An American in Paris

C'est la vie!

  • 22nd December
    2011
  • 22

Parisian-isms 101

Everyday as I walk around the city of Paris, whether it be to class or just on a random stroll, I notice trends amongst French people. The list is endless but here are some of the first things I’ve noticed…

1. Either staring isn’t rude or everyone is rude.

It doesn’t matter what you are doing, someone will look at you with a blank stare and it will make you think you have food on your face. Normal activities, like sitting quietly on the metro, earn stares. When you do something really crazy, like wear sweatpants, EVERYONE will give you dirty looks. That’s not even the strangest part. In America, if you make eye contact with the person staring at you they will realize they’ve been caught and they’ll quickly look away. In Paris, looking back at them, and establishing that you see them staring, will not deter them from giving you dirty looks. I’ve gone so far as to wave at someone and they still continued to look at me like I had three heads.

2. Girls wear tights under their shorts.

Paris experienced an Indian summer this year, and there was a random week in October when it was 85 degrees everyday. I brought out my finest selection of sundresses and floral tops; the Parisian women brought out their selections of shorts with stockings underneath. I don’t know why they do this but I have a few theories. A) They don’t shave their legs and are hiding gorilla-esque situations. B) They are self-conscious about showing their twig legs a world full of normal sized humans. C) Their legs get cold but they want to wear shorts to seem in season. Regardless of the reason, it is extremely popular here and I don’t think it looks that great.

3. Windier than Chicago

The wind in Paris is baffling. It comes from all directions, constantly threatening all flowy skirt or dress choices. When it rains, the wind makes it rain sideways; thus umbrellas either blow away or do nothing to protect you from getting soaked. I attribute the constant wind to the circular pattern that Paris was built in. It creates a vortex/tornado/air tsunami situation that will force you to always wear shorts underneath skirts and dresses.

There you have it, the first three Parisian-isms! There will be plenty more to come :)

  • 15th November
    2011
  • 15

The Art of Getting In…

Studying abroad in Europe is amazing for a lot of reasons; museums, monuments, culture, traveling… and the drinking age. As an American student, I have the added privilege of legally consuming alcohol, so I was finally able to taste alcohol for the first time…

Apparently, some students take full advantage of their alcoholic freedom, and have created the “obnoxiously drunk American” stereotype. I’ve never witnessed this type of behavior in person before, because I spend my weekends studying in the library, but I hear it consists of a combination of the following…

            -Drinking wine straight from the bottle

            -Loud sing-a-longs in the street

            -Unnecessary yelling and running through the metro

            -“U-S-A” chants

            -Constantly taking pictures, but not actually capturing the desired image

            -Never wearing coats, even if it’s snowing

I decided that I should probably go to some popular Parisian nightspots to observe how locals behave when out on the town. My friends and I went to Duplex, a club right in Place Charles de Gaulle (where the Arc de Triomphe is located), to do some research.

We were able to properly blend with the crowd and get into the club on our first try, but not everyone was so lucky. Clearly, we had to continue our research, by going back once a weekend, to figure out the system. After extensive observation I believe I have a general plan of attack when trying to defy the “obnoxiously drunk American” stereotype in order to get into a Parisian club…

-Wear dark colors; black is chic, not depressing

-Girls wear heels (no one appreciates long and slim legs like the French), guys wear clean/new dark sneakers or dress shoes (do NOT wear white sneakers)

-During the fall, winter and early spring, wear a coat; only people who are obnoxiously drunk can walk around in the winter without jackets. Plus, there will always be a coat check and it will only cost 2 euro

-Boys should not have facial hair, unless it’s well kept Justin Timberlake-type scruff. When in doubt, shave.

-Girls should make sure their skirts are an appropriate length; there will be a woman at the door judging girls’ outfits, and she will not take kindly to too much skin

-Don’t try to flirt with the bouncer, say a polite “bon soir” with a smile, but keep it to that, French people are extremely selective with their small talk.

-Lastly, act casual while waiting on the line. Don’t give the impression that you’ve been drinking, even if your pre-game included ping-pong balls and red solo cups.

If you abide by these guidelines, you should not have a problem getting into bars or clubs in Paris. Once you’ve entered the establishment go ahead and act crazy, there will be a loud electronic DJ drowning out anything that you do. Keep in mind, it will be very difficult to get a cab if you leave the club/bar after 2 am, but the metro system closes at 1:30 am on weekends. The metro will re-open at 5:30 am, and most clubs are open until 6 am; so just keep dancing until the sun starts to rise.

