10 juin

Bonjour! I am in Paris!

12 juin

Bonjour, mes amis! Today I visited the Louvre. I’ve never visited a museum of such magnitude, and it did not disappoint.

I decided to leave the Mona Lisa for last. I was never really interested (I just think there are better paintings out there), but since everyone sees it as a metonym for the Louvre, I left it for the end.

Now, I am a petite person. I can slip through crowds of people and go unnoticed. Of course, I used this to my advantage, coupled with the fact that I dressed for the occasion (i.e., like a Parisian).

I pushed and shoved my way to the very front, nearly yelling, “Excusez moi! Je ne parle anglaise! Pardon.” (Isabella had not studied French before this program. What she lacked in fluency, she made up for with élan.—Ed.) I guess my accent was good enough because a man I elbowed out of my way (totally accidentally) said to his wife, “These French people are so rude.”

The painting itself is rather small. What it lacks in size, it makes up for in awe factor. I was mesmerized, to the point where I had to be escorted out of the way by an employee.

17 juin

Today was the start of the quarter and reality hit: I have to do schoolwork. Study abroad isn’t a vacation.

The Cité Universitaire, where we are staying, is located in the 14th arrondissement, but the University’s Center in Paris is located in the 13th arrondissement. I must comment on French transport etiquette. The French find it really distasteful if you take a phone call or converse on public transit, and if someone bumps into you, it is your fault.

I arrived fashionably late to my first class of the day: European Civilization I with Daisy Delogu. Upwards of 1,000 years of European history in three weeks.

Later I had French, taught by Magdalena Faye. The French r is rather funny when pronounced by nonnative French speakers. It was particularly difficult for the native Spanish speakers. We are so used to rolling our r’s that this stark contrast was a linguistic shock.

Professor Faye must have noticed, because she turned her body to the side, loosened her jaw, and opened her mouth to show us that the French r uses the tongue against the bottom teeth, not the top. This was very helpful.

18 juin

Coucou!

I have a date on Thursday. His name is Maxime. We’re going to the cinema to watch Inside Out 2 (his recommendation). The only issue is I can’t speak French and he says his English isn’t great.

19 juin

Maxime came all the way from his job (near La Madeleine) to the Cité. I had mentioned in passing that my favorite flowers were peonies, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a man with a huge bouquet of pink peonies.

I really enjoyed Inside Out 2, or Vice-Versa 2 in French. Afterward we sat on a bench by the Seine and talked for three hours. We had much in common, but I knew I shouldn’t get attached.

21 juin

Today officially marks one week since I landed in the world’s fashion capital. But Paris is not all glitz and glamour. In fact, most Parisians, particularly the younger generations, opt to style themselves after American Y2K trends: Adidas sneakers paired with shin-length socks, baggy everything, sports team jerseys, thick headbands, chunky jewelry, hobo bags for the ladies, fanny packs for the gents. This made me feel very out of place in my chiffon blouses, linen pants, and kitten heels. But I was hardly ever confused for an American. Mission accomplished.

Speaking of the French, I have another date today, with a guy named Martin. Today is a music festival that takes place all over Paris, with small and big artists alike hosting sets on the streets. Odd but intriguing. Martin said he wanted to take me to dinner and then walk around to look at the different sets for an “authentic Parisian experience.”

22 juin

Because of the music festival, I had a difficult time hearing what Martin was saying. I’m not sure what it is with French guys underestimating their English skills, but Martin also thought his speaking and writing skills were subpar. We mainly talked in English, which I could tell made him uncomfortable because he only learned English to get into business school. I tried my best to speak French and asked him to fill in the words I didn’t know.

Martin asked me about my hobbies, my musical interests, my favorite authors, if I enjoyed the opera or the cinema. It was a pleasant conversation. I had never met a man who enjoyed reading poetry.

27 juin

Today was the first rendez-vous (outing) with my French conversation leader. My group consists of Martin (not to be confused with the French man I hit it off with), Sanju, Neil, Charlotte, and myself.

Our conversation leader, Lina, was born and raised in the banlieues (suburbs) of Paris, but her parents are Croatian. She’s a polyglot, fluent in English, French, German, and Croatian. Her personality is so mysterious, laid back, and humorous all at once. Lina told us she did cinematographic studies in college, and now she works in the French film industry. She spoke to us in English but made it very clear that she would eventually transition to strictly French.

4 juillet

Lina took our group to her college, Césure, and gave us the full tour—even her favorite café. Lina and I, along with Charlotte, Neil, and Sanju, were chatting about the elections. The French don’t do primaries like we do in the US. Instead, they have this two-round voting system where everyone throws their hats in the ring, and then it’s like a gladiator match until only two or three candidates are left standing. Lina described the elections as if they were The Hunger Games.

After the conversation, I crammed for my Civ exam until 6 a.m. We were allowed a standard-sized index card for notes. I wrote on every possible corner of that tiny note card. When exam time rolled around a few hours later, I somehow didn’t feel tired. I felt confident about my answers, especially on the Crusades.

