There are too many unanswered questions

"Often I feel I go to some distant region of the world to be reminded of who I really am...Stripped of your ordinary surroundings, your friends, you daily routines, your refrigerator full of your food, your closet full of your clothes, you are forced into direct experience. Such direct experience inevitably makes you aware of who it is that is having the experience. That's not always comfortable, but it's always invigorating" Michael Crichton, Travels

For some reason this quote really speaks to me, but I'm having a difficult time articulating how exactly. It's true, when traveling you find yourself confronting completely new and different people and situations every single day. And these new situations really do force you into direct experience. At home it's very easy for me to create my bubble of comfort and familiarity. I surround myself with people who are similar to me and this, I think, is human nature. We want to be understood and accepted, so it makes sense that we seek people with similar life experiences, goals, ideals, etc. And while there is absolutely nothing wrong with this, sometimes it's good to be shaken up a bit and thrown out of the comfort zone. It forces reevaluation. Every day here I am constantly coming into contact with people and with a society that has different ways of thinking, different social norms, different priorities, different everything. It puts my world and my self in a different context.

But I still don't know what it is I'm trying to say. I guess in a nutshell, what I'm describing is culture shock, but in a good way and on a huge scale. It's not just French culture shock. I am still constantly surprised and oftentimes baffled by the different sub-cultures of the United States. And in my classes there are students from literally all over the world. There is a girl Sara who sits next to me in Cours Practique who is from Iran. I can't even begin to imagine how different our lives before Paris were. And yet we're friends, we laugh at the mistakes we make, talk about French culture, complain about the metro strikes, share stories about our weekend, the same things I would do with any of the rest of my friends. But in a different context.

The other day Sara asked me before class "Why are you in Paris?" Well wasn't that obvious? "To study French," I responded unsure of why she asked such a silly question in the first place. Exasperated she said "Yes, but why Paris? And why French? Why are you here? What do you want?" They were simple questions, yet I had a very hard time coming up with the answers to them. No one had ever asked me before. Oh sure before I left I had plenty of people who commented Oh Paris, why would you want to go to Paris, they don't even like us there. And I've taken my fair share of criticism for choosing to study French--But Spanish is so much more useful, What are you even going to do with French besides teach, or my personal favorite, But everyone speaks English now so why even bother? But Sara wasn't trying to criticize me, she too has obviously chosen to study French in Paris, her question was much more personal. After some reflecting I finally responded "Because I love it. Because I'm a city girl, because I love analyzing languages, because I connect with this culture, and I love it." Et c'est tout.

On Saturday night Gabi and I stayed in largely due to the rain and also because we were visiting Le Musee Des Arts et Metiers as well as making a day trip to Champagne on Sunday. But for some reason we were still antsy, so we decided during one of the breaks between downpours to try to find a Monoprix (French Target more or less) to buy hair dye to dye my hair. I'd been contemplating a change in hair color for a few weeks and finally just decided I was bored with the blonde. Unfortunately we could not find a Monoprix that was open past 10, so we decided the hair dying would have to wait for another day. On Sunday morning during breakfast Mme Dugan asked about our night and I explained the Monoprix excursion. She looked at me with that bewildered stare that she has and demanded "But WHY would you want to dye your hair?" I shrugged and tried to explain that I just wanted something different. Apparently this was not the correct response. After a 5 minute lecture as to why I should not act on this whim that I was having, we agreed to disagree.

The next night at dinner she asked what I had decided. I told her I still wanted to dye it and explained that I had dyed my hair dark before and that I had been perfectly happy with it. So she of course asked to see pictures, which I showed her. She reluctantly shook her head and said "Ouai, ouai ca marche …" After stumbling across a picture in which my hair was in an awkward in between shade of blonde and brown she exclaimed "Ah mais ca c'est moche ca! Ah ouai mais franchement." Frankly that is ugly. Oh, no but really that is ugly. Ohh the French.