I hope my research has been thorough enough to get you in the door wherever you desire to go in Paris. Otherwise, I guess I’ll be forced to go back for more research…

  • 14th October
    2011
  • 14

Museums and I…

When most students talk about the classes they take abroad they say things like “attendance is optional” or “we just to museums.” For some reason, my experience doesn’t really match up. At the American University of Paris (AUP), attendance is graded, we actually get homework, and if we go to museums it’s not to see the collection. 

I’m taking a course called “Museum as a Medium”, the description said that we’d discuss the ways museums create dialogues with their visitors, and that once a week we’d visit a museum in Paris. My thoughts at the time, “that sounds great, sign me up!” …little did I know.

Our museum visits don’t consist of looking at all of the pieces, it’s about how the museum is set up; what the lighting means, how it represents cultures, who it is aimed for, etc. As interesting as that can be, this class takes it entirely too far. One visit, we were at the Carnavalet which is the history of Paris museum, we spent about 15 minutes talking about how the striped wallpaper in one room meant chaos, but the same wallpaper in a different color meant order. At that moment, all I wanted was for the museum curator to come up to my professor and tell her that Home Depot ran out of the red stripes so they switched to blue. After a while the analysis of a museum’s intent goes too far.

Since that naive moment when I decided to take this class, I’ve learned one major piece of information. I’m allergic to museums. That probably sounds dramatic, but every single week when it comes time for my museum visit I feel nauseous, my head starts to pound, my back aches, and my legs feel like I just ran a marathon. Each week I try to prepare for what’s ahead of me; I drink plenty of water, I eat a balanced meal, and I even brought medicine with me to the museum to take when necessary. Nothing works.

I’ve double checked the allergy section of WebMD, and I know that I can’t actually be allergic to buildings with old artwork. So, yes I admit, it may just be in my head. I’ve been going to museums all my life, and I enjoy living history museums, science centers, and anything with IMAX movies. I thought maybe being 20 years old and in such a historically rich place that I’d grow to love art museums… I haven’t. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.

  • 27th September
    2011
  • 27

Planning anything with a group of people is always difficult, even when it’s something as simple as meeting for dinner. So when a day trip to Giverny was suggested, it became somewhat complicated. It seemed like a relatively basic trip to take, we didn’t need to do anything ahead of time except pick which train we wanted to take. None of the boys from Loyola were interested in going to see a garden, so it was just eight girls. We tried a few times to pick a Saturday afternoon, but between the weather and the varying schedules it took a few weeks to find the perfect day. 

After finally settling on a date, we planned to take a train that left Paris just before noon. The plan was to meet at the train station twenty minutes before that, but everyone took a little extra time to get ready and we only had about five minutes to find the train. Once we got the Gar Saint-Lazare there was a lot of confusion and we couldn’t find the train that we needed to be on. Unfortunately for us, the man who was working at the information booth was not the kindest man we’ve encountered. We hustled through the train station for about ten minutes but could not find where we were supposed to go. I went back to the information booth man, and he gave me the exact same directions that got us lost and then added, “It’s not that hard.” …awesome, thanks for all that information.

Gare Saint-Lazare, which is a HUGE train station, was under construction so we had to go outside of the station and in a different door to get to our train. Needless to say, after running through the station for fifteen minutes, we got to the platform just in time to see the train pull away. Reading the time table was difficult, but we figured out that the next train was at 2. What did eight college girls do to pass the time? Shop and eat, of course. 

Three and a half hours, a train ride, a bus ride and a ticket line later, the eight of us made it into Monet’s home in Giverny. The house was nothing special and the lack of informational plaques made it difficult to appreciate what we were looking at. However, the gardens were absolutely amazing. Somehow, after all the trouble we had with picking a day, we managed to get a perfect one. It was warm, but not too hot, and the sun was shining in all its glory. I’ve never seen anything so green in my entire life; everything had a kelly green base giving the entire area a very natural feel. The flower garden was filled with every color of the rainbow; bright raspberry, soft tangerine, aquamarine, violet, and everything in between. The most spectacular part was the lilly pond section. The midnight blue water was so still it looked fake, it was covered with soft evergreen lilly pads, some of which had snow colored flowers. There was bamboo standing like an army of soldiers, seemingly perfect, despite how varied the branches were. The shrubs surrounding the pond ranged from the richest emerald color to a pale mint, adding great depth to the scene. The most shocking part of the magnificent sight, is that Monet designed and created the scene himself. He thought up the pond and plants, grew everything, and then painted them. His artwork was truly of his own making at every stage. 

