Errr...pardon?...Desolé....

So. Here I am. A year later than expected thanks to an unmentionable fuck up on my part circa 2 years ago, sitting on my bed in my 16m sq studio apartment, or "studette", as they are affectionately referred to in France, with 9 months of a new city, new lifestyle and new(ish) language in front of me.

I'm interested to see whether I will be Born Again over this year in terms of any new interests or habits that I may pick up. The abundance of art galleries and museums here are sure to have the pleasure of my visit at some point and I'm hoping that, without a school teacher breathing down my neck, I'll be able to wander the corridors of le Louvre or le Gran Palais and enjoy what's on offer firmly in the knowledge that I won't have to bullshit my way through a 1,200 word essay on the brush techniques and use of light by the artist (yaaawwwnn).

I'm 4 days in now and have probably walked enough to have circumnavigated the Earth. To anyone that knows me well, this will come as a shock. I. Hate. Walking. However, between my reluctance to submit to the Metro, the ridiculously good weather and trying to "get to know Paris" I've actually quite enjoyed it. I already have a basic grasp of the various arrondissements and just 20 minutes I ago I was able to help someone find where they wanted to go. This was a huge moment for a few reasons;

Firstly because I obviously looked like I knew where I was going to this lady,

Secondly because I gave her precise directions and she didn't question that I was French

And thirdly, and most amazingly....SHE WAS FRENCH!! What a mug. I gave her directions in her own country. I don't know about anyone else but that made me feel bloody cool!!

Another momentous occasion was my first bit of French banter. It came at an ice-cream stand. It was Thursday afternoon and as I approached, the Ice-Creameur asked me what flavour I wanted and I confidently stated "Stracciatella si'il vous plait". He asked me if I'd like another. I said no, "juste Stracciatella". The man smiled and as he was making up my petit cornetto he asked me if I was German. I laughed and said no. I asked why. He replied that all Germans love Stracciatella. I took this on board. Let it sit for a few seconds and came out with word perfect French saying "sorry, does that mean I'm being boring then". Now for some, this may not seem overtly funny, however I'd remind those people that it was in a foreign language and almost instantaneous and it drew a laugh not only from the kind man but also from the lady behind me in the queue. French stand-up here I come???