Here comes another epically long blog post.
It has been exactly one week since I arrived in France and the days have flown by already, though a part of me feels like I have been here forever. I figure that this is probably because my heart has been in this trip for so long. Devan and I were talking today about going home as if it were happening tomorrow and even though we laughed about it we realized how quickly the time really is going to pass by. It is so hard to think about leaving this place because it already makes me sad and I have only been here for a week.
I only wish my French skills would pick up as quickly as our time seems to pass. On Saturday, when I went to visit Devan, I ended up having to call for a taxi. There is a bus that runs between us, but apparently, when we were told that the bus system is great and buses run all night (unlike the metro, which stops running 00:00-01:00) they left out the detail about that applying to only some bus routes. So we called G7, one of the main Paris taxi companies, managed to get through a series of automated voice messages telling us to punch in our arrondissement (a problem when you live in the suburbs and not an arrondissement) and finally we were connected to an operator. She asked me where I was coming from, and I stuttered hopelessly through the name "Lavallois" Devan pointed to on her address. The operator actually laughed at me, as have a lot of other French people when we go somewhere or have said some other things in French. Which I am fine with because I would rather struggle with the language and/or do something really stupid and be laughed at than to be dismissed or criticized for it, which is what the stereotype of the French has seemed to be. Yet I have found this assertion to be largely false and I like to think I at least bring a bit of entertainment to Parisians' lives.
There have been a few admittedly and typically "oops" moments. The other day when I got groceries, I did not know where to keep my olive oil so I just stuck it in the mini-fridge in my room since there was plenty of space. Oops. Yesterday, when Devan and I went to la Musee d'Orsay, and after a trip to the bathroom, in an attempt to get to the first floor exhibits, we walked down the stairs to somehow find ourselves outside of the museum ticket gates. Oops. So we went back up the stairs where a maintenance worker pointed us towards a door, so we walked through it and then another door to find ourselves coming out of the wall of one of the exhibit rooms. Oops. Customarily, as I have mentioned before, French youth do not have friends over to "hang out." It took Devan and I less than 24 hours to break that social norm (her family actually suggested it when she asked if I could come to mass with them, but still). Oops. That same night, my host parents were having friends over for dinner. They normally eat late, between 21:00 and 21:30, and I did not want to disrupt their party, but I figured by 23:30 I could slide in unnoticed as they were having coffee or wine. So I walked through the door at 23:15, to find them seated around the dinner table located a few feet from the door, just beginning their meal. Oops.
But it has all been wonderful, truly. I still cannot get over how good the food is. I do not understand how they can make everything so much better. Everything. I cooked chicken and green beans and onions last night, the same exact way I prepared it all last semester, and it tastes three times better. The green beans do not look as perfect as in the states, as they are stringy and slightly different shades of green, but they taste so much stronger and fresher. Prepackaged foods - I had a KitKat today - way better. I do not even know what the difference really is but I am stocking up before I go home to prove to everyone at home there is a difference. And I already know my last day here I am getting up early (my flight does not leave until the afternoon) and I am going to the bakery and buying macaroons because they are incredible and gluten free which is cool because my grandmother can have them and I am now under the strong belief that seriously, everyone needs to experience how amazing French food is. I figure they will be fine for a flight.
Also, on a side note, I am convinced that all of the weight that you would expect a French eater to be putting on goes to the pigeons. These birds are definitely bigger than the ones in the United States. Maybe that is the French secret? Indulge yourself but leave some crumbs for the birds? After all, Americans are known for having a distorted image of portion size. Either way, there are some big birds here.
Every day I wake up and I have a baguette (well, not a whole one) for breakfast. I rarely eat toast for breakfast at home, and here the French eat bread with every meal, in general. It is still kind of an odd feeling. I keep thinking I am already so sick of eating bread, and then every morning when I take my first bite of breakfast I am reminded of why the French must keep eating it. It is damn good. The French have something right. And everyone manages to stay so healthy looking you figure they must know what they are doing. When in Rome, do as the Romans do; in France, do as the French do, and so excusez-moi as I help myself to a baguette. My apologies as I definitely talk a lot about food here but it really is such a large part of French life; they enjoy food - especially their cheese - and they enjoy the mealtime itself. Meals are lengthy, more time is spent at the table, and when you go to a restaurant, you have to ask for the check. The waiter assumes you are going to want to sit and socialize and take as much time as you please; as evidenced in the lack of tipping as well, the focus seems to be not on making money and processing as many customers as possible like in the United States, but rather on the social, leisurely aspect of a meal. It was odd at first to ask for the check, but the concept is refreshing.
At the same time, there are other things Parisians definitely do not seem to like to spend their time doing and complete as quickly as possible. The metro can feel like a rat race sometimes. One of the quickest and most efficient ways to get around the city, it is absolutely packed during rush hour. I have never seen so many people walk so quickly down one hallway in different directions as I have seen at the Chatelet, one of the largest stations. Neither have I ever had to wait for a train, however. With signs hanging from the ceilings of each station displaying the arrival time of the next train, I have never had to wait more than 4 minutes and probably at least 1/3 of the time I have walked onto the platform just as a train is arriving. It is amazing. Parisians definitely do not like to waste time commuting and their public transportation system serves them well; you absolutely cannot even compare it to Boston, and maybe even New York.
I have a lot more to tell, but I am going to save it for tomorrow because I am exhausted (still) and tomorrow I will post pictures too.
A demain!
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