I learned to eat the year
I starved in Paris.
Like so many
American kids, I lived the cliché of being a poor, broke, foreign
exchange student there to lap up some culture and meet some romantic
French men.
All the myths came crashing down the first month. The guys were scruffy, unwashed and uninterested. The universities went on strike. The dollar crashed against the franc, sending Paris food prices beyond the reach of U.S. students.
I was 19 and living in a 12th century building on the rue Seguier and I refused to go home.