On Attempting to Enjoy This Moment

It feels like every single one of my blog entries carries a similar theme:  I can't believe time is moving so quickly - I am so sad to leave - I want to come back - I eat a lot of delicious food.  I read other students' travel blogs, and they also express comparable sentiments.  This all makes terribly dull blog-reading for you, my questionably-existent readers, and so I will try to veer away from these themes.  Try is the key word, as  I sense that I will probably not succeed...
Last weekend, determined to experience something new with my diminishing time in Paris, I traveled up to the flea market in the very northern neighborhood of Paris.  It took me a while to find the right spot, and I crossed under the Péripherique several times.  The northern neighborhoods of Paris feel so different from the central ones; they are ethnically vibrant and brimming with urban life in a way almost completely foreign to the rest of the city.  I enjoyed perusing the thousands upon thousands of tiny trinkets and they had to offer - and as a bonus, I was told that Jesus must have pulled the stars from the sky to put in my eyes.  Not a bad start to my day, which ended equally as successfully as I saw Harry Potter with some friends and then had a lovely dinner with my parents and younger sister.

I wish I had enough time to sort through even half of the stuff on offer!

It has snowed quite a few times since I last wrote, and it's been increasingly more gorgeous each time.  I was lucky enough to play hostess to one of my very best friends and college roommate this past week, and she in turn was lucky enough to see Paris in the snow!  Though this meant we were unable to climb the Eiffel, it did result in several hilarious photographs which will serve as glorious reminders of the time we were twenty years old and gallivanting around Paris together.  Today was the snowiest day of all, I think we probably accumulated three or four inches in places!  I laughed to myself as I walked home, observing the Parisians attempting to avoid icy patches is pretty amusing.  Parisians generally look like they could never lose their cool, but ice pushes them dangerously close to it!

Such grace

Slushy Parisian streets

This week is my second-to-last week at work.  Seven weeks is such a relatively short amount of time to be working somewhere - I feel as though I'm just settling in, and now it's time to leave!  The experience is still great though, I don't regret choosing the internship program for a moment.  I'll be oh so glad to return to my normal schedule next semester, however, where the earliest wake up call is 9am and the concept of class on Fridays remains foreign to me.  I got some great news this week -- my three closest friends and I have succesfully landed an on-campus apartment ... In the same building as our friends who remained on campus this semester!  The chances of us even getting an apartment together were slim, but to be placed on the same floor as the rest of the girls was a one-in-a-million.  Thank you, Villanova ResLife, for pulling through finally.  
I'm allowing myself to think of things I'm looking forward to about home.  Such as seeing my sister, who at this very moment is flying home from South Africa; living within a quarter mile radius of my nine closest friends comes in a close second; my birthday, which is just over a month away, will also help to ease any post-Paris depression I expect to battle.  Thinking about these things make leaving a bit easier, but I try not to focus on them.  Instead, for now, I want to focus on enjoying the things I will miss most.  These include, but are not limited to:




– Warm pain au chocolats that make my frosty early morning commute more bearable.

–  Spotting the Eiffel tower around street corners and peeking from behind gorgeous apartment buildings.

–  The truly bizarre and inexplicable events I come across from time to time, such musicians dressed in orange which I stumbled upon outside the Opéra Garnier.

–  My host parents' endearing bewilderment at my habitual fried egg on toast each morning (as they are content with their bowls of tea)
–  These delicious cocktails from my favorite bar, whose name I will never disclose.  If you are lucky enough to be in Paris, stumbling upon it yourself is half the fun.

–  Greeting my friends... and friends-of-friends... and friends-of-friends-of-friends... with kisses (Even if you don't speak French, watch this video!  It's cute and funny!)

–  The cheery bonjour, et bonne journée! that follows me each day to work from the woman who lives outside the Franprix on my corner.

