1 week equals 7 days...

As I sit here in the Paris Beauvais airport (en route to Krakow and Warsaw – first time in Poland!), I can’t really believe how quick this year has gone.  I finished my last exam this morning and in exactly one week, I will be flying high above the Atlantic ocean on my way back to the US.  Perhaps that isn’t the strange part.  The strange part is that I’m not coming back here – when I get on the plane, that’s it, just packing up my life here and moving back to the US.  It almost seems like a joke – every time my host mom brings it up, I laugh it off, saying “Annie, t’inquietes pas, je vais revenir!” 

I think I’m in denial.  It feels like next Tuesday is no different from today, just a trip and then I’ll be back home.

And there it is, the key phrase : back home.

Earlier this semester, I wrote a post about feeling a bit lost, as if I was afloat in the sea with no real roots.  It felt like I had no home, because nothing felt permanent, not San Diego, not Middlebury and not Paris.  But somehow in the last few months, that’s changed.  Home kind of snuck up on me, and suddenly I find myself struggling to come to terms with the fact that this is, in fact, not permanent.

The truth is, I can’t actually imagine what it’s going to be like to get on that plane – checking my bags, walking through security, the voice of the desk attendant calling out the departure, sitting and watching out the window as the tarmac of the Charles de Gaulle airport fades into the clouds…

I can already imagine the moment it will truly hit me because the same thing struck me when I was in New York for a few days earlier this spring ; whether it be on the plane when the flight attendants switch from announcing in French to announcing in English, or when I step off the plane in San Francisco, it will be the fact that everyone is speaking English.  American English.

First thought?  Ugh, freaking tourists, just pipe down.

Except they won’t be tourists. 

And I’ll just be another American, getting off a plane from Par-ee, that place with the Eye-fill tower and the Ark duh Tri-umph.  Signs in English will glare at me, with big bold letters greeting me to the land of the free, the land of the brave. 

The customs agent will welcome me “home”. 

And there it is again, home.

I suppose as someone who hopes to move and travel quite frequently, this revelation, that home is such a difficult term to define, is timely.  Will the US always be home purely because I am an American citizen?  Or could a place like Paris be home?  Can one have multiple homes?  Or will that just lead to a perpetual cycle of wishing one was elsewhere?  Don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to being back in Solana Beach with my family; but I know that I will so many things about the life that I have created here : jumping on the bus, grabbing a glass of wine at the nearest bar with a friend, Annie’s incredible cooking, and discussing French politics with Annie’s friends.

Because the truth is, Paris, you have become home, and leaving you will not be easy.

Time

"Work is hard.  Distractions are plentiful.  And time is short."

- Adam Hochschild

I feel like there just isn't enough time these days.  Not that time-management was ever a strong point for me, but the last few weeks have flown by.  Each day, I feel like I'm constantly astounded by how quickly time flys by.

Sunday night, I pulled an all-nighter working on a 10 page paper - there just wasn't enough time to sleep.  Today, I ended up writing one sentence for one of my 13 short answer questions for my history test.  Why?  Because I didn't have nearly enough time to answer each question to demonstrate what I knew.  Somehow, I found myself with only 5 questions answered after an hour had passed, with 8 to answer in 30 minutes.  The same issue arose last week with both of my Economics exams.  Who knew that I would be pressed for time after being given 3 hours to answer 4 questions on my monetary relations exam?  And luckily I had memorized all the formulas for my finance exam, since I was hard pressed to complete that exam in the allotted 2 hours.

But the time issue is also playing into other aspects of my life, besides testing.  When I go to the gym nowadays, suddenly 45 minutes have gone by.  I went to ballet class this evening, and I felt like we'd only gone through half of the exercises when the teacher was suddenly ending the class - it had already been an hour.  Even commuting seems quick these days - I jump on the metro, pull out my book and suddenly I'm rushing to get my stuff together and off the train before I miss my stop.  It's not that I'm in a rush - actually quite the opposite.  I spend most of my life rushing from location to location due to my penchant for running eternally late; its almost as if life has finally decided to match my pace.

