Grace sufficient

-          Saying, “op-la” each time you nearly drop something feels like the most appropriate response

-          You stare aghast at visitors innocently drinking white and rose wine at room temperature

-          You start calculating if it’d be at all possible to go grocery shopping in Pennsylvania on your bike, envisioning your personal herb garden (on a windowsill), and wondering if eating locally is possible in Harrisburg in December. 

-          You eat an ice cream cone while cycling through tourist mobs near the Roman Arena in Arles. You don’t consider yourself a tourist.

-          The man at the shop near the Arena waves each time you pass, the same Moroccan man haggles you at the market, and the young beggar across from the bakery smiles a greeting

-          You can’t think of the English sense of a very appropriate French idiom, and you mess up the syntax in English sentences with French word-order

-          You find yourself mixing languages.  “la dishwasher est proper.” “I am malade.”  And your theatrical skills have vastly improved.  You can now act out the fall of the Roman empire using the skeleton of your French vocabulary to fill in the gaps.