Living the Bo Bo Life Here

Today is the first day in two weeks that it feels like I have little to show for myself. In fact, my efforts to adapt are taking root. I did leave my apartment this morning and negotiate the wild and woolly world of Paris. I rode the Metro and transferred to RER without incident, arriving on the other side of Paris in time for my Art History class, and then, on my way home, I did stop in at a little café for a café crème. But these accomplishments went forward without fanfare and no longer qualify as adventure. They've become… well, ordinary, meaning they didn't call out of me anything particularly foolish or foreign. I read on the Metro and I wrote while drinking my coffee.

Actually, my coffee came from the little café on Avenue Trudaine, the Moroccan place right next door. In the afternoon, when meals aren't being served, people stop for coffee and wine. I joined them today and gloried for awhile in how much I like my bo bo neighborhood.  Yes, "bo bo"—it's Parisian slang for bohemian bourgeois—or maybe it's European slang, or no, looks like it's US slang that's migrated here. I guess it was coined by journalist David Brooks. He says "bobos define our age. They are the new establishment. Their hybrid culture is the atmosphere we all breathe… Their status codes now govern social life." So. Okay. I live in a bobo neighborhood and feel at home.

I'm thinking that tomorrow I might take a bobo canal tour. It's one of the things suggested to me, and I noticed that the season more or less ends with September. We'll see if I can make it on top of everything else I need to do for school tomorrow. I'm also still trying to get to the American Library, which is somewhere over by the Eiffel Tower. So, things to do, places to go. Life normalizes.