I guess the final aspect comes down to this : I have less than one month left in Paris.  All year I've had this concept of my time here as long; surely not indefinite, since I knew that I would eventually be returning to the US, but long enough.  And now, everything is winding down - final exams, evaluations, goodbye parties... It was that moment when a friend and I had to actually plan the next and possibly last time we'll see each other here (obviously we'll be able to see each other in the States, but you know what I mean).  When I see posters of events, shows or exhibitions I want to go to, and then realize I will no longer be here.

It's that moment when my host mom says she doesn't even want to think about how soon I leave, that she's avoiding it.

The quote above rings so true at this moment for me, even though I imagine the author meant it in a somewhat different context.  But I shall make it my own, since it rings true nonetheless.  The work this year was hard.  I've definitely pulled the most all-nighters of my life, had the most nervous breakdowns in a year, and felt the worst, academically, that I've ever felt.  Luckily there were plenty of distractions provided by Paris and Europe as well as by the amazing people I've met here.  The distractions surely both helped and hurt with the work dilemma.  But in the end, time is short.  I feel like I have so much left to do and to see, and the reality is that this little adventure is almost over.

Visiting the... Circus Museum?

I've done and seen a lot of cool things this year in Paris and around Europe.  Chateaux, art museums, ancient ruins and beautiful churches are all part of the experience.  But today, I definitely visited the strangest (in a good way) place yet; it's called the Musée des Arts Forains.  It's a private museum, with tours only by reservation, in the Bercy area of Paris, housed in a series of old wine halls.  And what is it full of?  Vintage circus and carnival objects, including but not limited to moving organs, vintage carrousels, moving and singing venetian carnivale figures, and typical carnival games.

It was pretty bizarre, and our guide was quite a personality, interspersing his tour with various magic tricks.  It's not a place I'd like to be walking around alone at night, but on the other hand it would make for an excellent party setting, say a masked ball in the Venetian rooms, or a 20's party à la Midnight in Paris (it actually is the location where they filmed the scene with the carrousel!)

At 14 euros a person and tours by reservation only, it's definitely off the beaten tourist path - but I've got to say, it was one of the cooler experiences I've had in Paris.  Perhaps that's because it was so unusual and unique; I mean, where else could I have ridden a bike carrousel, propelled by those on it, from the 19th century?
I would definitely recommend it to anyone in the least bit interested; the tour was in French, the guide is wonderful, and it really is such a cool and weird place.


Musée des Arts Forains, 53 Avenue des Terroirs de France, 75012 Paris (Mètro : ligne 14, Cour Saint-Émilion)

A little piece of heaven

This post is longggg overdue.

I don't remember too much from my childhood skiing experiences - I remember the feeling of rushing down a mountain, craving more speed than my little body could possibly amount to.  I remember the damn T bars and the round disks that shot you like a rocket.  And I remember it being pretty.

Well, I got a taste of what exactly I grew up skiing, and then some, back in February when I visited a little place in the Alpes called Chamonix.

Three full days of skiing was all I got this year, but when it looks like this, those three days will keep me satisfied until next season.  Yes, we were completely soaked by rain on Friday, skiing through slush and wringing out our gloves at every possible moment.

Saturday was refreshing, with no rain and smooth runs.



















And then there was Sunday.  Grands Montants.

It was almost like an out of body experience, other than the fact that my body was dying (soo out of shape, Annie is making me soft).  The snow was heavy, shin and knee deep in places.  The runs were wide open.  The wind blew all the clouds away.  And the sun was shining.

Life literally doesn't get much better than this.

Plan B if the whole 'trying to get a job after college' thing doesn't work out? Ski bum in Chamonix - bartend by night, ski by day.

 We also ate phenomenally.  Lots of fondu, potatoes, cured meats, apple tarts, the most amazing cream and mushroom chicken I've ever had...