When the dye job was finally complete, she asked me in the morning "Well..?" She then proceeded to carefully inspect my hair, lift practically every strand, circle me, ask me to stand in the sunlight, ask me to stand further away, all while clicking her tongue and muttering under her breath. Finally she proclaimed. "Oui. Ah oui ca marche" Yes, yes this works. Well Hallelujah, I never knew dying one's hair could be such a production. I think she was more invested in the end result than I was. But the French take this approach to practically everything. They take some time to make a decision and once they decide, that's it-their mind is made up and they will argue about it incessantly. And they are honest, brutally, and painfully honest about everything. So here, you have to know where you stand on everything, from the metro strikes, to hair color, to the new health care bill, to how you take your coffee. You will not only be asked your stance on all this things, but you better be prepared to defend your answer. These answers almost always beg the question "Why?" Why do you feel this way? Why do you want to do you want to dye your hair? Why did you choose Paris? Mais pourquoi? And that opens a new can of worms entirely.

The tango with chance

"We live in a world that is full of beauty, charm, and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open." Jawaharial Nehru

Sometimes it takes a change of place to draw out curiosity and sense of adventure. Paris is, without a doubt, succeeding in doing this to me. I want to do everything, because everything is alluring. But, I'm also aware now more than ever that the time is flying. Spring is without a doubt here (finally!) which makes it all the more real that we've been here through a season already. And the warm weather makes the city come alive.

On Monday we took advantage of the weather and met up near Les Jardins des Plantes after class. Gabi, Emily, Carolin, and I sipped on mint tea and ate turkish pastries on the terrace of the Cafe Mosque. Unfortunately with warm weather and outdoor snacks come even more pigeons. Maybe the next three months here will rid me of my fear of birds (an irrational fear according to Mme Dugan), but I'm not too confident in that. After the Mosque we wandered through the gardens for a bit and explored the shrub labyrinth while chatting away. There's such a comfortable dynamic between the four of us; it feels like we've known each other for years.

By mid-week, my mind was on French overload. 7 hours of class on Wednesdays always keeps my head spinning in different languages, but in addition to class, the four of us also went to a play in French. We had acquired cheap tickets through Crous and had jumped at the opportunity to see a play at La Comedie Francaise without a second glance at the play that was being put on. We grew apprehensive when we couldn't find much of a synopsis of it online at all and became a bit nervous that the entire production would fly straight over our heads. Much to our surprise, it was hilarious, and fairly easy to follow (or as easy as any play in another language is to a foreigner). But I think we left the theater in a sort of daze...9 straight hours of another language is exhausting.




Thursday was one of those funk days that happens every once in awhile no matter what setting you find yourself in. There's a certain amount of frustration that is absolutely inevitable when acclimating to a different culture. The culture will not change for you, you have to bend in every which way to accommodate it. It was a frustration that was particularly strong for all four of us on Thursday. In an attempt to combat this, Gabi, Emily, Carolin, and I all met at the Tuilerie Gardens after class, each of us armed with a different component to a Parisian picnic. Ingredients included: wine, camembert cheese, baguettes, gardettos, thin mints, gouda cheese, and plenty of topics of conversation. It was the perfect remedy for our grievances.

Next on the to-do list was Pere Lachaise cemetery which we were able to cross off as of Friday afternoon. There is something oddly peaceful about that place, not particularly eerie, just very calm. But we didn't get to see any of the "famous" graves that were there, so we're definitely going to have to make a return visit. Friday night after dinner Gabi and I met up with some friends at our favorite bar (mostly for the cheap cocktails) near Grands Boulevards. From there we made our way to Oberkampf for some late night dancing. It was a great way to end a very tiring week.

Tomorrow Gabi and I are making a day trip to Champagne and meeting up with her Dad. I'm so glad that I finally feel like I'm really using the time I have here to the fullest. Initially I was overwhelmed with the possibilities and comforted by the fact that I would be here for such an extended period of time. Now I'm starting to plan what I want to do and really use every day. It's made me that much more aware of all there is to do, and that much more excited for everything the next few months have in store.

