Rinaldawg's blog

A wise Venezuelan who I encountered on my travels in Europe once said to me “This is your luck time.” And he was right.  This is my luck time.  Or this was my luck time.  It’s incredible how I took my time here in Paris at first, almost completely, for granted.  I’m fairly certain, too, that it has only mildly sunken in that I am here—even at the dawn of my leaving (almost literally).  Nevertheless, here are some reflections—as I sit pondering self-growth, change, time, and life as that looming deadline of Tuesday threatens to cut short my fairytale, and throw me back into the reality that is my life in the states.
 
I learned about a culture, I learned about a people, I learned about types of food, I learned about the concept of siestas in Spain, that Czech drunk food is deep fried cheese on a bun with a creamy sauce, that Rome, even in the rain, is breathtaking, that the sky in Paris is like crystal when it’s not grey.  And not only did I learn about these things (dramatic pause for cliché), I freaking lived them…I ate bizarre cuisine, I made social faux pas like touching things at vendor stands before asking permission, and hugging people when you first meet them instead of giving them bisous. And it’s all okay—because no matter how embarrassed I got, or how uncomfortable on the silent subways as I was sometimes—all of that lead to my realization that I have the capacity to be comfortable in a foreign place—and that it’s possible for a person to adjust, and become one with a culture.
 
At the beginning of the semester, a professor of mine asked “what does it mean to be francophone?" As a class we sort of concluded that it was a mixture of things: Speaking the language, observing the culture, and most importantly LIVING, at least a bit—in the style of this foreign French place.  And without any other options (seeing as I found myself living in a foreign land for this number of months), I ended up living a lot—I became somewhat francophone (I think). 
 
I don’t know what I will remember years from now, but I do know being in Paris has affected me and my outlook on things…I’m much more appreciative, for instance, of a beautiful setting and being in good company with people who you consider to be good friends.  I think I’ll also take the sentiment I grasped from that essential part of being francophone--of living in a culture to make the idea of being francophone real...The idea of living to live is interesting.  It was an excuse I made for myself in justifying some stuff I’ve done here…but rightfully so, I’ve realized. 

We only freaking live once.  Judge all you want, but in the end, life and notable points in our lives are made up of those particles of moments in which we’ve lived and have been really present.  Though this outlook probably can’t justify all things, Paris made me realize we have to live while we can, stand up on the subway while our legs won’t give out on us years from now, read books while our eyes work, eat salty/creamy/heavy/fatty foods while they won't send us into heart failure, then walk off all of that food while we still can...go places, see things, dance, and enjoy. 

Thanks Paris for making me realize I gotta keep living…you’ve truly filled me up, yet I still have a thirst for more, thanks to you. Through having really lived this study abroad expereince, I have realized that what I will be bringing back with me …Seeking to prolong my "luck time ."

Thanks everyone for a great semester- it was a pleasure to read all of your posts and see your time abroad through your eyes. It was also interesting to see how we all seemed to experience a lot of the same things, despite being literally on the other side of the globe in completely different situations.  Best of luck, everyone....I leave you with this song by Carla Bruni, at our dernière minute at our foreign places.

Cheers, It's been a pleasure,
Alyssa

Woody Allen is right.  Midnights in Paris are magical.  It’s really hard to be unhappy when everything around you is so beautiful/the soft yellow of the Parisian lights makes the city a dream. My favorite times of day in paris are sunset (go see it from Sacré Coeur, evening (go to Place de La Concorde, and watch dusk fall on the big monuments) from that wide open space, or night, when everything is amazing and the city of lights shows off its dazzling side. If you don’t find a beautiful French lover, you’ll surely fall in love with the place/the people/the culture (once, of course, you get used to things being closed at inconvenient hours and the metro closing at night).  An additional thing- get to know people in Paris, I guarantee that will make you a) better at French because you’ll have to speak it all the time.  b) give you a real look at what it means  and what it is like to exist here. 
 
As far as the academics go, I wouldn’t recommend NYU in Paris. I was in program 2, and a lot of my classes were either not challenging at all and kind of a waste of time, or too challenging.  I heard a mixed review from program one people.  Some things I can recommend for you…1) take a course with Christina von Koehler in program I- everyone I know who took her class on monuments loved it (you go on walking tours once every other class around Paris, and she’s really, really cool).  2-Take advantage of the weekend trip you get to go on…I built barrels at a vineyard, drank copious amounts of wine at a wine tasting, and went on a bikeride through the countryside of Dijon.  It was incredible.  3. NYU often has events at night (gallery openings, receptions, presentations)….There is always bottomless wine at these events.  My recommendation is that you avoid it at all costs.  The wine is cheap, and will leave you with regrets the next day. 
 
On Europe in General.  I’m going to give you a few tips I sent to my best friend who is going to study abroad next semester.
 
