An American in Paris?

A common topic of discussion between Arianna and me as we walk to campus is how we feel, as Americans, living in Paris. One idea that has come up many times in these discussions is how it is possible to live your life completely as an American while in Paris. We've tried discussing this with others, but it seems that no one (especially international students) can quite wrap their head around the concept as we can. But we've really thought this through, and we know it's a possibility. The main points of our argument are that no one really forces you to speak French. Conceivably, a person could go the whole day avoiding ever having to speak French or have others speak French to you. For your morning cup of coffee, instead of sitting at a small cafe drinking espressos, you could opt to go to Starbucks instead, where the cashiers all speak at least enough English to comprehend an American ordering their vente half soy/half skim, extra foam, no whipped cream vanilla latte and bagel with cream cheese.

For lunch or dinner, there are establishments such as McCoy's or Breakfast in America. McCoy's serves as a small market where you can purchase truly American items grocery items as well as sit and eat characteristically American meals such as hamburgers, hotdogs, turkey clubs, blts, etc. Breakfast in America is the closest thing to an IHOP as I can imagine in Paris. Both establishments proudly display on their outside windows that English is welcomed there.

In terms of nightlife, there are a number of Scottish and Irish pubs as well as Canadian and Australian bars here. In any of these places, you'll find that everyone speaks English as well. This was perhaps the biggest shock for me. The first bar I ever went to in Paris was an Australian bar where a lot of AUP students hang out. I ordered a beer (in French, of course--what other language would one use in France?) and as I was drinking it, I realized looking around the bar that everyone was speaking English. Including the bartenders! I had no idea how to even comprehend the situation that I was in. It totally contradicted everything that I had anticipated about living in Paris.

I recently met a Scottish bartender who claimed to have lived and worked in Paris for nearly two years now and doesn't speak a word on French. I was shocked. He claimed it was true, though.

At museums, cinemas, and popular stores located in touristy areas, you'll easily find people who speak English. If you have enough money to shop at the designer boutiques on the Champs, I personally think they would speak to you in Klingon if you had enough money.

I was recently in the Marais with some friends. It was after 2 and the bars were closing, so we walked out to grab some late-night food at one of the many crepe/falafel/gyro/french fry stands. As the guy was fryin me up some good ol' freedom fries, he realized I was an American, and we struck up a conversation about Bush, Obama, and the War. I spoke to him in slurred French, he spoke to me in what I can only imagine was some sort of Spanglish. The guy was presumably of middle eastern origin but spoke very good French. I didn't think much of it at the time, but looking back, I don't know why he didn't speak to me in French. Clearly I knew enough French to converse with him, but he felt the need to speak to me in some sort of English because I was an American. Perhaps he's just so used to drunken American tourists demanding french fries and nutella crepes at 3 in the morning that he's used to speaking in English, but it just reiterates my point that you can really avoid French easily if you want to.

No one makes you dress like a European, no one makes you discuss pertinent issues like politics or the economy, no one makes you eat baguettes and drink tiny cups of espresso, no one makes you do anything that forces you to conform to French society.

Sometimes we feel like we're living our Boston lives in Paris, which I find a bit disconcerting. Paris and Boston aren't anything alike. I've met a lot of Europeans who claim to really like Boston because they feel that it's most like European cities. I mean, yeah, Boston is filled with a bunch of left-wing, quasi-socialist intellectual types who have no qualms with putting down the Bush administration, but in terms of living the life of a college student in Boston and living the life of a Parisian in Paris, there aren't many similarities. When I'm alone riding the metro or walking back from campus, I feel more like a Parisian then when I'm in groups. Even if I'm with a group of French people of French-speaking people, I still sometimes feel like I'm living out my Boston life in Paris. It's a strange feeling.

