Now that I’ve been living in Paris for almost 2 weeks, there are a lot of things to recap and jot down about my time here. 

On arrival via the Eurostar from London, I got into Gare du Nord in the early evening. Exhausted and culture shocked to the max, I quickly threw my oversized bags off the train and wandered around until I found the taxi queue. Such lines are apparently the only way to get a taxi here, and to be sure that the taxi is legitimate. My 25 euro ride across Paris was enchanting and frightening at the same time. The motorcycles really do zip in and out of traffic just as fast as anyone says. Fortunately, I have yet to see someone riding one without a helmet, so there’s that.

The taxi dropped me off right where I told him too, at the Cite Universitaire. Unfortunately, there are over 40 houses in the dorm complex and of course I ended up at the wrong one. At this point, it’s completely dark outside, after 6pm. I stumbled around with my bags and into the security room, where I find a very helpful, French-speaking security guard. Through a number of hand gestures, the most broken French imaginable and the help of a map, he manages to direct me to the right house, La Foundation des Etats-Unis (the American house). While the encounter wasn’t long, it was definitely a good foreshadowing of the many more to come.

Unpacking, settling in, crawling into the new bed that first night, I was basically terrified. Being such a homebody and this foreign country on a foreign continent was the farthest thing from home imaginable. And to be honest, the first week or so was terribly hard. Even the little things, going into restaurants, ordering food, shopping, buying groceries. Each event was fraught with difficulties, the biggest being my almost complete lack of comprehension of the French language. I could order food politely, but for everything else, I was basically on my own. 

Even still, despite wanting go back home every second of that first week, and even a few days after that, I think I’ve finally started to get into the groove of Parisian life. A friend told me to stop worrying about my French-I’m not going to be able to do all that well anyway. French people can hear a non-native speaker from a mile away. Letting go of that apprehension has helped me tremendously. I still stumble terribly through questions, mercis, pardons, and sil-vous plaits. But it doesn’t bother me as much anymore. Fortunately, most people will revert to English when they hear my terrible broken accent and pathetic attempt at French. I’m always grateful.

The good thing about the beginning of it all was that in order to get my mind off missing home, I dove in head first and just started doing all the things I could. I jumped on classmates plans for lunch and dinner, shopping trips and excursions.

One day after class, I wandered with a few students into Denferet Rochearu, a region of the 13th arrondismont. From there, we found the open air market on rue de Daguerre, where I enjoyed the most delicious quiche fromage. I’ll hopefully head back there soon to explore more of the fresh produce, meat, and fish. 

After a Saturday trip to Chateau de Chantilly, I ventured to Marais with a friend and accidentally stumbled upon what I now know to be one of the most magnificent man-made structures in the world: the completely symmetrical Place de Vosages. 36 symmetrical houses surround a picturesque park, filled with English-speaking and French people alike, enjoying the rather cloudy and windy winter afternoon. My friend was on a mission to find Victor Hugo’s house, somewhere in or near there (we never found it and I still don’t really know where it is..). Shopping through the small boutiques of the Jewish quarter followed the accidental discovery and I finally bought my first non-food purchase of Paris! A beige infinity scarf for only 9 euro. Safe to say I was rather pleased with myself. 

Tuesday of second week, I found myself in an American diner, destroying a cheeseburger and then at the Pere Lachaise cemetery, where the likes of Oscar Wilde, Gertrude Stein, and Chopin are buried. I definitely took way to many pictures, but I’ve already enjoyed looking through them, as I’m sure I will for years to come. 

Multiple grocery shopping trips have helped to alleviate the fear of not knowing what anything is in the grocery store.. Remember I don’t know French after all. But draggin along some moderate French-speaking friends has helped a ton. 

1. fwarg said: My grandmother lives about 300m from the Place des Voges - I spent a lot of my childhood in that park :)
2. pointagailmarie posted this