I finally made the decision to speak in French whenever I possibly can this month. Yes, I saved it for the last month I will be in Paris, because procrastination is my not-so-strange bedfellow.

I already employed this new initiative today, as I tried to prendre rendez-vous (make an appointment) to get my vaccinations for Africa this summer. There’s that darned procrastination, again! I spoke French on the phone to two receptionists, although the last one got exhausted quite early and swiftly switched to English in mid-sentence. I spoke French in person with the receptionist at the vaccination centre by my apartment, where I learned that it was a private medical centre and I would not receive remboursement from the France’s Sécurité Sociale for my vaccinations. So she and her collègue directed me to a vaccination centre where I would be reimbursed because they are a secteur 1 medical clinic. During this conversation in French, I was sweating bullets the entire time because it was bloody hot outside and also because I felt like a ‘tard, so I was fanning myself with a piece of paper like an obese American waddling down the aisles of Wal-Mart. But by the end of the long discussion—during which the woman never once spoke English with me, either because she enjoyed helping me practice French or just didn’t speak English or was a sadistic bitch—I booked an appointment for the other centre, where I will receive five or so shots bright and early tomorrow morning. Huzzah.

Hmm, that all seemed more interesting in French. As most things are.