I Left My Heart in Paris, France

     

     Yesterday, I woke up in Paris. Today I woke up in Minnesota. It's a strange, strange transition. I ate three croissants at my terminal at Charles de Gaulle, and pulled the Brioche Dorée receipt out of my pocket while sitting on my bed at home. As I literally watched the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe fade away under the clouds and Minnesota come into view looking like a Life game board, with neat, geometric streets and full of trees, and hearing loud Minnesotan accents in the customs line, I was having- and am still having- reverse culture shock. When ordering from Pizza Hut for dinner last night, I caught myself asking for a margherita pizza and wondering why we had no red wine on the table. My bedroom is a whole other story. I have a Paris et ses monuments map on the wall,  an "original" painting from the Place du Tertre and about fifty little Eiffel Towers (People's go-to gift for me) scattered around the place. After having lived there, it all seems rather silly. There are also my suitcases that I refuse to open.

I hate goodbyes.

My favorite skyline

      I've spent this morning looking up jobs, internships and graduate schools that could lead me back to Paris sooner rather than later, but I know I won't be able to return until this time next year at the earliest. It's exciting to throw around ideas and not know what career I'll have or where I'll live and it's especially exciting to imagine I could be back in France in the future. I know for a fact that I need to go back one day as a resident again, and not just as a tourist. I think four months gets to you deeper than a Paris Visite pass. Even though I already miss France, I know that it will always be there waiting for me, and above all else, I will miss the people I met there who really account for the bulk of what made this experience so special to me. This semester was absolutely the best time of my entire life and I'm grateful I was lucky and privileged enough to make my dreams come true.
     I spent the last week or so traveling through Tuscany with my mom, our two family friends and a total of eleven pieces of luggage, making stops in Siena, where I spent a bit of time last year studying abroad, and Florence, which was completely new for me. We visited the Chianti Classico winemaking region, stopping at the winery Colle Bereto and a smaller, privately-owned vineyard up in the hills. I could easily have spent a month doing it. In Siena, I got to show them some familiar places like the Duomo, the Piazza del Campo, the Pinocoteca Nazionale and the Casa di Santa Caterina and see some new things, like climbing the 400 steps to the top of the Torre del Mangia and the ancient hospital Santa Maria della Scala that was Siena's primary hospital until the 1980s. I also never get tired of the food and drinks in Tuscany, like cinghiale (wild boar), pici (thick, handmade Sienese pasta), gelato, prosecco, limoncello, grappa and tiramisù.

Under the Tuscan sun at Colle Bereto winery, Radda in Chianti

View of the striped Duomo from the Torre del Mangia

Enjoying a Peroni while admiring the Torre del Mangia like it's the Eiffel Tower in the Piazza del Campo 

      In Florence, it was nice to not have so much pressure to be the tour guide and translator and just relax and marvel at the beautiful architecture. I know we didn't see even close to everything, but it was fun to take it easy, shop, eat pizza and pasta and drink wine to our heart's content. We spent our last night- my very last night to go out in Europe- gazing at the Florentine sunset atop the Piazzale Michelangelo and eating a late dinner of to-die-for food on the Arno. I love Italy, but I was ready to come home since I knew it was inevitable and it wasn't exactly a cake walk carrying my ridiculous amount of luggage through the airports and bus stations. I still secretly hoped that somehow my plane ticket home wasn't booked properly and I would have to stay. No such luck.  

Santa Maria dei Fiore

Watching the sunset from the Piazzale Michelangelo

      I could really go for a croissant right now, so I have the catering menu for one of the only passable French bakeries in the metro area in another tab. But maybe, just maybe Ladurée or Maison Kayser ships? Fingers crossed.

Rachel

Midnight in Paris

    My last week in Paris has arrived. Thinking back to the terrified version of me who arrived at the foyer with two heavy suitcases, panting and lost, I really had no idea then how much I would love the next four months. This has been my dream for as long as I can remember and it's saddening beyond words that it's ending so soon. I'm so thankful for every street, every friend, every croissant and every perfect Parisian night I've been lucky enough to experience.

Montmartre,  5:45 am

     This weekend, we had dinner at our French friend's apartment out in one of the rich western suburbs. It was  fun having lively discussions, laughing and eating a wonderful dinner. The next night, we decided to stay up all night and watch the sunrise from Montmartre. It was not as wonderful as you'd expect, considering the 18th arrondissement is full of sketchy people at night, but it's a special memory I'll always have, watching the dark, pink sky fade to blue over all of Paris.

Versailles, the first time when we were happier!

     A few hours later, we went to Versailles for the second time this week to see the inside of the palace. It was a terrible decision. There were so many people that we couldn't move and I wasn't rested enough to be patient with people literally shoving me to get pictures of the rooms they probably knew nothing about. It's so frustrating when you care about something, have studied it for years, and hoards of people don't let you enjoy it! Stephanie and I rode the RER back home shaking our heads at each other.

