Chapter 1 is complete and my bags are packed. Ok, not literally but wouldn't it be nice to be able to just move to France? I realize as I write that it might just be me, but I know where my heart is and has always been. I like the smells of France, even the icky ones. I like the people of France, even the stuck-up ones. France looks like opening the pages of a history book and smells like an old library. Something about how old it is attracts me like no corner of America ever could.
While I'm sure there are many differences between myself and Julia Child, I find one common connection...a heartbeat; tucked into a short tale of an American friend, unhappy in Paris. As hyperbolic and it sounds, her words echo in my soul, "I had come to the conclusion that I must really be French, only no one had ever informed me of this fact." (p.58)
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