Fruit Salad

I am tired of this country. I realize that seems an absurd thing to say, and I am having trouble reconciling with it myself, but it is the truth. I find myself constantly wishing for warm weather, for the sun's rays searing my skin, for fresh fruit in the morning, for flat land, for the ability to see storms approaching over the highway. I want to pet my dog and sleep in my bed and not have to look both ways before I cross the street because, really, who walks anywhere in Florida?

This is unusual for me. I am normally the type of person that can leave home, and not even think about looking back. I'll forget to call home because I'm so absorbed in the people and the culture of wherever I am. I'll go to bed in the wee hours of the morning only to wake up a few hours later ready for the next day. But that's not happening here. I'm missing my friends. I want to hear their voices, laugh at inside jokes. I'm tired of catching myself when I'm speaking. I want to say, "This is awk it's making me dep. Let's go do something cray...but not cray-cray." God damn it, I want solidarity! *compulsory bird flap*

I think the problem is that it is so easy to be isolated here. The French are not the most welcoming of people (yes, I know there are exceptions) and though I've heard a million and six explanations for why that doesn't make the fact any simpler to swallow. It's not just a matter of not speaking the language; it's a  case of not speaking the social norms. I, even if I don't always want to be, am American, and as such when someone makes eye contact with me, I smile. Yeah, it's a little, strained-pea-soup sort of smile but I'm going to give it anyway. And I'm used to getting one back. But here, I can't even twitch the corners of my lips, I can't even make eye contact. Do you know what the floor of every subway car in Paris looks like? I'm fairly certain I do considering how much time I spend staring at them. It's downright frustrating, and more than that its depressing. I don't want to go through my day ignoring people; it feels cold and unnatural, like there's an ice cube stuck in my throat 24/7.

Look, I get it. According my friend's French friend the French are like coconuts: hard on the outside but soft on the inside; they want you to take your time getting through their shell. I get it, but I don't like it. And to them, Americans are like peaches, soft on the outside but with a large knot at their core, that just proves how fake we are. OK, some people are only pretending to be nice, but honestly, I'd rather have forced compassion and friendliness before mandatory condescension and disinterest. I don't see why we can't all be soft all the way through like a strawberry or something. This post is starting to make no sense, so I'm just going to stop.