I love my friends (This is Stephanie)

    I've also visited the top of Notre-Dame (my favorite view of Paris), enjoyed ice cream from Berthillon on the Ile-St-Louis (Their pineapple sorbet is to die for.) and walked all around the city, visiting beautiful centuries-old churches, like St. Etienne-du-Mont and Saint Severin.
     It's hard to wrap my head around the fact that in about two weeks I'll be using dollars instead of euros to buy Kemps ice cream instead of Amorino gelato, enjoying my coffee at Starbucks instead of a café, choosing from a limited selection of Yellow Tail wine instead of the never-ending aisle of cheap and wonderful French wines at Franprix, shopping at the Mall of America instead of the Champs-Elysées and... croissants. Oh, the croissants. I'll be pretending the grocery-store-hot- dog-bun-croissants are flaky and full of French butter (They're not.). I've been saying that at first I'll be really excited to be home and then about two days later I'll be laying in bed with my Paris sweatshirt on, crying onto a box of macarons while watching Midnight in Paris. This city really gets to you and I'm a prime example.

Rachel

Paris When It Sizzles

     I refuse to put a number on the days I have left in Paris, so I won't. I've been avoiding looking at my calendar because I don't want to see what the date is, which is probably a terrible idea since I've been scatter-brained lately as a result. I remember my first day here, wide-eyed and terrified of the métro, pulling out my map at every corner and all together believing I had made a huge mistake in coming here. After giving it some time, I really think this has been the greatest adventure of my life so far. I can't express how important and meaningful these past few months have been for me. I've made some lifelong friends and I can't really think about leaving them without getting a little misty.
     I had one last meeting today with the program that found me my internship and we discussed our next career steps, like working on our CVs, keeping in touch with employers and how to approach future interviews. We were told not to sound too excited or enthusiastic about Paris or the prospective employer may think we'll leave the company. I thought this was funny- how can I lie about Paris, especially if I'm seeking a job in the travel industry with degrees in French and Cross-Cultural Studies and a minor in International Relations? C'est impossible. 

Parc des Buttes Chaumont

Le Penseur at the Rodin Museum

Giverny

     Now that my time here is slipping away through my fingers, the weather has become absolutely beautiful. Instead of finishing up classes, I'd much rather be laying in the Jardin du Luxembourg or watching Paris from the steps of the Sacré-Cœur. It's been a mad dash to stuff my face with croissants and pains au chocolat while making progress on my Paris To-Do list. In the past week I've visited several parks (Parc des Buttes Chaumont, Parc Montsouris, Parc de la Villette), cafés (Les Deux Magots), museums (Rodin) and churches (Saint Sulpice, Saint Germain-des-Près), snapping pictures and practically running to the next one, Amazing Race-style. I think I have to edit my list. 
     On Saturday, our group visited Claude Monet's home and gardens at Giverny. It was very beautiful, very crowded and very short. As always, I wish we had more time to fully get a feel for the place, but to be completely honest, Monet is not my favorite. His waterlilies are beautiful, yes, but I think I really prefer paintings with more drama and emotion than plants. 
     Since the weather has improved, we're planning on going to Versailles on Thursday since we got rained out last week. 

Rachel

The Hottest Spot in the Universe

"You know, I sometimes think, how is anyone ever gonna come up with a book, or a painting, or a symphony, or a sculpture that can compete with a great city. You can't. Because you look around and every street, every boulevard, is its own special art form and when you think that in the cold, violent, meaningless universe that Paris exists, these lights, I mean come on, there's nothing happening on Jupiter or Neptune, but from way out in space you can see these lights, the cafés, people drinking and singing. For all we know, Paris is the hottest spot in the universe."              

- Midnight in Paris, 2011

     The listmaker that I am, I have spent the last week or so trying to get through my "Things to Do in Paris" list, but it just keeps growing. I don't think I'll ever have enough time in Paris. I had one week off before classes- which was Thursday- and now I'm in the midst of another week break until this Thursday. As difficult as my internship was, it was completely worth it, especially now that I only go to class maybe twice a week, depending on if it's a jour férié or not. I feel spoiled, but then I remember how I interned for twenty-three hours a week plus I had to complete my rapport de stage (internship report) last week- 3,000 words, altogether twenty-two pages. In between seeing the sights, there was a two or three day period where I only left my computer to eat. I think it's fair to say that I've worked hard and now I get my time to simply enjoy Paris.

     I've sketched, picnicked and walked through the Jardin du Luxembourg, Parc Monceau and on the Champ de Mars, made a quick visit to the Orsay, rented vélib' bikes (Paris's bike rental system) in the Bois de Vincennes, Paris's larger, better version of Central Park, sipped a glass of Bordeaux blanc in the Place du Tertre in Montmartre, shopped on the Champs-Élysées and tried out a lot of the cafés, crêperies, boulangeries, brasseries and bars in my neighborhood around Pernety. I've done so many things and chatted with so many Parisians late into the night. It's been really interesting being here during the presidential elections, since people were really torn between Sarkozy and Hollande (Hollande won last night). It's been fun hearing what French people think about our politics and their own and then debating back and forth. I've also been constantly informed lately of how "American" I look and how tall I am, as if I didn't know the latter. I might've spoken more conversational French in the past week than all semester. 