That brings me to my final point, a recent subject that has been on my mind for several days now. I haven't decided if I want to conform to French life here, or if I'm content living my life as an American in Paris. I don't get dirty looks when I wear my beat-up vans to class. I always speak French to the French, so no one gives me shit for speaking English and assuming everyone with accommodate me. I kind of like standing out while I'm here. If people look at me and immediately know I'm American, it doesn't really make me feel uncomfortable or like an outsider, it usually just makes me happy to know that I'm not like everyone else. It might be too early to decide for sure how I feel about being an American in Paris. Perhaps in a couple months when I really feel settled, I'll come to a conclusion. But for now, I'm just trying to live, trying to absorb everything I can, trying to make the most of the short time I have here. No regrets, man, no regrets.

Good days, bad days

Sunday was the last day of orientation and we went out with a bang. In the morning we took the RER to Versailles. It was quite spectacular. Better than I ever imagined it would be. We plan to go back once the weather's nicer so we can walk around the gardens more. After Versailles, Derek introduced Arianna and me to McCoy's, an American cafe on Grenelle. I'm not sure how I feel about such establishments in Paris. For me, I think they take away from the unique culture that Paris embodies. Replacing bistros with fast food restaurants or cafes with Starbucks augments the increasingly homogenous world culture and depletes the unique culture that separates one country or territory from the next. I don't like it... That evening we finished orientation week with a boat ride down the seine. Despite being FREEZING, it was a really enjoyable ride. The views were amazing, obviously, and the city looked so beautiful all lit up at night.

Sometimes I hate traveling in groups, though, because it's quite obvious that the French are often turned off by the way we act when we're all together. I guess I would be put off by a bunch of young adults causing a ruckus on the metro or in public, whether in Paris or even in America, but it still makes me slightly uncomfortable knowing that wherever I go, I'm being judged. I think I pass for French when I'm alone, though, which is cool I guess.

In other news, "BARRACK OBAMA!!!" This is what is often shouted at me when people realize I'm an American. As excited as the States are for Obama's presidency, I think the French are even more excited, if that's possible. I'm really happy to be living here in Paris during the Obama era. It makes me more comfortable being an American in Paris. The inauguration took place this evening. Apparently campus was crazy packed with AUP students + random Parisians excited about Obama. It blows my mind how invested people are in one man. I often feel bad for him because everyone across the globe expects him to save the world, but he's only human--he may succeed, he may fail. And while I'm more inclined to believe that he will have a great deal of success if not in the next four years, but in the next eight, it worries me how the international community will react if he doesn't live up to the hype.

Doors, tourists, and snooker

Yesterday was epic. Arianna and I moved out of the Fiap and into the wonderful French House yesterday morning. After waiting for a taxi for quite possibly the longest amount of time I've ever had to wait for a taxi in my life, we were dropped off outside of our building only to find that we have no idea how to work French doors. For whatever reason, each door is garnished with a knob-type object, which, as it turns out, is not a knob at all, but rather a mere decoration. So, after spending 10 minutes punching our code in and trying to turn the "knob" to open the door, turns out all we needed to do was push the door and it opens quite easily. Thank God Arianna was there with me because I probably would have been standing outside of my building for twice as long.

Once inside, we were faced with the difficult task of lugging all of our baggage up to the fifth floor. We took turns taking one suitcase to our apartment at a time, but after three trips and nearly 200 pounds of crap I wanted to die. I could hardly stand, but I did find the energy for a photo-op.

My bedroom.

My window and balcony.

The view from my balcony.

Dining room.

Living room.

View from the back balcony.

The front door. Note the deceiving and pointless knobs directly below the glass.

Once we finished unpacking (Arianna unpacked, I plan to live out of my suitcases until I care enough to put away my stuff) we decided to walk to campus from our place to see how long it takes because I've decided that taking the metro everywhere, although convenient, is a complete waste of money. On our way out we had another run-in with the stupid front door. Turns out it is equally as confusing to get out of the bulding as it is to get in. We had to spen another unecessary 10 minutes trying to open the damn door. I wish I could say things have gotten easier since then, but they really haven't. I think you need to be a native to ever feel comfortable with the doors in this country.

