Finish Line In Sight

Another Sunday in France. My final Sunday in France, in fact, bt that does not excuse the fact that it is Sunday in France, which means as usual there was absolutely nothing to do. Nothing is ever open, no one ever works, and the only thing that ever gets accomplished is eatin and drinking. Sunday's are the day when the French sit at the table for hours without end gorging on everything from salad to cheese, always complimented with a fine bottle of wine. I hate Sunday's in France, I always have and suspect I always will.

Yet, unlike every other Sunday I have spent here in France, I was prepared for the boredom. I had purchased a book, okay, in English, against my own principles, but nevertheless it was a dose of medicine against Sunday in France, the disease. Due to the recent release of the film based on the Millenium series by Swedish author Stieg Larsson, along with it's enormous success, I decided to read the book before I sat down and watched the film. Even though I had bought the book to read on Thursday when my plane from Paris to America is in motion, I opened the cover and scanned a few lines and have been hooked ever since.

Thank god for the book because if I had to spend another Sunday cooped up doing nothing, I would definitely go mad. What is more, that as of recent, I have been a total basketcase, a wreck of emotions, a roller coaster of mood swings. I fear for those around that have to put up with my outburst of tears, followed of a slew of bubbly laugh fits. I am going home in a few days and I have to deal with that fact. But I am not going a very good job at it.

I may have dealt with this before, having come home from a year in Japan, but it has done little to prepare me for this. I was not ready to leave Japan, and I did not prepare myself in the slightest. I suppose that is why my basketcase stage came when I was back in America. But this time around, I al fully aware of the approaching departure date. The day runs through my mind with each passing moment, along with a million other things.

A part of my thinks that once my United Boeing 747 takes off from the runway in Paris, the roots I have planted in France, will come with me. A piece of me things that my erratic and loving host family will quickly forget about me as more than just a random American that lived in their house for almost 11 months. They are really my only tie to France, besides my love for Fixin and Burgundy in general, and my love-hate relationship with France. All the other friends I have made this year are Canadian, American, or Belgian. This theory of losing touch is somewhat backed by host mother, whom I love like a best friend, but is far too busy with her own troubles to worry about keeping in touch. I have shed quite a few tears in the past few days hearing about how she had not really kept in close touch with her host family from America, among other things. It has not been a very good experience in this respect.

But as much as I throw the things I regret or that have plagued me this year, on a scale, I can not bring myself to regret this year in France. Sure my minimal French, lack of friends, non-existant social life, empty schedule book, hardships with some cultural aspects, and constant boredom, will always remain a pittance when thinkin about this year. Yet my extensive travelings and good, well at least steady, realtionship with my host family, outweighs the bad stuff.

So I wonder if this can really be called a finish line. Is it really something I am racing to finish? Do I really want it all the end- that is- my relationship with the R's, my ties to France, my hatred for Sunday's, my minimal French language skills, among quite a lot of other things? I need to stop thinking about all this, back to my book.