Author Archives: cmr5291

A Post-Abroad Post

I’ve been home for about a week now. It’s strange being back in the United States. I’m already afraid of losing all of the language skills I gained while in Paris. Living here again will be a challenge and a compromise, a constant search to find the balance between this American life and the one I left in Paris. 

Another part of returning is being a sort of cultural ambassador for France. While abroad, Penn State and IES would often remind us that we were cultural ambassadors for the US, representing our country, setting an example and answering questions about it. But it works the same way now as well. People are constantly asking me to confirm or deconstruct their stereotypes of the French. Sometimes they’re genuinely interested. Sometimes they just want to pin me into an argument that supports their own opinions – that English is the only useful language, that France is useless and America has to keep helping them, that the French are mean, that there are terrorists lurking everywhere, that pickpockets are unavoidable, that it must be incredibly difficult to function in a new environment completely immersed in another language (not easy, but not impossible). I love explaining what living in Paris is actually like, but it can be frustrating too. One of the great values of studying abroad is the cultural perspective and understanding that it builds, and I believe that sort of reasoning and thinking is imperative to living in the modern world and being a member of human society.


Location: Bethlehem, Pennsylvania

The Post-Abroad Post

Being home is comforting and strange. I constantly catch myself saying “pardon” (pronounced with a very nasal French accent) instead of “excuse me” in public places. Hearing English everywhere is confusing. I was walking around the King of Prussia mall with a few friends yesterday, and they laughed when I stopped and spun around when I heard two people behind us speaking French.

It’s difficult to respond to the question “How was France?” I don’t know how I could possibly sum up the past four months into any sort of decent reply. So many days, so many experiences. I think I’d rather leave the answer vague, instead of attempting to reduce my time abroad into simple adjectives of praise. I’m feeling more and more that France and the French language are my own private world, a place that none of my friends or family can really know. It’s my reality, tucked away for now in memories and a bag of ticket stubs and photographs.

That being said, I’m looking forward to talking to other students about studying abroad. It’s a hard decision to make – leaving everything you know for a few months to a year to go somewhere completely new and unknown, where you may not speak the language or understand the culture. But it’s an experience I think everyone should have, and that I’m looking forward to having again.


Location: Bethlehem, PA

Stranded

I could use a little global warming right now. My flight back to Newark from Paris, via London, was canceled yesterday because Heathrow was closed due to a snowstorm. As I waited in line for eleven and a half hours to get a new flight, the snow moved south to Paris. British Airways gave me another flight this afternoon from Orly airport, on the other side of the city. With no money, no access to my bank card, and no telephone or Internet access, I felt pretty lost.
After trudging through the snow and dragging all my luggage through several metro stations, I made it to Orly – only for my flight to be delayed again because of the snow and ice. The only benefit from this whole situation has been to multiply my last opportunities to speak French, and to realize that without those language skills I would be much more lost right now. I got to speak with the people waiting around me in line – several French, some Americans, a bunch of other stranded students. I also talked to a shuttle driver who told me of his love for Mariah Carey and Britney Spears (and sang some of their songs for me).
Although I love Paris, I think I’m ready to go home (or at least to get out of the endless airport terminals). I had one last quiche and Orangina and spent my last few euros, but I kept the change. I’ll need it when I come back, whenever that may be.

Location: Paris, France

A Moveable Feast

“J’ai deux amours, mon pays et Paris.” – Josephine Baker

Paris has long been a home to expats. In the 1900s, people like Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Pablo Picasso left their homes for the City of Lights. Some fled the disillusionment of war and the Great Depression. Others tried to escape for different reasons. But by leaving their original countries and living in France, the Lost Generation entered an in-between space, a kind of terrain vague that defies a single identity. They could be American, French, Spanish all at once, and at the same time, they could not be defined by any of those labels.

Yesterday my History of French Cinema professor told us, “Vous �tes tous des exclus.” In French, that means “you are all excluded,” or rather, that you are part of a marginalized group whose members don’t belong here or at home. 

As my time here is rapidly running out, I’ve been thinking about the implications of being an exclue. Although I deeply feel connected to Paris, I know I’m not necessarily a parisienne. I also don’t define myself as American. Maybe Pennsylvanian. But being simultaneously both and neither of those things is liberating. It’s a multiplicity, a freedom, a unique perspective that at once sees into and around and beyond those worlds, those realities.