We figured the best way to get to campus is to walk along the Seine and through the 1e arrondissement, crossing over the river into the 7e. What probably would have been a 45-60min ended up being a 4-hour epic journey across Paris. We saw the Bastille, the Louvre, the Jardins des Tuileries, the Opera and a bunch more. I love it all; everything's so beautiful and like nothing I've ever seen before. I also came thisclose to getting hit by a car while trying to get to the Opera. The guy had the nerve to honk at me even though I had the green and he was running a red light. I thought I was back in Boston for a second.

I think my next mission is to head to Pigalle. I walked most of the Champs d'Elysees today and didn't like it that much. Too many tourists and such. Reminded me of New York. We stopped in the Monoprix for a few items and I was disappointed to see how much of the market was filled with American food. Who comes to France and buys Kit-Kats, Smuckers jelly, and Twix bars? Uhhh.

In other news, I've learned a new sport. It's called snooker. It's apparently British billiards and may be even more pointless of a game than billiards but like three times as complicated.

things i like

Things I like:
1) Making friends with bartenders, dancing at The Moose until 4:30am, Australians, free shots&beers

Things I don't like:
1) Taxi drivers who make you walk five blocks to your apartment at 5am because they don't feel like driving any closer

Mon appartement

I'm sitting in the computer lab in Grenelle right now for probably the 4th time today. I've had to live without internet (I'm too stubborn to pay the 10euro for three hours of internet at the Fiap) for the past two days, and to be able to use the internet whenever I want or need to sort of feels like Christmas. Sad, but true. It's terrible how dependent everyone is on the internet. Perhaps once I live here for a while I'll use it less...perhaps.

Soooo, I got mon appartement cet apres-midi, and in all honesty, I don't think I have ever been so happy about anything in my life. It is the greatest living situation I could possibly imagine. Seriously. I'll be staying at the "French House" that I'm assuming AUP owns, located in the 4e arrondissement right across the street from the St. Paul metro stop. I'm living with 5 other AUP women including one from Northeastern. I realize that a 6-person apartment may seem extreme but it made me depressed just thinking about living by myself. And the apartment! Oh.mon.dieu! It's amazing!!! Absolutly beautiful!! Hardwood floors, two balconies, kitchen, toilet and shower IN the apartment (a rarity for most of AUP housing), living room, dining area, the list goes on. The view(s) are lovely as well; quintessential Parisian view. Some people have views of the Eiffel Tower from their apartments which, I'll admit, I'm a bit envious of, but seriously, there are really no flaws to this place. It's in a great location, too. I didn't have the chance to explore the neighborhood, but from what I did see, it seems to be bustling with people and actvity. I'm in love. I move in tomorrow evening. I can't wait to get out of the Fiap. It's defnitely not the worst place in the world but now that I have a real place to live it's a real downer in comparison.

But anyway, enough about my super amazing apartment. I found a great Chinese restaurant where a bunch of us NU kids went for dinner this evening. Chinese food in France is infinitely better than the stuff in America. They also serve takeout so I'll be sure to stop by sometime between classes.

I also encountered my first Romanian gypsy this afternoon on the metro. He stood next to me and played the violin and then asked me for money. I think he knew I was an American, even though I tried my hardest to look disinterested. I happened to be sitting with a Romanian girl from AUP at the time, so I was lucky enough to get her perspective on the gypsies. Verrrry interesting. We talked about Romania a lot and now I desperately want to visit soon. Only 2-3 hours by train from Paris, she says. I'll be checking out eurorail rates asap.

In other news, I've found that wine and cocktails are custom at any and all meetings and social gatherings. I love that a social meeting with academic advisors or any other important people = wine and snacks. I feel so grown up. But it works, you know? What's wrong with having a glass of wine at social events? It makes me more sociable and considerably less awkward in public for the first time in my life. I wish it was the same in the States, but alas, things are quite different.

