Ever since I first set eyes upon it, I’ve wanted to move to Paris. It was everything I’ve imagined it to be. A city that oozed sophistication and history from its cobblestone streets, ancient buildings, cafes, restaurants, and Parisians strolling down the street.
I loved the lights, the food, the music, the people, that special je ne sais quoi.
I know I idealize Paris.
I know living somewhere is a lot different than dropping in for a few weeks at a time.
But I’ve always wanted to be the clichéd American travel writer who wakes up, has his coffee, and writes on his balcony or in some café while lingering over wine for hours.
I’ve always wanted to immerse myself in Paris. To learn the language and everything one could possibly know about the city.
And so, since there is no time like the present, it’s time to finally do it.
I’m moving to Paris!
Not forever. Just until June.
Maybe “moving” is a strong word. Maybe an “extended stay” might be a better term.
I don’t care.
I feel that is long enough to say I’m (temporarily) “moving” to Paris.
It will be my base of operations. My sole domicile. My home.
Next month, I’ll return from Colombia, pack my things, and by the end of the month, be ensconced in the City of Lights.
I know my time there will fly by. I remember the summer I spent in Stockholm and how quickly that came to an end. Right as I started meeting people, it was time to go.
Luckily, Americans get to stay six months in France, so I’ll have a longer time to play with.
I have a lot of plans for that time:
I am going to write — a lot!
I’m going to find a ’20s swing dance group.
I’m going to seek out all the best jazz the city has to offer.
I’m going to visit every tourist attraction in town. Just because.
I plan to learn French.
My 2019 mantra is “do less but better.” I plan to cut down the number of things I do — but go deeper into them.
I’m going to focus on living. I plan to work in the mornings, sightsee in the afternoon, check in with the team, and have long dinners.