I hope that Ernest Hemingway was write when he wrote, “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”


Location: 119 Boulevard Brune, Paris, France

Six jours avant le départ

It’s hard to believe I’ll be leaving Paris in six days. I fell into the rhythm of this city, into the swaying of the metro and the cobble-stoned streets, the smell of the boulangeries in the morning, the music of the French language.

 I’ll miss Paris terribly as soon as I leave, and I’ll miss speaking French. Each language has its own reality, its own manner of looking at and interacting with the world. I think that’s one of the most valuable things I’ve learned while here. Simply sitting in a classroom at the Sorbonne and being able to understand everything the professor is saying about Victor Hugo or Stendhal is a kind of accomplishment, as is ordering a pastry or giving someone directions.

The last two weekends I went to London to pick up and drop off a very close friend who flew to Europe. I loved London and all its quirks. It was strange to be around so much English. My friend constantly teased me for saying “pardon” with a strong French accent instead of “excuse me” or “sorry.” That particular habit has been ingrained in my mind over these past four months. I also enjoyed the opportunity to show him around Paris. Although I don’t particularly care about the Eiffel Tower, I felt so excited for him to see it for the first time. By playing the tour guide and revisiting parts of the city I haven’t seen in months, I realized how much Paris means to me and how much I’ll miss it when I’m gone.

But I guess, like the movie says, I’ll always have Paris.


Location: 77 rue Daguerre, Paris, France

Becoming French: The Immigration Office Edition

France is pretty serious about its immigration laws and paperwork. After my first experience with French bureaucracy at the Consulate in Washington last summer, I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with the rest of the process to become a “bonne immigr�e”. 

Luckily IES helped out a lot. I would have had no idea how to get the necessary papers, like the proof of housing (l’attestation domicile), or how to schedule the mandatory medical examination. The government wants to assure that all the people it accepts into France are in passable health, or at least that they don’t have any contagious diseases. But the system is highly inefficient – if I had something to spread to the population, I probably would have already done so in the four months I’ve been here. Welcome to the world of French bureaucracy.

In the end, all I had to do was show up at the Office Fran�aise de l’Immigration et de l’Int�gration, or OFiII for short, with my passport, a photo, a timbre fiscal (that cost 55 euros), and some papers. My appointment took about two hours, shuffling in between various waiting and examining rooms. They take your height, weight, and blood pressure, as well as doing a vision test and asking questions about your general health. The worst part was an x-ray, for which you have to strip from the waist up in a freezing room. But at least you get to keep the x-ray as a souvenir and show everyone what your lungs look like. 

My experience with OFII wasn’t remarkable in any way; like a good little immigrant, I showed up with the necessary documents, behaved, and went home with a shiny new page in my passport next to my visa. It validates my visa de long s�jour and will allow me to enter France in good standing in the future. I don’t feel any closer to being French, but oh well. I’ll be a little more prepared for coming back one day.


Location: 48 rue de la Roquette, Paris, France

Roma!

Visiting Rome almost made me want to change my major to Archaeology and move to the Eternal City.

Ruins almost three thousand years old simply pop up around corners, their pitted stones reflecting the sunlight, still warm at the end of November. They stand, silent in their ancient grandeur, above the shops and restaurants. I could imagine the Romans in their togas and sandals walking along the paths, up the hills to the Forum and down to the Pantheon.

I know this description glorifies Rome and glosses over the less digestible eras of its history. But the simple scope of that history is enchanting. After reading all about the Roman Empire when I was younger, I never thought I’d actually have the opportunity to stand in the Colosseum or the Vatican. I would include pictures in this post, but for some reason the blog platform is malfunctioning and refusing to let me add them.

Going to Rome was my last trip for the semester. It was interesting to see a more Mediterranean culture (and warmer weather) after traveling to Amsterdam, Berlin, and Prague. I have twenty-four days left to focus on Paris, to see all the neighborhoods I haven’t explored, to finally try a macaron, to go to the Louvre one more time, and soak up everything this city has to offer.