So many pictures were taken that all we wanted to do was frown to offset the pain in our cheeks. As soon as everyone’s photo quota was reached, we got back on the bus, back on the train and back to our apartments. No matter where or what I do, it always ends up the same way, with a nap. A hectic yet lovely day really wore me out, and I couldn’t have been more grateful for a nice evening snooze!

Until next time…

  • 26th September
    2011
  • 26

 The weather in Paris never ceases to amaze me. Despite the summer heat, the sky was a murky blend of ash and sapphire when Jen, Erin, and I met the tour group outside of Point de l’Alma station. The final day of orientation had arrived, and between remnants of jetlag, and the pub crawl AUP organized for us the previous night, everyone was visibly exhausted. The ominous tone of the sky contrasted the sundresses and shorts most of the students were wearing. The bright florals, blues, pinks and yellows stood out against the shadows the gloomy sky was casting. After a head count and brief discussion about how we should use our student ID cards to get for free (did I mention we had yet to receive our ID cards?), we got on the regional train heading towards Versailles. 

Of course a group of college students who were functioning on only a few hours of sleep would forget to eat anything before their journey. Thus, the first thing we did upon arrival in Versailles was get something to eat (and get out of the rain). It’s crazy how much better food tastes when you’re hungry. The way the packaged ham and cheese sandwiches from the food court revived us, it seemed like we each had that pill from the movie ‘Limitless’. 

After shelling out an unnecessary 13 euros to enter the palace, we were on our way. It’s difficult to describe the enormity of the palace, and it’s even more difficult to imagine that it was someone’s home. I don’t blame the French for revolting against a monarchy that stole enough money to be able to build Versailles, but looking at the situation from the royalty’s perspective it’s not so black and white. How can you blame people for becoming wrapped up in themselves when they were watched from the moment they woke up to the moment they went to sleep? I’m not suggesting that the royal families conducted themselves properly, but if members of the general public considered watching me eat a privilege, I’d probably have a great feeling of self-importance too. 

While we meandered through the palace and searched for the audio guide number in each room, the sun managed to sneak out from behind the clouds. The audio guide was hilarious in an odd way. It listed a lot about who designed what, and what the kings and queens would do in each room. Then, the ambiguous accent would make a small comment, but the image that it conjured in my mind would be ridiculous. For example, in the hall of mirrors, the guide spoke about the tremendous amount of glass, the important historical events that occurred there, and how its original function was a hallway. Wait, WHAT?! I’m sorry, but you can’t just casually add in that one of the most magnificent and majestic rooms in all of the world was a hallway. I imagined myself getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and casually walking through the hall of mirrors half asleep in my pajamas. 

After finishing the indoor tour, we decided that although the sun had come out and it was a beautiful day, we were spent and needed to head back into Paris. On our walk back to the train station we marveled at how beautiful the area was. The spots of sunlight made the pavement look like a dalmatian, but the tree cover was a much needed umbrella from the strong heat. Despite how tired I was, and how busy the tourist trap that is Versailles was, I couldn’t wait to go back and take visitors there. In the mean time, I focused on getting back to my apartment for a nap in preparation of another night exploring Paris after dark!

  • 25th September
    2011
  • 25

Montmartre in the Morning

During orientation, in between talks of safety in Paris, and library tours, AUP had little field trips around Paris. Since I thought it would be a good way to get me out of bed, meet new people and see an interesting part of Paris, I decided to get up early and take the “Tour of Montmartre”. Although I’ve been to Paris before, I literally had no idea what to expect. Montmartre is the hill leading up to the highest point in Paris, maybe it was the jetlag or the hot early morning sun, but this slipped my mind. 

One of the orientation leaders and two student advisors led the tour group to a bus and we were on our way. The bus left us on a street lined with sex shops, which was odd to see first thing in the morning, but what was really weird was the people pounding the pavement were not prostitutes but parents…with their kids. Maybe the French are used to seeing these storefronts but I would be hard pressed to walk around this area with children.

Since being in Paris, I’ve walked miles and miles, and there is a serious shortage of water here. Between that and the wine I’ve been enjoying, I was dehydrated going into the tour. It finally dawned on me that I would be trekking from the Moulin Rouge up to Sacre Coeur; the thought alone almost made me cry. I called upon my years of sprints during basketball practices and decided that I would not only make it through the tour but I would enjoy it.

