I can’t believe it. I can finally rest in peace. Everyone departs for their study abroad with the slight hope of gaining clarification on their life’s destination. Up until this afternoon, I’ve definitely received hints on what NOT to do (ie. Poly Sci, ie. Become a Sci Po professor…) but have not yet had any concrete blinking yellow signs pointing me to my ultimate fate. That was, however, until spending this afternoon reading in the Jardin de Tuileries. Yes, after spending 10 months abroad, I am happy to report that I may now return with a purpose and true goal. About an hour into my worry-free day in Paris, I was joined on my bench by a 30-something Parisien man whose first question to me was if I spoke French. Now normally, this situation would end in a disgruntled flee after yet another heartless rejection. Little was I to know that this man, however, was different. He would guide me to my destiny. Indeed, his second sentence startled me enough to break my well-trained non-different, ignorant expression into a side smirk (holding back all want to laugh out loud). “Pardon?” I had to be sure I heard it right.
--“You have beautiful feet.”
–“Thank you.”
--“May I take a picture of them?”
Again, I had to double check my hearing.—“Pardon?”
--“You have very beautiful feet, may I take a picture to display at an exposition? I can do it right here. You won’t have to go anywhere.”

And there you have it: my future career called to attention. Dad, mom, be proud. You sent me to Paris to learn and I return to you a foot model. Isn’t it every girl’s dream to be discovered among the many gems in the “City of lights”?

Of course, my modeling prospects ended as quickly as it had started with a polite “Non, merci” and yet another disgruntled flee.


Aside from gathering final life-influencing experiences, I’ve spent my last few days out truly enjoying Paris, not worrying about seeing all of the sites (Isaac arrives tomorrow and there will be plenty of time for that), and just relaxing in the sun. This past week, the FIVB Swatch World Beach Volleyball Tournament was in Paris. The mini stadium was set up on the Champs de Mars next to the Eiffel Tower and admission was free and any daylight hour that you wanted to attend. Elise and I went on Friday to fulfill her too-long, null volleyball quota and I ended up returning on Sunday (when everyone else was cramming for last exams) to watch the final matches: USA vs Germany men (USA won) and USA vs USA women (Walsh and May won) –and to hear the US national anthem played twice only to be cut off each time as it was preventing vital champagne celebrations. I walked away with the first tan lines I have seen since August, which probably contributed to my foot-model discovery this afternoon.

Saturday night was a repeat of what may have been my favorite night in Paris hence far. ‘Nuit Blanche’ was celebrated the first weekend in October and was a city-wide celebration in which all metros, parks and museums were kept open to the public through the night. This last Saturday was the “Fete de la Musique” with similar hours but this time with performers flying in from all over the world to play on the streets. On my way to meet my friends I watched a group of boys come out of the hostel across the street with guitars, it was a night for amateurs and professionals alike. We missed out on the free mystery concert given at the Hippodrome (the horse racing stadium in the Bois de Boulogne) because of a large group and some badly coordinated departure times. When other friends called to say that “Enrique is playing!...And now Kanye!” we were a bit disappointed but in the end were more then content wandering the streets from quarter to quarter listening to everything from Christian Rock, Reggae, Jazz, and good ol’ Rock ‘n Roll. We started the night at 5pm and my street didn’t go to sleep until after 6am. At one point we all stopped and sat along the Seine as the sun went down and 5 or 6 different bands played all around us. It was all the more perfect because we are leaving, we knew it. These next few days, I’ll be tour guide again, showing my brother around the city that I’ve grown to love so much. On Saturday, everyone will finally be done with exams leaving just a few hours for us to celebrate before Isaac and I make a dash for the night train.

Excited and sad all at the same time—I think I understand why they warn about re-entry shock upon returning to the US. I know I am going to miss Paris quite a bit. She is totally one of a kind. My experience here was just as unique and I know will never be the same no matter how often I return. From this side of the pond, home is exciting and from the other I’m sure that Paris will be the same. I would never trade in this experience for the world. As frustrating as it was at times, it was also a bigger "eye-opener" then I could have hoped for. Now, I'm looking forward to seeing family and friends and running in the mountains once again. I'll be sure to visit Paris plenty of times in my life, but don't know how long it may be. At least I can return sure of one thing, if all else fails, I’ll always have my feet to fall back on.

I’ll post once more when I return. Until then: I can’t wait to see you all!