My parents paid for me to experience life and I pay tribute to them by writing a poorly written journal entry since I never learned grammar in the second grade.
To everyone who didn’t see my 56 Instagram photos that I synched to Facebook:
Friendship. Food. Sleepless nights. Random hookups with metro-sexual men.
These are just a few words that describe my time in Europe. But no words could ever really describe how much my life changed in those 3 months, 12 weeks, 90 days, 2,190 hours, 131,400 minutes, or 7.884e+6 seconds.
Paris was beautiful. She had so many great stories to tell.
I’ll admit, and this is even a little embarrassing, I always thought Paris was far away.
I was so naive before I left!
Paris was beautiful, but I think she might have had too much botox.
The buildings there are so much different. The names of the buildings, so exotic. Boyer? La Kretz? It’s like a travelled to a different planet.
I also realized that I’d been spelling France the wrong way! It’s Franz, not France! Boy, did I learn a lot.
One night, I went out and drank! Shhh! Some boys told me it was illegal to drink since I’m not twenty-one, so I must have been drinking absinthe or something because EVERYONE knows the drinking age in Europe is 18.
Greece was nothing like I’d expected. By the state of the houses, I could really see the toll that their financial crisis had taken. The floors were sticky and the men seemed rather barbaric.
You can tell how much they value their culture, their letters are proudly displayed throughout their entire house! Their parties take into account so many different cultures, as they dress up in different ethnicities’ garbs. It was such an honor to see how the Greek people appreciated all these various cultures through imitation.
Initially, I was surprised by how touchy and loud the men were. I realized early on that I needed to shed my conservative American tendencies to truly appreciate the Greek culture.