8 juillet

New professor for European Civ II: Oliver Cussen [PhD’20]. We’re set to tackle the French Revolution and the downfall of the French monarchy this quarter.

9 juillet

I’ll probably find new wrinkles from how much I laughed in class today.

In Civ we were supposed to read Molière’s Tartuffe—a classic play about the way people will follow anything under the guise of religion. Oliver had asked us to think of any modern-day/pop culture Tartuffes. Naturally we all jumped on obvious political figures. Then out of nowhere Lucy dropped a bombshell: Taylor Swift.

Lucy’s argument was surprisingly compelling. Taylor Swift does have a fandom that borders on the fanatical. What followed was ten glorious minutes of Swifties versus Non-Swifties, with Oliver sitting back and watching the chaos unfold.

But the highlight of the day was French. We had a mini-project where we had to visit a boulangerie and pick up a quintessential French treat. Croissants and quiches were popular choices. I brought a chocolate éclair. Then Neil walked in, holding the sad, stale remnants of the baguette that Professor Faye brought to class yesterday when she was teaching us the different kinds of baguettes.

He began his presentation with “Ici, ma petite baguette.” The class immediately lost it. There was something so absurd about Neil hauling in a leftover baguette instead of spending three euros at a boulangerie like the rest of us.

Our professor was laughing for a completely different reason. Once she regained the ability to speak, she explained the double entendre. Apparently, “ma petite baguette” is a not-so-subtle euphemism for … well, you get the idea.

Naturally, I had to tell this story to Martin, and he burst out laughing before I could even finish.

26 juillet

Yesterday was my final exam for the second Civ sequence. The previous night was spent studying the Haitian and French Revolutions. I would not be too upset about a B+. I am in Paris. I should be happy.

I love the architecture of Paris. It is much easier to admire when the streets are empty.

Most of the public transportation lines have been shut down due to the Olympics, so it’s increasingly difficult to get around. It gives me an opportunity to explore the city. When Reece and I were walking home, we passed by multiple parades for the Olympics that eventually led down to the Seine. We had QR codes given to us by the University, so we were able to get past the crowds and watch, from a distance, a snippet of the opening ceremonies.

28 juillet

I SAW SIMONE BILES COMPETE AT THE OLYMPIC GAMES. AHHHHH!!!!!!!

31 juillet

For tonight’s French conversation, we visited the Théâtre de la Huchette, a small theater in the 5th arrondissement. All UChicago students, regardless of what French level they were, saw La Cantatrice Chauve (The Bald Soprano), an absurdist “anti-play” by Eugène Ionesco. The premise, according to our French professor: an English couple, the Smiths, host their friends, the Martins, for an evening of meaningless conversation.

The best way I can describe this play is an hour of nonsensical middle-class banter. The actors spent a suspicious amount of time staring into space, which I found oddly amusing. Who knew existential dread could be so relatable? Life is nonsensical, and we’re all just stumbling through it, making awkward small talk until the inevitable collapse.

13 août

Today was the big day: the final oral exam for French. It was one of those exams that’s just a bunch of audio clips in rapid French, and your job is to fill in the blanks.

Thankfully, Martin helped me study, sticking closely to what Professor Faye said would be on the exam—how to order food, salutations, conjugations. We went over everything until I could practically order a three-course meal in my sleep.

Some of my favorite words and phrases he taught me, not on the exam:

• Miam miam: The French equivalent of “yum” (because food deserves its own cute phrase).

• Tu me nargues: “You’re mocking me” (not that I ever would, Martin!).

• Mon gars: “My guy” (or “bro,” if we’re being less formal).

The exam itself had six sections, so six audios total. There were bonus words thrown in, and I have to say, I nailed every single one. Walking out of that exam, I felt like I could conquer the world—or at least Paris. I didn’t think I got a perfect score, but I knew I’d done well.

(Spoiler: I actually got a perfect score.)

15 août

Today was one of those days that felt like a scene from a movie. Martin invited me to his hometown, Rungis, about 45 minutes south by the RER train. It’s far from the bustling energy of Paris, and I could feel the difference the moment we started our walk.

We were on a mission for ice cream. As we strolled, Martin pointed out his old middle school and high school. His university, the Sorbonne, is far from here. We also passed by his mom’s house. I didn’t meet her, but I did notice the beautiful garden in front—gardenias, peonies, and roses, all perfectly arranged.

Ice cream in hand, we headed to a nearby park to catch the sunset. The park was quiet, almost as if it was just for us. There was a playground nearby, and without thinking, I hopped onto one of the swings. Martin gave me a push.

It was one of those moments you wish you could freeze in time. We stayed until the last light faded, and I couldn’t help but think how lucky I was to have had a moment like that.

Sorry for being sappy, my dear readers.

18 août

Against all odds, I’m not stranded in Paris. I missed my initial flight, because of course I did. Paris traffic was an absolute nightmare. It got so bad that I ended up abandoning my Uber mid-ride and making a break for the train.

As I headed to security, it hit me that I was really leaving Paris—and all the memories I’d made—behind.

It was a bittersweet moment.

Au revoir.