I’ll always have Paris

This may be hard for some of you to believe if you’ve read about my previous travel adventures, but maybe, just maybe, my luck is changing because I made it to Paris last Tuesday without any issues. It’s amazing to think that with only three trains, I can get from Brighton on the island to Paris on the continent, in just a few hours. Guillaume was waiting for me at the station, and I was soon reacquainted with the Paris Metro, which I used much more than I did four years ago, when I was in Paris with my grandparents. The Metro is impressive, right on par with the London Tube. It took one or two transfers to get anywhere from Guillaume’s home, but there is nowhere in the city that the trains can’t take you. I was also impressed with how efficient the system is; we rarely waited more than two minutes for a train. CTA, please take note.

We set off for Napoleon’s tomb soon after dropping my suitcase at his parents’ flat. (Yes, suitcase. Normally, I would just take a backpack for such a short trip, but after the volcano fiasco, I’m afraid to not bring every charger for every electronic I own and minimally five extra pairs of socks and underwear. So much for learning how to pack light while I’m here.) I thought I had seen just about every variation on the “beautiful dome” theme that seems rather prominent in most of the European cities I’ve been to, but I have to give Paris credit, because this building was a work of art. It was obviously built in the neoclassical style (no self-respecting emperor would be buried in any other way) and from the outside, the dome was golden and ornate. I distinctly remember admiring it from afar last time I was there. The inside didn’t disappoint; it felt open and “breathable” compared to some of the other architectural wonders I’ve seen. Around the sarcophagus, there was a wall full of tablets with French inscriptions. Guillaume was obviously not being a good translator, because an American tourist walked by, and with a smug look of satisfaction, told us what the tablet said. “Thank you very much” Guillaume replied, and to both of our credits, we managed to stifle our laughter until he was out of ear range.

Our next stop was a French military history museum. Guillaume complained that many Americans he talked to were under the impression that France has never won a war, and the museum did its best to correct this impression. I am not going to go so far to say it was a biased account of history, but the displays presented a very French point of view. Still, the collection of war artifacts was huge, especially when it came to clothing. I haven’t seen so many uniforms since my days at Catholic school.

For the rest of the afternoon, we walked around a ritzy neighborhood in the city that vaguely reminded me of Michigan Avenue—lots of high-end stores with names I’ve never heard of. We passed by cafes that famous authors once frequented and a beautiful old church called St. Germain des Prés. (Don’t be too impressed with my knowledge of Paris, Guillaume had to remind me of its name!) We stopped by Science Po, the university Guillaume and Mary attend, and it was a shock to see students wearing suits, heels, and mascara, just to take finals. During finals time at Wash. U., sweatpants, tee shirts and messy pony tails are the norm. Different strokes for different folks, as someone once told me (many times)…

I met Guillaume’s lovely parents that evening, and my family will be proud and perhaps a little disgusted to hear that I ate foie gras, which is a fancy French specialty, according to Guillaume’s mom. She had five different flavors for me to try, including fig, grapefruit, and spices. The spices kind was my favorite, and then we moved onto the main course, followed by a cheese course and pastries for dessert. I’ve decided I’ve fallen in love with European dinners, but more on that another time.

The next day, we went to Cité des Sciences et de l'Industrie, the French version of the Museum of Science and Industry. It was pretty awesome. There were exhibits about genetics, astronomy, physics, mechanical engineering and just about every other field of science.
Some interesting tidbits I learned:
-1 out of 1000 neuro-somethings is responsible for all the differences between people.
-Scientists are compiling the medical histories of people in Iceland to study inherited diseases because the community has been relatively insular and stable over generations.
-In the future, clothing could regulate our body temperatures.
It was definitely one of my favorite parts of the trip.

We took the Metro to the Buttes Chaumont neighborhood and ate at a Chinese restaurant. It was a very multicultural week for me, and this counts as culture #2. We then met up with Mary, and after many hugs, we spent some time wandering around the Parc des Buttes Chaumont. It’s a gorgeous green retreat, and for a while, I forgot I was in one of the biggest cities in the world.

Because we hadn’t quite been out in the rain enough (it was like Irish weather—ten minutes of sunshine, ten minutes of rain), we visited the very crowded Père Lachaise Cemetery, which is the largest cemetery in Paris and where Jim Morrison is buried. We didn’t actually go visit his grave because we found a large tree to shelter us from the rain, and that was much more interesting than getting soaked walking around.

We enjoyed delicious hot chocolate across the street and then parted ways for the evening. Guillaume’s mom cooked delicious chicken tortillas (culture #3!) and we had another nice European dinner, and then we watched a South African movie (#4 too many cultures…I’m going to stop counting now). Like I said, it was a multicultural week.

The next day, I felt like I was back in England. We agreed to meet Mary at the Catacombs, but when we arrived, we discovered they were flooded. I guess I used up all my good luck on the trip there. It started to rain just as we missed a bus, and it didn’t stop until the evening, which was unfortunate since all of our plans involved walking around outside. We were troopers for a while and decided to ignore the rain, and for once, our timing was good because we observed a march of striking garbage collectors. It was a truly French experience, so I felt cultured. We walked around for a while, and our experience was characterized by Guilluame getting splashed by a bus and laughed at by an Italian couple. Then, we decided warm drinks were in order, so we regrouped over hot chocolate and tea.

Our next plan of action took us to the Eiffel Tower, where we snapped a few photographs and retreated to the very indoors Musée Guimet, where I successfully impersonated a British student to gain free entry. It turns out EU students in France can get into museums for free, but not American students, so that British accent I’ve spent five months perfecting came in useful. (And when I say “British accent,” I mean Sussex student id card. I knew that piece of plastic would be good for something, someday.)