I almost didn’t notice the Moulin Rouge because I was too busy drooling at the Starbucks located across the street. I took a few pictures of the facade and then spent the next ten minutes trying to figure out if I had enough time to get a burger from the fast food place that flanks the Moulin Rouge. Finally, the group began our ascent up the hill to Sacre Coeur….I missed my chance to get food and a cold beverage.

We passed a few interesting places such as the cafe where the movie Amelie was filmed… I never saw it, but apparently it’s a good. We also saw a really cool statue that is from Marcel Ayme’s Le Passe-Muraille, or in English ‘The Walker-Through-Walls’…

The story is about a man who was able to walk through walls. For whatever reason, he didn’t want this ability, so he went to a doctor to be cured of said ailment. The doctor gave him medicine and told him that in a few days he would be normal. In the meantime, he met a woman and fell in love with her, but she was married (small detail). Her husband suspected that she was cheating and locked her in her  bedroom. Little did he know, the man his wife loved could walk through walls. The man would walk through the bedroom wall and spend time with the woman he loved, but then one day while he was passing through the wall his medicine kicked in. Hence, the statue half coming out of a wall.

Eventually, after walking up a lot of steep streets (like the one above), we made it to Sacre Coeur. There were people everywhere, street musicians playing, artists painting, and the view of Paris was flawless. At that point, as sad as this is, I could only think of water. After a few pictures, the guides led us back down the hill (the short way) and brought us to the metro. I couldn’t wait to get to my apartment and take a nap, but I was happy that I had went and made a mental note to go back a few times before leaving Paris.

  • 20th September
    2011
  • 20

I’ve been in Paris for a few weeks now and I want to give you more details on my homestay. I’m living with an older couple, probably around age 60, in the 7th district of Paris. For those who are not familiar with the districts of Paris, the 7th is very affluent. I am lucky enough to have my own room, which is pictured above. Yes, I have a fireplace in my bedroom, and I also have two beds, for no reason at all. It has 20 ft ceilings and intricate molding everywhere. To be honest, this room is too nice for a broke college student to be living in. I’m pretty sure my closet resents me for not have more expensive clothes. 

In addition to having a beautiful room, I have a really nice host family. Monsieur de Neuville is in charge of the security at most of the museums in Paris, including Versailles. Madame de Neuville wears heels all the time, even if she’s just walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Neither of them speak a lot of English which is good and bad. It’ll definitely help me to learn French, but sometimes we have no idea what the other person is saying. For instance, the first night I stayed in the apartment I went to visit some friends, but I wasn’t sure of where their apartment was so I asked Madame how to call a cab. Apparently she doesn’t like to be seen in her pajamas because as soon as I approached her in the hallway she hid behind a door. Needless to say, I walked to my friends’ apartment. 

The second day that I was at the apartment, Isabelle arrived. She is another AUP student who lives in a different room within the apartment. She is from northern Italy on the border of Austria, so her native language is not Italian but Romange. I had never heard of this language before but I have heard of the 6 other languages she speaks fluently. It’s really nice to have her around to help translate what Madame and Monsieur say. Although, Monsieur rarely allows her to speak to me in English. Luckily, she was there when I told Madame that there are a lot of “préservatifs” in American food. In French, that word doesn’t mean preservatives, it means condoms. Oops. Fortunately, Madame just laughed and shook her head. Everyone in the house is so nice I couldn’t imagine a better place to live. 

Next, I’ll start writing about being out and about in Paris! Stay tuned…

  • 5th September
    2011
  • 05

Bonjour Paris!

I MADE IT TO PARIS!!!! The days leading up to my departure were busy but I was able to see a lot of my friends and family which put me in good spirits. As far as my actual trip is concerned, my trusty travel agent, Kathy, was able to reschedule my flight to avoid Hurricane Irene, and I even had an extra day at home. JFK airport in New York was a zoo but I made my flight, as well as my connection in Shannon, Ireland. I arrived in Paris on Tuesday evening and luckily, an AUP student was waiting for me at my gate. 

All of the new and visiting students (that’s me!) stayed in a high class hostel until we were able to find housing. There was a small reception there and I was able to find all of the other Loyola students, as well as meet a few other AUP students. Everyone staying in my room (six girls) went to bed around 10 pm because we were all so tired. 

