I was surprised by how quickly I adjusted upon returning to Paris. Not so much to the time change, jet lag still takes its tole no matter how often I launch myself from one time zone to another, but to France and Paris. After over a year and a half of not speaking French, I was afraid that I had lost it and would be thrown back into the confusing, exhausting process of re-learning a language. In fact, Guillaume and I started speaking in French upon seeing each other at the airport and my first weekend was spent among his family, speaking only French, at the farm in St.-Michel-sur-Loire (See my blog "La France Profonde" for a description of the area). The language came back with unexpected ease, though I still feel the different texture of
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