I expect my next entry will include more of this list, because things pop into my head every moment of every day.  Upon receiving an e-mail from the BU Program coordinator about end-of-semester procedures and general leaving Paris information, I actually caught myself shedding a tear or two.  It's not time to cry yet, though.  Now it's time to enjoy my last remaining ten days.  Sleep, after tonight, is not a priority at the moment.  Instead, I'm intent on using every possible moment to take in the glorious sights and smells of this incredible city.  It is, of course, obvious -- but I only get to be a student in Paris once!  I want to enjoy every single one of my remaining moments of what has been one of the most incredible and life-changing undertakings. Generally, people save the best for last.  Let's see if Paris will do the same.  xo

Forty-Seven Days

My stomach feels funny when I think about how few weeks I have left.  Rather than reading a long rambling post about about how unsettled that fact makes me feel, how would you like to hear about my holiday?

Last Friday I officially finished the academic half of my program here in Paris.  Unfortunately, all three of my finals were on the same day.  Fortunately, they were not too horrible.  I shudder to think of the mistakes I made on my grammar exam, and chuckle a bit when I imagine how horribly I confused the names of some paintings on my Art History final, but overall I think they went well.  Friday night, my last night in Paris, I managed to accomplish nothing that I wanted to.  I had big plans of picnicking beneath the Eiffel Tower and blabbing on about how much I would miss it... instead, my friend Becca and I made dinner here at home, opened some red wine, and then traveled around aimlessly on the Métro.  Though I didn't see the Eiffel Tower, I did manage to happen upon the Opéra Garnier all lit up and splendid.  It was a surprise encounter and a reminder of how many beautiful things are hiding around the corner in this city.  Not a bad way to leave Paris.

Can you spot the Phantom of the Opera?

I left on Saturday afternoon and flew into Dublin.  Though it was a whirlwind visit, I felt the same immediate comfort and sense of home that I experience each time I return to Ireland.  Though I've lived in America the longest, I will be the most connected to Ireland for the rest of my life.  It's my home, it's where I come from, and it's the place I will always feel welcome and complete.  Philadelphia is wonderful, and of course Paris is an incredible place to live as well, but Dublin is home.  I spent my time with family, eating delicious food (fish and chips are best in Ireland, I don't care what anyone says!), drinking tea, and catching up.  I happened upon the Dublin marathon when I spent my last full day in town, and it was such an exhilarating thing to witness!  I watched so many runners crossing the finish line, and heard all the Dubliners cheering them on though they didn't even know them.  I'd be lying if I said I didn't cry.  I'm not sure why I felt so emotional, to be honest.  Something about seeing people accomplish something that impressive combined with watching the support and excitement of the crowd was really moving.  After drying my tears, a little embarrassedly, I met up with some old family friends.  We shared a delicious lunch and caught up, and it was lovely to spend time laughing with three very silly sisters.  It made me think of my own, and how glad I am that our reunion is so soon!  

Near the finish line of the marathon!

Bright winter sun in Dun Laoghaire.

From Ireland, I headed to Seville for a dramatically different climate!  I landed in Seville airport and suddenly remembered that I don't speak a word of Spanish.  Well, OK, I remembered that I only speak about ten words of Spanish.  It was so strange to realize that I was almost completely unable to communicate myself in even the most basic situations.  A few times I awkwardly defaulted to speaking French, which earned me some confused Spanish facial expressions.  I was visiting my roommate from Villanova in Spain, and it was so great to reattach ourselves at the hip.  Cara had class while I was in Seville, but I stayed at a hostel and was able to walk around by myself a little bit.  I visited the bull fighting ring and wandered the streets, taking in all the awesome architecture... and of course, the summery weather!

Plaza del Torros... Just look at that blue sky!

Dorky, but I'm alright with it.

Reunited and it feels so good.

Alcázar , so beautiful. 