-Maybe take eurolines (buses)…it’s cheap, but the buses are often late.  I took one from Paris to London overnight…you had to take a ferry in the middle, and it takes something awful like 9 hours.  It was an experience…The cliffs of Dover are amazing, though…when you get the ferry from the English side of the English channel.  Especially when they let you get off of the bus- you can smell the see, and turn around and see the white cliffs.  Wow.
Don't fly ryanair cause their airports are far away...and the shuttles cost a lot to take you into town. The tickets are cheap, but unless you get a really good steal...like 2 euro tickets, it’snot worth it with shuttle cost/time lost in the 3 hours each way it takes to get to the airports.  Also, book in advance. Use bravofly.fr  or Easyjet.  They’re great websites for cheap flights. Obviously: EAT EVERYTHING. And drink everything (except for shitty NYU wine).  And drink by the seine in Paris.  Stay at hostels. and couchsurf, but don’t get raped or anything-some of those people are sketchy.  Go to the clubs at the beach in Barcelona. Wear something moderately nice. Sign up online/put your name on the list so you can get in for free for the night.  Or, just, like- be a girl. Rage for a long time at le clubs...go walk on the beach/drink a beer from the sketchy men selling them for 1 euro while you're chillen. Then go back in till the sun rises. Go to berlin, and rage until noon. Maybe go to sensation if it's happening (mixed revies).  In Barça- go to park guel, and everything gaudi ever made ever in barcelona. Go to the top of Notre Dame, to the Canal Saint Martin in paris for the best brunch place sésame.  Go to the bar the 29- you wouldn't know it was a bar unless you knew it was a bar.  It's near trocadero and open every night until 4AM.  Tell the bartender Greg, who speaks 5 languages hi for me, and have him make you hatever you fancy in th way of bespoke cocktails. Go up in the eiffel tower all the way to the top.  Drink in Prague because it's dirt cheap and decent- specifically Becherovka.  It tastes like Christmas.  And speaking of Christmas, Paris is gorgeous….All of the buildings and monuments dress up…the Galleries Lafayette also have christmas windows, the trees twinkle and make a cold night beautiful....and there are Christmas markets. Go to them...but not the one on the Champs-Elysées...it's overwhelming and kind of generic.

Also.  Go to a concert and go out dancing in Paris...And listen to the radio, becuase often you get gems like this video posted below:
 
Have an amazing time anyone who is planning on going here.  Let me know if you need recommendations for things! 
Cheers,
Alyssa

I'm fairly certain I was not in Paris for four months of my life.  I'm pretty sure it's all just beginning, right? Didn't we just get here?  Wrong about all of the above.

The other day, I turned to my friend Olivia on the subway, could kind of understand the peripheral conversations going on around me, and proclaimed "I Feel Comfortable!"- except I didn't shout, or really say it much louder than a whisper, for the french don't speak very much on the metro.  It was three and a half months in, and it finally hit me- I was beginning to get a good footing in the culture, in the way of life, and the french customs.

I was learning to do my grocery shopping on Saturdays becuase not a lot (literally no supermarkets at all) is open on Sundays.  I was learning how to navigate the metro by heart, where I could get off and walk to other stops even though they looked dreadfully far from one another on a metro map.  I had learned how to deal with rude waiters, and kind waiters, and how to ask for things.  I learned the random connecting words that the french say, how to say "I don't know" formally and informally, what to say when you bump into people, and how to respond to creepy men-  I realized that I was starting to function successfully in the french way of life, and that I was adjusting.

All of this hit me on the metro going to visit my friends Emily and Kate in their eclectic to say the least (a duplex with a massive living room, bizarre paintings, some stained glass windows, lots of nude sculptures and a sculpture of spiderman perched on the second floor overlooking the downstairs area) apartment at Place de Clichy.  It also has massive bay windows and overlooks sacré coeur depending on what room you are in.  Anyways, I digress...I was going over for dinner and to hang out and do homework (really watch 30 rock).  When I got there Emily and Kate were talking about how we were only here for 15 more days.  15 more days?!  There's no way! I grabbed the calendar, counted, and came to the shocking realization that it was true.  

Just as i was beinning to feel really settled, had some routines, and make some good friends, it was time to leave.  It's interesting to realize how much time flies (duh, alyssa- but, really.), and how it is possible for one to get settled in a culture they spent the first three months feeling completely not a part of...I just wonder now how re-adjusting to New York will feel, having just realized I was comfortable here.

(Photocred: Came across this album cover a while ago, likes it, and saved it- I don't know where the original file was from, but it is not my work).

You do not speak much English, yet we have managed to become friends off of my broken, slow, French and your unending understanding.  I didn’t know anyone, and happened upon you one day, perchance, at your work.  I had come alone in the pursuit of discovering new things, and you two made me feel right at home, inviting me to a fête the establishment was having the next night. I returned, and you treated me like your friend, and we conversed about our lives, and slowly we became closer. 

My friend was visiting from out of town, and we happened to run into you two at a bar on the other side of the city, where you happened to know everyone.  You mentioned thanksgiving, and upon our explanation of the occasion-you offered there on the spot to have a thanksgiving with us.  You offered to make a turkey, for us, complete strangers, and proposed we work together to make a feast, each person bringing something to enjoy. You wanted to welcome us, and to make us feel comfortable.  So it was there, in your generosity, that layers of Paris peeled back, the clouds opened, and strangers became not so strange anymore, but familiar.

You cared, and mentioned that you knew what it was like to be far from home, a little disoriented, and that you wanted to be friends.  

We discovered mutual interests, and even a mutual acquaintance in New York.  We discovered we like the same movies, same actors, and that we share a mutual passion for supreme coffee and both had a dream of at some point of being an awesome bartender.  No, we don’t speak the same language—yes, we grew up worlds apart, and will continue to live across an ocean from one another.  However, you will always be the ones in my mind who broke the cold shell of Paris, the acquaintances that became friends, that reminded me that no matter who you are, or where you’re from—we’re all human…Strangers are just friends you haven’t gotten to know yet.  Not all strangers, of course, yes there are creeps, and one should always be on the lookout for fear of getting taken—but largely, as you showed me, people are people…we all feel, breathe, and exist. 

