It has been one week since I dropped my mom off at Charles de Gaulle to fly back to the Colorado—meaning I have now been converted back to “student” status and can’t get away playing “tourist” if I feel particularly intimidated by a Parisien. A non French-speaking mother in your back pocket transforms a 20-something girl on her own into an unapproachable traveler—not worth the effort: whether to shady men on the street with only one agenda or to bureaucrats who feel it is their responsibility to lecture on the necessity of integration into the culture. In a way it is nice to return to my adventurous independent life where I learn something new everyday but that doesn’t mean that I don’t miss my mom more then ever right now.

For two and a half weeks, we were les tourists that I have mocked since arrival. We wandered the streets with cameras in hand, flocked to the Mona Lisa upon entering the Louvre, and braved the long lines at the base of the Eiffel Tower (though it wasn’t until the 3rd attempt that we were patient enough to manage an ascent). However, we also had our non-tourist moments: walking back to my house in Sèvres at the end of the day, passing directly through the metro entrance instead of standing for 15 minutes looking at maps, and making a gigantic pot of soup that would last us for 4 dinners and a lunch with Stephanie and her mom.

We saw an outstanding amount of monuments and museums, quarters and cafés and I had a great time playing tour guide—showing my mom all of my favorite things. One of our best nights was at the Opera Garnier with S and her mom. We secured cheap box seats on a last-minute decision the night before and were fascinated with the regal atmosphere and the dress of the obvious regulars. The building has become one of, if not my favorite in all of Paris and was the inspiration for the Phantom of the Opera with its underground caves. We saw Alcina, a story about an enchantress who lures men onto her island and then turns them into rocks and trees. This meant that the stage was full of men in all stages of dress (or not). I imagine the performance would have been good, had not the main male character been replaced with a female understudy! Not only was it difficult to distinguish which female was singing but it was a love story after all and you can picture some of the scenes. We still enjoyed it for the experience but the two couples in front of us began to make disapproving faces from the minute the curtains opened and left us an empty box for the last act! Judging by the 4 fur coats that lined the coat racks and the 160 Euro ticket stub they left on the seat, they could afford to be picky—they would probably return the next week. Needless to say, we were pretty excited about our luck.

We spent the holidays in Munich with the Junkers. Strange as it was not to be home in Boulder or Iowa for Christmas, we were happy with our snow-covered ground and amazing hosts. We arrived on Christmas Eve to be greeted by Sarah (her parents and brother spent a few days with family in north Germany before coming back before New Year’s). Heike had dressed the house to its best with lights, candles and a tree and had pre-prepared dinner for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and the day after. When New Year’s Eve came along, they took us to a play and shared every Bavarian and German New Year’s tradition—you never knew there are so many things you HAVE to do on New Year’s! At midnight, I was in the city with Sarah while my mom stayed back home in the farm suburb with Heike and Heiner but we both had the same experience. Private fireworks are legal for the few days surrounding New Year’s and every house participated. Though I’m sure the smoke that covered the city for 15 afterward did nothing to help save the environment, it was truly spectacular.

My life for those few weeks seems very distant in that it was so different from the life that I have been living in Paris for the past 4 months. Finals week is two weeks away and I am right back into school mode with a presentation last Wednesday and a paper turned in this morning. After a lengthy class registration (including many e-mails, complaints and phone calls of course), my next semester will be much lighter and my most difficult semester will be behind me. Only 4 more weeks!

For now, I am back to the books but will be using my study breaks wisely—enjoying the working Paris scene. The city is no longer full of visitors, the winter winds have picked up, and the seasonal Soldes are in full swing. (The Soldes are nation wide sales lasting 6 weeks: this happens twice a year and is the only time that stores are allowed to discount below the prices at which they acquired their items). My French teacher was explaining this time of the year to us. Now that the tourists are gone, the Parisiens flock into the streets—shopping and dining with friends. Though the Fête de Rois (King’s Day) is officially on January 6th—12 days after Christmas, families will get together throughout the month of January to faire le gateau (eat the King’s Cake—whoever finds the bean inside has to buy the cake the next year) and celebrate the return to school and work. This is one thing I truly love about the French. Maybe they have too many holidays, but they enjoy every moment, every month, even cold January.

It hasn’t been easy getting back into my everyday routine. Paris has been a very different experience then what I originally engineered and the holiday break was a reminder of some of the simplicity of life back home. But Paris was never supposed to be easy. I have learned so much already and know that the next semester will be full of even more, though very different, experiences that I will remember forever. I can honestly say that I am not ready to go home and am glad I decided to come for the year. While many of my friends are preparing to go home in a month, I am happy knowing that I will get to see that other side of Paris still.