Where to begin...

I've had a hard time convincing myself it will be worth it to sit down and write about my time in Paris thus far; not because the time isn't worth writing about, but because no amount of writing would be enough.
I have learned more French in this past week than I have in the past year, easily. My host family is amazing, and their apartment is lovely (and huge! there are parts I don't even go to). Everyone is nice, but I'm doing a lot of work for my program. It's French-only, all the time– it's not at all a vacation. I went to the Musée d'Orsay this morning before my mandatory orientation class to see some grand Courbets and colorful van Goghs, and then I remembered why I came. It hasn't felt all that different. Ok so it's really, REALLY different. Plutôt.

Unlimited metro pass, I can go basically anywhere.
Cheese, white bread, ham, and butter every single day.
Duck and fish sometimes too, which I normally don't eat that much of.
Someone asked me for directions on the street.
Found an organic food store and bought falafel and taboule; they were delicious.
Spent an entire afternoon speaking French with a group of five friends.
Encountered the biggest dog on the street that I have ever seen in my life.
Walked through a dewy Jardins du Luxembourg in the morning.
Walked in circles around streets, just to get familiar.
Saw the same man walking his golden retreiver two days in a row.
Spoke in French with our Sri Lanken housemaid.
Discussed politics at the dinner table.
Explained how charter systems and american universities are organized.
Opened a bank account.
Learned the value of terrific supermarket pudding desserts.
Sat for hours listening to my host mother and her elderly church friend discuss 'la vie.'
Tried to buy a cell phone; got lost.
Looked up – birdcage lamp!