Thus, I pause for a moment of reflection and thanks for you two—who invited me to meet your friends, dine with you, let you teach me things, and let me tell you about my life at home…You made my mornings on subway cars full of strangers more cheerful, aware of the fact that even across our differences we are all, just here, and that we don’t want to feel alone.  Thank you for that, and here’s to you, Parisian friends.  You will be what I miss most about my life in Paris, and one of my regrets for not staying longer.
 
All the best.

Love,

The tendrils of our memory whip us back into our pasts. Once sparked by sound, smell, sights, or certain feelings- we are brought back to another instant, and are enveloped in a wash of nostalgia and a full awareness of being somewhat in another time or space.
Our mental associations are incredible.  For instance, I cannot smell apple soap without thinking of my preschool, I cannot eat an oatmeal cookie without thinking of my childhood in my cousin’s kitchen, and I cannot taste white tic-tac’s without thinking that for the first 20 seconds that they are in your mouth, they taste like Christmas.

Similar to our sensory association, we come to associate places with certain things, certain sensations…things that, when we experience them in another setting, bring us back to that time and place for in our minds- those aspects constitute an attribute to our “genius loci” of a particular setting.  These short paragraphs about Paris are the place’s genius loci through my eyes:

Paris tastes.  Paris tastes like no other place I’ve been.  It tastes like fresh baked cheap baguette, crunchy on the outside yet warm and airy within.  Paris tastes like smooth beverages enjoyed at bars after hours with good friends.  Paris tastes like salt.  Salt in the meat from charcuteries, chased down with sec white wine, enjoyed in candlelight amongst good friends on checkered tablecloths.  Paris tastes like clove and orange hinted vin chaud, hot wine, that I dislike, but you can’t help but try here this time of year.  Paris tastes salty, fresh, sweet, and strong.  Paris also tastes heavy in luxurious creams or the chocolate from angelina’s, or the potent espresso served by every café. Paris will fill you up, and leave you craving more.

Paris smells like winter, and like stone.  It’s a regal smell for the most part, less the subways which will always smell like urine (somehow worse than those in NY, I think).  Paris smells crisp- like the breath you inhale at place de la concorde looking out over that old stone, statues, a barren zone, on which a breeze of crisp air is brought in by cars rushing by.  Paris doesn’t smell of exhaust.  Paris also smells like cigarettes, in the morning, in the evening, in the night, every time of day.  Paris does not smell fresh, except for baked bread—paris smells old.  Not like old women, but like it has been weathered...a hint of slightly damp rocks. It smells like the breezes off of the canals, and right now, at least, of wintertime. 

Paris looks like a controlled mess.  The streets are cut perfectly, the old buildings looming above, proud and made out of stone and marble.  Under the arcades of the rue de rivoli, or in the parks-  Nature is nature, leaves litter the ground, and the white dust from the tuileries gardens covers your shoes—but  the trees are cut into perfect shapes, and paris appears precise.  Paris looks like black and white and shades of grey from the front, but scarves of all colors wrapped around the necks of its inhabitants, who walk with their legs ever-so-slightly turned out, under their black coats.

Paris feels secretive and hard to penetrate to a level where you are exposed to the true way of life.  Paris lives a dual life- one accessible to tourists, and one for those who live amongst her crisp, old, beauty…Paris feels divided…you can define the neighborhoods into the Pakistani quarter, the red light district, the latin quarter, the tuileries, the hipster neighborhood, opera.  Paris feels precise.  Paris feels quiet, like you have to approach her gently or she won’t show herself—you must explore in order to feel like you’re part of anything.  Let Paris get to know you first, just walking around, then she’ll open up her wealth to you.  Paris feels cold on the surface, outside of the shell, but pleasant inside.

Paris sounds like a slur of words, and sometimes confusion.  Paris sounds like that obnoxious noise the subways make before the doors seize and close.  Paris sounds like the birds in the Jardin des Tuileries.  Paris sounds barren at night, and like echoes of footsteps down her endless roads in the yellow of the streetlights that keep the city alive.   

I'll miss you, Paris, but I'll take my impressions with me, and will undoubtedly be reminded of you often.

"This Book was Born Of Ignorance," claims the introduction.  A lot of remarkable things have emerged from ignorance—winning of battles against remarkable odds, epic and passionate love stories, inventions, etcetera.  Ignorance is an origin that a lot of great things can claim.  That is not to say, though, that this book is great-just that it was someone's project, inspired by passion and a desire to learn more, which, in turn, makes it worth looking at.
 
The Premise of Pitt's "Walks Through Lost Paris" is to expose the old Paris by recounting walks (4 specific ones) that he takes through neighborhoods in the city, and comparing them to not-so-long-ago (and some long ago) Paris.  He includes pictures, details, and historical facts to do so.  He goes about his historical excavation and unveiling with a few goals (I mean, at least this is what I gathered from reading it) in mind.
 
1) To educate people on the fact that Paris was not always the Paris that one thinks of today, or the paris they see when they stroll down l'avenue de l'opéra or look up at notre dame in the square on l'ïle de la cîté.  More specifically that the old muddled, crowded, dirty, Paris was replaced (with the visions on Haussmann and Napoleon III, and a small army of architects and builders) by a more modern, pretty, straight, and regal one.
 
2) To wage a scientific excavation on the quarters, and compare them to what they used to be: essentially transposing the imagined old architecture of the city onto the current map.
 
