By the beginning of January, the commute was starting to get the best of him, the French children were no longer in their best behavior, most of his classmates were traveling across Europe, and worst of all, he was homesick...our dear friend monsieur 'K', was presently traveling across Europe and had made it a point to visit him in Paris... he was sharply reminded of home, the opportunity to just let go and take it easy....We spoke weekly, at 3 p.m. on Fridays, he would head down to the Mc Donald's on Avenue Victor Hugo, hook up to their Wi-fi and we would skype - my 3 pm. was his 12 midnight, and I was always aware that after we said our good nights he still had a few blocks to transverse, in the cold Parisian night - it never phased him, though, being on his own had made him somehow more mature, more responsible and brave...

 This child of mine, has never been one to put on airs, or to worry unnecessarily. That he left to the women in the family, myself, my sister and my mother. Of the three, my mother worries the most. She worries about every single possibility, no matter how remote. If something bad were to happen in say, Provençe, she would immediately try and get him to come back home, just in case... To this day, my mother still does not know of what happened in Paris.  My sister is a very detailed planner, she is the organizer, the orchestrator... the minute she meets someone new, she immediately starts planning their future, gets them a job and figures out the best way to obtain the best possible outcome...she also worries a lot though. Because she investigates and does all of the research she does know that things can and may go wrong - so she focuses on the myriad of possibilities, the good and the bad - and there is also the fact that she loves my son as if he were her own. And I know it. And I love her for it. Of the three, I dare say that I am the more relaxed and worry free, I kind of let things take whatever course they need to take, pretty much without interference on my part...( ..although I have been told many times that I am a control freak, I very much doubt it...really...unless of course, we are in the kitchen and I am doing a party, in which case...step aside, cause I work best when I'm the boss, and I do know what I am doing so, really.....), I am of the opinion that whatever is meant to happen, will happen. Good and Bad. And if it is good, it's great. If it's not, just let it slide....

He wasn't worried about walking a few blocks at midnight, during his first week in Paris, he had to cross the whole City at 3 a.m. Having missed the last metro after baby-sitting for a random woman, who didn't show up as promised, in time for him to make it! I also, want to think that there is a bit of me in him... it's not that he is invincible, not that at all, but that whatever happens, just will....

But he was tired, and homesick. so it was decided, during one of our weekly conversations that he should take a small trip. He had been working and studying non-stop, and he hadn't taken so much as a weekend off ever since starting his studies at the Sorbonne. Christmas had come and gone without celebration. so it was settled, a small 'semaine anglaise' should do the trick!

Among his favorite painters, Van Gogh has always been quite dear to him, he has always had a soft spot for copies of his work, be it thank you cards, small prints or framed posters on his wall, always present. So a trip to the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam it was! www.vangoghmuseum.nl Train tickets were purchased. He was to leave Paris on January 29th.

He found the cheapest accomodations possible...I doubt that in all of Paris, anyone can rent a room for less than 270 Euro a month! And  mind you, this was in the 16th arrondisement - one of the fanciest neighborhoods in Paris, populated at one time by Napoleonic aristocracy, titled nobility - and more recently Maria Callas, the opera singer... He tells me this is the most expensive corner in Paris, the Beverly Hills, if you will...mere blocks from the Champs Elysées, a glorious walk along Avenue Victor Hugo, and minutes away from the Eiffel Tower, via the Trocadero... very central, very chic....

And then again, one must take into consideration that said room was a mere 5 by 6! Yes, you read that right, the size of your average American closet... Picture a twin bed, on a platform, perched above the 'clothes closet' and a mini fridge...directly across, a mini sink, a small counter and a cabinet...the toilet was shared with 30 other tenants, and showers were to be taken before 9 p.m. at the landlady's apartment 3 floors below - did I mention already that the room was on the 7th floor? and not accesible via elevator either...!  Nevertheless, it did have that je ne sais quoi feel about it.... you could, on your tiptoes, get a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower from the tiny window above the sink..and what a view it was - a million tiny lights twinkling every hour on the hour for ten straight minutes... beautiful! Yes, this was Paris alright... and home  for the next 11 months, give or take...

I saw the building, via google earth, and the surrounding area...I vicariously walked the streets, saw the sights, and explored the possibilities..How far to the Louvre...? Have you been yet...?How is the metro...? And your classes...? When do you start? Have you made any friends yet? Is it possible to get wi-fi in your building...? 

Classes at the Sorbonne began in September, he had class every day and went to work, baby- sitting for a French family in Nogent-sur-Seine. It was an hour's ride away from Paris, first by metro and then by RER - the metro serves Paris Central, and for the outlying areas, one utilizes the RER, sort of like the AMTRAK or BART here... The job itself was familiar, having watched his siblings as well as family friends over the years, the commute was not. He spent precious hours on the trains, hours that he would have much rather spent exploring and discovering even more fascinating aspects of the City itself...but that would come....