Since I arrived in the evening, I couldn’t check in immediately and I was left with absolutely no information or directions. This is a major difference between American schools and AUP, here they don’t baby you at all. In the morning we had to get up early to check in, get our orientation schedules and go to all different events. After taking a campus tour, getting a cell phone and eating a delicious sandwich, I felt a lot less stressed. The only thing left to do that day was my housing appointment… 

I decided to do a home stay while I’m in Paris. I want to learn more French and live a Parisian lifestyle, so living with a Parisian family made the most sense. Initially, I thought that I would be given three options, I’d go visit those options and then I’d pick my favorite. I was wrong. I was brought into a small room and a French woman with a heavy accent asked what I was looking for. I told her I wanted a home stay with a meal plan near school. She pulled out a file and said that it matches what I want, then called them to see if I could come look at the apartment. Within 15 minutes, a student advisor and I were knocking on the door to the apartment. I felt so overwhelmed but my advisor told me that it was a great place to live and I should really take it. So I did. About 2 hours later I was back with all my bags and I was moving in! 

Other than that, the orientation planned by AUP has been pretty uneventful, and we are all just trying to join this time zone and get acquainted with Paris. I’ll check back in again soon!

  • 5th September
    2011
  • 05

I HATE packing.

Packing is a nightmare. I’ve done hours of laundry but at some point I have to actually pick what clothes are coming with me and what I’m leaving behind. Besides clothes, I have to chose what shoes I need and which won’t be necessary. I’m dreading this, it’s going to be like picking a favorite child. All packing issues aside, there are some “more important”(according to my parents) matters I need to deal with.

When I initially booked my flight to France I thought I had to arrive on the 29th, but I found out a few weeks ago that I don’t have to be there until the next day. After some stressful phones calls and Google searches, my parents and I realized that my sister has a friend who lives in Paris and I could stay with him for one night. Unfortunately, I would have to find my way from the airport to his apartment with all my luggage. It wouldn’t be an ideal situation, but I wouldn’t be sleeping on a park bench. This all seemed taken care of but then I checked the weather.

I live in New York, so when I think about hurricanes I think of far away places (like Florida). However, I now have to worry about hurricanes, especially ones that are named Irene. Since the Governor of New York has declared a state of emergency, my flight on Sunday night is most likely going to be cancelled. Hopefully I’ll find a flight on Monday night or else instead of being a day early, I’ll be a day late.

I booked my flight through a travel agency, so I can just hand off my flight issues to my travel agent, Kathy. So the thing that I have left is to study some basic French. I’ve taken four semesters of French at Loyola, but earlier today when my Dad asked me how to say “left” I had no clue. Needless to say, I need a little practice.

I have only a few short days to get everything ready, and I’ve never felt so excited and so nervous at the same time. With all the stress leading up to my departure, I can’t wait to set foot in Paris and enjoy every minute of my time there!

  • 31st July
    2011
  • 31

Overcoming nerves via blogging…

Four weeks from tonight I will be boarding a flight to Europe, and to be honest, I’m terrified. Some of my friends have already spread out to various parts of the world and I’ve been reading their blogs. Although it’s clear that they’re having a wonderful time, I’m getting really anxious about leaving home. This is seriously concerning. Those who know me, know that I face things head on and don’t ever let anything rattle me. Yet, I haven’t even started packing and I get a pit in my stomach just thinking about leaving home. 

I’ve decided that my worries are rooted in a few different things. First, I am horrible at speaking French. Second, I won’t be with a big group of people from Loyola. (Instead, just a handful of Greyhounds will be mixed in with all the other new students.) Third, I’m going to be broke in a matter of weeks.

Luckily, there are solutions to all of these problems… time. With a little discipline I will be speaking French in no time, I just have to get through some miming and confused faces. With a few awkward introductions I will meet a lot of new people, and will find my fellow Loyola students. With a few applications I will get a job. YAY! Problems solved.

While I wait for this all-healing time to pass, I’m going to prepare myself to deal with the culture shock. I’ve already changed the language on my facebook and twitter to French, but my sister suggested that I begin to read French newspapers, too (goodbye NY Times homepage, bonjour Le Monde). Also I’ve accumulated some contacts who have studied or lived in Paris… I’m going to contact them (possibly somewhat creepy for them, probably infinitely helpful for me). Next, I’m going to apply for jobs before I get to Paris. Lastly, I’m going to stop eating as if every meal is my last and step up my work outs (from non-existent to existent). I want to put my best foot (and leg, and stomach and arm) forward when I arrive. 

Now I’m really pumped up about going abroad and my nerves are gone. Thanks for listening :P