Julie will be in Paris, France until Dec. 17.

I was wondering if I hit the rejection period early. You know after the supposed euphoria wears off (this apparently takes about two weeks), a study abroad student is then supposed to sink into a dizzying depression where they hate everything from their host country and want to go home. But I never really felt euphoric. Or depressed. For the first week, I mostly felt tired. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve really been enjoying getting to know my insane (in a good way. I think) host family, especially my host brother’s four-month-old baby Matthieu, and purchasing my daily nectarine from the fruit stand by my program center. But I had trouble hiding my exhaustion during long conversations in French, at times causing my host father, Paul-Henri, to ask, “You hate Paris? You want to go back to Chicago?” I would assure him that no, it was just the decollage d’horaire (jet lag) and my roommate Kathryn and I would then go back in our room and speak English with relief before taking yet another epic nap.

Then last night, Paul-Henri took us on a night tour of Paris. From nine to midnight we worked our way across the entire city, stopping periodically at important landmarks. And while four hours may have been a tad on the lengthy side, it was extremely needed. I don’t think I’d really had that sense of wonderment yet (the fabled euphoria of study abroad PowerPoint fame), because up to that point I’d been spending all my time in very small, limited areas of Paris. I’d go to the program center in Montparnasse, come home to Neuilly (a suburb just outside the city limits) and promptly fall asleep.

But to see everything in one go like that, all beautiful and lit up, I started to feel that sense of adventure and amazement that’s been lacking since I arrived. We listened to the radio station Chante France as we drove through the narrow cobblestone streets that were clearly not constructed for cars. The music blended with the lights in my brain as I looked at buildings more ancient and immaculate than anything you could find in America and I felt like I was in a movie. Last night, for the first time, I was sure of my decision.

We were just leaving St. Germain when a familiar “a-wimbaway” came on the radio. “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” in French. I looked back at Kathryn and we laughed and laughed.

Read Julie’s previous post | Read Julie’s next post | Meet the rest of our study abroad bloggers