Oui, oui, mon ami.

When good Americans die, they go to Paris.

-Oscar Wilde

Paris Holds the Key to My Heart

So far, Paris is my favorite place in Europe. I know I said that about Pisa, but I hadn’t been here yet. The best way to describe Paris is to call it New York City but cleaner to appease to the majority of an American (complete assumption) audience reading this post. You see, I have a slight problem while living here in Italy: I absolutely do not fit in. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE who lives here has hair as black as a raven’s feathers, and slightly pale olive skin due to the winter season. The fact that my dad said to me on FaceTime the other day, “What have they done with our Irish princess?”, perfectly proves the point that my red hair and vast accumulation of freckles, I like to refer to as Pangea, are not the typical Italian look. Therefore I get a bit more attention here in Italy compared to being at home.

I am not sure how familiar everyone here is with the Italian lifestyle and/or its stereotypes. Well for those of you who have heard that Italian men are a bit more aggressive than American lads – you have heard correctly. In my case, at least, I get what you would call “cat called” on a daily basis. On my way to class in broad daylight, in morning hours, I usually hear something along the lines of “Mama Mia!” shouted in my direction. It happens on at least a daily basis for me. And from what I understand it is a normal aspect of Italy’s culture. According to Italian women, men have been doing this for as long as they could remember. And because the men do it so often, the boys grow up thinking it is perfectly acceptable and assumed of them to also do so. Well at first I found it startling and flattering, but now I find it quite annoying. My friends who have darker hair and features say that it does not happen to them nearly as much because they fit in a bit more, I, on the other hand, am seen as a sort of rarity and am noticed more because of the blatantly non-Italian features.

The main reason I LOVED Paris so much was because, not one person cat called me. Beings as it is a big city, there were sooo many people. Everyone was rushing about to get somewhere and no one paid me any mind at all. I loved it, It felt great to just blend in and go along with the flow. I went to small private Catholic schools from kindergarten to senior year of high school, which accumulated to be 12 years. I chose to go to Penn State for college because I wanted to be a tiny fish in an ocean, no longer a whale in a fish tank. In Paris, I was able to be the tiny guppy swimming about without a care in the world and it was wonderful.

As soon as I got onto a train in Rome, coming back from Paris, a group of Italian male teenagers started whistling at me and directing provocative comments towards me. At that point I knew I was officially back home in Italy and once again the whale.

The Weekend I Got to be a Guppy

If you didn’t already insinuate from before, I must tell you that I loved Paris very much. The atmosphere is like a beehive with all the little honey bees bustling about their merry way without any interruption. I love city lifestyles and could definitely see myself living in a major city someday, before I have kids and want the typical white picket fence and big backyard.

I experienced one of the best moments of my life in Paris that weekend. When we got off the shuttle from the airport to the city it started to snow. And when I say snow, I mean quite more than a flurry or two. It was snowing so hard when we got on the tour bus, that looking out the window was virtually pointless because you couldn’t see anything. That’s when I decided to sit on the top of the double decker bus by myself. I went to the top of the bus in almost blizzard conditions and was completely alone. I had the whole top of the bus to myself, and it was absolutely magnificent. There was this calming quiet and sense of serenity on the top of the double decker bus in the snow. I felt completely at peace and sat down eager to start the ride. We passed by all the major attractions such as the Louvre, Arc de Triomphe, Palace of Versailles, and on and on.

But it wasn’t until the snow really picked up and even I couldn’t see my surroundings very well, that a life altering event occurred. I was squinting, try to see the road ahead through the snowstorm when I felt an ominous figure looming over me. I reluctantly looked over my shoulder, and was astounded to find that it was the Eiffel Tower. I sat there with my jaw dropping to the ground in disbelief. I was completely alone with the Eiffel Tower in a snowstorm. The flurries seemed to lessen their load and became more of a delightful dance during the exquisite moment. I was overwhelmed by an immense feeling of amazement, gratitude, and true joy. I got so emotional I almost started crying. It was one of the most amazing feelings and moments I have ever experienced in my life. And after my own little perfect moment, seemed to have been frozen in time for a split second, the rest of the tour bus came sprinting onto the top deck to get their own moment with my looming friend. This was actually a good thing, because I was able to have someone capture the moment for me with this picture:

The next day was much better weather, with a drizzle or two in the afternoon. So my roommates and I jumped back on the tour bus, after spending several hours at the Louvre. and redid all the sights. And because of the benefits of good weather, were able to jump off at each location to take pictures and explore.

Notre Dame Cathedral

Arc de Triomphe

The Louvre

One of my all-time favorite things in Paris was the Louvre Museum. I am an art geek and love all types of artwork except for Early United States History Battle scenes. I just don’t enjoy red paint splattered all over the canvas with heads missing and pools of blood engulfing a field. But that’s just me. Anyway, I was so amazed by the Louvre Museum because I am taking an Art History course here called Leonardo da Vinci: Artist, Genius, and Scientist. So, for the first couple weeks of the semester I have been studying his work with the class in chronological order – observing how his technique as an artist evolved from his early days. I was walking through the Louvre on my way to see his world-renown “Mona Lisa”, when I accidentally came across several of his paintings I had just studied in class that very week. I was actually amazed by how powerful it was to be seeing these works firsthand, after studying them a few days before. It’s one thing to look the paintings on a projector or a textbook; but to stand there and appreciate them for their miraculous presence and entirety was probably one of the best aspects of study abroad. It’s so different to be at home and study something and just keep looking at pictures or hearing about them. But when someone studies abroad in a European nation, it is so unreal how easy it is to travel to the locations and monuments you discuss in class.

And I think that’s the true value of studying abroad.

 

Location: Paris, France