While I claim to be a writer and therefore am well aware of the value and power of words, I’m going to make words sit this one out. I think the best way to share my Parisian experience in all its splendor is to allow you to see it the way I saw it: in full color, alive. So, for my fifth installment of La Parisienne, here are thirty of my best photos from my four months living in Paris.
votre (américaine) parisienne
Well, folks, the adventure has come to a close. I’ve been back home in California for one month. What an adventure it was.
There is so much to say that I almost don’t know what to say.
I guess I’ll begin by talking about some of my favorite things about Paris:
I wrote this after 2 of my 4 months in Paris. I think it’s worth sharing.
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When I first arrived in Paris, I had no idea what the study abroad experience would bring. To be quite honest, I didn’t even have time to think about it! I had orientations to attend, an apartment to move into, and new classmates to meet. From the moment I stepped off of the plane in Paris, everything began happening so quickly that I found myself just taking it one day at a time.
I’m so glad I did! Having an open mind has allowed me to be amazed over and over again by the beauty of this incredible city, the fascinating Parisian culture, and the thrill of adapting to a new kind of normal.
Hello friends, and welcome back to my sorta ironic, sorta sarcastic, sorta interesting travel-diary-slash-travel-newsletter. Here, in the La Parisienne series, you will be able to read about all the cool things I’ve been doing, as well as all the ridiculous things that happen to me along the way.
In this edition, I fill in some of the gap between my journey to Paris and where I’m at now. I can’t talk about anything else until I’ve properly framed this adventure.
Enter the phrase, “Paris is a lady.”
I did it. I made it to Paris.
Which, given the last 24 hours of my life, is quite a feat.
Here’s the rundown:
After a LOT of waiting in the San Francisco airport, I finally got on my flight. Frazzled and overwhelmed by the fact that in an American airport all the announcements are still in French, I forgot that there are three rows of seats on such big international planes, and I began walking down the wrong side of the plane with no way to cross over to the other side where I was sitting. So I had to inchworm my way through an empty middle row and ask nicely to cut in front of somebody in the other line.
Wow. I literally could not even get myself on the correct side of the plane. Can you say “tourist?” I could practically feel the other passengers’ eyes rolling at me.