Rachel in Paris: Paris at 15

Back when I had braces and didn't know any French, I visited Paris for the first time. This was the moment when Paris started playing a huge role in my life. It was the summer of 2006- the summer after junior high- and it was the first time anyone in my family had been to Europe.

We divided up two weeks into four country visits:
1. Starting in Germany, we visited my grandfather's family (He was one hundred percent German and his parents immigrated to Minnesota) just outside of Hamburg in a little town of a few hundred people, Groß-Buchwald, and met a whole lot of relatives that look like my dad. Heino, my fourth cousin, would be his doppelgänger if not for being even taller than my dad, at 6'8". The large brick farmhouse where my great-grandfather, Ernst, grew up in the late 1800s is still on the main stretch of town with our last name engraved on the front façade.
2. Two G-rated days in Amsterdam spent soaking up the historical scene of the city at the Rijksmuseum, Van Gogh Museum and the Anne Frank House.
3. Paris.
4. Ending our trip in London, we were exhausted and tackled the city on foot instead of the Tube and just saw what we could. The notoriously cloudy and drizzling weather only served to emphasize that melancholy feeling you get when you know you're heading home from a great travel experience.

Now about Paris.

I came to Paris with the typical ideas that well-meaning but badly-informed Americans bring: Everyone wears striped shirts with red berets (I've never seen it). No one showers or shaves (Not true). Everyone is rude and arrogant (Some people are). The Eiffel Tower can be seen from everywhere (Usually not). Accordion music is always playing (In the trains and stations, it's pretty common). Instead of affirming my preconceived notions, Paris mostly just made my jaw drop and in the best way possible.

Paris and other parts of Europe were in the midst of an unusual heat wave. Staying in a quaint apartment in a quiet area on the rue du Temple in the Marais, it was a moment to really feel like Europeans outside of the hard shell that tourists hide behind in air-conditioned hotels. My mom and I stayed there again in May 2012 when she came to visit during another unusually hot few days and I really realized, by Parisian standards, the place was huge. And beautiful. (It has since been sold.)

We mastered the métro and RER, even though we probably blocked quite a few black-suited Parisians' paths, scoffing at us tourists. I ate my first-ever croissant from a vendor in the Gare du Nord and it was buttery, flaky magic. I saw the Eiffel Tower for the first time ever from the top of the Arc de Triomphe. We ate fruit and pastries from street vendors. We didn't wear any white tennis shoes. My sister, who was our only French speaker at the time with a few high school classes under her belt, did some impressive communicating (And gesturing). We were golden. I am proud.

Rachel