You Are Just A Little Speck

"Americans always think Europe is perfect. But such beauty and history can be really oppressive. It reduces the individual to nothing. It just reminds you all the time you are just a little speck in a long history."

-Before Sunrise, 1995

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     If I was stupid enough to have a swear jar in Paris, I'd probably have enough funds to get a bigger apartment. So much of my time during this weird, getting-back-into-the-swing-of-Paris-life period consists of me muttering not very quietly under my breath and making Jim Halpert faces to no one in particular. The Paris you see in movies is from an imaginary, sunny world when little fairies move the crowds out and the sun in. The real Paris, the other ninety-eight percent of the time, kind of makes you feel a little more violent inside than is probably socially acceptable.

     But no, I don't hate Paris. Obviously. I'm just confused and have a lot of burning questions.

1. How sanitary are baguettes? Am I just a huge American germophobe who wouldn't dream of buying food that isn't vacuum-sealed, or is it actually just a little bit questionable how, when you buy bread in France, half the baguette is out of the bag and they usually chuck it right on the counter while you're paying? People walk around everywhere with unwrapped baguettes just poking out of their bags. Call me crazy, but that has always unsettled me. Food poisoning isn't a route I'd like to travel down for a second time, merci.

2. Why does Monoprix sell nail polish and nail files, but no nail clippers? I didn't pack any because the airport would probably confiscate them just because I'm Rachel and always get stopped, so my nails were starting to turn into talons before I just went into a tourist shop and bought a pair with a big purple Eiffel Tower on it (It also doubles as a beer opener). Monoprix, the closest thing France has to Target, also sells adult-sized towels for thirty euros. I instead bought one for half the price and thus half the size. Again, maybe I'm just a huge person. The mirrors certainly seem to think so, since I have to bend down in front of every single one.

3. Why are business hours so limited? I'm down with stores being closed on Sundays. I get it. I truly do. But how are you supposed to get anything accomplished during the other six days when many businesses are closed from 1 to 2 P.M. and close at 5 or 6? This isn't small town America, I don't think. If you work full-time, how do you ever get to the bank? Thinking it was open until 5:30, I walked confidently into my bank on avenue Bosquet and said to the teller, Bonjour, je voudrais retirer de l'argent, s'il vous plaît. I had been repeating that phrase in my head all the way down the street from the métro. He looked blankly at me and said they closed at 5. It was 5:02. Why in the hell didn't they lock the door then? And here's a concept, how about not being a douchebag and just quickly getting my money?

4. Why does the RER suck so much? Now that I have to take it every day, I kind of want to start beating my head on the seat in front of me. That is, if I even get a seat (I usually don't).

5. Why do I feel ashamed eating while walking around but French people pick their noses? Almost every time I've bought a croissant (I'm keeping a tally for the year- I'm at thirteen so far), I feel every single Parisian turn their eyes in disgust towards me. Like I'm the one picking my nose. Or I'm the one sneezing without covering my face. I usually hit up a boulangerie and head for a side street where I can devour my bread away from their judgment.

6. Why do people in Paris think it's cold outside? Last time I checked, it was about sixty degrees Fahrenheit. Please stop judging me for not wearing a parka and scarf. I really don't want my Minnesota body to heat-stroke out in order to pretend this is really cold and wear what you all are wearing.

     I think a lot of my frustration is coming from the readjustment into really-big city life. Sure, I lived in Minneapolis for my four years of college, but Paris has twelve million people. That's four times the population of my metro area at home. So no, my Minneapolitan friends, you do not live in a big city despite all the bike lanes and hipsters and moderate traffic flow. In Paris, we are all crammed into these Haussmann buildings like sardines, so once people get out onto the boulevards, I guess they don't really give a shit about each other. For all the times I've been bumped into, coughed on, Oh, bonjour mademoiselle!-ed by homeless men and desperate waiters looking to fill tables in the Latin Quarter or nearly getting sliced in the eye by a passerby's umbrella, I need to remember that no one is trying to inconvenience me on purpose; it's just a side effect of survival in Paris. There are far too many people in this town to be overly considerate to any specific person. This city has had a long history before me, and will have a long history after me; my time here is less than a blink on its timeline. I just need to shut up, accept the culture and probably eat my damn bread in private.

Rachel

P.S. Check out my two-week video at https://vimeo.com/74541100. Not a lot happens, but I don't know, maybe you're into that.