paris diaries, vol. iii

A not-so-quick overview of the last week of my life...

(The rest of my) Saturday: I posted a blog, then got lunch with Kelcie and Jamie, taking it to the Luxembourg Gardens. Once we finished eating, we moved on to another part of the park to sit, read, draw, talk. I read a few pages of my book then scooted down in my chair, falling asleep within minutes. I woke up to Kelcie and Jamie having a beautifully deep and insightful conversation, so I sat there, listening while I watched children play in the sandpit. There were two small boys playing, both in overalls. One would almost fall, dropping his little pail as he sat down, still reeling from his near fall. The other would come over, seeing that his new friend was on the verge of distress. The second boy picked up the first’s bucket from the ground and handed it to him, waiting for the little boy to stand up. Once the first boy stood, collected himself and his bucket, the two went right back to playing.

Jamie and Kelcie drew me back to the conversation, and that was that. We left to get gelato and pick up a birthday cake for our director, then headed to her apartment for dinner and a surprise party. As our stomachs were full and the conversation began to die, we left in good spirits. Gaby, Kelcie, and I went to the Eiffel Tower, Jamie eventually meeting us there.

Sunday: We ate a small breakfast before going to church. We tried a new church, an English-speaking Anglican church. The service finished, so we went to La Crêperie, which (as a joke) markets that they make the best crêpe Beyonce has ever had. I had the ham, egg, and cheese crêpre. It was darn good. Not as good as the next thing on our agenda, though. IKEA. Not capitalized for emphasis, although it does work that way too. We went in as a group of five, but didn’t make it out that way. Kelcie and I stayed longer than the other three, looking for cheap options to make our shoebox of a dorm room feel cozy and homey. Halfway through our shopping trip, we sat down on a vibrantly yellow couch in a vividly colorized display room and talked for about 20 minutes. Recharged, we finished shopping and checked out, finding the nearest metro station and riding the train back to our dorm.

Back in our room, I fell asleep for a while then woke up for dinner and set up our new purchases in our room. Kelcie and I went on a walk, settling onto a curb overlooking yet another picturesque street, as they are so common here. We played a game as people on bicycles whizzed past: balcony, dog, or both? Pretty self explanatory–does the cyclist have one or both of those options? Or neither? After seeing a neither-person bike by twice, we ran back to the dorm. I ended my night with some last minute prep for my Monday morning meeting.

Monday: Of course, I started the day with my Monday morning meeting. Paperwork, Microsoft, and an iced latte. Things that have become routine in starting my week. Once I was properly caffeinated and my emails had been sent, I went to my dorm room to make a sandwich and cool down for a few minutes before going on to French class. A few hours later, I walked to Pont Royal with my journal and a water bottle. I spent some time alone on the left bank of the Seine and watched the boats go by, people walking across the bridge, and small groups of friends laughing and speaking words I could not understand.

Tuesday: French History at 10, sandwich at 12, French at 1:30. Dinner at 6:45, as always. Then a walk to Pont Royal (this time on the right bank rather than the left) with Jamie and Kelcie. I split off for a little while to read a couple books I have for this semester, and after a couple chapters I reunited so we could watch the sunset and talk. It was getting late, so we went off in search of gelato. Tiramisu gelato in hand, we walked back to the dorm to call it a night.

Wednesday: Class at 9:30. The metro was absolutely packed; instead of holding onto anything, I had to press only my fingertips against the door, bumping against the many people surrounding me. The heat was rising, and don’t get me started on the smell. I got to class, sweating and hopefully not too smelly. Art History. Baroque period. It brought back good memories of my 9th grade humanities class when we reviewed Rembrandt and Vermeer and Rubens. Class ended too quickly, and I took the metro back to the dorm to make a sandwich. I fell asleep trying to cool down from the heat, making me a little late for French class, which I basically slept through as well. Class, dinner, walk to the Seine. This night with Gaby and Kelcie, along with snacks and drinks. We sat on the warm stones that form the right bank, in perfect view of the dark water and glowing Eiffel Tower a couple kilometers away. Deep conversations carried the night, similar to the way the current carried the white swan down the river.

Today, Thursday: Meeting at 9, followed by a walk to the Luxembourg Gardens for some reading. I ended up at the Medici fountain, built for Marie de Medici (widow of Henri IV) when she had the gardens designed and built. (Proof that I was listening in French History.) It was peaceful as I read “Slaughterhouse-Five” in the shade, hiding from homework and the hot sun. I’m not sure how long I was there, but I do know I got hungry so I left. I headed to the carrefour on my street, feeling very city-girl as I walked the streets, crossing when there were gaps in traffic rather than waiting for the little man to turn green. Green like the way I felt.

I can’t describe it exactly, but when I got dressed this morning, I decided on a long white slip skirt, white tennis shoes, and a green top. Green for a mix of moods, maybe? Renewal? Hope? But after my meeting, that’s what I felt. It was a personal meeting instead of our usual business one, and the feelings I walked away with were affirmation and hope. It was only fitting to eat a green lunch as well (salad).

Side note: the strawberries here are so good. Like, I ate an entire carton myself at lunch.

The rest of my day was uneventful, just French class, Gossip Girl, dinner, and Bridget Jones’s Diary while writing. And that is what you’re reading right now.

And now a few thoughts of recent reflection…

The other night, I was hit with a wave of that warm feeling. You know the feeling I’m talking about. The feeling of the first drink of a hot chai on a cold day, or seeing billions of stars on a clear night, or of cooking after dark with your favorite music playing in the background. It likens itself to when you look at Christmas lights, or when you can look out over the clouds while in an airplane and see nothing but masses of whipped-cream-like masses under you.

It was Saturday, and like I mentioned, my friends and I had just finished up dinner at our program director’s apartment, and we were trying to decide if we wanted to go back to our dorm and watch a movie or go to the Eiffel Tower. Of course, we chose the tower, pushing through our fatigue and running through the streets, aiming to get to the tower before it began to sparkle. We had less than 20 minutes to get there, but we ran like we were in the Olympics. We wove through people and sprinted fasted through crosswalks. We made it to a patch of grass big enough for the four of us in time for the tower to sparkle. We sat on the grass and stared up in awe. For well over an hour we stayed that way. We talked and laughed and felt the feeling within us grow. We laid down on the grass, flat against the earth, almost flattened by the awe of the glowing construction of steel before us. My chest ballooned and my smile spread uncontrollably. Jamie said, “this is one of those moments.” I couldn’t agree more.

Those warm feelings that I have experienced have also been countered with feelings of fear, of confusion. Not homesickness, but this feeling of starting in a new city has hit once or twice. Last night, I felt the weight, or lack thereof, of my smallness. I don’t think I’ll dive in too deep, but this is just a note to say that despite its numerous amazing qualities, study abroad is a moment of growth. Growth only comes with its uncomfortable moments. But, you know that. And now it’s time to process these moments of growth a bit more. I think I forgot coming into this that I would have moments like this. Fear of the unfamiliar, confusion of figuring out who I am. It's something everyone experiences--a strangely comforting thought amongst the restless thoughts bouncing around in my head. Restless abundant thoughts, if you will. (Bad joke?) Time to organize them and process. No remaining stagnant right now. I feel as though I can't afford stagnancy during this opportunity. I can't fall into patterns of getting stuck in old or negative thoughts. This is the time I expand the storage room for thoughts I call a mind.

I'm sorry if this post feels a little scattered. To be frank, I feel scattered.

Au revoir. Thank you for reading.