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I Won’t Miss You, Paris

April 30, 2013

I have a week and a half left in this city that, against my expectations, I’ve come to love. It’s getting a bit sad, thinking of leaving, no matter how excited I am to see my family and friends back in the States. I’ll miss this place.

I mean, no, I won’t.

No, Paris. To make our goodbyes easier, I’m going to find all the things I will not miss about you. Surely, this is the healthy way to end relationships. You’re not perfect, you know. It’s not me; it’s you.

  • I won’t miss the crazy drivers who speed right up to a stoplight and who think honking incessantly will cure traffic jams. It won’t, but thanks for the headache.
  • I won’t miss the motorcyclists who drive on a sidewalk to park. Please, please, just don’t hit me.
  • I won’t miss how small the sidewalks are. This city was not designed for this many people.
  • I won’t miss the mob of students right outside Sciences Po buildings clogging the entry and exit. There’s an entire street here, and this is where the 50 of you choose to take your smoking break?
  • I won’t miss the smoke. It is not any less gross here than it is in America.
  • I won’t miss the lack of granola bars. Don’t worry, Nature Valley — I’m coming for you soon.
  • I won’t miss the junk food. Okay, I kind of will. I won’t miss how tempting the junk food is. I’m honestly just thankful all my clothes still fit.
  • I won’t miss the dollar-euro conversion rate. I am so excited to go back home where a dollar is just a dollar, plain and simple.
  • I won’t miss the heavy PDA in random places. Really, couple? You’re going to physically express your affection on the Monoprix escalator up to the grocery section? I never knew produce was so romantic.
  • I won’t miss my apartment’s plumbing, which enables any liquid I pour down the sink to come up through the shower drain. Oh hey, milk, tea, and soapy dishwater. Didn’t expect to see you again.
  • I won’t miss dodging dog excrement on every sidewalk despite the numerous signs encouraging dog owners to keep their neighborhood clean. They don’t.
  • I won’t miss the smell of urine in metro stations. I really, really will not miss the smell of urine in metro stations. Gag.
  • I won’t miss my male hallmates who, despite being old enough to rent an apartment, don’t know how to aim when using the toilet. Come on, guys — I’ve asked other males. It’s not that hard.
  • Really I just won’t miss anything having to do with apparent bodily waste.

See, Paris? It’s totally you. Never mind the fact that the list of things I will miss about you is longer than this one. We’re just not going to think about that right now. Maybe tomorrow. But right now, I’m keeping sane by thinking of all the ways I most definitely will not miss you.

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