Gelato and shopping

Picnicking at dusk on the Champ de Mars

Meeting new people at the Eiffel Tower

The Orsay

Renting bikes in the Bois de Vincennes

The Champs-Élysées decked out in French flags for the election

     Paris, for me, is magic. Out of all the big cities I've been to, like New York City, Rome and London, Paris is the one that has everything a person could ever want in a city (except, perhaps, sunny weather). It has outrageously good food (I just had canard the other night and it was almost too good), the best cafés and bakeries, reliable transportation, enough museums to make a person insane and when you want a break to block out the sound of relentless traffic, the Bois de Boulogne and the Bois de Vincennes that hug the city on either side. Can you tell I love it here?

     Tomorrow I'm finally making my way out to Versailles. I've been looking forward to going back there for six years since I've done so much research, read so many books and written so many papers about Marie Antoinette and the French monarchy since my last visit. It'll definitely be a nerd moment.

Until next time,

Rachel

Venice. Rome. Greece.

     While sitting on the RER being harassed by accordion-playing dragueurs on the way from Charles de Gaulle airport back into Paris on Wednesday night, I couldn't help but smile. After spending the last twelve days in other countries, I didn't mind the grime of the trains, the drizzling, gray sky and lugging my suitcase up the abundance of stairs in the stations. Welcome home.
     For my two weeks of spring break, Stephanie and I started our vacation in Venice. It rained the entire time we were there, so I mostly took in the absolutely stunning city from under my hood or while darting in-between gelato shops to stay out of the rain. Standing on top of the Campanile in St. Mark's Square, Venice almost blended into the sea, it was raining so hard. We spent a lot of time watching for enormous puddles and stopping to check our map, which is pointless. I don't know why they even bother printing Venice maps since the "streets" aren't even streets and they aren't labeled, either. We were lost almost the entire time, but that's part of the fun of Venice. We were never where we wanted to be, but we found so many beautiful alleyways and quiet canals that it was hard to get too frustrated. The city is one of the most touristy cities I've ever seen, especially around St. Mark's, the Rialto Bridge and the Riva degli Schiavoni, the main promenade along the lagoon. But one turn onto a different street and it's completely different- quiet, empty and achingly beautiful.
     One day, we took a vaporetto (water bus) out to the lagoon island of Murano to see its famous glass-blowing. We watched a demonstration where a man made a horse figurine in about three minutes. It's serious talent. The glass is so beautiful, but I didn't buy too much of it since most of it would probably just crumble up into shards in my suitcase.
     At night, Venice goes to sleep. After the sun sets, the labyrinth of streets clear out, lights turn off and everything is quiet. Each night we would have a little plastic cup of Bellini (Venice's peach and sparkling wine cocktail), take a nap and go to dinner. Traveling is exhausting and especially in Venice!

Dreary weather in St. Mark's Square

Stephanie and I on the Rialto Bridge during a rare sunny moment

     After three days in Venice, we took a train to Rome. When I studied there last May, I never thought I'd be back so soon. I thought it'd be at least ten years or maybe even never. Eleven months later, I'm dumping more euros into the Trevi fountain, fingers crossed for another visit in the future. (The legend is that if you throw a coin in, you'll one day return to Rome.) We met up with Anna and Haley, whose travel plans coincided with ours for a few days. I directed us around Rome, acting like I knew where everything was. We had some memorable moments, including learning Italian from guys who spoke no English while lounging one night on the Spanish Steps and singing in the rain for three hours trying to get from Trastevere to our hotel near the Termini train station. While I love Rome- especially its food- I could never live there. It's an insane whirlwind of traffic and tourists that made me miss Paris, which keeps its insanity under wraps a little better.

Anna, me and Haley in the Colosseum

     We took a trip spur-of-the-moment to Naples and Pompeii one of our days in Rome. Let me just start by saying that Naples is not a city I'll be returning to in the near future. I have never felt so uncomfortable in a city and Stephanie kept pointing out my "worried face" the entire time. We spent a few hours roaming around trying to find a way out to Pompeii and we had people left and right cat-calling us and policemen were on almost every street corner. We eventually found the train station to take us up there, eating some pretty grubby looking pizza that gave me heartburn that I had for about a week afterwards. Pompeii itself was pretty fantastic. It's surrounded by mountains on all sides, one of which is Mt. Vesuvius, whose eruption in 79 AD destroyed the city of Pompeii. We spent the day walking through the ruins and trying to imagine that people actually lived there. It's weird to think that the in 79 AD, the people of Pompeii would never have imagined that in 2012 tourists would be flocking to see what's essentially their cemetery.

Pompeii

     Our last destination was the tiny Greek island of Santorini, which I'd wanted to see since I'd read The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants back in junior high. We spent twelve hours in the Athens airport waiting for our second plane to take us to the island. It was terrible and that's enough said. For ten euros a night, we stayed in our own private villa with its own swimming pool in Perissa, about five minutes from the black sand beach. We rented a car for twenty euros a day, no license required ("Do you know how to drive?") and spent our five days driving along the cliffs, visiting the towns of Fira and Oia (pronounced "ee-YAH"). For my birthday, we spent the day at Santo Wines outside of Fira, tasting wines on the terrace that hangs over the incredible caldera and up in Oia to admire what's considered the world's most beautiful sunset. The little stone white-washed houses with blue doors that are stuck to the sides of cliffs are unreal, they're so picturesque. At this point, we were joking that our entire spring break was basically a romantic honeymoon.

