I’ve been stepping out of my comfort zone. Having far too comfortable a life at home meant I grew complacent. I had no wants, which meant I didn’t find the same pleasure in the simple things as I used to. Here, I live without a cat, without a ukulele, without a regular chance to shower, without locks on the bathroom doors, without speaking the language.
I needed to be reminded of how other people live, and experience things I never felt compelled to do in Ottawa. It hasn’t been easy. I memorize French phrases, and hope no one responds out of a predicted path. Even then, I fall back on an English-French dictionary, and Pouvez-vous parlez plus lentment, s’il vous plaît, just in case. It’s something I’ve been forcing myself to do, and at the end of the day I’m never disappointed.

Various styles of croque-monsieur, a grilled ham sandwich with cheese melted on top of buttered pain de mie, a packaged French bread that’s perfect for toasting. Every bakery and family has their own version of this.
In the back is shredded guyère (a medium-bodied cheese), being sliced is mont d’or (very creamy and salty, and stuck to my teeth), and already halved is Camembert (which was super rich with a smell reminiscent of a garbage, but certainly didn’t taste like it…still, I had a hard time getting over the smell).