It strikes me funny that being back home I hear myself saying, "bonjour" instead of hello, "pardon" instead of excuse-me, and "merci" in place of thank you.
Those French words pop out in a flash of habit, reminding me that France has slipped under my skin and taken root without my awareness.
Equally surprising is the bombardment of English. It feels strange to understand everything, and not be able to tune out anything. Tidbits of conversations, three dressing rooms down, I hear and I'm intrigued. The words sound fresh and new, like old friends that I haven't heard from in a long time. I realize that I don't have to speak slowly for others to understand me. Soon thereafter I lose my voice from non-stop talk.
With French Husband here he sounds soooooooooooooooooo mysterious, and his accent is renewed to being sexy again. There is something spicy in words being spoken in another language, n'est-ce-pas?