Santo Wines Winery with a view of the caldera

Enjoying the Oia sunset on my 21st birthday

     One day, we missed our bus and then tried walking from Emborio to Fira in the desert-hot weather on the side of the highway, desperate to make our 11 AM boat tour. Right as we were about to literally hitchhike, another bus came and we made it for the next tour at 2. The tour took us to the active volcano of Nea Kameni, where we got to hike for an hour and then to the hot springs on Palia Kameni. They advised people to swim only if they could handle swimming in extremely deep water for thirty meters before reaching the shallow hot springs. Stephanie opted out as I jumped in and the water was, as I put it, "like the Titanic." You could see my breath as I was doggy-paddling my way- I never passed swimming lessons- and the springs were definitely not "hot." It's very cool to say that I got to swim in the Aegean Sea in April, even though it was extremely difficult for me!
     Now with my fading tan lines, bags of black sand and bottles of Vinsanto (Santorini's specialty) I'm ready to carry on with life in Paris again.

Rachel

Here's to your first job in Paris!

        "That Paris exists and anyone could choose to live anywhere else in the world will always be a mystery to me."
-Midnight in Paris, 2011

     I feel like I'm in a dream. It's like I've been here for ages and I still have to think for a minute that I'm here. Last night I had a dream, a nightmare, really, that the semester was over and that I was home in Minnesota. Not to say that I don't love home, but seeing as I've been waiting for Paris for six years, I try to sweep those thoughts of leaving under the rug.
     I'm ridiculously happy all the time here, too. Despite bad days at my internship, getting my laundry stuck in the machines countless times and more choses à faire than I would prefer, I can't help but find myself smiling on the métro, sandwiched in between the man who needs to stop staring and take a much-needed shower and a sea of Longchamp bags. I don't know if it's the 200-calorie-croissants (And I rarely eat just one) or what, but there's no other place in the world that I'd rather be. I think Gil Pender said it pretty well in Midnight in Paris:

You know, I sometimes think, how is anyone ever gonna come up with a book, or a painting, or a symphony, or a sculpture that can compete with a great city? You can't. Because you look around and every street, every boulevard, is its own special art form and when you think that in the cold, violent, meaningless universe that Paris exists, these lights, I mean come on, there's nothing happening on Jupiter or Neptune, but from way out in space you can see these lights, the cafés, people drinking and singing. For all we know, Paris is the hottest spot in the universe.

     This week is my eighth and final week as an intern for French Travel Partners. Though at times it's been really difficult, it has really been the best way for me to use my French skills in speaking. Our classes at the Catholic Institute are made up of almost all Americans and there's not as much of a participation aspect in French classes, so this is the biggest chunk of my week that I have had to communicate entirely in French with my coworkers and clients. I've also made so much improvement in my ability to write formally, since I send out about fifteen demandes de réservation a day to French hotels. It'll be wonderful to have four-day weekends plus Wednesdays off, but I'll miss lunching in the Place des Vosges, my jambon-beurre sandwich from my boulevard Beaumarchais bakery and my coworkers that have been extremely welcoming and kind to me. Saying goodbye will be a little triste, and I'm glad to have had such a rare opportunity to do something like this. I'll probably never be able to say again that I had to visit the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre for my job.

The Catacombs of Paris

Easter mass at Notre-Dame

     This weekend, after three attempts, I finally made it to the Catacombs, which is in my neighborhood. Some two-hundred steps under all the noisy streets and crooked buildings, the Catacombs are lined with an innumerable amount of skulls and bones from as far back as the eighteenth century. It's surreal to think, as you're taking a flashless photo of a yellowing skull, that this used to be a living, breathing human being that's now anonymous. It's a weird experience.
     On Sunday, we went to Easter mass at Notre-Dame. The line to get in stretched out onto the Left Bank, so we had to wait for a long time to get in. The service was in Latin and in French, so I couldn't understand much of it through the swarms of people taking pictures, but now I can say for the rest of my life that I was there for Easter!
     Starting this coming Saturday, I'll be on spring break, traveling to Venice, Rome and Santorini, Greece until April 25. The Trevi Fountain must really be magic, since I'll be back in Rome so soon after studying there last May! I'll also be celebrating my twenty-first birthday in Greece, which I never imagined would ever happen.

Until next time,
Rachel

Je pense, donc je suis…fatiguée.

