Don't get me wrong, I am having an amazing time in Paris, and I am loving stuffing my face with croissants and ALL the cheese. However, I received an awesome package from my lovely mother this week, and it reminded me that there are some things that the French will never be able to give me. It's not that I can't live without these things, and I probably never missed or even thought about them before I left, but now, now is a different story. Finding out that my favorite pasta sauce tastes different in France (apparently I've grown to like the unique flavors of pesticides and hormones) is enough to send me spiraling into homesickness. In addition to my parents, my friends, my cats, and my car - can't forget about Howard - these are the things I miss about the US:
It's March which means only two things - it's finally going to get warmer and the best food-related invention since someone decided to potatoes in oil and make French fries - the Shamrock Shake. It's green food-coloring and mint heaven, and the best possible way to celebrate Irish heritage and culture. Why, why don't the French sell them? I'm sure the French would love them too! This is my plea to the McDonalds of France, PLEASE realize your horrible mistake. You can still make it right for next year. I will even accept if you don't put whipped cream and a cherry on top like they do in the US, I just need my shamrock!
I know that everyone in the US will hate me for this, but I really miss the snow. It seems like every time I go on Facebook or talk to my mother, New Jersey gets another foot of snow. The one year I leave, the North East turns into Canada. I'm sure that if I was still home, I would hate the snow right now and never want to see it again. However, in Paris, it's really not that cold and it rains almost every day in the winter. Maybe that doesn't sound too bad, but it will make you go insane, especially when you lose your umbrella and are too stubborn to buy a new one. I wish it snowed and was actually cold. Maybe just for a week.
Calling people ratchet
They don't know what I am talking about. I'm tired of explaining the definition of a word which technically means a type of wrench.
You don't know what I would do for a SoCo lime right now. Yes, I can go to the Hardrock Cafe and buy one, but my pride prevents me from stooping that low. If I did go to the Hardrock, 1. I wouldn't tell a soul 2. if you did somehow find out, put me on suicide watch because I'm that homesick 3. I would pretend to have some sort of different accent, it seems better that a foreigner goes there than an American. Too bad all of my accents suck, I can go from Indian to eastern European to British in one sentence.
I have been craving buffalo sauce for the past two months, and thank god, my mom sent me a bottle because it's impossible to find a good one in France. The French definition of spicy greatly differs from ours not to mention that everything 'American' is excessively expensive (I'm talking 6 Euros for peanut butter expensive). I put it on my pizza, I dip my fries in it, I eat it with EVERYTHING, and I am a happy, happy girl now that I can have it again.
Apparently, the French don't get knots in their hair. How? I don't know. I imagine that they spend a lot of time trying to force a comb through a solid glob of hair after showering. Have they not heard that we have this amazing product called conditioner that makes your hair shiny and soft and gets rid of knots? Okay, so you can find conditioner, but it's rare and expensive.
These are a few things I miss about the US, and I am sure that there will be parts 2, 3 and 4 in the future. I am going to go eat some bread now.