The museum’s collection of Asian art is extensive. Unfortunately, walking around in the rain had taken its toll on me, and I couldn’t appreciate it as much as I should have. Our next stop was a very French McDonald’s. Now, before you make all sorts of snotty comments about me eating McDonald’s in Paris, you should know one thing: French McDonald’s are classier than American Mickey D’s. How do I know this? Well, the portions are smaller, the menus are larger (they have mini croque monsieurs), and they serve potato wedges in addition to fries. How much fancier can you get?

In the spirit of experiencing as many cultures as we could in three days, we decided to see the movie The Prince of Persia for a taste of Hollywood. I was pleased to see that going to the movies in France does not involve half as many queues as cinemas in England.

We wandered around after the movie, snapped pictures of the Tour Montparnasse, one of the most hated buildings in Paris, and then went to one of Guillaume’s favorite traditional Breton crêperies. I had a delicious egg, ham and cheese crepe with special Breton cider. My only regret is that I wasn’t hungry enough to try a dessert crepe. We bid a fond farewell to Marie and then headed home to watch a French comedy. I didn’t know they even made those, but I appreciated it more than South African humor!

The next day, the weather was of course gorgeous. I’m beginning to think Paris was trying to tell me something. It was a morning full of sad goodbyes, first to Guillaume’s mom, who was so warm and hospitable, and then of course to Guillaume, who was a perfect host. It's unfathomable to me that it may be years before we see each other again. He took me to the station, and we had time for a quick cup of tea before my train left.

Final thoughts on Paris: I am so lucky not only that I have such wonderful friends to show me around, but also in that I saw most of the Parisian touristy sights four years ago. It freed my friends and me to check out places “off the beaten track” as my idol for everything Rick Steves would say, and we could focus on catching up and enjoying our time, without the pressure of checking attractions off of a “must see” list. Thanks again, Grandma and Grandpa! Also, I’m happy to report that just as my childhood cartoons taught me, French people do indeed walk around carrying baguettes, especially on the Metro after work. My faith in stereotypes is restored. This was undoubtedly one of the best three days of my time in Europe, but I’ve been having a good time back here at Sussex as well.

It was good to see my friends here again on Friday night, and I spent probably too much of Saturday observing how “football” (soccer, for those of you reading from across the Atlantic) is played on Playstation. Eventually, it occurred to the guys I was hanging out with to teach me how to play, and a few moments later, I was holding a controller. I haven’t felt so helpless since being stranded by a volcano. Before I knew it, the game was in motion and “my team” somehow ended up with the ball. I started randomly pressing buttons, and then all of the sudden, I apparently scored a goal. The guys I was playing with were kind of impressed. And by kind of impressed, I mean they watched the replay five times, and hours later insisted on showing another friend. However, lest you get the wrong idea, I should probably mention at this point that it was the only goal I scored all evening. Beginner’s luck is a fickle thing.

The weather was lovely the next day. A beautiful day anywhere is a great thing, but in England, there’s something truly special about a warm and sunny day. Maybe it’s because I don’t expect them, or maybe there’s a genuine change in people’s attitudes, but you can almost touch the happiness in the air. Obviously, the day had to be enjoyed outside, so friends and I took a bus into town, listened to live music and hung out on the beach. It was a perfect afternoon, and to top it all off, we went clubbing that night. I met some other really friendly international students as well as a creepy Austrian, who was hanging out in a club alone (warning sign, anyone?) to “find inspiration” for his rock band. A likely story… It was getting light out when I returned home, and this is quickly becoming the mark of a good night.

You might notice that for the first time, I have intentionally referred to this place as home. When I’ve written these blog posts in the place, I often slipped up and wrote “home” to refer to York House or campus, but I always tried to change it, because I never wanted England to be home. “Home” was for years the place I was raised and surrounded by family, or more recently, a specific location at Wash. U. where I was comfortable, happy and close to friends who knew me inside and out. For most of the past four months, England hasn’t met all of these criteria. I had some great experiences and I’ve met some wonderful friends here, but it always felt like too far from my real homes to count. And York House? It’s a far cry from even my freshman dorm at Wash. U. But it’s not so simple anymore. I don’t know whether it’s the generally nice weather, the lack of academic stress, or the knowledge that this all ends in less than two weeks, but all of the sudden, I find myself happy here. I’m finally secure in my friendships, I’m meeting cool people I want to get to know better, and I’m not done finding new experiences. I’m more torn than I ever thought I would be about leaving.

In retrospect, January to June was the very worst amount of time to come to Sussex. If I had been here for fall term and only stayed three months, I would have been more than ready to leave in December, which is sort of how I felt during the spring. But five and a half months is just long enough to truly feel adjusted and comfortable, and if I had stayed for the whole year, I would have had a few more months to enjoy being settled and happy here. Still, I can’t regret my decision because I wouldn’t trade my fall semester at Wash. U. for anything, and I’m lucky that I can still make the most out of the short time I have left in England.

And that starts….now. Yesterday was a girls’ night out and involved an all-you-can-eat Asian buffet, including literally a wall of desserts, as well as Sex and the City 2. It turns out that buying movie tickets online ahead of time reduces the trauma involved in going to the cinema in England. Now if only all of this “carpe diem” stuff would involve studying for my final exam, maybe I could maintain my low stress level…unfortunately, studying too hard anytime soon does not appear to be in the forecast!