An American Girl in Paris

Ironically, I have never felt more like an American than in Paris. “American” is not a word I would usually use in describing myself. This is probably because I’m not very patriotic. Anyway, here it is my major identifier. Granted, people don’t know right off the bat that I’m American. I usually get British or sometimes a select few actually think I am french (until I open my mouth and my accent is revealed). But here, if someone finds out I’m American they will then tell me all the places they’ve been to in America and then ask me what I think of Obama. Our host families have the tendency to introduce us as “their Americans” to people. We don’t have names it is just “oh and this is our American”. We are their property, like a pet or a slave. But whatever, it’s good preparation for marriage I suppose.

Je blague, I joke. Our host families are grand and French people are great. 

“Je suis un home ordinaire, Tue es une femme ordinaire. Mais ensemble, Nous sommes une couple extraordinaire.”

“I am an ordinary man. You are an ordinary woman. Together we are an extraordinary couple. I love you.”

I saw this written on a digitized billboard outside of St. Laazar on my way to class. This billboard had many “petits mots” Parisians wrote to their lovers on Valentine’s day. While in theory this is just as corny as a wedding proposal at a Dodger’s game (I mean.. I’d be down), you must admit it’s a lot cuter in French (you saps). 

Since I have fallen in love with Paris, but obviously haven’t fallen in love in Paris, the group and I decided to celebrate Valentine’s day together after class. After, Anna proposed the idea of going to a bar for this thing called Franglish. Franglish is like speed dating for bilingual people; you sit at a table and you speak with someone for seven minutes in french and then seven minutes in english; then you rotate tables. French speakers (Parisians) are paired with English speakers (Americans, possibly a brit or two). It’s useful because half of the conversation is when you are in your native tongue and the other half you are practicing your weaker language. Aka half the time the convo’s in your domain and the other half it’s not. It was a really cool experience with a nice venue, a bar called the Lizard Lounge near Hotel de Ville.

So I’m writing a blog about my semester in Paris. While ordinarily I’m not someone who would make a blog (creating a twitter was like pulling teeth), I figure documenting my time studying and living abroad totally immersed in Parisian culture would be of interest to some (hi, mom) and would be something I’d like to have to remember my experience. 

         So far I have been in Paris for two weeks. The first week I lived in a hostel the FIAP Jean Monnet with the other kids in my program. It was a week we needed to orient us to Parisian culture and to let us figure out how to navigate the complex subway system (which is awful; I imagine hell to be a never-ending cycle of getting on and off a Paris metro). The first week we were tourists; we saw Notre Dame, the Luxembourg gardens, the Eiffel tower, and the Louvre. It was a week of acclimation and exploration.

The Louvre

Notre Dame

The Luxembourg Gardens

Annie and I in the FIAP

The second week we moved in with our host families…  

We were warned that the first day with our French family would be the most difficult day of the semester; I think that’s probably true. You are by yourself figuring out how to live with a family (aka a bunch of strangers) who does not share the same first language as you. It was kind of terrifying because it was so out of my element. But is true that full immersion into French culture is indispensible in order to fully have a study abroad experience.

The day our families picked us up was so strange. We had our bags packed and we waited in the lobby of the FIAP  for our host families to pick us up. It was like we were children waiting for a bus to take us on our first summer camp experience. We had our bags packed and we were so nervous slash petrified. However, my first day wasn’t too bad. Thankfully, my host family is friends with Jordan’s (a friend and fellow Elon student) and Elena’s (also in the program) so we all met up had an extravagant lunch at Elena’s family’s house. It was really nice and a great start.

I’m living with the Queruau-Lamerie family. Their family consists of Olivier and Pascale, the parents, and their teenage sons Philippe,17, and Christophe,15. Their daughter Laure, who is close to my age, ironically is studying abroad in America while I’m here. The family also has a gordon setter, named Tonerre, who is the friendliest dog you will ever meet. The family is incredibly kind and welcoming. The boys are a lot of fun. It is still hard to speak french all the time and to live with a family in general. 

So far what has amazed me most about Paris is the difference in social norms. For example, while we in America typically view the French as being snobby and condescending, I have found the exact opposite to be true. Every store you go in to, whether it is a café or a drug store, the people working there always say bonjour and they expect you to reciprocate with a salutation. The French are nice and friendly, they are just not tolerant of those who do not respect their culture. We are told by our program director, Dr. Costello, that is important that we are not ”sans gene”, which essentially equates to just having respect for French societal rules. For example, we are warned that our French host family could be totally accepting of us staying out really late without prior warning, but if we were to use a shopping bag without first seeking permission, the family could be furious.