I've gotten so much braver, Can you tell?

"And something's odd-within-
The person that I was-
And this One-do not feel the same-
Could it be madness-this?"
Emily Dickinson

Sometimes I feel like this country is slowly driving me towards insanity. I'm getting to the point where I've been here long enough for the newness and excitement to wear off a bit. It's interesting because I've officially hit the end of my sixth week here, which is the exact time I left Spain. So I'm now entering into unknown territory as far as living abroad goes. And don't get me wrong, I still feel like this is exactly where I'm supposed to be and exactly what I'm supposed to be doing right now. But when living in a foreign country, nothing is ever simple. For instance, our host mom apparently does not believe in doing laundry on a regular basis. We've been here for a month and a half and it's only been done twice (we've paid for a laundry service once a week). There are a few things that are awkward about this situation. First and foremost, I'm running out of clothes, and as someone who does laundry only when it is absolutely necessary, this is saying a lot. Secondly, there is no real tactical way to approach Mme Dugan about the subject. Finally, we would go to a laundry mat, but we have no detergent, no money, and no idea how the french laundry system works. I'm not even sure I could approach someone about this subject in English, let alone trying to find the words to express myself politely in French.

This is of course another thing that is so overwhelming about living here-the language barrier. Most of the time it's not too difficult, and I actually surprise myself with how much I am able to communicate. But living in a different language messes with your brain, plain and simple. After a long day of classes I find myself actually thinking in French, and last week I had my first dream in French. This is exciting and slightly exhausting all at the same time. Gabi and I have started mixing our French and English when we talk to each other. If there's a word that better expresses what we want to say in French, we say it in French. I'm afraid when I come back to the States, no one will be able to understand me when I speak!

The French language has started creeping into my English as well. When Gabi asks how many people are coming out with us, I find myself responding with "We will be five." We say things like "I'm going to install myself at this table," or comment how we are "profiting from this experience." Thankfully everyone here is thinking in the same manner and doesn't find these random "frenchisisms" the slightest bit bizarre. It's especially difficult to re-tell things that happened in French, in English. I find myself fumbling for what I want to say, and I end up not being able to express myself in either language because somehow all the words have gotten shuffled around in my brain. When this happens to either me or Gabi (normally after a particularly stressful day for one reason or another) we normally look at one another and very slowly annunciate "I. Can't. Say. What. I. Want. To. Say." This is typically followed by deep breaths and chocolate.

It's also sometimes I little mind-boggling to be living somewhat of a double life. I literally am in a different world here, and therefore am a different person in a lot of ways. They're not necessarily concrete things that I can identify easily. But I'm living a life here that's completely different than the one I'm living back at home. I really enjoy being alone here for some reason. Much more so than at home. I love, love my metro rides in the morning where I can just listen to my music and unwind. I like going for walks by myself, I like going to museums by myself. Sunday morning I went to the Louvre for a bit on my own--it's nice to be able to go at whatever pace you like.

On Saturday I wandered around Le Marais and Hotel De Ville area. I did some shopping and debated going to a museum but decided the Saturday tourist crowds weren't really worth it. So I went back by the Canal and grabbed a sandwich (goat cheese and tomoato) and a pain au chocolat from our favorite boulangerie on Rue de Lancry. I found a bench along the Canal and people watched for a little while. All was well and peaceful until I started eating my pain au chocolat. I was then attacked by at least 10 birds at once. This did not sit well with me in the slightest. I scrambled to pick up all my belongings and ran off in the direction of my apartment cursing up a storm and giving the savage pigeons looks of disgust as if this would teach them a lesson for next time. I'm certainly not holding my breath.

This next week looks like it's shaping up to be a pretty hectic one. As we attempt to finalize spring break plans, we start to realize how quickly the time is passing and how much more we want to do. Gabi and I are always finding opportunities to check more things off our lists. Tomorrow we're meeting Carolin and Emily for some tea and pastries and then exploring a labyrinth. That's one thing, no matter how insane I feel sometimes here, at the very least I have three other people who are feeling just as crazy right along with me. And on some days, that's the only thing keeping me afloat.

