My mornings usually begin at 7:00 AM. I get ready in my room, dress and head to the kitchen. Madame has already set out my cup, plate and silverware at the little bar in the kitchen. For breakfast, I eat a slice of toast with butter and jam, half a yogurt and some tea. I'm finally drinking it without milk because for some reason when I smell French milk, it makes my stomach turn. I usually stand at the counter to eat my breakfast or look out the window to the building next door. I watch people in their morning routines and some how it makes me feel like I'm part of it all.

I'm out the door by 7:45 on my way to school. Along the way, I pass a handful of bakeries, butcher shops and fish shops. They're just starting their day by setting out their fresh supplies. Each person handles the food with loving care as it's placed out on display. None of the stores will open until nine or ten because the French believe in taking their time in the morning.

As I pass the shoe and clothing stores, I check the windows for the latest fashion. Color is gradually starting to appear now that it's Spring. During the winter months, everyone here wears very little color.

Along the streets, city workers are cleaning. Besides the doggie doo, everything is very clean. Fresh and ready for a new day.

I pass one of my favorite flower stores. It's simply called happy, and when it's open, it blooms out into the street with Springtime flowers. I walk past on my way home longing to purchase some blooms for my room. But for now, I'm just admiring from afar.

I arrive at school within 10 minutes and head to my locker. There I change into my uniform, check the class schedule, grab my knives and head to class at 8:30. Most days I have three classes alternating between demonstration and practical. Demos are quite fascinating since you're watching world famous chefs preparing several mouth watering dishes. But after three or four hours of sitting, my bum tends to fall asleep. Practicals pass the quickest since we're expected to finish our dishes within two hours. At the end of each class, we're graded on preparation, technique, cleanliness and taste. The chefs pass on valuable information about what you can do better for next time. We don't get to see our scores - I'm assuming they don't want us to get too competitive.

By 6:00 PM, I'm usually headed out the door, take home containers in hand and completely exhausted. If I have the energy and an extra hand, I stop at the Daily Monop. Think 7-11 with a Whole Foods make over. The Monop had freshly made salads, fruit, cheeses, bread, and easy-to-prepare meals for those on the go. I usually buy things for lunch since we rarely get a break between classes.

When I walk in the door at home, Madame is usually watching TV. I announce to her what we'll be having for dinner and she's thrilled. She too had a challenging day.

Since I'm fairly sweaty, I take my shower, relax for a bit and then prepare dinner. Madame and I have several entertaining conversations - only half of which I understand. But we gesture and laugh, and that makes it easy. She always refuses to let me do the dishes.

In my room by 8:30, I review my recipes, take out the ones for the next day and write in my journal. I usually stop around 9:00 to look at the window at the Eiffel Tower. At the top of each hour, it glitters and lights up the night sky. It makes me realize how lucky I am to be here having this experience.

The weekends are a bit different. Saturday is my play day, while Sunday I spend doing laundry, cleaning my room and reading. I need the down time desperately to prepare myself for the week to come.

So the routine makes me content and at ease. I go to bed happy.

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