I could talk for a while on my opinions of this book, but reading it has put me into a scientific-esque mode where I feel as though I need to number my arguments and draw a map or a blueprint or something.  So, channeling Leonard Pitt, I’ve broken down my arguments about his arguments into two generalized points (utilizing specific examples).
 
 
Things It Taught Me: We often do not know everything about a place, and places evolve more than we may think…Layers upon layers upon layers of history exist, and something like a city can be dissected to reveal the past in a very scientific way. For instance, I learned about the history of the Rue de Seine(in the 3rd walk), which was home to George Sand, Housed Isadora Duncan’s Brother’s Academy, was where Oscar Wilde died in a hotel, and housed Queen Margot’s estate.  It’s incredible to look at a city as a now and then and physically discuss the details that have changed from then to now, as well and how significant they are.  Evolution happens.
 
My Main Qualms:  My emotional side wanted more. Facts are cool, and maybe I’m less ignorant now….but unless you give me some first hand accounts of people experiencing this different Paris, then I’m not going feel a whole bunch about it.   It’s interesting, yes, but I wasn’t inspired to keep reading a lot of the time. It is not without its extracts from famous books, astounding facts, or famous quotes, but they seemed to only support the thesis that “Paris is really different now--” or that “the History of Paris is crazy and complex.” The romantic inside of me cried a little craving an elaboration of the first-hand accounts of rue St. Julien le Pauvre (Walk 1, p. 54) where Pitt mentions how the cellars of one of the houses were used to hold overflows of prisoners at the end of the 18th century. An interesting fact, but how were they converted into prisons? What were they like? When did that stop? —I want to be able to understand what each period of time was like for a place, and how each was different more through the eyes of the people that inhabited it.  Buildings and places may hold history, but it is the people who create that history (and the buildings, and the places for that matter).
 
Whether I enjoyed the book or not, I don’t know.  On second look, though, I guess this book with a new tone that lead me to realize something about myself—that a scientific look at the facts of a situation are more interesting to me as supporting players in a book, second to first-hand accounts.  For that realization,  and a look at a new way to see Paris, I believe I owe Mr. Pitt a thank you.

To Read More About the Book Visit THIS SITE.

Cheers,
Alyssa

On Mondays class ends at 12:15 for me, and I don't start again until 2:30 on Tuesday.  I took this gap of time as a sign that I should explore Paris on Monday afternoons and evenings. I find that in a city, one's default places are part of what makes them feel settled and at home. In this time I set aside each Monday afternoon/night, I have been able to discover some of my favorite places in Paris- the ones that I have turned into my regular places, the ones that I will be likely to miss.
 
-Number one:  That no-name tiny café where things are cheap, everyone is local, and the crowd is nice.  I live almost on top of to the Canal Saint-Martin in the 10tharrondissement ie. If I were to lean out my window and shout really loudly, I could have a conversation with people on the other side. And that’s about where you would find my favorite café…I honestly don’t know the name, but it has a bar on the right, 8 dark-washed wooden tables with a slight gold design on each, a glass door, a spiral staircase leading to nowhere, two plush velvet red chairs, and in between them—a little out of place—a screen with fake fire.  They also bring you your coffee on a little tray with designs. I like it because it is dim, but not too dim for reading and lit by candlelight at all hours of the day wit simple, white candles on each table.  You can get coffee here until they close (usually around 1AM each day), and they don’t hassle you to move if you’re doing work. 
 
Finding it:  Find Chez Prune (another good/semi-famous brunch spot).  Cross the Bridge across the canal next to that famous brunch establishment. Turn left once you hit the other side…It will be your first café on the right, the sign is yellow.
 

-Number Two (and 3):  I really enjoy mixology.  If you can make a truly good cocktail, I will have mountains of respect for you—for, as I have found by cocktail hunting in NY and in Paris, making a good drink is no easy task.  The Bar Le FORVM  (The Forum) is right next to “Place Madeleine.”  I’d heard about their drink quality through their rave reviews and went for the first time solo on a Monday evening and ordered a “Red Light District.”  Normally, I’m not a fan of fruity drinks-but this one was done well, and incorporated cinnamon.  Being alone, I struck up a conversation with the barmen asking for their recommendations of places to go, drinks to try, etc.  They were extremely nice, gave me a list of places, and I have been back many times since—even becoming friends with a few of them, which lead to having a little unorthodox thanksgiving celebration after the closing of the bar that night, complete with a Turkey, side dishes, great wine, and this caramel whiskey.  You couldn’t ask for nicer bartenders, or better drinks.
 

-(3) One of the bars on the list of recommendations was ‘le 29’.  It’s one of those places where you wouldn’t know it was a bar unless you knew it was a bar.  Really close to Trocadéro (on a street that is completely dead at night), this retired gentlemen’s club most recently turned bar is one of my favorite places to get a good drink in Paris.  The owner and only bartender, Geoff, speaks a ton of languages, smiles a lot, and will make you whatever you please (in the bespoke cocktail fashion), so long as he has the fresh herbs/fruit he needs to do so (his supply changes daily). This bar, which you have to ring a bell to get into, opened in early October—and often hosts afterparties for bartending events in Paris. Its red velvet interior makes it inviting, and the quality of the drinks make you want to stay. 
 
