Well, it's 5 weeks left again. But this time, 5 weeks in France, and this time, I'm not hysterical (yet).
In exactly 5 weeks, I'll be in a lovely, comfortable, business class seat somewhere over the Atlantic (and, after just having watched Titanic, the idea is a little strange). Actually, having just checked my itinerary, I'll only just have left England. But, no matter, I'll be comfortable, hopefully a little drunk, with a glass of sparkling white wine in my hand, no doubt (to numb the pain of leaving France and to dull the almost-certain panic-attack when faced with long-haul air-travel)
Also, I am glad to have just read that that unpronouncable Iclandic volcano has calmed down a bit for the moment, and will hopefully (knock on wood) not re-commence spilling its guts between now and then to make at least ONE of my long-haul flights undelayed and undisrupted (just this once!). Or any other volcano for that matter.
I don't know why I'm so calm when it comes to leaving France. Perhaps, this time, I have more plans, I know what's going to be happening. I know what I'm in for (sort of). I have adopted a good philosophy.
Perhaps, I have grown into my life. I know it's a strange phrase to use but I really do believe it. Examining the insane adventure that has been not just limited to my time in Europe, but the last 8 and a half months, I have changed so much. I'll admit that the first few months were a bit more normal. That my Canadian life had a sort of normality about it and that when I got to Europe that relative normality fell away before I was ready to let go, which made my time in Europe a lot harder and also, a lot more crazy. A real adventure, living by the seat of my pants (or skirt, as the case may be).
I really had no point to this blog when I started writing it, but I have come to one by accident.
The last 4 and a half months in this continent in numbers;
- trains: 8
- train-related panic-attacks: 1
- planes: 4
- plane-related panic-attacks: 2
- glasses of wine: 937, 589, 793, 432 (although this statistic is waiting to be verified)
- days without stockings: 7
- drunken evenings: a few.
- metros: countless
- missed trains: 1 (but not mine)
- jobs: 3
- croissants: 39, 483, 295
- countries visited: 6
- cities visited: 20
- international plug-converter thingys that still didn't work with my hair straightener: 3
- museums visited: 11 (shockingly low!)
- films seen at cinemas: 3 (also, shockingly low)
- numbers of days when I started counting down to my USA trip: 126
- days left in Europe: 34
Holy Crap! The last 92 days flew by.
As much as I didn't believe it 92 days ago... I'm going to miss Lyon. France. French. And my life here.