His mother said to me, “French mothers can be wild. That one in particular is a monster.”
My relationship with my French teachers became more like the ones I had with my therapists: I desperately wanted them to like me.
My life as an American in Paris is a far cry from what the glamorous direct-to-DVD movies make it out to be. Still, that’s the story I tell.
When you don’t have sky-high expectations for Paris to begin with, the disillusionment you find in the City of Light is much more nuanced.