qu'on oublie pas // that one doesn't forget

In the past couple of weeks, I have learned the following:

• Paris is expensive, but London is even more so (I still love it anyway)
• Frenchmen have pissing contests by trying to one-up one another regarding the number of bedrooms that they have at their family chateau. Case in point: my host dad vs. his brother-in-law
• I am a tease (?)
• the French don't do Thanksgiving. In fact, your American-based university program will make sure that you have classes until 7:30 p.m. the day of
• the French suck at bowling. I mean, they really suck.
• I've developed this rather (un)fortunate addiction to mango sorbets and coffee ice-cream that actually tastes like coffee
• somewhat related to the point above, I eat like shit here because I don't drink nearly enough water
• French dolls are anatomically correct. My 3-year-old charge has a baby boy doll complete with all the relevant plumbing
• French kids have no prolem pooping and peeing in front of each other. This might explain why grown-up Frenchmen have no problem whipping out their willies in broad daylight to pee onto incoming traffic

The point is that all these random bits of knowledge, unsavory or no, would not be possible if I were not studying in Paris. This post is a day late (my bad.), but I am quite thankful for this rather eye-opening experience.

I am thankful for you, too. But you already knew that.