Writing these posts has been looming over me all summer, and
though I had valid excuses to keep putting it off (2 jobs, a research
manuscript, and an executive board position for a major campus organization) I
think the biggest reason of all was I didn’t really want to be done with this
experience. A couple weeks ago I was talking to one of the kids I nanny, an
eight-year-old girl, and I was trying to figure out what she wanted to do for
our final days together. I can’t remember what exactly I said, but I must have
been in the process of explaining that I wouldn’t be living in Minnesota when
it came time to go back to school, because she stopped me mid thought and said,
“I know, you either go to school in Chicago or Paris.” The moment really caught
me off guard.
At first, that statement made me feel like I had a pretty
good life with some amazing opportunities, something that I’d begun to overlook
in the sadness of returning home for the summer. It reminded me of when the
mother of the children I nanny told me how pretentious it had felt to hear her
kids running around the neighborhood bragging about how their nanny had brought
them presents back from Paris. As mundane as my life this summer had become, it
reminded me that not so long ago my life had been far from ordinary. But as
much as the moment was a pick-me-up, it was also a harsh reality check. I had
to tell her I’m not going to school in Paris anymore, that it was just for the
past spring. I felt like more than her, I was telling myself.
Leaving Paris was hard for me for a variety of reasons, and
I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m still trying to get over the fact that I had
to leave. I felt that I left unresolved, that I was leaving just as I was
realizing how much it had meant to me. The whole experience was amazing, but
those last few weeks I felt that I had begun to feel that my life in Paris was
my actual life. Sure, for the majority of the trip I had taken on the attitude
that the trip was sort of like my vacation. Long before I had left for the trip
I had decided that I would take this quarter to focus on me. The past fall my
life had become stressful for a number of reasons and the prospect of senior
year, grad school, and just life in general was starting to weigh me down. I
thought I was going to think about everything in Paris, but instead I did just
the opposite. I spent my time in Paris just living and listening to what my
heart was telling me to do. At the end of trip I was talking to a few people
about how monumental the trip had been for me, and many of us agreed that I had
one of the most transformative experiences, Mollie put it best when she said,
“I feel like you were just sitting at the edge of a cliff looking over the
edge, and when you came here you just jumped.” That’s really how it was. I dove
head first into everything I’d ever wanted and I took the time to experience
life. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done, I truly never felt more
myself than I did this past spring.
When I left for Paris I packed a blank brown leather
journal. My intention was to spend time writing in Paris, and more importantly
to chronicle each day of my stay. Sure enough, I came back with the journal
almost as blank as when I left. The other day I read through my entries again:
one for the end of March, April, and May. It was amazing to see the insane
amount of experiences I had over the time I was in Paris, and the amount my
life had changed from beginning to end. It was almost comical reading the entry
from the first week, I felt like I was getting a look back inside the head of
the girl who was looking over the edge. The next entry after Paris was from
mid-July, almost a month after I had arrived back in the U.S. I read the entry
back through a solid stream of tears.
Looking back on Paris is just as hard as it is amazing. My
time in Paris is already starting to feel like a distant memory, and it’s times
like these that I wish I had written everything I had done and seen so I could
relive it again and again. But, if I’d been sitting at home writing the whole
time I wouldn’t have been out making the memories I have, and those I wouldn’t
trade for the world. So, I’m learning to make peace with the time I had in
Paris, I’m learning to live without what was left behind, and I’m telling
myself that this past spring could very well be only the first chapter in a
long love affair with Paris. Until then here’s a short list of some things I’ll
miss:
- The man on the pedestrian light is green instead of white & the traffic lights are set back in the intersection so cars have to stop before the “line” or pedestrian walkway (it makes so much more sense!)
- Maille Mustard (I think I’ll be ordering this online for the rest of my life)
- Drinking in beautifully manicured gardens and parks, or along the seine
- The chocolate croissants from the bakery on the other side of Square Trousseau (I wish I knew the name, at least I know the location!)
- Nights and weekends are (most often) spent enjoying yourself, and are not an extension of the work week
- The fine wine and champagne I got to drink with my host family (even if I never did end up learning much about wine or champagne while staying with them)
- Quality cheese every night after dinner
- Being mistaken for a Parisian, and being able to give directions
- The quicker, larger, (and in my opinion cleaner, and less sketchy) metro system
- Accessibility to crepes. All. Day. Long.
- The need to have fresh baguettes served with every meal (my host mom would apologize if there was no bread, even if we were eating pizza)
- The yogurt (I’m still searching to find something in regular grocery stores that compares!) – I fell in love with plain yogurt in France
- Who am I kidding… the list could go on and on, and words can’t even describe how much I’ll miss the experience itself, and the company I had ;)
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