Stopping to smell the roses

Well, the semester in Paris is finally over. I'm back in the States at my parents' place in Connecticut, and the hum of the washing machine is lulling me to sleep. If Jeff reads this note, I'm sure he'll understand why the laundry machine is still running at midnight.

My last few days in Paris were a great change of pace from the last few weeks of the semester. Even after leaving for southern France, I was as busy as I've ever been trying to keep up with work and school. I've been running from point A to point B for about 6 to 8 weeks now, and the lack of sleep is starting to catch up with me. I really did try to make the most of my Paris experience, and now it's time to catch up on sleep.

I'm actually looking forward to a relaxed spring term at school for this very reason. After our program ended on the 17th, my grandparents, who are both 82 years old, arrived in Paris for their first visit to France. What a great time my sister and I had showing them some of our favorite places, foods, and things about life in the romantic capital of the world.

When I met them at the airport early Friday morning, I was sure they would want to take a taxi to get them to their hotel in Paris, especially since they had their suitcases with them. They have always had plenty of energy and are in good health, but they still are 82 years old. To my great surprise, they suggested taking a combination of the train and the metro into Paris, which is certainly the cheapest--but by no means the easiest or most comfortable--way to get into Paris.

After hauling their bags across the city and into the hotel, we went out for lunch. Over the course of the next 3 days, my sister and I guided them all over Paris like a couple of college-aged backpackers, visiting the Louvre, Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, Versailles, the Seine... you name it.

Despite the amount of ground we covered, I did notice one thing: their travel speed is much slower than mine. The trucked through the metro stations, but at about half the speed I would have. For some, this might have tested patience, but I was grateful for it. I learned the important lesson of stopping to smell the roses.

You miss so much in life when you're constantly running from place to place, trying to do this, that, and the other. There's been an ongoing debate in my mind the past few months about the appropriation of time. I sometimes have the impression that I could be doing so much more, but I'm beginning to realize that the hastiness required to check off every item on my to do list often leads to missing some of the more savory moments of life.

Does "doing more" mean living a fuller life? I suppose that depends on what we're doing. I've come to the conclusion that I'd rather pay more money for food and eat less of it if it means I can eat better food. We Americans have a tendency to eat to much as it is, so I figure why not just eat better and less?

I'm beginning to think that life is the same way. When we try to do too much, it's almost like we're feeding our faces at the dinner table to rush off the the evening's extracurriculars. Call me old-fashioned, but perhaps a little more time at the table and fun with the family are an order. Why not enjoy food eaten and time spent together?

What I realized when I was with my grandparents was how much of Paris I had missed while I was busy on my way from A to B. For C to D, I'm planning to take the scenic route.

What are your thoughts?