*Sorry for any typos or strange punctuation on this post. I'm currently writing it on a French keyboard that keeps switching from an American to an French keyboard... not really sure how that happened but here we are.
I've just finished my second whole day in Paris, and my heart is so full. I've been studying this city for the past eight years, the French language and culture, and what it means to be a Parisian. I had this concept in my mind of what Paris should be, from the daily life to the culture. Never in a million years though, did I think it would live up to my expectations. Everything is exactly as I always dreamt... the buildings, un melange de the classic style of Georges Eugène Haussmann and the more modern buildings of the 21st century. I feel like I'm living in a dream. Here's a glimpse into my first day in Paris:
On Monday, July 20th I arrived in Paris, as discussed in my last post. Upon arriving at my location, I wasn't sure what to expect. The neighborhood itself is a quintessential Parisian neighborhood, with six story buildings and grey rooftops, large windows and balconies overlooking the street. As I got out of the taxi and punched in the code to the doors, I was a bundle of nerves. The doors in Paris are weird. There's a locked door to the street with a code you need to punch in, as well as a door on the inside of the building with another code to punch in. It was the second door I struggled with the most, as I wasn't sure how to open it. It looked like it should have been a sliding door, but it didn't slide. I'd already called my host mother once to have her unlock the door, but it took me so long to unlock it that I had to call again. Upon finally unlocking the door, I saw my two options to get to their apartment on the sixth floor: steep wooden stairs, or an old elevator that looked like it might break any moment. Me being the overly cautious (and terrified of elevators) person that I am, I decided that it would be a grand idea to try to climb sixth flights of stairs with my backpack, Longchamp, and suitcase. Needless to say, sometimes I'm an idiot. I made it up abut three levels before my host mother heard me banging on the stairs and rushed down to push me and my luggage into the elevator and send me to the sixth floor. The elevator itself is incredibly small; fitting three people at the maximum. So I'm sure you can imagine how hard it was for me to try to fit my massive suitcase, full backpack, and my full tote bag inside with me. But somehow, we did it, and I made it into the apartment.
My bedroom, and the apartment in all, is a dream. For the sake of privacy, I'm not going to post pictures of the apartment, but I've included some of my room below, as well as photos of the arrondissement.
When my housemate arrived, we went for a walk through the neighborhood and to the metro station to buy our Navigo passes. The 15th arrondissement near where I'm living is so stunning. I had in my mind this idea of what Paris should look like, but you never truly believe that it will truly look like that... but it does. It's insane. We took a tour through a Monoprix as well, which is a kind of convenience store in Paris, but the one near our home stay is massive. The top floor reminds me of a Walmart, or a Target. It has everything: clothing, toiletries, food, makeup, school supplies, novels, home decor, a entire market in the downstairs with fresh seafood, fruits, vegetables; boxed items, cheese, a deli, and so much more.
After our tour of the quartier, my housemate Madeline and I decided to go on a walk on our own. While on our tour, our host mother had showed us this small store called Picard, where you can buy frozen meals and warm them up in the wall of microwaves in the store. Knowing that we wouldn't eat until 8:00, we purchased two acaii bowls, but misread the instructions on the back that said to microwave them for seven minutes... it turns out it meant to defrost for seven minutes, that way you weren't eating hot acaii soup like we did. Not ideal.
When we finally returned to the home stay, we were introduced to our host father and ate dinner: roasted vegetables and some odd block of grey looking meat with bread. Anyone who knew me as a child knows that I was a very picky eater growing up. As I've gotten older, I've become better about trying and liking new things. Going vegan has also forced me to open myself to new foods that I was disgusted by as a child. I've grown to adore Brussels spouts, mushrooms, tomatoes, tofu, and most vegetables that I hated as a child. However, I am in general very careful with meat. I decided for the sake of this trip and to fully be able to enjoy myself that I wouldn't be eating vegan. After all, everything in France has butter. I'd even made up my mind to, should the occasion arise, try escargot. However, there is one French dish that I have always been against and said I wouldn't eat: fois gras. If you're unfamiliar, fois gras is duck liver. More than anything else, I'm bothered by the methods through which it is harvested. The ducks live in cages and are fattened up for their liver which is usually served on some sort of bread and... I'm sure you can see where this is going. Yes, on my first night in Paris ate the one thing I had told myself I wouldn't eat. My reaction was exactly what I had expected. But, I tried it. So there. OIf only my younger self could see me now.
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