Every time there is coffee in the coffeepot when I wake up in the morning (because my family hasn't left for work yet), and I reach for it, I am inevitably warned "sorry, our coffee is very strong." It happened to me the first morning with Beatrice, my host mother, and again this morning with Carlos (her partner). Both times I laugh. I say, "rien de cafe c'est trop fort." No coffee is too strong.
And so it goes with me in Paris. I have yet to find many cultural adjustments that don't suit me. Sure, the lack of exercise that people get around here is a little intimidating. But it's not unheard of to go for a run. It's possible, I will just have to try a few different things before I find what works for me. Plus, my genes are finally catching up with my. My knees were hurting yesterday when I was trying to run (love ya parents, how many knee surgeries do y'all have in total?).
And yesterday I got and activated my bank card, so I can now use the Velib', Paris's (almost) free bike service (definitely free as in free speech, not quite free as in free beer, unless you switch every 1/2 hour). There are stations everywhere, including one on the way to each of the two metro stops that are close to me. I won't be using it today though, in the pouring rain. What I will be doing today is gathering some of the things on my growing list of "things I need," including, but not limited to, an umbrella, a mirror for my room, a camera better than my iphone, a pair of boots, more scarves, possibly a coat, though not quite yet, and a swiffer (maybe). And a stain-remover pen.