Am I there yet?

Update on my self-imposed American in Paris reading list:

Breezed through Miller's Quiet Days in Clichy. Picked up a few places that I could go check out in Paris to say "Henry Miller did such and such here." However, I will have to be careful, as Henry Miller did a lot of such and such of which I would not want to be a part. Undoubtedly the sections of Montparnasse and Montmartre he frequented in the '20s and '30s have changed, in the way Greenwich Village and Haight-Ashbury have been changed by the 20th century's peculiar way of avenging upon its centers of artistic revolution by making them bourgeois and banal. I wonder where the Montparnasse of today is, and what it will be like tomorrow.

I suppose for me, Paris exists still as the city of Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Stein, and so many other ex-pat writers in the pre-World War II era. I notice that the city seems to have that effect on people of echoing a previous age while being hustle-bustle modern all at once; among countless others, Adam Gopnik struggles with this notion in Paris to the Moon and Nadeau and Barlow mention this conflicting presence in Sixty Million Frenchmen Can't be Wrong. As far as I can gather, this is the source of much of its charm. I suppose I just need to take care not to expect to arrive in Paris and retire to some cafe so I can fall in with a world class literary circle. While not out of the question, I think that is both a dangerous and slightly presumptuous path to take - what if, God forbid, I just have a good time? My expectations must remain open, for as much as I want Paris to be rife with the residue of the Lost Generation, the world has changed since then, and even a city as inseparable from its past as Paris must get rid of some old to make way for the new.

Speaking of Paris to the Moon, that is next on my reading list. I am still waiting on A Moveable Feast in the mail, and Americans in Paris is a much more daunting read. Adam Gopnik is a great and underappreciated essayist. For what it's worth, he is the foremost authority on the contemporary American experience in Paris - literary, humorous, cynical, and yet still full of the wide-eyed wonder that many a Yank has expressed toward the city.

I am nearly done packing. Today all my stuff goes into storage. I am proud of myself - I really thought I owned more than this. I keep expecting a hidden stash of clothes or books to appear out of nowhere just when I think the job is done. I still have a few too many little-worn blue button down shirts and God knows why I kept that oversize red leather jacket so long, but for the most part my dedication to the less-is-more ideal is paying off (finally). Ironically, I am having a terrible time deciding on what to bring. I must have unpacked and repacked my suitcase and backpack three or four times late into the night last night. Many of the travel websites suggest bringing fewer clothes than you think that you will need; in that vein, my packing and repacking has resulted in me mostly removing items. At least I no longer have to sit on my suitcase to close it. But, my penchant for over-preparedness made these removals almost painful. I will have to adapt out of my comfort zone, I guess, and such seems to be a large part of the study abroad experience.