My time in Seville was regrettably short.  I wish I had had more time to do really nerdy things like pay 6E for a 40 minute guided tour of the bull fighting ring, and take a ride on an open top tourist bus.  On my third night in town, Cara and I spent the night with other Villanova students studying in Seville for the semester.  It was so nice to be back in the company of Villanovans!  Maybe that sounds weird, but it's a comfort thing and I was really glad to be able to say things like "I wish I had an omelette from the pit right now..." without getting strange looks.  After several too-late nights, Cara and I dragged our sorry selves out of bed bright and early on Friday morning to jetset to Londontown.  We flew first to Portugal, and it was honestly the worst flight I've ever experienced.  Sitting in a tiny plane being tossed around in some dreadful storms is never an experience one looks forward to.  After a short layover in Portugal, where I spent most of my time marveling at the unfamiliar sounds of Portuguese (and eating cheese...), we finally touched down in London and searched out the EasyBus shuttle which would take us to center city.

"Even RyanAir passengers welcome!"
Why do people think Brits have strange senses of humo(u)r?

We arrived, after a quick stop for falafel, at the apartment building where several of our Villanova friends live.  It was, once more, so nice to be surrounded by Villanovans!  A little taste of home, even in London.  It was great to see London again as well.  It was a totally different visiting experience than I'd had before, because I didn't do a single touristy thing... But I think that's alright, since I've seen them  before and I would rather spend time in a bedroom catching up with friends than stand in line for expensive things that I've already done.  I hope that's a good reason.  For me, it was exactly what I needed.  Some time to speak a lot of English and laugh until my stomach hurt.

The trip to London got a little less great, however, on Friday night when I fell hard onto my left shoulder.  It hurt right away, but by the next morning was so painful and swollen that I decided to go to the hospital.  My two wonderful and patient friends came with me, and after searching for 2 hours and trying three (yes, three) different hospitals, I found myself filling out a form in the emergency room of Chelsea Westminster Hospital.  After a two hour wait and a tearful phonecall to my mother, my aunt who lives only a half an hour away appeared at the hospital door.  The wait was long but the visit itself was quick, a few x-rays and painful proddings revealed that I've managed to tear some shoulder ligaments.  The good news is I don't need surgery or anything... The bad news is I'm in a lot of pain, and can't move my arm much at all, and there is not much to be done about it.  

I was happy to get back to Paris, though that doesn't mean any part of my vacation was bad.  I felt comforted when I heard French immediately upon entering the Eurostar terminal of St. Pancras train station, and was almost glad to get rudely shoved aside in the Métro.  My time away from Paris has made me love it all the more.  Though each city I visited was wonderful in its own right, for me Paris is where I want to be right now.  I took a long walk by myself around the city today, and actually grinned when I saw the Eiffel Tower appear around a corner.  My heart feels lighter when I look around me in a Parisian street, there is so much beauty and romance to embrace that it's almost impossible to ever feel too gloomy.  I may have left my glasses in Ireland, my phone charger in England, and messed up my shoulder pretty seriously... But I still couldn't be happier to be in Paris.  

Tomorrow is my first day at work!  I'm dreadfully nervous, but also excited.  I don't speak English legal jargon, so I hope that I'm not expected to speak it in French!  First days are always challenging, but I know that this job is an incredible opportunity and I can't wait to see what it offers me.  I have packed my lunch and set out my outfit,  and I have factored in enough time in the morning for eggs and toast, so I am feeling about as prepared as I can be.

With only forty-seven days left in Paris, I'm making lists right and left of things to do before I go (and promptly losing all of them).  I have several fabulous visitors coming in the next seven weeks, and I feel so happy when I think about showing them around my city.  That is all in the future however, and the most important thing to do now is live in the moment.

And, well, this moment is marveilleux, chers amis. xo

Bon Weekend!

I decided last weekend that I was going to get my nose pierced.  It's something I'd wanted to do since high school, but I was always told it was not allowed while I lived under my mother's roof.  My sister Sinéad beat me to it by getting hers done just before she left for South Africa, so now I look like a copy cat.  

I did it, nevertheless.  On Tuesday night, I walked into a kind of intimidating tattoo/piercing salon where I felt like everyone was wondering why I was there.  The guy who pierced me, Olivier, was really nice though, and explained everything in nice clear slow language so that I could be sure to understand everything.  Ten minutes later, I emerged from Tribal Act (that is seriously what it's called) a pierced hoodlum.

