Part 3 of 3:
I arrived back in Paris the day before 2nd semester courses began, and two days before C left for Montreal (the next leg of her trip “around the world”). My bags finally were unpacked yesterday after an early morning goodbye—one of the hardest I have ever had to do. As an exchange student, you share a moment in time and in a place with the select number of others who chose to do the same thing. Half of our group has parted (including my “other half”) and the rest of us will go our separate ways in the next four months too. L is finished with courses, having completed her college degree, and is sticking around until the end of April and S’s program ends in early May. For the rest of our lives, we will all have these last months in common, an amazing, distant memory that had to end eventually. The good part is that I now have really great friends all over the world to visit!
The week before final exams, C and I packed up our Sèvres apartment and dragged months of accumulated kitchenware and suitcases back into Paris—to my new one-room studio. I have a giant futon in addition to my twin bed and so she camped out here for the remaining few weeks. On our last night in Sèvres we made dinner and watched a movie for the last time in our big space. The next day, we scrubbed every inch, made a final trip to the market for flowers for our landlords and took a few last minute pictures. Despite the distance—Sèvres was an experience in its own, something that only C and I know about—and love.
Now, a 20 minute walk through a garden to school and a 10 minute walk to Notre Dame, I can’t believe how we made it living so far away. My perfect studio is on the Rue Mouffetard, Paris’s oldest street—that the Roman carriages used to carry shipments. My building is 400 years old and the wooden door and beams in the ceiling attest to this. It was completely renovated before I moved in so everything is new. The street is a market street and has bars and restaurants—which make Saturdays impossible for sleep—the reason I spent $20 on earplugs in London. If you come to visit, they are essential—but worth it. As is the norm in Paris, nothing comes without its glitches, and my perfect studio has been without running water off and on for a month. Right now it is on temporarily—after the plumber’s 6th visit—but hopefully this will be made permanent after they fix the main building water pipe. Considering that this calls for the approval of several people, I am not counting on a speedy process—but maybe I can hope a little. I’m not sure how many times I can make the trek across town to Elise’s for a shower, or how long my dishes can go without washing…but I understand the complaints of the restaurant below when my 5 minutes showers result in a downpour directly on one of their customer’s tables. And of course, my internet is not installed yet—the plug won’t fit in the wall because the baseboard is too big but a face to face complaint to the contractor has gone without action for two days and tomorrow is the weekend.
Somehow though, I did manage to start to love Paris a little bit in the last few weeks. I know there are a lot of things I am going to miss about this city. My biggest concern is that I am going to get out of class in Boulder next autumn and wander the streets only to be disappointed with residential neighborhood after neighborhood. I have never once been bored in Paris and am constantly surprised by the things I stumble on. Yesterday, I took a side street on my way to the hardware store only to find a semi-truck surrounded by a handful of onlookers. I pulled out my camera after a man emerged from the nearest building with a giant bag of apples—a horse maybe? No, when the back doors opened—a baby elephant emerged. It took 30 seconds to take it from the truck to the building. 30 seconds later the street was empty, the crowd dispersed and an empty semi truck blocked the road. I love the way that in Paris you can be both anonymous and important at the same time. As I entered the BHV, no one new that only a minute beforehand I had been standing within feet of an elephant. I shared a secret with 15 other pedestrians on their way to work, to lunch, to home..
I arrived back in Paris the day before 2nd semester courses began, and two days before C left for Montreal (the next leg of her trip “around the world”). My bags finally were unpacked yesterday after an early morning goodbye—one of the hardest I have ever had to do. As an exchange student, you share a moment in time and in a place with the select number of others who chose to do the same thing. Half of our group has parted (including my “other half”) and the rest of us will go our separate ways in the next four months too. L is finished with courses, having completed her college degree, and is sticking around until the end of April and S’s program ends in early May. For the rest of our lives, we will all have these last months in common, an amazing, distant memory that had to end eventually. The good part is that I now have really great friends all over the world to visit!
The week before final exams, C and I packed up our Sèvres apartment and dragged months of accumulated kitchenware and suitcases back into Paris—to my new one-room studio. I have a giant futon in addition to my twin bed and so she camped out here for the remaining few weeks. On our last night in Sèvres we made dinner and watched a movie for the last time in our big space. The next day, we scrubbed every inch, made a final trip to the market for flowers for our landlords and took a few last minute pictures. Despite the distance—Sèvres was an experience in its own, something that only C and I know about—and love.
Now, a 20 minute walk through a garden to school and a 10 minute walk to Notre Dame, I can’t believe how we made it living so far away. My perfect studio is on the Rue Mouffetard, Paris’s oldest street—that the Roman carriages used to carry shipments. My building is 400 years old and the wooden door and beams in the ceiling attest to this. It was completely renovated before I moved in so everything is new. The street is a market street and has bars and restaurants—which make Saturdays impossible for sleep—the reason I spent $20 on earplugs in London. If you come to visit, they are essential—but worth it. As is the norm in Paris, nothing comes without its glitches, and my perfect studio has been without running water off and on for a month. Right now it is on temporarily—after the plumber’s 6th visit—but hopefully this will be made permanent after they fix the main building water pipe. Considering that this calls for the approval of several people, I am not counting on a speedy process—but maybe I can hope a little. I’m not sure how many times I can make the trek across town to Elise’s for a shower, or how long my dishes can go without washing…but I understand the complaints of the restaurant below when my 5 minutes showers result in a downpour directly on one of their customer’s tables. And of course, my internet is not installed yet—the plug won’t fit in the wall because the baseboard is too big but a face to face complaint to the contractor has gone without action for two days and tomorrow is the weekend.
Somehow though, I did manage to start to love Paris a little bit in the last few weeks. I know there are a lot of things I am going to miss about this city. My biggest concern is that I am going to get out of class in Boulder next autumn and wander the streets only to be disappointed with residential neighborhood after neighborhood. I have never once been bored in Paris and am constantly surprised by the things I stumble on. Yesterday, I took a side street on my way to the hardware store only to find a semi-truck surrounded by a handful of onlookers. I pulled out my camera after a man emerged from the nearest building with a giant bag of apples—a horse maybe? No, when the back doors opened—a baby elephant emerged. It took 30 seconds to take it from the truck to the building. 30 seconds later the street was empty, the crowd dispersed and an empty semi truck blocked the road. I love the way that in Paris you can be both anonymous and important at the same time. As I entered the BHV, no one new that only a minute beforehand I had been standing within feet of an elephant. I shared a secret with 15 other pedestrians on their way to work, to lunch, to home..
1 comment:
Great posts, I was kind of waiting in suspense as you posted each part, lol. I love reading about your perspective on Paris and seeing how it changes as you're there longer... :)
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