 

-Number Four: A Brunch Place:  Definitely Sésame on the Canal Saint Martin.  The service is great (a shocker for Paris), the cups of tea are enormous, the fruit smoothies are fresh, there are bagels, and everything on the menu is mostly healthy and very delicious.  It’s a light-lit space with pastel colors, and appears at though it could very well be part of New York.  You get to look out over the Canal Saint-Martin while you dine, and even if there is a wait on the weekend (which there most likely will be), the food will be worth the wait.  fé where things are cheap, everyone is local, and the crowd is nice.  I live almost right next to the Canal Saint-Martin


(The Rest): Other amazing thing I don't frequent but love:  1) Place de la Concorde- monument-wise, I think it's gorgeous...you can see la Madeleine, the Tuileries Gardens, the Obelisk Napoleon I 'received as a gift' from Egypt, the Grand Palais, and the eiffel tower. 2 ) Sacré Coeur at sunset.  You can see all of Paris, and boy is it amazing.  If you're at the top, facing all of paris, walk to the right, then follow a fence around to the left a little- the view you get of the eiffel tower will be breathtaking.  3) The Canal Saint-Martin.  4) For Partying- métro stop Grands Boulevards...lots of pubs that turn into discothèques at night (and charge no cover).  5) Take a bus around paris...You get to see so much. 6) if it's warm enough, eat/drink/be merry/chat/do anything by the Seine.  7) The Library at the Centre Pompidou.  It will feel like a really big version of Bobst, as there will be rows and rows of French students at tables kind of doing work (like in the stacks) with large windows all around looking out onto the immediate surroundings of the Museum.

(place images mine, via, via)
 
 

Walking down Las Ramblas  in Barcelona looking for "authentic  Spanish tapas food," my friend emily turns to me and goes "everything here is so touristy- we have to get off of this beaten path."  We took a right, and wandered for a few minutes into the Barrio Gotico, finally settling on a little restaurant called "Menage a Trois"- where no one spoke english, and was for the most part full of families and people speaking Catalan-with the exception of two groups of people speaking French.  While the food seemed to be "authentic" enough, after reading MacCannell's piece, it made me wonder, in retrospect- just how "authentic" my dining experience (and my whole time, really) in Barcelona was...The menu was a mélange of Catalan, Spanish, and English- with poor translations of dishes.  The music was elevator-esque, the host was from Japan, and the name of the restaurant was french.  Just how authentic was my experience?  I don't know.  They served 'traditional' Tapas food, yet, how 'real' was that experience to any of the real ones that Spanish people go to?  And the fact that this restaurant was most likely a mixture of multiple cultural things- was that set up to attract the tourist attempting to get off the beaten path a little, only to stumble on this quaint restaurant that seemed to be authentic for its bright colored walls, low lighting, and extensive tapas menu?  Was my experience less real because of this?  Did I miss out?  

MacCannel makes a few good points such as places having a back and a front stage and that tourism is an exemplification of people wanting to make sure they get an "authentic" experience of the place (what I clearly just exemplified with my alarm at having not had one).  However, in total, I really didn't enjoy the article very much there are a few things that I don't agree with/don't really understand in it.

Firstly, he compares travel and tourism to the secularized version of spiritual pilgrimages...I don't really agree.  While they are similar in that the respective parties are searching for a special experience, to me the two aren't really comparable.  For one,  if one goes on a religious pilgrimage, one expects to experience something specific-some real revelation...whereas when one is a tourist, I feel as though in my experience at least you have a different type of thirst altogether...you have had no former interaction with the place- and you're searching for something- something authentic, but you're not sure what.  The former involves a lot of thought, and a massive investment of time and thought.  My going to Barcelona because I thought it was going to be pretty/fun/I'd never been there before isn't a pillar of my existence (re: Islam/Hajj)...Thus, I feel as though they cannot really be compared.

A second point I didn't really agree with was when he spoke about the evolution from primitive (who "need not worry about the authenticity of their rituals" (590)  to modern-day concerns with authenticity.  Of course primitive people/beings/creatures need and have always needed to worry about authenticity of their rituals or being the best at them.  Take birds for example in this SHORT VIDEO FROM PLANET EARTH.  Rather than "depending on individuals keeping their place," as MacCannel states, how do primitive people/creatures attract their mates?  By being better/authentic...   Would I want to shack up with some half-adequate bird?  I don't think so- I'd want to procreate with the one with the prettiest tail, and the best dance.  Primitive society carried on then, and society would still carry on today...and they are not all that different.  Both have features of the necessity/craving of authenticity- an incorrect difference that MacCannel tried to draw between the two.

One of the more interesting points that MacCannell made  was his list of layers of authenticity, and penetration. into society.  While I think that it's interesting that he has categorized the stages of authenticity that one goes through, I don't really feel as though being able to penetrate the different layers is so much a question of how you approach the situation as it is a question of time. One of the first days I was in Paris, I accidentally went into a kitchen instead of to the restroom in a restaurant...i saw the waiters hussling about yelling orders (on the back stage).  In that moment, I didn't really equate it with authentic.  However, now that I have been here for some time, I realize that one of my first experiences here was, in fact, an exposure to the authentic life...or a form of it.  I have also noticed that I am able to tell who Americans are just by looking at them on the street, on the metro, etc.  Cultural differences become more apparent the more time you spend in a place...So I wonder, and would like to pose a question to MacCannell...When one has penetrated the culture to the deepest layer, the most "authentic," has one transcended a place of tourism?  How does one define tourism?  And how does one define identity?  Just some of the many questions/qualms I had with this piece.

Hemingway, too, lived for a time in Paris.  An older Paris, yes, but in such old cities not a lot changes...People, Architecture, Culture-all of these things may morph and evolve...but in reality, the city's heart remains the same...the roads, the street names, the way one makes their way from street to another.  Perhaps it's my being here that caused me to feel as though I really understand some of Hemingway's recounts of Paris, or maybe it is just his writing style...Regardless of the cause, the way in which Hemingway writes in this book (from the point of view of an expat) makes sense to me.  His style, chapter construction, and what he focuses on describing his life here seems close to home.  Let me explain.