It is a tiny stud, but it's there.  This picture is awkward.

This semester is a big one for me, I'm finding. Already, I can feel that it's contributed to tremendous self-growth and discovery, which sounds really cliché but is entirely true.  I was in a strange place before I left, with lots of mixed emotions about leaving my friends and family.  Now, however, I've remembered why I'm here (because it is the most gorgeous place in the world and I'm unbelievably lucky to be allowed 4 months here!) and what I want to accomplish during my time in Paris.  And, as an added bonus... I have a hole in my right nostril!

I did something else completely new for me this week, as well.  On Monday, I was walking around the Marais when I decided to sit down and have a nice two course meal... By myself.  At first I felt horribly self-conscious, certain that everyone was judging me for being alone and that everyone cared so much.  Then I remembered... No one cares, at all.  I enjoyed a delicious salad and quiche, and then a petit expresso... Eating alone is delicious and absolutely underrated.  I didn't have to talk to anyone; instead I was free to people-watch to my heart's content and enjoy my fantastic meal.  

Salad with roulades d'aubergine and goat's cheese

Yum.

This weekend in Paris is gorgeous, the sun is shining and its 70 degrees.  Today I am headed to the BU Center for a meeting or two, and then to the Musée du Chocolat... A mandatory class trip which I hear involves eating a lot of chocolate.  (Sometimes, I can't believe that my life here is real.)  Tomorrow is the Fete de Vendages in Montmartre, which sounds promising.  Villanova's course registration for next semester is looming ever closer, I keep getting e-mails about it which serve as a reminder that my time here is almost halfway through.  But for now, I can't wait to see what this weekend holds.  I hope you all have marvelous plans, and if you have nothing better to do... Come to Paris!

Bon weekend, chers amis xo.

The Big Day

And, I'm off!  I'm currently sitting in Au Bon Pain (a poor substitute for a French cafe) in Philadelphia International Airport, sipping some cheap burnt coffee and taking advantage of free wifi.  My trip has begun, and though this seems an unexceptional start, I'm just glad to report that my bags have been accepted despite their bulging at the seams.

My last week at home was everything I'd hoped it might be.  The weekend at Villanova was a successful one, despite uncomfortable time spent sleeping on the hard floor while my friends reclined in their fabulously decorated bedrooms.  To their credit, I was offered their beds each morning as the Orientation Zombies formerly known as my friends headed off to enthuse the freshmen.  When all is said and done, however, I'm positively green with envy now that I've seen my their apartments... I will add it to my list of things to look forward to in January.  Thanks to Skype, Villanova will never feel too far away.  Even my close friend Elka, who is spending the next four months in Ghana, is now bringing her laptop and will be only a phone call away.  There are times when globalization really rules.

Among the other small pleasures of my week was receiving a thoughtful and fabulously decorated card in the mail from my older sister.  During her time spent in South Africa, she's picked up card creation as a new hobby, and I have to admit she is pretty good, don't you agree?

I'll see what I can do about acquiring a red beret...

My Dad and I attempted to make gnocchi at home on Tuesday night.  For a first attempt, it was not as bad as it might have been.  If we had only followed the recipe rather than assuming that we knew everything there is to know about gnocchi making, I'm certain it would have turned out better.  That is the price one pays for being ridiculously stubborn... and for having a ridiculously stubborn Dad.  Mum and Megan were good sports, however, and after we smothered the failed gnocchi in cheese and baked it in the oven, it was really pretty tasty.  I look forward to sampling the perfected version in December.  (Hint hint, Dad)

As far as I'm concerned, anything baked with cheese can't really be so bad.

Thursday night Megan and I spent some quality sister time together, watching the silly tearjerker Dear John and the last four episodes of Sex and the City.  Dear John was really cheesy but managed to coax many tears form us both nonetheless, and Sex and the City only convinced me that I will never act as foolishly as Carrie Bradshaw does upon arriving in Paris.  I mean, the woman wore a flouncy skirt and high heels on the plane.   ... Really?  I can assure you that I don't resemble Carrie Bradshaw in the least right now, as I've opted for a baggy t shirt and leggings.  How terribly chic.


