Uh Oh. We all know what that means – I’m never coming home. I’m going to find a husband, live here forever. No, No. I just could picture myself here. I’m past the “Visitor” mark now. Week 3. It’s kicking in that I’m not just passing through, but I better settle in. And that’s finally starting to happen.

The closest route to all my classes has been found.

The nearest grocery store, not just the biggest, is known.

A running route through the town center has been made.

My first flight to France is booked for March.

Two of my professors actually know my name, whether or not it’s because I’m “The American.”

The lesson has been learned to always carry an umbrella, even if there’s not a cloud in the sky and I’m just walking across the field.

It’s getting familiar to take public transportation wherever I go.

I’m capable of walking to the other campus without needing to wipe the excessive sweat off my forehead.

I can finally sleep through the night without waking up and thinking it’s the afternoon.

The cutest little bookstore has been located.

It’s no longer a surprise to wake up and look out the window to see dreary skies.

And even after all these things, I still have held onto a few of my tourist characteristics. I had to ask another student in the library where the @ button was on the keyboard, I still haven’t figured out how to order a plain black coffee without getting an americano, and I take pictures of simple things like mailboxes and bus stations.