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