     As much as I love Paris, I am exhausted. Sometimes, okay a lot of the time, I sit at my desk at my internship and I ask myself over and over again, why did I agree to do this, again? (Answer: Because where would I be interning in Minneapolis for French?) I have twenty-three hours of internship a week and twelve hours of classes, which amounts to thirty-five hours of work a week- coincidentally that's how many hours the French work a week- and on top of that I need to study, cook dinner, write my 3,000-word rapport de stage (In French) and also have time to enjoy myself in this city that I love. I stay up late most nights just trying to wrap my head around everything that's going on (Case in point: It's 2:39 AM right now.). I'm habitually late, so I show up to my internship and classes at least five minutes late everyday and try my best to keep my nodding-off-in-my-chair to a minimum. During my forty minute commute to and from work in the eleventh arrondissement, I try getting some reading done but even then my eyes start fluttering and I have to close my book. Tonight we went to see "Don Giovanni" at Bastille and I think I was awake and paying attention for twenty minutes. Classical music, dark theatre, I'm out like a light. All the Red Bull in the world can't save me at this point.

Rachel

A Tale of Two Cities

     This past weekend I took a short trip to Amsterdam with Anna and Haley. I'm glad this was my second time visiting the city because we didn't have much time to see everything and I also saw a few new things. Two things I immediately noticed upon exiting Amsterdam Centraal station that I didn't notice in 2006: the city's perfume is weed and everything is about half the price that it is in Paris.

     We dragged ourselves and our luggage across the entire city to our hostel. This was my first hostel experience. We were given three bunks in a six-bed room with three older men. I suppose this is the reality of being a frugal student, but if I could do it over again, I would've booked a different style room. We were only in the room to sleep, so if was fine in the end. I'm just glad we had lockers in the room to store our valuables, because it was not the most settling experience.

     Since we got in pretty late on Friday, we went out for fries and a Heineken- it was Amsterdam, after all- and along the way, a stranger thought it'd be funny to take my hat off and put it on. I was NOT okay with that and I screamed in his face and ripped it off his head. My rage turned into the running joke for the weekend. But seriously, do not touch my hat, especially since it was my dad's from Germany in the 70s. Only slightly special.

With Anna near our hostel

     On Saturday, we went to the Anne Frank House, which was an experience that I was glad to have again, now that I'm six years older. It's surreal to think as you're walking through Anne's bedroom that they had to live here in darkness and silence for such a long time, only to be ratted out by someone they knew. I also never knew that Anne had wanted to become a famous writer and publish a book about her experiences. Her dreams came true.

     The rest of the day we spent at the Van Gogh Museum and the Heineken Brewery, which was one big marketing ploy, but fun to see anyway. That night, we had to run across town to make it to a cocktail cruise on the canals. We had a classy time, floating through the city sipping on mojitos and daiquiries and taking in the lights of the city. Afterwards, we decided to take a walk through the Red Light District, as tourists do. After Anna took a picture of the red lanterns, I decided to take one too. Big mistake. A prostitute came out of her window and onto the street to yell at me to delete my photo immediately or she would call the police. I knew that photos weren't allowed of the people, but apparently you can't even take pictures of the lights. I was terrified. You have never been yelled at until you've been yelled at by a prostitute in Amsterdam. So many lessons learned this weekend!

     On Sunday, we visited the flower market, shopped and had one last Amstel next to the canals. Oh! Here comes another lesson...We lost track of time and realized we had half an hour to get back to the hostel, grab our suitcases and get to the train. We quite literally sprinted across the city, my suitcase flipping over every few feet on the cobblestones and pushing little old ladies without apologies. I almost shouted to the others to go ahead without me, I'd find another train back to Paris, but we made it just in time as it was pulling out of the station. I am five minutes late wherever I go, but this got a little out of hand. 

    Stepping off the train back in Paris felt like coming home. Despite how expensive, crazy and noisy it is, I can't imagine living in any other city. I love Amsterdam, but Paris is much more me. Especially since it's now very much springtime, I almost want to cancel spring break and stay in Paris. Today I had a glass of Chardonnay at a café, basking in the sun and people-watching after my class got out early. What a moment of bliss! I could live this life forever.

Rachel

Paris (And Fontainebleau) When It Drizzles

     Tout à coup, it's springtime in Paris. Last week, it was even warm enough to skip wearing a coat. Everything is coming to life in Paris and I'm so happy to see the sun again. The fountains in the Jardin du Luxembourg are turned on and there are so many runners and tennis players. I can't wait to get my running shoes in the mail so I can run again and maybe find a place to rent a tennis racket. That's what I really hate about winter, being inside all the time. I really just want to lay in the sun all day long with a good book and a croissant, bien sûr. 

     I never really thought about how much I love being in nature until I went to Fontainebleau this weekend. Anna, Anna's friend, Greg and I left early Saturday morning to take the 60-kilometer train ride out to see the château and go hiking in the Forêt de Fontainebleau, which is known for its boulders and rare species of trees. I'm getting really jaded to how beautiful everything is in Europe and I was not really shocked by how insanely lavish the château was. When I come back home, I'll probably be in shock that Target doesn't have frescoes and gilded ceilings.

