Dissolving my cultural bubble

I must admit, I have deceived you, my friends. I tried to act like everything was okay, when, in truth, I have been homesick, lonely, and the slightest bit depressed for the past few weeks, ever since I arrived in Paris. I think the reason is that I had expected to find that flying to France would automatically submerge me in French culture. But being here, I find that I am not in France at all. I am, in fact, trapped in a little American bubble. I hadn't figured how absolutely American I actually am. Walking down the Rue St. Michel, which I assure you is very much in France, I am still essentially in the states, since my American perspective prohibits me from seeing or acting in any way but my native one. I'm still waiting to arrive, so to speak.

In the beginning, I avoided the tourist sites and hid in my room for a few days, waiting for the phenomenon to go away before venturing out to "profiter" (a favorite verb of the French that is roughly the equivalent of "to take advantage of", though I don't think it can be applied to a person) from the sights the city has to offer. I kept waiting for the homesickness and the loneliness and the lifelessness to go away, so I could enjoy what I was going out to see.

It was my birthday that really saved me from sinking into depression. One simply cannot spend the final day of one's teenager-hood (forgive me the made up word, it's late and I'm a bit tired; do email me if you think of a better one) hiding out in one's room the whole day. So on the eve of my 20th birthday, I forced myself out of bed and out into the streets of Paris. Though I did not set out with a particularly bright outlook, I found that food is an excellent way to improve one's attitude, and enjoyed a delicious quiche, followed by my last teenage ice cream cone. I found myself in Rue Mouffetard (cute market street) and did some window shopping--even tried a dress on. I stopped in at the 5th arrondisement Mairie (read: town hall) and discovered a free exhibit on Carlos Carra, an Italian painter, followed by a degustation of wine, coffee, and biscuits, the result of which being that I can now heartily recommend to any who love rose wines Tenuta la Tenaglia, Grignolina del Monferrato Casalese.

Encouraged by this successful day of exploration, I ventured out again on my 20th birthday. My academics gave me the best present a student can ask for, and by that I do not refer to the fact that my early class was cancelled. I managed to work out my schedule perfectly, as a girl in the full section that I needed to be in decided she needed to be in my section of the Writing class. Joy! I munched on a 5 Euro* crepe for lunch (see below to understand why the price is important), and set out to go see Voltaire's grave in the Pantheon, but never made it there. I ran into my friend Hannah, who introduced me to her new friend, Jeanne Faustine, in the park. Jeanne Faustine is very nice, and through her I had a fantastic educational experience on the subject of French slang, vulgar and non. Eventually I had to rush off to babysit, where I played a typical French game with Marie, who is a terrible cheat. I ended the evening with my dear friend and birthday twin (though she turned 21), chocolate cake, and delicious French wine.

Since then, my efforts to get out and profiter from what Paris has to offer have been rewarded by a Goya drawing exhibit; the double-deambulatoire of Notre Dame de Paris, not to mention the spectacular abside; the view from the top of the Institude du monde arab; a fantastic French movie (if you see one movie in the next year, make it "Je vais bien, ne t'en fais pas." It was an absolute masterpiece of a film); delicious Greek food; and a street concert in Place St Michel that included the music of Elton John, Natalie Imbruglia, the Eagles, and George Michael. The best moment was when the entire crowd joined in for John Lennon's Imagine. It was amazing.

My point in telling you all of this is not inform you of my depressed state at the beginning of this stay, nor is it to provide a rather dull list of all the fun things I've been up to in the past few days. Though I can't remember Tolkien's words well enough to paraphrase, he mentions in The Hobbit that pleasant times do not make for very interesting stories, and to some extent I
agree with him; I will not often send you such uninteresting emails, my dear friends. But I felt I must find some way to illustrate what I have been grateful and astounded to discover: that if you put forth the effort of getting out into the city, Paris does the rest. It thrills you day after day after day with exciting new experiences. It leads you down little side streets when you
think you're getting lost, until you discover the gem of a restaurant/museum/park/whatever that Paris wanted you to find all along. It offers so many cultural events from so many different cultures, to the point of overwheming you even, until you remember, with gratitude, that you have the course of a year to enjoy as many of them as you can. I just hope a year will be enough.

And do I still feel stuck in American culture? Yea, sometimes. But I can feel that cultural bubble that separates me from Paris beginning to weaken and dissolve. And for the first time since arriving, I'm starting to enjoy my stay.

*The price of a crepe is important because crepes are truly an commodity where you get what you pay for. For example, the 2 Euro crepe I snacked on the other day consisted of crepe and strawberry jam; it was a yummy snack, but not really a meal. It was very different from my 5 Euro crepe, which was packed with cheese, ham, and mushrooms, and which I barely had room to finish, despite my light breakfast.