I like to believe that being a seasoned traveler acts as a vaccine against homesickness. That somehow I’m immune to missing my old life, or an alternate life that I could have had if I’d decided not to pick up and move to Paris. Having spent several years abroad and away from family and friends has made adapting to different cultures second nature. But no matter how long you’ve been in Paris, or how closely connected you are to the Ex Pat population (and there a large number of us out there), you will never escape homesickness completely.
When homesickness does hit, it comes hard and fast. I don’t just miss one thing. I miss everything – peanut butter, drinking mediocre American coffee with my dad, going to a grocery store and having someone bag my cereal in bags I didn’t have to pay for, Annie’s Country Breakfasts- a greasy spoon that has been there ever since I can remember and serves up gigantic waffles and omelets, the country fair where kids raise livestock and wear wranglers.
I can find none of these things, things that I formerly overlooked, in a city of over 10 million people.