Pray for Tomorrow, But for Today

"The ache for home lives in us all, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned." -Maya Angelou

It's the most difficult part about leaving--meeting new people, giving up your familiar routines, searching for your niche. Attempting to feel at home in a foreign place with complete strangers can be daunting to say the least. But after a month a half in Paris, I am happy to report that it is starting to very much feel like home. I've slipped into routines here with much more ease than I thought I was capable of. On Monday morning when I left the apartment, making my way to the metro felt comfortable, easy, enjoyable even. Walking there now seems like second nature; when I walk out the door, I'm on auto-pilot. It's like making the drive from Columbus to Cincinnati, walking to the girls' apartment, walking to the boys' house, or driving home from work...it's a habit now, and familiar and comfortable one at that.



Gabi and I have commented numerous times how quickly we've become comfortable with one another. It's at times frightening how in sync we are. We've started to very much look forward to our Crous lunches on Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays with Emily and Carolin. I'm very thankful for the people that I've found here. Last night Gabi and I agreed, if we can take away even one great friend at the end of this experience, it makes it all worthwhile. But, I have a feeling I'm going to be taking away a few more than one.

In an attempt to keep up with my Paris to-do list, on Monday I decided to go to one of the museums on my list. It of course slipped my mind that almost ever museum in Paris is closed on Mondays (I still have yet to figure out the reasoning behind this). I finally found that the L'Orangerie museum that houses Monet's famous water lilly paintings was only closed on Tuesdays. So, I went. I got a little lost upon exiting the metro--proof that I'm not always as at home as I'd like to think :) But I wandered around the Tuilerie Gardens for a bit and managed to find it without too much of a problem.

Monet's paintings (Les Nymphéas en Français) were awesome. They were his final project, a project that he finished when he was almost 80 years old and they are huge. 4 of the paintings take up an entire gallery room and up close it looks like random brush strokes of color. But when you step back a few feet it turns into a stunning landscape of his gardens in Giverny. Thinking about it now, it's the first museum I've ever been to completely on my own before. But I have to say I enjoyed it a lot; it was sort of nice to be able to go at my own pace and stop at the things that caught my eye. I'm looking forward to checking more museums off of my list.

Tuesday I was going to go to Le Musee Carnavalet but ended up meeting Gabi, Addison, and Keesean outside Place St. Michel for an extremely over-priced cup of coffee. We came back for dinner (chicken and vegetables...Mme Dugan's meals have grown significantly less elaborate as the weeks have passed), and headed back out for our weekly wine and cheese rendez-vous with the other people in the program. Two of the things I will miss the most about this country is the bread and the cheese. Hands down. And the people. I'm really going to miss the people that I know that make Paris feel like home.

Hold this feeling like a newborn

"I guess I wanted to leave America for a little while. It wasn't that I wanted to become an expatriate or just never come back, I needed some breathing room. I'd been to Paris once before and liked it very much, and so I just went." -Paul Auster

So far it's been one of the best decisions I've ever made :) Not that I didn't think it would be, it's actually been one of the few constants in my life since I started college. Even when looking for schools, I knew I wanted to study abroad. During my Freshman year I didn't think I would ever be able to muster enough courage to actually leave home. Sophomore year I got restless, decided to learn a different language and jumpstart the process. After Spain, I knew studying in France was something I needed to do. It's not at all what I expected it would be, although I'm not quite sure what I expected exactly.

The one thing I did expect it to be was a whirlwind. I'm already in a slight panic over how much time has passed and how much I still want to do. To experience all of Paris would take years, and even then I'm still not sure it would be possible to see it all. I've started a running list in my moleskin journal (I feel quite literary whenever I write in it) of all the things I want to get done before I leave and I'm making it my mission to check at least one thing off every day. So far, it's been pretty successful.