Annie and my host situation

A few nights ago, Annie bought strawberries for dessert.  She came back from her daily shopping excursion explaining that "they're the first strawberries of the spring".  That evening, after clearing the dinner plates, I grabbed some bowls and we each served ourselves, adding a bit of sugar to bring out the sweetness.  When Annie went to pour her sugar, she practically filled up her bowl halfway with sugar, completely covering all of the strawberries she had served herself.  We started laughing about how much sugar she had poured, as one could practically have asked "do you want some strawberries to go with that sugar?"  As I was sitting there laughing with her, I realized that I had yet to really explain my host situation here.

Simply put, I've gotten very lucky with host situations this year.  It's most people's nightmare when coming abroad - being placed with someone mean, strict, rude, racist etc.  It's a big move, especially when you'll be living with them for almost a year; and I think it turns some kids to not take advantage of the potential benefits.  Because there are horror stories.

Fortunately, mine have been far from that.  This summer, I was blessed with an incredible family in Aix-en-Provence: a family of three plus their dog, Lulu, and cat, Lili.  I would normally say that six weeks is no where near long enough to really get to know a family, but they were so kind and welcoming that I felt like I was actually part of their family after less than two months.  I spent many afternoons watching French reality television shows like Les Anges de Télérealité and Secret Story with my host sister Marion.  Dinners were usually lively talks about our days; when my host father, Simon, was back from Paris on the weekends, we even delved into subjets like politics, religion, and immigration.  I also got the chance to really get to know my host mother, Catherine, as she brought me shopping and walking, as well as offered to bring me to various places around Aix.  The first weekend I was there, she actually brought me to the beach at Cassis.  Not a bad start eh?

The situation was ideal for a number of reasons.  My french got much better, and it definitely helped my confidence speaking and listening to french all the time.  But better yet, it allowed me to see into the daily lives of French, and to also be accepted into their lives.  My life started taking on their rhythms, their diet, their mannerisms.  It also just made me more comfortable with the idea that I could live in an enriching environment through a host family situation.

Thus, I left Aix slightly better prepared to take on my Parisian homestay.

I won't say it's been a joy ride the WHOLE time.  Annie and I certainly don't see eye to eye on the tidiness of my room (which is TINY, and I have A LOT of things, thus, obvious issues).  She can sometimes be too much, especially when I'm trying to do work (BTW, French libraries should be open later than 10pm.  Naht helpful).  And she's very social - we have people over constantly.  I don't think there has been a single week where we haven't had at least one person over for drinks or dinner.  These last two aspects were a big deal last semester when I was stressed out of my mind and totally overwhelmed with work.  It even led me to look into finding an alternate situation - either getting my own place or switching host families.  Since getting my own apartment was out of the question (Thank you Middlebury rules), I went to meet a young woman who I could potentially move in with, starting in January.  She was lovely, the apartment was great, but I realized I couldn't imagine leaving Annie.

The reality is that Annie is like a grandmother to me.  Even at 81, she is energetic, passionate and hilarious.  She has taken me in, introduced me to her friends and family, and made me part of her life.  When I was starting to get my horrible stomach aches again, she took me shopping with her, in order to buy gluten free and soy products.  She is actively interested in what I'm studying, where I'm traveling and who my friends are.  She lovess to cook, and basically gets angry when I don't eat what she considers enough, or when I don't finish all the leftovers.  We joke about the crazy stories her friends and family members tell.  We talk about politics and the news.  She tells me weekly about the new films she saw in the cinema.  And I can't help but love this little lady, who is so animated about going out to shop everyday, who has known her butcher for 30 years, and who likes to casually stroll around Printemps and Galaries Lafayette (and then talk about all the Chinese, Russians and Arabs who are lining up at Chanel and Louis Vuitton).  It's an experience all in itself - one that I think has truly defined my year here.  I can't even imagine what this year would have been without her.

Yesterday, I wrote my last check to her for my monthly rent.  It was a bit depressing; the last few weekends I've spent away from Paris, I've actually been sad not to be here with her.  I know I will surely miss a lot of things about my life here once I leave; Annie will definitely be one of them.  She is the kind of person who I would gladly come back to Paris just to visit.

Plus, her food is out of this world, as anyone who has been invited over for dinner can attest.