My last dinner at home was delicious.  Mum asked if I had special requests, and of course I did.  Luckily for her, I wanted something simple and tasty-- Trader Joe's Israeli cous cous and roasted veggies.  It was so delicious, and my evening was sweetened by a last trip to the Yardley Ice House with Meg.  Add Small Mint Chocolate Chip Water Ice to the Things I Will Miss Most list.

Why would I order anything else, when this is done so well?

Breakfast this morning: a homemade cappuccino and a luminous Bagel Train breakfast sandwich.

This little babe came running to me today, ready to say her goodbyes.
She either knew I was leaving, or she just thought I was going to feed her...

Teary goodbyes have been said at the security line, and I am now officially on my way.  I feel a little nauseous but very excited to see what the next four months will hold for me.  Before that reveals itself, however, I have to successfully find my connecting plane at Montreal Airport (thank you, AirMiles, for always being so convenient...), kill five hours in Canada, and then figure out how to cart a huge sixty-something pound suitcase from Charles de Gaulle Airport to Place de la République.  If I can manage that, the next few months will be un morceau de gâteau.  Stay tuned!

Things I Will Miss Most

It's hard to believe that after years of dreaming about packing up and going to Paris, I'll be doing so in only nine days.  Since my first visit to Paris on a family vacation, when my bespectacled and painfully awkward self gaped at the Eiffel Tower and chowed down on pains au chocolat galore, I've fantasized about spending an extended period of time in the City of Light.


Thanks to  Boston University, I'm about to do so.  From August 29 to December 18 I'll be living on the rive droite in the home of a French couple, with their cat Pilou (!!) and another American student.  I've got to be honest, I couldn't have gotten luckier.  When my sister Sinead and I spent time in Paris last summer, we stayed literally one street away from the apartment, so I know precisely where it is... Though, with my winning sense of direction it's entirely possible and probable that I'll get lost on more than one occasion.


As the departure date draws ever nearer, and my excitement grows exponentially, I have to say I find myself stuck in moments of anxiety sometimes.  How will I survive without Mum's yummy (and vegetarian!) meals every day?  What if Pilou is mean and doesn't like to snuggle like my cat Lily does?  How am I supposed to keep track of my budget, my meals, my schoolwork?  I've had trouble sleeping lately, because my mind is always racing... Just when I think I've calmed myself down, something else will pop up!  (Will I find time to listen to Podcasts of all my favorite NPR shows?!)


Aside from these petty concerns, there are larger things about which I worry as well.  Though my French is adequate, my traveling skills have been honed over several years, and I'm not afraid of eating snails... I find myself returning to the ever-approaching moment, the instant that I step off the plane and realize "I am in France, and I am by myself."  I almost get chills thinking about it now, and my stomach fills with papillons at the thought.

Almost drowning in lists of To-Dos, Things To Pack, Things To Remember... I've found it much more enjoyable to make a different type of list:  Things I Will Miss Most (in no particular order).

My wonderful family, soon to be scattered across three continents,
pictured here visiting my sister in South Africa. 

My happy pink yoga mat, which has kept me so balanced over the past year.

My fat but loveable cat, Lily, and her friendly nuzzling and tiny meows.

I have a trip to Villanova in store for this weekend, and though I look forward to spending time with friends, I'm sure that my good-bye to them and to the Villanova campus on Monday won't be easy.  It's strange to think I won't be back there 'til January!  I'm excited, though.  I'm twenty years old and I've been handed the chance to once more, begin anew.  Things won't always be easy, but I intend to remind myself continuously that this opportunity is, as they say, once-in-a-lifetime.  For now, however, the heaps of clothes and miscellaneous items invading my bedroom are begging to be dealt with.  

P.S.  I'm asking for your patience with this blog... Declaring an English major doesn't automatically endow one with flawless writing skills, and travel writing is a new frontier for me.  I won't always know how or what to write, but I hope you'll bear with me as I seek the right words.