Firstly, Hemingway's book's structure corresponds to my experience, I think.  Before I started reading this book, I decided that I was going to try to journal (one of the professors at NYU Paris told us all about how he journaled all through South America when he went to teach english and travel there for a year, and he relayed his experience with it as being as extremely rewarding).  So, I bought a notebook, sat down at a café, then tried to think of how to write about my experience in Paris...I contemplated for a while before I put pen to paper- should I write it like an article?  Should I write how I'm feeling?  What I'm seeing?  Should I write it for an audience? Should I pretend that my great granddaughter will read this if she ever comes to Paris?  That sort of thing.  

While I was trying to decide how to go about it, I watched an interaction between a little girl with her non-french family, and a man trying to do some law reading for a class.  She kept waving at him through a window, while her family was too busy looking at a map to pay attention to her.  He'd look up, smile a toothy grin revealing uneven teeth and crinkling eyes, and wave back occasionally- flattered that this little girl was so enamored with him.  When her family was ready to go they finally noticed that she'd been staring at the man through the window, upon which they made faces of regret assuming she had been bothering him.  He shook his head slightly to indicate that that was not the case.  The mother then took the little girl by her hand so as to lead her along their path to their hotel, friends home, next monument or whatnot.  The little girl then turned around, stuck her lips to her palm, and blew the reading man a kiss.  He blew one in return, and she waddled away, her pudgy hand in that of her mother's.    

I then realized that that moment was just part of my life here, and that documenting things like that simple, darling interaction was how I should go about documenting my time in Paris.  For me, Paris had been (before reading this book) and has been my experiencing  things like those simple moments.  In this sense, the way Hemingway writes about Paris makes sense to me...In snippets of his life.  While yes, there is continuity from one petit chapter (if you would call them that) to another, Hemingway's book is like reading a bunch of his own little moveable feasts, his collection of memories.  From a chapter about the first time he met Gertrude Stein, to a chapter about Fitzgerald, to a chapter about horse racing, to a short chapter about Shakespeare & Co...Hemingway shows us his Paris through his snippets of his moments in time.

Lastly, Hemingway's idea of "A Moveable Feast"   Although, as the introduction tells me, Hemingway never actually named his book about his time in Paris "A Moveable Feast," it was taken from a quote of his referring to books as being moveable feasts...That sentiment is something I find appealing- an amassment of memories, all your own.  While he writes about Hadley Richardson (his first wife), and how they were essentially poor, but so in love, that was from a time before he did this writing (he eludes to how he should have knocked on wood when she said something like "we always have good luck, Tatie"...foreshadowing their future end).  Even so, he is able to write about her in that time in Paris- in that moment- in those moments when she was essential to him, and they were living their lives amongst the monuments (Hemingway has a tendency of describing exactly where he is/what paths he takes in Paris, which I like) and well-known writers, and painters.  He is able to capture his memories, his moveable feasts, and put them to paper.  We all have them, our memories/sentiments/knowledge of how we felt about someone or something at some time in our pasts...and those are ours to carry with us forever.  I think that can be good or bad, but it's kind of reassuring to know that no matter where we go we'll always have some sort of access to the things that make us us, our memories, our moveable feasts.

In Paris the extent of my set schedule is really quite basic: wake up, struggle with my shower (our hot water heater switches on and off so its either scalding or cold, and scalding is sometimes not an option), and run out the door to get to class (some things never change).  After the 40 minute commute, I go to class in the NYU building (or at Sciences-Po, depending on the day),  and then don't really do anything specific aside from that and homework .  While it is true that, yes, I do have classes at the same time each week in the same place- outside of classes, I haven't really created any sort of set schedule.  

In my opinion, this has been a both good and bad experience so far.  It has been good in the sense that I often take an afternoon to just go somewhere new, get on a bus, and explore Paris- which is truly beautiful and interesting.  However, it has also been bad in that I often still feel like a visitor in Paris.  While wayfinding has become a much easier task, not having a set schedule is something which often leads me to be a bit disorganized, and less comfortable in my surroundings.  This insecurity makes me consider creating some sort of daily schedule, but then I wonder if I would lose the feeling of freedom that I experience by just going with the flow of the day (something I don't really do in New York at all).  

Along with this structureless schedule of sorts comes an awareness of a definitive ending to this experience, and thus, a "When in Paris"/"When in Europe" mentality about a lot of things.  For me, one of those things has been food.

Thus, the only thing that's really a continued theme (aside from my continued lack of schedule structure) is my excessive consumption of all things Parisian at all hours of the day.

Take the bread for example.  It's everywhere, extremely good, always fresh, and absurdly cheap.  A Baguette is just 90 centimes at my local Boulanger, conveniently located just off of my metro stop.  Thus, at least once a day- whether it's my being too lazy to cook very much, my satisfaction when I feel as though I'm getting a good deal, or just me wanting an excuse to go and see the adorable man that works at the Bakery- I  find myself purchasing a baguette.
Similar to this, I have an unhealthy addiction to Jam.  "Bon Maman," a brand of French Jam is extremely inexpensive, has a wide variety of types, and is incredibly delicious.  It also makes a perfect partner to the many baguettes I consume per week.  In addition to that, there is, of course, the wine...The wine, the indian food, the north african food, the mediterranean dishes, the falafel...the list goes on and on.  