Oops

I like to consider myself a blogger - I have a blog after all.  But when I see other people who blog everyday, or every week at least, I can't help but think perhaps I'm not.  At the least I'm not a very good blogger, since I think the point of a blog is to keep it updated regularly.  For anyone who has been following me for a while, you'll already know thats clearly not one of my strong suits (I feel like that should be one word but apparently it's not ha).

But anyways, my lack of upkeep is not due to lack of ideas.  I actually have tons and tons of ideas of things I want to write - in fact, I have about 5 drafts of blog posts that I think are interesting.  My problem is finishing them; I usually get super motivated to write a post at an inconvenient time, thus when I actually have time to finish it, I've lost my motivation or train of thought.

I'm not really sure what the point of this post is, other than to apologize to anyone who wishes I updated more.  I would promise that I will try harder, but I have promised that several times, and I feel like it's just something that's either going to happen or not.

For a quick update, this past month has been super busy crazy - started with my trip to Chamonix, then a trip to the Loire Valley (lots of pictures of that on FB), a few crazy and a few relaxing nights in Paris, and then a quick but lovely trip to NYC that I literally just got home from (as in, I arrived in Charles de Gaulle 3 hours ago).  I will try to post at least some pictures and maybe small briefs on the trips this week since the next two months are going to fly by!

Gros bisouss xx

It's the little things

I know I promised a post about Chamonix.  Don't worry it's coming, I've been a bit overwhelmed by starting my new internship, Skype and phone interviews with firms in the US and trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to figure out my monetary relations class (how am I supposed to explain calculus in French?! and why do they insist on changing EVERY. BLOODY. ABBREVIATION?).  But I'm feeling really good about the subject of this little post, so I figured I'd just write it quickly before bed :)

So anyone who knows me knows how I'm a bit obsessed with my grades.  It's definitely not one of my better personality traits, but I'm trying to learn how to live with my skewed perception of grading.  So as I've been starting to get my grades back from last semester, I've been cycling through moments of doubt and moments of resolve.  I knew coming into this year that my grades were going to go down, but the last few days I couldn't help but continue to have this conversation over and over in my head: 'Why am I a French major?  French was never my best subject!  Why did I come to a country where they only speak a language that I'm not that good at?  Why am I taking classes only in that language?  Why did I choose to take some of the hardest classes at one of the hardest universities in France?  Why am I staying the whole year?  Do I want to completely kill my GPA?  WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSELF?'.  Healthy, I know.

But it's the little things that make all the difference.  A few phrases that mean so much more than the person who voiced them can possibly know.  In the last two days, two separate and short conversations - nay, tidbits of conversations - have made me realize why I'm doing this.   They were scarily similar that it's actually what made them so memorable.  They both went a bit like this (French = blue, me = red; Happy President's Day) :

"Vous venez d'où ?"  Where are you from?
"Je viens des Etats Unis" From the USA
"Ah oui ? Où aux Etats Unis ?"  Oh really?  Where in the USA?
"Californie de sud; j'habite à San Diego"  Southern California, I live in San Diego.
"Vous parlez très bien le français !"  You speak French really well!
"Oh, merci beaucoup... " Oh thank you... (get embarrassed)
"Vous avez appris le français où ?"  Where did you learn French?
"Je me spécialise en français à mon université en fait" I'm majoring in French actually.
"Bon, mais vos parents sont français?" Good, but are your parents French
"Non" Nope
"Vous avez un petit ami?  Ça aide beaucoup " Do you have a little friend/boyfriend ? That helps a lot.
"[rire] Je sais, mais malheureusement, non" [laughs a bit] I know, but unfortunately no (I wish, can't have it all eh?)
"Bah, vous avez un très bon accent"  Well, you have a very good accent.

Both times I was a bit taken aback by the conversations.  They were literally almost identical and I just thought it was hilarious that neither of these French people couldn't believe that I could have a good accent without being some how of French origin.  And if not French in origin, their next logical thought is that I must have a French boyfriend.  But it got me thinking - this is what I came here to do.  Maybe I'll never fit in or actually be une femme française, but if I can speak French well, that's enough for me.  That was the goal all along and that's why I'm here for the year, taking classes in French and speaking French with friends.  Yeah, if I pick up a few French habits, that's great.  But I'm here for the language, the challenge of perfecting a different linguistic register and accent.  My grades will matter for grad schools or my first few jobs maybe, but French fluency is what will stay with me for longer (does that mean I won't stress about grades and my GPA?  Probably not ha).