First days, many surprises

I've been in for two days now, I think. Everything's felt so surreal since I've been here. The first day was horrible because of the jet-lagged. I managed to sleep for all on 20min on the plane so I hadn't really slept in nearly 48 hours. We arrive in Paris at the Fiap (the hostel where they're keeping all the new AUP students until we get housing) where they shuffle us around, ask us to fill out forms, sign up for activities and trips, and talk to us about academic advising. I felt dead the entire time, and I'm pretty sure I didn't retain anything that I was supposed to.

The first night was less than ideal for me. We ate dinner in the caf with our student advisors. Luckily, almost everyone was equally as jet-lagged as I was so I wasn't the only one physically unable to make polite conversation. When I returned to my room after dinner my roommate at the Fiap was homesick and desperately needed to find a cybercafe to talk to her family. I offered to go with her because I didn't want her to go into the city alone. We ended up at a McDo in the Place d'Italie because all McDonalds in Paris supposedly have free wireless. Thank god I was too tired to really comprehend anything that was going on, because I probably would have been really pissed that I was spending my first EVER night in Paris at a McDo.

Once we were within 20 metres of the restaurant, out of nowhere all the French children within the vacinity starting shouting, "Je veux aller au McDo! Je veux aller au McDo!" It was exactly like in the states. I had no idea that French children loved McDonalds that much. Very strange.

Last night was dinner at a restaurant with our advisors. My advisor took us to a cute crepe restaurant. I somehow managed to get away with eating a spinach and tomato crepe, drinking two glasses of wine, and sharing a nutella crepe with a few other people and only paying 9euro. Craziness. After dinner it was on to a Australian bar called Cafe Oz where all the new AUP students met up. If spending my first night at McDo wasn't bad enough, they had the Steelers-Chargers game on in the bar! I'd never imagine I would get to see an American football game in Europe, let alone in Paris. When I got up to go dance, Kanye West was playing, followed by Joan Jett's I Love Rock n Roll. So much for trying to be Parisian.

Housing appointment today! Can't wait to get my own apartment. Must remember to get a cell phone too. I still carry my American cell phone around with me even though it doesn't work and whenever I turn it on it says it is 6 january 1980, 12:00am. It's like a crutch at this point. I don't know how to survive without it. Kind of pathetic.

It's all gotta start somewhere, right?

This is the first post on my spiffy new blog that will (hopefully) document the anticipated awesomeness of my Spring 2009 semester in Paris, France. I'm kind of terrible at keeping journals (see: livejournal fail of 2002 and my diary epic fail of 1998), so we'll see how this goes.

The countdown to Paris is now within 30 hours and I've never felt more excited/terrified/nauseous in my life. I'm also just now realizing how hard it is to pack my entire life in a couple suitcases. I've been half-way packed for like five days now and have absolutely no motivation to finish. But I've got 16 hours before I have to leave for Boston so it'll get done eventually I guess. Ehh, whatever. This week has been mad hectic with all the running around I've had to do to get ready for this trip and I already know that I'm gonna have to do a lot more once I get to Paris and get settled in. Errands suck. I recently had to make a run to the bank for travelers cheques. What a hassle. The bank teller was new and apparently terrified to have to register $2000 in travelers cheques so she went as slow as humanly possible to get it done. Have I mentioned how fun it is to spend 1.5 hours at a bank? Because I can't imagine any better way to spend that time.

So I've been wearing band shirts, ripped jeans and my vans every day this week because they're all going to go into retirement for the next five months. Needless to say, I'm kind of sad about it; they've been a staple of my wardrobe since middle school. I think I'm still gonna pack a flannel and one shirt or two (probably something of the Beatles variety, nothing too crazy) when I feel the need to be a rebellious American in Paris, because I know I'm gonna get the urge eventually.

In other news, The View's new album recently leaked. After one listen I'm really into it, and I may potentially like it more than Hats Off to the Buskers. If you don't know who The View are, the're a scottish rock band and they're pretty rad. They encapsulate that a unique indie sound that seemingly only British bands can create. I suggest checking them out.

That's it for now. My next post will be written from somewhere in Paris... radical.