Two months ago today I arrived in France. It's been an interesting 60 days. I've explored a lot, eaten even more and had a surprisingly easy time adjusting to European life.
What did I do to commemorate this occasion? I walked. And then I rode the Metro. And then I walked. And then I walked some more. I walked all over the Latin Quarter and the Marais. Then I took the Metro over to the 8th and walked back to the Place de la Concorde.
It was a beautiful day outside, blue skies, colorful leaves, 65 and sunny. It was good to just wander around the city, stopping whenever a shop or park caught my eye. Paris is a great city for walking, and I ended up running across two beautiful churches, a little English-language bookstore in the Marais, the Parc Monceau, the ruins of the Arenes de Lutece and (most excitingly) the Irish Cultural Center. Then I went home and celebrated my physical exertions by eating half a box of cereal. Good day.
I have much to post about, including a recent trip to Normandy, classes, Parisian parks and pastries. But I'll leave those for another day, and instead give you a run-down of my second month in Paris.
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Countries Visited: 1 (with another to come this weekend)
Favorite New French Expression: "Berk!" It means "Yuck." But it only works if uttered with great conviction and disdain. (Bonus: "Yum" translates to "Miam"
Most Life-Threatening Moment: The boulangeries of Paris will someday have their own entry in this blog. They are like more charming, more delicious versions of Starbucks--there is one on every single corner and yet they somehow manage to stay in business. I stop in at least once daily for a sandwich and (more often than not) a pastry of some sort. Not exactly figure or wallet-friendly.
So the other day I decided to forgo my customary tart and chose the cheapest menu option at my regular boulangerie. I tucked happily into my cheese sandwich, but halfway through, I tasted a new flavor, something aside from the usual ingredients. It was then that I realized: I was eating a baguette filled with goat cheese, slathered with butter and with a special addition of mayonnaise. I thought my heart was going to stop right then and there. But I have never felt more French.
Worst Translation Job: One of the dilemmas I face constantly in my daily life here is whether I should use French pronunciation for English expressions. For example, French people can't say my name "uh-lah-nuh" with a heavier second syllable. Instead they pronounce it "ah-lah-nah," with stress on the first syllable. It's not a dramatic difference, but it's enough to create problems. In the interest of cross-cultural communication, I've pretty much surrendered to the French on this one.
Another example of this came in my theater class. We're going as a class tonight to see Moliere's The Miser at the Comedie-Francaise. My professor's instructions for picking up our tickets were as follows: "At 8:15 you will go the ticket counter and say 'Je voudrais prendre ma place pour Sweet Brie-are Coe-ledge.' You will not say 'Sweet Briar College.' They will not understand you, and you will not get your ticket. You say 'Sweet Brie-are Coe-ledge.'"
But even when you do say "Sweet Brie-are Coe-ledge," there is miscommunication. Case in point, the train ticket on a group excursion to Normandy last weekend. Clearly the reservations had been made over the phone, and the result was a new program name which I actually quite enjoy.
Sweat Brillard...miam.
Most Retina-Searing Image: Coming out of the Metro near my apartment this afternoon, I realized too late that I was walking in front of a man with a camera. I hurried out of his view, and then turned to see what he was filming. I didn't linger too long, but I caught a glimpse of a nearly naked man (think no shirt + something resembling a leather thong) interviewing a very perplexed woman. I have no idea what was going on, but it just proves that you can never really get used to Paris.
And, finally....
Best Online Ad: One of the nice things about living in a foreign country is that everything seems novel, even if it's actually annoying. Case in point: those sidebar ads that inevitably pop up on every website. You know the types: 1,000,000 VISITOR!! or Shoot the turkey, win a prize!!!
Except the prize advertised in the U.S. is always something lame like an iPod. Clearly, the French have raised the stakes:
Suck on that, Apple.
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There you have it. Despite all the fun I'm having (or because of it), I'm a little sad at how fast the time is going. It's not surprising; I feel like ever since high school the years have been zipping by at a frightening speed. But it's even harder to feel time slipping away when you're in Paris and it feels like you'll never have enough time to experience even half of what the city has to offer.
The downside is that I only have seven months left in Paris, and they'll be over before I know it. The upside is that I still have seven months left in Paris, unlike many of my friends who are leaving in six weeks. If I were leaving in December, I would have to be forcibly dragged onto the plane, so it's probably a relief for French transit officials that I chose the full-year option.
It's not that I don't miss home. I really do miss my friends and family, and all of the U.S.'s fall traditions (they don't get much into Halloween here). But I can honestly say that I haven't really felt any serious culture shock or homesickness yet. I guess I'm just immensely brave, eating fantastic food, visiting world-class museums for free and wandering the Champs-Elysees without even one complaint. I don't want to use the term saint, but...
At any rate, Moliere is calling. Not a bad way to kick off my third month in Paris.
A bientot,
Alanna
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