My intentions were clear - at the very least live one year in Paris to improve the French that I have been studying (on and off) for the past 4 or so years. I've sacrificed a lot to come to France. I tortured myself with French grammar, autonomously practiced speech for hours, and left some decent pay in England to pursue this - a Parisian birth. And now, after spending my first 24 hours in the French capital, I'm not really sure if I want to stay.

First of all, I have to say that I'm very lucky to be here in the first place. I'm saying with the very kind family of a French friend, who I met in Sydney. They are of Chinese origin so it's not a complete culture shock (then again, it is a bit strange seeing them eat so much refined cheese). It's great to just have a roof over my head. Unfortunately, I'm feeling a little home sick. And living in the 20th arrondissement doesn't help. This north-eastern slice of Paris does not feel very French. All I hear is Arabic or Chinese. If I walk down the road, I pass 3 shisha joints within the first 100 strides. There are groups of men congregated around street corners talking about stuff I certainly don't understand. It feels like I'm reliving my trip to Morocco. I'm not being racist. I'm very aware of the ethnic diversity of Paris. It just feels more foreign than expected. Even the Chinese here freak me out - and I thought I had difficulty conjugating French verbs!

I had previously visited Paris last year and I thought the place was wonderful. But today, I soon discovered that I had only seen the first 7 arrondissements - the heart of Paris. The 20th and its neighbours don't look so good. They're rather grey and excessively cemented. There are fewer monuments and parks so the result is a constant 7 stories of apartments as far as the eye can see. It's a bit overwhelming to be honest. It's the first capital I've seen where the commercial and residential density increases outwards from the city centre.

I went for a long walk today towards the centre of town. I had to remind myself to watch out for those canine land mines; there were some real beauties out there. Along the way I passed through some pretty shady areas. I don't think they were dangerous, they just felt dubious. There was one street that was quite broad and central, but it was lined with alternating prostitutes and street gamblers. And at a couple metro stations I found large groups of Africans screaming down pedestrian staircases, what the hell is that about? After an hour of walking I eventually found myself at Forum des Halles, an obscene looking shopping centre with 70's architecture, low ceilings, poor lighting and a convoluted layout. It felt a bit depressing really; it didn't help my rapidly descending mood. I had McDonalds just to cheer myself up. Not for the taste but for that warm and fuzzy feeling eating a BigMac produces. It's amazing what a childhood of brainwashing can do.

Like the surroundings, the people seem a little cold. Sure they'll be very nice and polite to you when you ask them for help in a shop or café. But there is no spontaneity or aura of friendliness. I already miss the ability to strike up conversations with complete strangers, which is a way of life in Mauritius, and common enough in big city Sydney. I don't really know that many people here. It's a strange place to be, especially seeing as I'm quite a social person.

As I sit here, alone, in front of my computer on this cold grey evening, I am seriously manifesting doubts about living in Paris. I do hope that my initial reactions to Paris will be replaced by more positive ones as time goes by. I know that I'll give it my very best effort. I didn't come all this way to leave so soon. But only time will tell.