We leave for Paris in about a week. Next Tuesday, in fact. We're asking friends to babysit our cats and packing all of our non-essential clothes and all the tablecloths in vacuum bags - things that suck out all the air so that suddenly a bag of sweaters lies flat. We've spent the entire weekend cleaning and making sure things work and packing the china into boxes for the basement. We're leaving in a week, and now all of this seems real.
It's still hard to believe, though. I can't imagine another person living in our house, making tea, sleeping in my bed. I can't imagine running in the early mornings in the Jardins du Luxembourg. I can't really imagine doing all of my communication in another language - a language that I'm reasonably good at, but is definitely not my own. All of a sudden, this seems a little scary. I keep trying to remember if going to Africa was this scary - was it? I don't know - all of a sudden it became home pretty quickly. Is our apartment in the 14th going to become home in the same way?
In other equally exciting (and somewhat scary) news, my friend Alexandra asked me to be her travelling companion on her trip around Europe. It involves getting a Eurail pass for either 15 or 21 days and going as many places as possible. While this sounds fun and super-exciting (some of our ideas have been Istanbul, Vienna, Florence, Copenhagen, Prague, and Barcelona), I'm pretty sure that it will decimate my entire savings account. It's worth it, though, right?
Oh, all of this travelling is scary and exciting and makes my head spin!