My first days here

This entry is in my journal, and was originally in French. I am translating it as I put it up on my blog, so I guarantee the grammar is not going to be great.

I arrived in Paris the 20th of Feburary It was interesting because when I arrived, I reaslied that I could speak French at all. Well, I could a little, but certainly not very well.

It is interesting, the people and personalities that one meets... The first night I met a girl who later became one of my best frriends here. She is exactly like me. And the thing especially great was that she only wanted to speak in French. how great! Some who I met during the first week, I spoke with frequently, but it is strange how life i the city works... there are some of those who I never see anymore! Also, there are some who aren't very friendly either. Its unfortunate.

I think my first weekend was a little weird. I thought about going to Hillsong, but there were also those Americans who were going to the Louvre. I was torn and had no idea which to chose. I changed my mind at least ten times about what to do. At last, I decided to go to the Louvre with the other American students. There were some people who were really nice and friendly but unfortunately I chose to spend the time with those who were incredibly exclusive. Oops. I spend a lonely night at the museum, wishing I had made the decision to go to Hillsong. But, God is good, and he works with his own plan, right?

I loved my classes. I at first hated my classmates. But, as most things go, after some days, I'm used to them and am amused by them. Especially, I love my grammar teacher. She is like a grandmother, adn I want to but her in my pocket and take her back to Richmond with me. I was at first terrified of my French History teacher, if anyone says anything wrong she mocks them for about ten minutes and you just about want to kill yourself. But I've discovered that if you go in with the expectation of feeling that way, you really just don't care and now I get a complete kick out of her. For some reason my phonetics teacher hates me. I haven't figured out why yet, considering I've practically already taken her course and know exactly what I'm doing... oh well. I've discovered it takes time to get used to people. I know that is an incredibly brilliant revelation that most people have when they are about 10, but hey, experience is everything.

But, I immediately felt at home when I met my new friends from Hillsong. Yes. I adore my friends there. The first night that I went there, that was interesting! First, I left late (of course). And next, I became incredibly lost in the neighbourhood. The neighbourhood in which this place is located is impossible to navigate at night because everything looks the same. I was onlly late by 10 minutes, but to me it felt like hours. Someone welcomed me and I was scared. I don't know why, all I remember is feeling increidlby nervous. The first thing that I remember is hearing the music... it touched me somewhere in my heart that made me start to cry... I had to find a place to sit and I waited in sadness and in hope. The music made me feel like I was at church at home, at Harvest. When I entered the room full of people, I was surprised... there were at least 200 people there. I didn't even know that there were that many Christians in France, not to mention Paris! It was awesome! The service was amazing, and I cried for most of it... because, see, it was the first time that I had felt the Holy Spritit since I had arrived. It had been a long time.
As a result, I started my true life in paris. Now, I have many friends... French, English, Americans, German, Australians, Kiwis (New Zealanders), Ethiopian, Colombian... its amazing...yes... its amazing. The next day I went to my first party. A party with my new friends. It was an awesome night- because, I was comfortable with these people there. And even better I was speaking French almost fluently. ALMOST. The Sunday after, I went to my friend Leigh (Kiwi) house to have discussion, breakfast, and some prayer. I loved it!

So. That, that is the story of the first week in Paris....