Like I said, it's the little things, those little conversations that take us by surprise but make a big impact.

Bisous xx

Two travel weekends : Part 1

And just like that, January is already gone.  I swear time seems to just fly by - it's hard to think that I only have four more months here.  It feels like so little now.  Since I've been planning out my trips around Europe, I've really started to think about how much time I have left - if I do all the trips I'm planning (and that won't even be half of the places I WANT to go), I'll be spending about half the remaining weekends in Paris itself.  A bit sad :(

But anyways!  I did begin my spring travels with two very different trips - the first one to the South of France to visit old Roman architecture (Ancient History = Love #1), and the second, which I just returned from on Sunday, to Chamonix in order to get in some much needed skiing (Love #2).

I feel like the pictures tell the story the best - but that means two posts, since there are a lot of them :)

After a train ride to Avignon (so sad we didn't get to see the actual city - throwback to my summer trip there with Aidan and Antoine (miss ya'll!)) we took a lovely bus ride through the country side of Provence.  And then we saw this!!

This is the Pont du Gard. Being as obsessed with Roman history, and thus Roman architecture (since they are intimately related), this trip was obviously already a fabulous idea.  But it's something else when you've read and seen pictures of something so iconic, and then to actually see it in real life.

 The craziest thing is to think that the Romans built this basically 2000 years ago.  It's part of a 50 kilometer aquaduct (about 31 miles) that brought water to Nîmes, this town we stayed in Saturday night.  The bridge only descends around 2.5 cm but could carry an estimated 200,000 cubic meters of water a day.

2000 years ago, Romans were building this stuff. Like waaaahttt.

 Kelly and Hannah, fellow annuelles!!

 + Andrew = des annuels :)

 Claw.  We like her.  She tries truffle/foie gras macaroons (see below)

 After the Pont du Gard, we visited Uzès, home of one of the oldest Duchies de France.  The Crussol d'Uzès family is one of the premier noble families in France, coming right after the princes of royal blood.  The title has been held for years, and the dukes were the hereditary Champions of France.

 They've got quite the view from the roof of the old forteresse.

 Hilarious sign found in the little café where we ate lunch.  Of course it's in English.

Adventurer of the day?  Claudia tried a truffle/foie gras macaroon from La Maison de Truffle (truffle salt = amazing).  I had a tiny bite as well - it was very... well... interesting.

 Verdict?  Claudia loved it (me, I could pass, but I did try it!)

 We stayed in Nîmes Saturday night and had a big dinner as a group - lots of wine was imbibed, plenty of jealousy over the melty Camembert the vegetarians were getting (who would have thought being a vegetarian would be such an advantage?!), but it was nice to get to know some of the newbies.  Hotel bonding followed (of course, with lots of wine involved there as well).

The next day we got to explore Nîmes and see more awesome Roman architecture (and even older).  Luckily for you (or maybe not if you enjoy my amateur photography), my Nikon ran out of power, so only a few pictures.

The amphithéâtre in Nîmes is one of the best preserved, though it's not as large as others, like the one I saw in Arles.

For comparison purposes, here's the one in Arles:

La Maison Carrée

Overall, it was a pretty fantastic trip.  Someone at one point mentioned how nice it was to see real trees again (Caro Brown?), and she definitely had the truth of it.  Paris is amazing, but you sometimes forget what nature feels like when you're in a city all the time - the parks just don't cut it.  It was refreshing, and I think that's why the South was so perfect for me this summer - in California and Vermont, I'm surrounded by nature.  I've always felt like a misplaced city-girl, but I guess I just took nature for granted (don't know what you've got till it's gone?).  And the south of France is both, a French society living in a beautiful landscape.  I hope to get back to Aix or southern France sometime at the end of the semester, but if not, it certainly isn't goodbye forever.