Location: 24 via Marsala, Roma, Italia

Czechin’ Out Prague

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Studying abroad constantly shows me how little I know, how limited my knowledge of the world’s history and cultures is. In American schools, we learn about our own country’s history over and over, year after year, without ever expanding our understanding of what was going on elsewhere.

Old Town Square

This week I spent three days in Prague, in the Czech Republic. Prague is a beautiful city with a rich past: it’s been the home of Germanic and Slavic tribes, the Holy Roman Empire, the Hapsburg Empire, the Nazis, and the Soviet communists during the Cold War. 

Prague Castle

We took a three hour walking tour of the city and visited the Museum of Communism, located ironically next to a McDonald’s. I learned just how ignorant I was of the Czech Republic’s history – I had no idea under what circumstances it had lain after World War II until the Velvet Revolution in 1989, or how it had evolved from Czechoslovakia. In the Museum of Communism we watched a video that explained the various uprisings and demonstrations that led to the fall of Communism. Seeing the footage of police brutality and the lengths the government went to in order to suppress the Czech people was striking. 

Wenceslas Square

Being surrounded by this saturation of history is one of my favorite parts about studying in Europe. Every street I walk on has seen hundreds (if not thousands) of years of human civilization. I have five weeks left to soak it all in before I leave Paris for Pennsylvania. Time is spinning quickly.


Location: Dělnická 24, 170 00 Praha, Czech Republic

A Lack of Preconceptions

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I’d never really thought about going to Germany until I found myself in front of a computer, booking a flight to Berlin a few weeks ago. Although I can think of a vast amount of historical associations with Germany, I had no preconceptions as to what it’s like today. And I think that’s why I loved Berlin.

Brandenburg Gate

The tempo of Berlin is much calmer than the (occasionally) frenetic atmosphere of Paris. It didn’t feel like everyone on the road was in immediate danger of death by erratic motorists. Almost everyone spoke English, and they didn’t seem to resent having to do so (as my German skills are extremely limited and practically nonexistent).

Gendarmenmarkt

Berlin was completely ravaged after the two World Wars and its years under the Nazi and Communist regimes. The country just finished paying off the reparations from World War I a few weeks ago, about 90 years later. Whole sections of the city were simply gone, and the ones that survived the bombings were cut in two by the wall. The city is now a strange combination of the strikingly new with an undercurrent of its long and painful history: the architecture mostly dates back to the last half of the twentieth century, even though many buildings were made to appear older. Berlin is marked by the past and a strong sensitivity to it. We took a walking tour that showed us the bunker where Hitler committed suicide, now under a parking lot for an apartment building. There’s a small sign that was just put up recently, because there was a lot of debate about whether marking the spot could possibly perpetuate or glorify him, or draw Neo-Nazis. 

Berlin Wall

The walking tours we took were extremely informative; we saw monuments in both East and West Berlin, from the Brandenburg Gate to the Holocaust Memorial, Checkpoint Charlie, the Wall, the East Side Gallery, and the former Stasi headquarters. The Holocaust Memorial was haunting. It’s a large space just down the street from the Brandenburg Gate, filled with thousands of rows of concrete blocks resembling a cemetery. When you walk through the rows, the ground begins to slope down until you’re twenty feet down in the shadows, surrounded by the dark columns for hundreds of meters in each direction. There are no plaques, no words, no markings to explain the monument. The number of graves, 2711 I believe, has no meaning to highlight the utter absurdity and incomprehensibility of the scale of the Holocaust. Although the monument is controversial, I think it’s appropriate – it makes you experience something that will be engraved into your memory rather than just looking at a statue or reading a plaque.

Holocaust Memorial


Location: 35 Bredowstrasse, Berlin, Germany

Chantilly

On Saturday IES hosted an excursion to the Ch�teau de Chantilly, a castle in the Picardie region outside of Paris. Although some parts of the original buildings are no longer standing, the castle was constructed in 1560 for the princes of Cond�. Today the castle is more of an art museum, hosting the Mus�e Cond� and its collection of paintings that’s said to rival the Louvre. And of course, Chantilly is home to the famous Chantilly cream, lace, and racecourse. 

Chantilly 1
Chantilly 2
Chantilly 3
Chantilly 4

Location: Château de Chantilly, France