     Since it was beautiful weather all week, of course it had to drizzle on and off all weekend in Fontainebleau and back in Paris. Despite the cold, it was not really all that bad since we were under the trees during the hike. It was actually really beautiful since the landscape was covered in a layer of light fog. We hiked up to the bluff overlooking the towns of Fontainebleau and Avon, picnicking and having great conversations with wine, baguettes, and croissants on the boulders. It's strange to think as you're walking, silent except for sticks crackling underfoot, that the urban jungle of Paris is just a forty-minute train ride back. I love being in the city- whether it's Minneapolis or Paris- but it's wonderful to get away from the crowds and the noise and be present, in the moment, and actually hear what other people are saying, instead of shouting over ambulance sirens and bumping into every impatient, black suit-wearing Parisian that ever lived.

     I'm now really looking forward to our weekend hiking trip in May that I'm working on planning right now of which our location hasn't been decided yet. Never thought I'd miss the Apennines from last summer this much, but I do.

Rachel

La vie en rose

     Now that the novelty of riding the métro has long-since worn off, we have a love-hate relationship. I’ve started taking round-about ways of getting around instead of taking the seemingly logical, American straight-shot across town, just to avoid frequents stops at the nightmares known as Montparnasse-Bienvenüe and Châtelet, because most of the time I’d honestly rather waste a half hour on a detour than fight my way through swarms of people who just stand there on the moving sidewalks. I’m also not the biggest admirer of that one person who smells like rotten eggs who always makes an appearance when the train is full and there’s no way out. But despite my gripes with other passengers’ hygiene, I don’t know what I’d do without the métro, because it really is the most convenient way of going anywhere in Paris. What will I do when I go back to Minneapolis and there’s only the Hiawatha line?

     I was asked a few times before coming here if I could imagine living in Paris after my semester and the answer just came to me: Yes. In a heartbeat. I think Americans are always in search of Audrey Hepburn’s Paris; the Paris without lines, pollution, or bad weather. But it really doesn’t exist. Paris is imperfect, it is always raining and no one is singing “Bonjour Paris” throughout town. Tourists are able to avoid being hazed by Paris- they live in hotels, speak their own language and leave before things turn sour. Now that I actually live in Paris, it’s completely different than the memories of Paris I had of my last visit and my ideas of what this would be like. Life is harder than at home, yes, but it's so much more normal here than I expected, too. My frustrations have already peaked and I think I could honestly live with crunchy, line dried towels, room temperature water, and without proper chips and salsa, because I love most everything else and the availability of outrageously good croissants and wine more than makes up for it. Eating breakfast under the Eiffel Tower while on an assignment from my boss, sitting in the sun in the Place des Vosges today at lunch and walking home from the Montparnasse cemetery (10 minute walk) are just a few of the little moments of bliss that I’ve had in the last week that make it hard for me to think about how my days here are numbered. I spent a half hour at my internship looking at jobs in Paris, desperate for a way to stay. I hardly think a semester is long enough to improve my French as much as I want to- I’m still not able to be funny yet. My coworkers must think I’m the most serious person ever.

     But for the time I have left, I’ll just have to profiter au maximum, as they say. 

Rachel

Croissants under the Eiffel Tower. 

Montmartre at dusk

We'll always have Paris

     Coming back to Paris from the south of France felt like coming home. It was nice to come back and know the city and see the familiar sights and sounds again. My internship is starting to pick up and I'm feeling like I'm actually helping for the most part. On Friday, I had to call every three-star hotel in the 10th arrondissement- a whole page- in French and see if they had available rooms. When my boss told me to do it, I thought she was kidding. She wasn't, and I had to make my way down the list. Bonjour, je cherche des chambres pour vingt-cinq personnes...Speaking on the phone isn't as hard as I thought it'd be, even though one person asked me to send a written message instead because he couldn't understand me. I'm busy all day now and I have my croissant-based lunch every day in the Place des Vosges, where I get harassed by fat little pigeons that eat the flakes of croissant that I drop. I also got a chance to draw a little bit, which made me really happy.

View from my bench in the Place des Vosges (I made a sketch of this woman)

My desk!

    It was Elise's birthday on Tuesday, so we went to the top of the Arc de Triomphe at night to take in the view, followed by sitting by the Seine with some wine for the birthday girl. It was so much fun to hang out, be really silly and to take my mind off being sad about missing my grandma's funeral, not being able to see my extended family that I never get to see and not being able to be there for my mom. My mom told me she read my last blog post at the funeral and "there wasn't a dry eye" in the audience and that it was like I was there. Hanging out was also a welcome respite from all the seriousness of having to act professional full-time during the week at work and at school and pretending to be French. And honestly, what's more beautiful than sitting by the river with wine, croissants and good conversation in Paris? I don't think it gets much better than that. Sometimes I forget this is my life.

Happy birthday, Elise!

     This weekend, my boss gave me free tickets to see Avenue Q in French, because she realized that she couldn't take her kids to see it since it's essentially a dirty version of Sesame Street. I'd already seen it a few years ago in Chicago, but I happily took the 40 euro tickets to see it in French. I guess there are a few perks to being a stagiaire!  

     And, just for kicks, here's a funny story: I was in the métro stop Châtelet today and the inevitable happened. I missed a step and landed straight on my knee, which started to bleed and swell. I spent the rest of the day hobbling around the Louvre and the Marais and I'd really prefer not to think about how the bacteria that's growing on every surface in the métro is probably now in my knee. I really need to carry a first aid kit around with me. 

