One of my favorite moments each week comes Tuesday morning at 8 a.m. This is when we start warming up in my “20/20/20” aerobics class.
I don’t know what it is—the goofy 80s music? The goofy Frenchmen (for four out of five classes, it’s just me, one middle-aged man and the male instructor) flapping their arms and scissoring their legs? Or maybe it’s just how goofy I feel, literally bouncing around this chic gym the way I feel I’m always bouncing between two worlds. It somehow makes me feel connected to this life I’ve carved out in Paris. Like I belong. That it’s not just the city’s beauty, my new friends, or the pain aux raisins that keep me here, but that there are quotidian activities that I could be doing anywhere and getting just as much pleasure out of them.