Last weekend was a blur. After visiting a museum in Caen, the American gravesite, Omaha Beach, Pointe Hoc, the city of Caen, an apple orchard, le Mont St. Michel, and rather interesting gas station, we were exhausted. So Monday was a day of rest. Tuesday was beautiful outside so Gabi, Tommy, and I trekked to the best bakery in the 10th arrondissement for some fresh baguettes. We stopped off at Franprix for a bottle of red wine and some camembert cheese. We planted ourselves along the canal and watched the world go by. Good food, good people, and a good setting does wonders for the soul. It's so simple but so refreshing.

Wednesday we went to Le Salon D'Agriculture. It's one of those words that gets lost in translation because this place is anything but a salon of agriculture. It's sort of like a state fair on steroids. A state fair with gourmet food--wine, cheese, bread, wine, chocolate, cured meats, ciders, honey, wine, jam, mustard, beer, candies--oh yes and did I mention the wine? It's basically everything you could ever love about France under one roof. And for 6 euros you get to try it all. One of the main Pavillons is divided by region, so in essence you can take a culinary tour of France without ever leaving Paris. I bought mustard from Dijon, red wine from Bordeuax, sparkling wine from Champagne, olives from the Mediterranean, and truffle oil from somewhere. We left the Salon/Fair/Exposition (there really is no English word for this place) a little tipsier, stomachs a little fuller, wallets a little emptier, but a whole lot happier.

Thursday we went to L'Opera Garnier--as in the Opera from Phantom of the Opera--to see a ballet. We saw La Dame aux Camelias which was in a word, beautiful. A live orchestra played music by Chopin and the story followed that of La Traviata. So as if the ballet itself wasn't incredible enough, the setting was absolutely amazing. Anyone who has ever been inside (or even seen the outside for that matter) of L'Opera Garnier knows exactly what I'm talking about. It is grandeur at it's finest.

Friday was a welcome start to the weekend. Last week was the first week of my phonetics classes which are incredibly interesting but I could do without the 8:30am start time. 8:30 means I leave the apartment by 7:50 so I can make my metro trek to the Latin Quarter. This means waking up before 7 which is something I haven't had to do consistently since my mornings at Panera and it's not an hour of the day I'm looking forward to getting to know again. But the classes themselves are very engaging, much better than the 2 hour long lectures. For a half an hour the professor lectures about the rules of French pronunciation. For the second half hour we sit in a lab, divided into individual cubicles armed with headsets which will hopefully help us to better speak the french language. So far it's been very useful.

Friday night we attempted to go to a fondue restaurant in Montmartre only to find we needed reservations. So we wandered for a bit in hopes of finding a decently inexpensive restaurant that would seat 9 of us. Not an easy feat on a Friday night in Paris. We walked into a few different places, each time looking at a server and apprehensively mouthing "Nous sommes neuf." Literally, we are nine. Normally this was met with a shake of the head and a "C'est pas possible." That's not possible. Finally we found a place that looked as though it served food and enthusiastically told us 9 people was not a problem. We eagerly took the table without a look at a menu or a second glance at our surroundings. Much to our surprise it was a bustling bistro with a live band and a fun atmosphere. The food wasn't half bad either. Sometimes the best nights are the ones you don't plan for.

Saturday consisted of a trip to the Catacombs (an underground tomb more or less), a creepy experience but an experience nonetheless. We followed that with another trip to the Salon D'Agriculture seeing as it was one of the last days that we could take advantage of it. We rested for a bit, then ventured out to Bastille for a night of dancing. It was a ton of fun and the night ended very well :)

Today we did as the Parisians do. We took advantage of the sunshine, braved the wind, and wandered aimlessly while chatting away for a few hours. Carolin, Gabi, and I grabbed a cup of coffee in the sunlight to warm up a bit before we bought some bread and cheese and had a picnic by Les Halles. Some sort of Parisian perfect.