibilities in the way of fun, and there is often fun taking place instead of responsibility.
I am admittedly enjoying my time here. There really is a lot to love. There is, of course, a lot to miss, too.
My professor has somehow pinpointed me as the hopeless romantic of the class. At first I had no idea what she was talking about. Heck, in Canada I'm one of the least romantic people I know. Put me in the city of love and I should appear closer to a necromancer than a romantic! But after a bit of reflection and self-analysis, I have decided that she is right. I do have a romantic perception of a lot of things, including my faith (something that is challenged frequently here), my sense of home, my sense of belonging, my views on man's goodness, and above all, my friends.
I frequently wander the streets alone, listening to music and thinking about the meaning of life. One tends to do these things when one is alone. I'm actually grateful to be alone with myself for a time.
I am learning much more about myself than I would have imagined. I think that people travel not to see the world, but to see how the world sees them.
Paris has reached a profound part of my heart that I had forgotten was there.