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Traveling. Many people love it, some fear it, and others dream for the day they can disconnect from "their real life" pack a suitcase, or if you are me overpack a suitcase, by a ticket, pick a destination on a map and go anywhere. For me, I am and still consider myself the later. However, I would say after a series of life events I am a realistic dreamer (I can see beyond rainbows and butterflies, and cupcakes with cherries on top) … it's about time and thank goodness. So, it's only fitting that I am starting up this blog again (online journal) of sorts with a premier post that sheds light on who I am  … an extroverted introvert, free spirited, generally optimistic, strangers like talking to me, (can I say this now) … traveler,  and French and USA photographer.

A couple of months ago:  I decided today would be the day I would buy a French dictionary. Up until now,  I have been perfectly content telling people that I speak "Franglais" and "hey, I speak better French after a glass of wine" but for some reason today was different.

I grabbed 10 Euros (why I only bothered to grab 10 euros is beyond me) stopped for a cappuccino (now I drink espresso) that I sipped while I amused myself with a French tabloid.  I tried to read it as French smut is easy to understand but got so distracted by the photos I read not one sentence. After finishing my drink I quickly proceeded to the bookshop. There I was hit with absolute and total, shocking reality. True and utter reality that: I need to learn French and I do not know as much as I thought I knew. (After writing this post I signed up for intensive French classes, I have improved)

I went to the 10-12 year old section picked up a novel called "geek girl" (don't quote me) and could understand about 25% of the words if I wanted to give myself a headache. So, I then proceeded to the 3-4 year old section: BAM too advanced for these livres I thought to myself and decided to walk upstairs.

Upstairs I immediately was distracted by books in English and decided not to buy a French book (my brain needed a break from French) and a good ole American book would do. BAH!

Note: the books sold in English are a select few and usually are classics that I was forced to read in college and currently make my stomach hurt, romance or sappy love novels that I want nothing to do with, or terribly sad stories and who wants to read sad stories while they are living out their dream … 

not I not I. 

So, it is at this moment where I have a good ole classic panic attack realizing I know little French (panic attacks happen quite often when learning a new language), I am in a country far far far away from the comforts of "home" and that this scenario is in fact "my dream". As my panic attack gets worse I make my way over to the French English dictionaries. I stand here for 15-20 minutes (honestly maybe longer) going back an forth deciding to buy a big dictionary or a small one. Hey size matters when it comes to books :)

After way too long, I pick up a pocket dictionary (less overwhelming) give the cashier 3 euros and 99 cents (almost all I have left from the 10 euros) and leave the bookstore feeling absolutely … awful,  ok not awful, I am being dramatic for the purpose of writing. I leave feeling so French ….  commes ci commes ça …

and with a pocket size dictionary in hand, my adventure begins.