grateful

Periodically through my day, every day -- I find myself repeating in my head;

you're in paris
you're IN paris
you're in PARIS
YOU are IN paris

in different pitches
with different stresses on syllables
ar-tic-u-la-ting the words
saying it fast
three times fast
saying it s l o w l y
in a sing song voice
punctuating my words
with bravado
almost yelling
quietly
thoughtfully
letting the words slip through
dreamily
matter. of. factly.
almost out of breath
after a pause
with a laugh
with a shake of my head
in confusion
in awe
as a question?
or with deadpanned seriousness --
but never angrily

Why can't I convince myself?
Why is it so hard to absorb?
You should probably be concerned with the fact that I'm talking to myself so much.

I finished my "European Politics" class this afternoon, strolled out onto the small side street and adjusted my sunglasses. Walked a few blocks, grabbed lunch -- a rare steak, that was practically raw -- and passed a parade of teachers on strike. I made my way further down St. Michel and browsed through books at Gilbert-Jeune. Then I finally wandered one street over and found myself people and pidgeon watching -- in front of the Notre Dame.

This is real life.
But I can't convince myself that it is.
I don't remember it being this hard in China.

Maybe it's because I've been to Paris before. Maybe because it's more Western, a highly developed country, and in a million different Hollywood movies. Maybe it's the pre-stages of culture shock. Maybe subconciously I've accepted it. Maybe I'm already just too Parisian (yeah, right).

I'm waiting for the awe to hit me. For my breath to be taken away. At the fact. Because it is.... in fact, a fact... I'm in Paris.

I remind myself so often in my head that it's become a chant of sorts. A rally cry. Under my breath. Hoping to make it a fact, to myself.

I'm incredibly lucky.
And above all, I'm incredibly grateful.