Rachel

C'est la vie

   

      Over the weekend, our group traveled to Marseille and Arles in southern France. We took the TGV- the train à grande vitesse (high speed train)-from the gare de Lyon early Friday morning and it took less time to travel across the entire country of France than to drive to my cabin in northern Minnesota. I've been wanting to see the Mediterranean for years and it was really cool to be able to finally be there. The weather was so warm that some of the people in our group were wearing shorts, while the Marseillais were dressed like they were in danger of frostbite. We got a nice tour of the old part of town, le panier (literally "the basket") that reminded me a lot of the Italian hilltowns. We had the night off to explore the city, but I got sick at the restaurant, so it stayed pretty low-key. In the morning, we got the chance to see the Château d'If, which is a prison that was made famous by Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. I wish I had read it beforehand, but now I have my very own copy that is basically the size of a shoebox.

Port of Marseille

At the Château d'If

     Marseille felt like a small town- 800,000 people feels small to me now- and it was nice to get out of Paris and feel like I could breathe again, and also in Arles, which actually is quite small with about 70,000 people. Saturday afternoon, we took another train to Arles. I wish we had more time there because I think I would've really enjoyed learning more about the city, but we were definitely rushed. We got to see the Roman ruins and ampitheatre that still exist in the center of town, which looks like a mini-Rome. The mistral, the wind that comes up off the Mediterranean, was absolutely insane. On Saturday night, we walked down to see the Rhône that runs through Arles and the wind was so strong I couldn't walk straight.

     I got to sit in first class on the way back, which would have been great to sleep in, but there was too much conversation going on. It was really great to have everyone together and I'm pretty sure I laughed the entire weekend. After having so much fun, I came home to Paris to find out my grandma had died an hour earlier. She had Alzheimer's for twelve years, so I'm happy she can finally be free. I don't know if there's a worse way out in life. Though I knew this was coming, I still can't really believe that she's gone and that I can't be there. It's really tragic that I never got to know her as an adult since she hasn't recognized me for five years. She was everything that I think really matters in life- to be kind-hearted, modest, determined, loving and always up for a laugh, even till the end. Now when I think about her, I picture her from my older memories instead- in her golfing clothes, her bright pink lipstick, forcing seconds on everyone at the table and giving such good hugs that they hurt.

    This week has been a little off. I'm exhausted and a little sick and I think I might have ordered a sandwich au japon today instead of a sandwich au jambon. I got lost on the way home from my internship today on the line that I take every single day. I could really use a hug from my mom, whose hugs are comparable to Grandma's. Mais c'est la vie, n'est-ce pas?

Rachel

I first came to Paris...one month ago...

     As of today, one month has passed since I arrived in Paris. I feel like I've lived here all my life, but I also feel like  it's all just beginning, which is probably because I started my internship this week at French Travel Partners and my classes at the Catholic Institute of Paris.

    This is how you can tell I've been here a month: 

First week of school- it's so pretty!

      I get recognized at our favorite bars and restaurants. I take the metro most days without even looking at a map. I cook most of my meals at home, with dinner at 8 pm at the earliest. I've figured out how to do laundry (it's awful here). I read books in French during my daily commute (An hour to my internship! Yuck!). I get asked questions everywhere I go about where to find things (But I usually just say je ne sais pas). I'm starting to get picky about my bread and fruit. I sometimes have trouble speaking in English and I certainly can't spell in it anymore (Which is a shame because I was once the 4th place winner in my school spelling bee. I used to really be somebody.)

     My school is so gorgeous and I'm actually really excited that classes have started despite my "not a morning person" attitude I usually have until about noon. My classes are each 3 hours long, but they meet once a week. I'm in class Tuesday and Thursday and at my internship Monday, Wednesday and Friday for a grand total of 12 hours of class time per week and 21 at my internship. I can already tell my French has improved so much in the past month and I can't wait to see how good I'll be at the end of the semester. But actually I can wait, because I don't want this to end.

Off to the south of France tomorrow! 

Bisous,

Rachel

"When good Americans die, they go to Paris." -Oscar Wilde

     This weekend was really centered around death. I got to see the Père-Lachaise and Montparnasse cemeteries, of which the first one is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. Père-Lachaise is full of mossy tombs, statues and gravestones that date from all different eras and mark so many famous names, it's truly amazing. I made it to the graves of Edith Piaf, Sarah Bernhardt, Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde (which has the tradition of being kissed) and Chopin. Even though it's a 45 minute commute, I really want to go back and find others that I missed, like Gertrude Stein and just read a book there or something. 

Kissing Oscar Wilde

     Today was not a good day. I started my internship at 9 AM, which I tried to be positive about, but it really gets old when you feel like a two-year-old all day long. I wasn't given a lot of work to do, but it was hard to understand and be understood entirely in French, especially with tourism industry-specialized words, like pax, which apparently is internationally recognized as "persons." For lunch, which is from 1-2 pm in France, it was interesting to see all the other working French go out and get their lunch to-go, as in a sandwich at a boulangerie or various hot made-from-scratch meals. What a different experience lunch during work is here. During my summer job, I speed away from work in my car to the nearest fast-food place, throw a burger in my mouth, scatter fries all over the floor while probably driving with a knee or two and then I still show up late. I'm definitely liking the lunch scene better over here. By 6 PM, I was almost nodding off and my boss thankfully let me go home. (I took myself shopping on the Champs-Élysées instead.)