Whether or not my approach to freedom in my Quotidian life is good or bad (except for for my waistline, for which it is definitely bad) I guess I'll see when I look back at this experience later in life.  

Although we may not be able to always understand each other, being in a foreign or "exotic" place has made me recognize that people are absurdly similar.  While yes, cultural differences are apparent along with drastic differences in language…a lot of fundamental elements of people are the same across the globe (or at least between what I’ve experienced in the states and what I’ve seen here in Paris).  There is a sort of universal language that transcends all verbal barriers.
 
Regarde: My list of things that are not so different here. 
 
1) That look that a lover gets in their eyes upon greeting their loved ones-or, really, affection in general.
            -Whenever I see a couple greeting each other, seeing the Eiffel tower sparkle together, or just a family walking around together…those subtle winks, the swinging of held hands, endearing looks, and sideways glances accompanied by that certain eye crinkling smile are everywhere.
 
2) Compassion.
            If an elderly gentlemen with a cane, or a mother of three who is trying to wrangle her gaggle of kids is on the subway—you give up your seat for them. You recognize the nonsense, and try to accept the fact that yes, there are screaming children, and yes, you will now be standing for the next 45 minutes of your subway ride…But you get over it (mostly, at least) recognizing that that mother or that elderly man is having a much harder time that you right now as you bustle off to class. 
 
3) Every time I say “I’m from New York,” The French go crazy.
-And if I tell them I’ currently live on “Manhattan,” it’s nuts. It’s almost as if I’d said “Paris” or something…Wait.  But really, the fascination with the external transcends just our US mentality- it seems to exist everywhere.

 
Things are different- the scenery, some customs, the language, the surroundings…but people are people. 
 
Which brings me to the question- if people are so similar here, then why do we travel?  The lust after things like “the Orient” for Flaubert seems similar to a phenomenon a good portion of my generation and generations before (re: every explorer ever) has suffered from: Wanderlust. However, people there are just the same as people here.  For instance if our “there” was our familiar “here” we wouldn’t find it interesting in the slightest.  Are we really that bored with our own existence that we develop an unquenchable thirst for “The Exotic”? Should we all focus on discovering the wealth of “exotic” things that appear in our own neighborhoods and try to readjust the way we see ourselves? Or is it natural?  Just some food for thought, I guess.

For the time being, though, I'm more than happy to travel and be a pseudo explorer.


To understand the title, .
l'auberge espagnol...

[NOTE: Youtube in the US wouldn't let people watch the clip so I converted it to an mp4 and uploaded it to Mediafire.  It's a short clip compatible with quicktime.  Please let me know if you have any problems!]

"It will get easier, the beginning is tough."

Relatively speaking, going from city to city is the easy part.  Language to language on the other hand- has proven to be a bit more challenging.

Like Alanna (the other girl writing from Paris on this blog that I have yet to meet) stated: The Parisian metro is relatively easy to navigate.  It's extremely similar to the T is Boston.  While it was a little challenging in the beginning...navigating the metro, changing to the appropriate lines, metro etiquette (not making eye contact with shady characters unless you want them to approach you), etc. has become relatively easy.  Once out of the metro, things get a bit more challenging.  Paris is old...and kind of like DC (with its unnecessary amount of traffic circles), the roads have remained the same for a long time, and often were old cart paths like the roads in our American capital.  Thus, they are sometimes painfully hard to follow.  However, after 10 minutes or so of wandering in circles around a general area, one will most often find the road they are looking for.  The beginning was tough, but yes, like people have said...this part did get easier.

While I don't necessarily feel physically completely lost all of the time, mentally is another story.  I speak french.  Well, some french. To be honest, I  probably speak far less than I should given the amount of years that I have taken the language.  Nevertheless, I decided that while I am here I would take only classes in french including one at Sciences Po (a very well respected university in Paris for Political Science, Law classes, etc.).  I have since realized that it is a lot harder than I thought it would be.  For example, I went to my first Sciences Po. recitation for my International Law class at the school last night.  There are around 20 people in it.  The TA was reviewing the lecture from last week that I was unable to attend (Actual NYU Paris classes started just this past Monday)...Honestly it was one of the most confusing things I have experienced.  French classes apparently start out very theoretical.  So reiteration of vague theory on International law + Rapid french + Me =mass quantities of confusion.  Not to mention the TA decided to ask me questions about Law in the US- First of which I only mildly understood, and second of which I had no idea how to answer.  Onto studying supreme court justice names and every law ever passed ever in the states, I guess.  Embarrassment number one.

Embarrassment number two...My other classes are also in french, and are all taught by professors who have a tendency of speaking like they're doing live horse race commentary.  A professor asked a question about French-African relations.  I brought up and talked about the Battle of Algiers and its significance.  The professor let me finish then says in french "Well, yes, that is important...but it doesn't have anything to do with sports."  Sports?  What?  Apparently something was lost in translation. 

Thus, hopefully like the physical navigating, speaking french will come easier in time...I'll let you know if it happens.


Oh, there is one thing harder than speaking, though....That would be mastering the bus system.  Maybe I'll give that a go the last week of study abroad.

Hope you all are doing well, and are making it through any similar language problems you may be having.

Alyssa 

Dear Everyone,

I guess my first post really spoke to some of the themes from this reading: on trying to maintain a "just letting Paris happen to me" type of outlook...On expectations-While I may have fantasized about un amant français who I would meet at a cafe and fall madly in love with or how I decided I was going to drink every wine, and head into the riviera, pick up some 40 year old rich widows  and have them adorn me with grape leafs and frankincense....Those ideas inspired by movies, plays, pictures, and the stereotype of Paris, the magnificent "City of Lights" were not true to what I would find here, and I knew that.  


