First and foremost, I miss my friends and family. Calling is somewhat expensive and without Internet access, emails are far and few between. It’s strange to think about everyone back in the States going on with their lives. I feel quite out of touch.

Milk. I miss milk like crazy – good, cold, non-fat milk. The milk here creeps me out. It’s sold in cartons much like soy milk, and it’s kept on a shelf, not in a refrigerator. Because it’s been highly pasteurized, it can keep forever, but the process has done something terrible to the taste. It’s like drink water mixed with chalk. Anyone for a nice cold glass of chalk dust?

Peanut butter. I didn’t eat a lot back in the States, but what I wouldn’t give for a tablespoon or two right now. I’m craving a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off. There’s a store here in Paris that sells only American products like pop tarts and Kraft macaroni and cheese. Maybe I can go there and find some good old-fashioned Skippy.

My cat. I know she’s in great hands with my house sitters, but I miss my kitty. There’s a stray cat that hangs around the building where I live, but he won’t come within ten feet of me. I haven’t seen any evidence of cats here in France except the cat food on the grocery shelves. I miss having her sleep with me every night and wake me up at 6:00 AM so she can be fed.

A really good hamburger. McDonalds doesn’t cut it and though we’ve tried to make them, I really need a hamburger. There’s a joint not far from me in Lake Oswego called Giant Burger that is absolute heaven in a plastic basket. If anyone has the time, can you please FedEx me one? Hold the cheese please. We have plenty of that here.

Mexican food and sushi. There are no decent Mexican restaurants in Paris and sushi? Forget it.

My kitchen. Thanks to my mom, I’m reading My Life in France by Julia Child. She attended Cordon Bleu back in the 50s while living with her husband in France. She had a fabulous kitchen where she would practice, practice, practice. I long to do the same, but I need all the proper equipment. Somehow lugging my Kitchenaide on the plane didn’t seem like a good idea.

My mom’s whole wheat chocolate chip pecan cookies. The French haven’t fallen in love with the chocolate chip cookie like the Americans have. I’d try to make them, but there’s no brown sugar and the idea of making a whole batch with white sugar seems less than appealing.

The Lake Oswego Farmer’s Market. I loved going to the market every Saturday morning with my neighbors. We had a fabulous routine where we’d pack up the two kids, swing by Starbucks and then hit the market. At the market were all the most fabulous choices, and I had my favorite stands where I’d by all my fresh produce and flowers. Markets in Paris are wonderful too, but I haven’t had enough time to find them.

My shoes. It was hard for me to narrow it down to five pairs when I was packing for France. And granted I’ve purchased as many pairs since I’ve arrived. But there are still a couple pairs that I miss and wish I had brought with me.

Making money. Euros are like Monopoly money here and often times I forget that it’s not a 1:1 conversion. It’s amazing how expensive things are in Paris. Each time I have a tea or a soda at a café, I’m spending around $5 – 6. Tip is included, but still that seems like a lot. After 12 years of earning my own money, it feels strange not to be fully responsible for my income. Goodness knows how I’m going to earn a living once I graduate, but I’m hoping that will come to me sometime this fall.

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