     To continue my fun, I decided to do laundry. Joy! I had heard that the American who lived in my room last semester got her clothes stuck in the washing machine for three days. I put on a brave face tonight, put my coins in and hoped for the best. Guess whose clothes are stuck this semester? This girl.

    Can't wait to get away to Arles and Marseille this weekend.

Rachel

The City of Love

     This week has been particularly challenging. I had two examens this week- one on Tuesday (just a regular test for class) and one today. Today we took the Test d'Evaluation de Français (TEF) which will give us a standardized level of our French competency that we can put on our résumés. We'll be taking the test again at the end of the semester to see our progress. So basically taking the test today was for fun, since we'll (hopefully) score much better in May. It was extremely difficult, that's all I can say. I've also been having a hard time getting to class on time. On Tuesday, I rolled in 45 minutes late to our 2-hour class. It's so hard getting up in the morning when I don't get enough sleep and my room is freezing. I better not be late on Monday to my first day at French Travel Partners!

     On a happier note, the temperature is finally back up to the upper 40s, which feels like summer to me. I broke out my lighter jacket and was about ready to wear flip flops to class, too. Meanwhile, the Parisians are still wearing gloves, hats and scarves. If they think this is cold, no wonder the weather was the top story on the news when it was in the 20s. I've gotten quite a few aren't-you-cold stares since I've been walking around with an unzipped leather jacket all week. But honestly, if I tried to bundle up like everyone else, I'd have a heatstroke. I'm just too Minnesotan to pretend 45 is cold.

   I'm feeling pretty lucky that I haven't gotten sick yet, since almost everyone in our group has gotten sick in the past few weeks. As the level of hand sanitizer in my little bottle that I brought has lowered, my disgust for everything in the métro has gone up. People cough and sneeze on everything and I've seen several piles of vomit dotting the quais, as well as a man staggering around and bleeding all over the place. Since I'm so grossed out, I'm getting quite good at balancing myself on the train without holding on- the one pro of having big feet in a country that laughs when you ask for your shoe size.

     On Tuesday, us single girls (which I think is almost everyone) decided to avoid the ridiculous romance that was probably happening around town (and basically everyday) and have a girls night. We treated ourselves to tiramisù, profiteroles, rigatoni and nice white wine in the Latin Quarter, before holing ourselves for the rest of the night at the foyer with the Eiffel Tower view, trying not to think about how many romantic dates were probably going on there at that moment. C'est la vie !  

Rachel

Tiramisù, because I deserve it! (Even if I had to buy it for myself)

Our Valentine's Day!

'S Wonderful, 'S Marvelous

 
     I think I've let enough time pass to really admit that I'm in love with Paris. I love the way the bread crackles when it's split apart, the man who plays the accordion in the Duroc station every morning on the way to class, and the way that dressing nicely is just normal here. Everything I've read about Americans coming to live in Paris has been true so far, including the bad- the frustrations, the seeming lack of logic- and the good- just about everything. For my first few weeks, I felt like I was pretending to be a Parisian, like I might as well have been wearing a red beret and striped shirt while gnawing on a baguette (Well, the baguette part is actually true), and now I feel like I can pass as the Real Deal to the untrained eye.    

     I'm starting to have tourists ask me where to find things, even though I want to tell them "It's okay, I'm really just one one of you, too!" I can navigate the city by métro without consulting my city map book every single time. I can go to Franprix (The local grocery store chain where I found peanut butter and salsa! YES!) and bring my own bag for my groceries since they don't offer any. I have yet to figure out how to throw my money back into my wallet and pack my groceries fast enough so I don't slow everyone down and get stared at. I don't know how they do it so fast. To the other shoppers, I probably look like I have oven mitts for hands, dropping coins everywhere and loading yogurts pretty much with two hands into my bag. 

   Yesterday we visited Les Invalides, which is a large Baroque building that was once a hospital (and still partially is, I think) and now houses Napoleon Bonaparte's tomb and the French military museum. It was fascinating to see endless hallways of uniforms and weapons from all different wars and eras. We even saw Napoleon's preserved horse, which is probably one of the weirdest things I've ever seen. 

     Another thing I love about living in Paris is that I can do whatever I want whenever I want to. We went shopping on the Champs-Élysées for a while to find me some warmer clothes (It's still like 25 degrees here) have a coffee and a pastry. Just a typical Saturday, right? I love that I can take line 13 all the way there whenever I have the urge to shop. Yesterday I realized that coming here has been the greatest decision I have made so far in my life, and that feels pretty wonderful and marvelous to say.

Rachel

Les Invalides- that dome is the one that you can see under the Eiffel Tower.

Napoleon

Napoleon's horse- isn't that crazy and gross?

Good times with good people