While de Botton refers to "the finest aspect of travel" as being "its anticipation" (p.26)-I'd have to disagree.  I would have to say that with the right mindset, and active effort to maintain awareness of your surroundings while experiencing a new place will lead to you finding true magnificence within your actual travels: not the anticipation, not the snippets of memories you choose to elect from the thousands of experiences you'll have while looking back at your time abroad- but in your everyday endeavors.  I'm not saying that every worn table riddled with dried condiments that you encounter is going to be poetic, I'm simply offering a personal observation that while yes, anticipation is exhilarating- being in a place, and being conscious of what's going on around you will lead to finding the beauty and wonderfully interesting things that exact immersion in another place leads to.

Thus, I offer you a list of my Firsts...of my encounters with such "vulgar realit[ies] of actual experience-" (26) and how they're really not that vulgar at all.

-The First Time You See the Eiffel Tower Sparkle...
The First time you see the Eiffel tower sparkle, or the first time you see it- it's breathtaking.  The twinkling that occurs every hour on the hour will strike you as maybe a bit tacky, but nevertheless- it will fill you with wonder.  Like an 8 year old watching fireworks.  It's captivating in a way that can't be explained.

-The First Time You Hear An Accordian player on the Metro...
  You will think you're in a movie.   You'll be reminded of Amélie or some other equally overviewed french film's soundtrack, you will stop what you're doing to embrace the stereotypical soundtrack to the surroundings as the arrondissements whizz by you on the above ground metro tracks. You'll be charmed by the foreignness of it all, and forget for a moment that the women next to you has just sneezed on you, or the train reeks like a NYC subway. 

-The First Time You Get Lost...
 You may freak out a little bit since Paris or any other place we are is most likely not laid out on a grid.  You'll probably be alone, you may have to ask for directions, or you may be too proud (or too embarrassed of your french skills, in my case) to ask for them.  You'll stutter your way through asking or you'll fumble with a map and accept that it's part of the process of being in a new place and of getting to know your temporary home.

-The First Time Someone Asks you For Directions or Says "Wait, You're Not From Here?..."
Is a moment you will love.  No longer feeling like a complete "American In Paris" isn't accomplished much better than having tourists or even a local mistake you for a local.  All in all, it's a dank experience- and makes you realize that you've made progress in learning about this new place.  Giving directions is like a rite of passage.
 
-The First French Friend you Make...
The First French friend you make, or native friend you make will make you want more.  It will make you realize you are here, at present, in another culture...and while it may be impossible to divorce ourselves from our worries and fears of the future (as de Botton notes in his self-observations on his trip to Barbados with M) knowing that this is a "study abroad" and hence temporary experience, it's important to realize why we are here: for culture, for experience, to escape for a bit, to learn, to live.


We don't need to swallow toads in the morning so nothing we face that day will be worse, and we shouldn't have to worry about our experiences being "fresh disappointments."  While de Botton raises a good point about us not being able to separate ourselves at home from the way we envisioned ourselves in a foreign place I pose a few questions:
Must we change our insides to embrace where we are and truly live in the moment?  If so, how do we do that?  Can we escape ourselves?  And if we cannot, As de Botton suggests- who is to say that's a bad thing?  If we didn't "bring ourselves with us" to a place- how would we experience it?  


We all made a conscious decision to leave for whatever reason, so why worry about the experience not living up to our expectations and just live it? 

 

Listen to me.mp3


Thanks,
Alyssa

The Picture is a picture my friend Maansi took here in Paris of an elderly couple.  

Salut tout le monde!


My name is Alyssa, and I am a Junior in Gallatin.  My Concentration is International Archaeology, a mixture of International Relations & Law, Archaeology, and Languages.  I'm from the very exotic upstate New York, along with a good portion of NYU, and am excited and scared to call Paris my home for the next couple of months.  As far as classes go, Paris is interesting in that you don't really know your schedule, where you're living, or who you're living with until you spend a few days in a Hostel with the other students in the program undergoing orientation.  So, I'd post about my tiny apartment or my excitement about my class schedule, but I'm still pretty much in the dark- which doesn't help any abroad apprehensions- though, I'm sure you all understand that.

I'm just going to start off by saying I have dually high expectations and no expectations about living and studying abroad.  On the one hand, it's been exciting and nerve-wracking to build up an image of a romantic dizzying wine-filled existence full of strolls by the seine, new people in the city of lights, the city of love- Paris. However, on the other hand, I've tried to maintain a no-expectations mindset.  I'd like to let study abroad to just happen to me.  There is an end, and it will do what it will.

On that note, one thing that I would like to accomplish while abroad is realizing the things that are happening in Paris right now.  I'd also like to get a taste of the French world view first-hand as I'm living here and experiencing France from an outsiders' perspective.  Hopefully these posts will serve as solidifiers for the fact that this study abroad experience is happening now-and all of the experiences for all of us at our respective sites are going to change us...It will be interesting to see how all of us document the progression of what the profound effects of living and studying in a foreign place will have on us.

With that,  I hope those of you who are already abroad are settled in as best as you can be so far- and I look forward to reading all of your posts!

Oh, also, the image is a portion of France's Motto "Liberté, égalité, fraternité"- "Liberty, Equality, and Brotherhood."


Bon soir,
Alyssa