While the highlight of the flight over was seeing "Magic Mike" on the small screen, I was so excited to be home for Thanksgiving.
In November, Maine drops its title of "Vacationland" and just becomes a coldly quiet place. It's lovely. While I miss the warm sun, the cold months here have their charms as well.
Compared to the all-gray skies of Paris though, it seemed like a vacationland dream for me.
The one thing that I can't seem to get used to about Paris is the lack of sun. I don't mind the cold so much, but the damp grayness gets a little old. But I guess that is part of the charm of Paris, no? The gray city and the gray sky and the pavement and the slate roofs and the late afternoon light giving the gray peach tones.
Aside from catching up on comfort foods, I was content to take long wintry bundled walks with the dog and spending long nights with with friends and family, eating and drinking well, contemplating the densely starred sky, and shedding my ability to retain all the French I've been struggling to learn so. Merde.
Despite growing up in a French-Canadian populated town, I still have no idea what they are saying. Even in France, if a TV show is imported from Canada, it is subtitled. All the more easy for me to forget everything I've been learning.
While the woods are off-limits during hunting season, the beaches were wide open. The hurricane gave the coast up here a pretty good beating, and at high tide there was nothing to walk on at all.