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.
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| I hate goodbyes. |
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| 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.
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| Under the Tuscan sun at Colle Bereto winery, Radda in Chianti |
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| View of the striped Duomo from the Torre del Mangia |
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| 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.
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| Santa Maria dei Fiore |
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| 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
