Paris and Puppies

I am going to start this post off with an email I recently wrote to one of my very favorite people. It is definitely a little bit more vulnerable than the rest of this entry, but I feel that it is important to show a little bit of the other side of my experience. Just like all parts of life, my exchange is multifaceted. Some of those facets are difficult and unsettling for a 15 year old, no matter how much I wants to avoid "wasting" one second on experiencing the slightly more uncomfortable feelings that come with all changes (even the very best ones).

Here it is:

"I just checked this account and saw your email. I'm actually very glad that I didn't receive it until today. Today has been an oddly cusp-like day, and I am still not exactly sure why. I am so fully my own person here that I am not sure what to do with myself. I feel like I have all of the options in the world opened up to me, and I am on the edge of something transformative. However, there is something unsettling about feeling so unanchored. I feel simultaneously younger and older than I ever have. Obviously, your email resonated with me more than you could have imagined when you wrote it. I'm working on learning how to ground myself and live in the moment.

Aside from all of that, I am constantly challenged, engaged, and surrounded by people who want me to thrive. I've been reading, watching films in French, and talking all of the time. You would not believe it, but I've found a whole culture of people who adore respectful, but often spirited, debate just as much as I do. I am finding ways to do what I loved from Vermont and HHS here, and it is truly incredible to watch my worlds fitting together into something new and different. I find myself noticing pieces of my Vermont life here, and it makes me feel a tiny but more anchored."

The first paragraph of the email was cathartic to write. I am SO happy in France, and I would not exchange it (pun 100% intended) for anything in the world. At the same time, I recently fully felt the effects of trying to stay plugged in and connected with friends from home. I was feeling guilty for being exhausted by people whom I love and care about dearly. I was having the "it's not you, it's me" talk (in my head) with dear friends, all in an effort to explain to myself that deciding to step away from the life in Hanover and Norwich, a life in which I am no longer directly a part, is not betrayal. Yesterday, I ceased using one of my primary forms of communication with American friends in order to (hopefully) summon the piece of my brain that hasn't quite succeeded in making the trip over the Atlantic to join my body. I felt selfish until I put my plan into effect. After announcing my intentions, I felt nothing but freedom.

Note: Are you reading this because you want to go abroad/are abroad right now? I strongly suggest trying the same thing if you feel in flux or oddly torn between two countries.

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Otherwise, I am having a wonderful time. I just finished my first week back in school after a two week vacation, and I will admit that those first few mornings were anything but easy. I love school, but I also love to sleep. Sadly, those two often prove to be opposing interests. However, once I was settled back into the rhythm of the lycée, I quickly fell back into my life at school. That said, I am fully aware that it is only six (6!) weeks until the December holidays. I am not saying that I'm not counting down the days.

For les vacances de la Toussaint (Oct. 20 - Nov. 5), my family and I visited three different destinations. First, we spent four days with the family of my host mom. During those days, I watched The Emperor's New Grove in French (Kuzco en français), attempted some handstands with my host cousins (on a hill while surrounded by cows... how French!), and learned how to play Douce Nuit on the piano. It was lovely.

After a day at home, we left once more for my host dad's family's chalet in the mountains. We were lucky enough to have mostly stunning weather, so we watched a sunset and drank lots of coffee on the porch. My host mom and I played an unreasonable amount of bilingual Scrabble, and she consistently won. So, for anyone who is worried about my ego inflating while I'm gone, you can sleep easy tonight. Because you can't go a month in France without eating something bizarre, my host parents sneakily served me some langue de boeuf (cow tongue). Even before I knew what it was, I was very put off by the spongy (and frankly unmistakably tongue-like) texture. It was one of those things that once you've tried it one time, a second go is neither necessary nor desired.

That was all lovely and very picturesque (excepting the tongue, of course), but the highlight of those days/my life would have to be the forty five minutes I spent with five puppies that wandered up to our door. They were honestly the most adorable things I have ever seen in my entire life. I basically squealed for half an hour straight.

We got home from the chalet on Saturday and left, with my host sister, for the six hour drive to Paris on Monday. If I have learned one thing about myself in France, it is that I have an incredible power to sleep in car rides. Not to pat myself on the back, but I am pretty sure that I slept for at least half of the car ride.

The next day, we started by visiting le Musée d'Orsay. We arrived about ten minutes before the museum opened, standing in the drizzle to beat the lines. Le Musée d'Orsay truly is a stunning museum: it is far more manageable than le Musée du Louvre but houses more variety than more intimate and specialized museums. At 12:30, we left the museum and took the metro to the restaurant Au Pied du Cochon, where yes, one can actually order a pig foot as her meal. I opted for le plat du jour, a delicious filet du canette (female of canard, or duck), having had my fill of eating unfamiliar livestock body parts for the vacation. After lunch, my host sister and Lucas, the son of the family with which we ate lunch, showed me all of the best French shops. We were on a mission to find pants, gloves, and a hat for Lucas, so now I am basically a pro on French menswear shopping. Feel free to send me an email asking for tips. I will warn you, I first tip will be to cover every shirt with your mom's old college sweatshirt and call it a day. *See above

On Wednesday, we went to le Musée du Louvre in the morning, ate lunch at an adorable and tiny Mexican restaurant with a locals-only vibe, and finished off the day with a trip to le Musée Rodin. Le Louvre is immense, and I think I spent more time getting out of the vast East Asian wing (in which I found myself very accidentally) than I did in the Greek sculpture section, which has always been my favorite part of the museum. Honestly, it wasn't at all a problem: I diversified the art I consumed for the day and got some exercise doing laps up and down the stone stairs! Le Musée Rodin quickly became my favorite museum I have ever visited, despite the fact that we went on a day when the outdoor exhibits were effectively rained out. Something about the intimacy of the building and the chance to see multiple rough drafts of his masterpieces was very moving for me. I could have stayed there all afternoon.

The following day, we spent a couple of hours at le Musée Guimet, the French national museum of Asian art. It was very different from the other museums I visited, and I appreciated the chance to see something truly contrasting to the majority of the works that I viewed. However, I found that much of the art was poorly described and explained, so I was disappointed by the waste of an opportunity to learn a little more than we did. For dinner, we ate with family friends at the apartment in which we were staying. We ate deer for dinner and my apple crisp for dessert, thanks to the help of my dad's sarcastic responses to frantic texts about whether red apples would work as well as green apples and whether I needed to peel the apples (yes and no, respectively). Everyone loved it.

We left Paris on Friday, spending the night in Beaune with friends. Saturday morning, we toured an ancient hospital, founded in the 1400s by a duke. It was very informative and historical, and a satisfying end to a wonderful trip. After a quick picnic in one of many local vineyards, we drove home. But hey, for all I know, our car could have sprouted wings and flown home; I was fast asleep the whole time.

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Thank you so much for reading all the way down here. I will say that every post, but I will never mean it any less. I know that I am rather verbose (fatal flaw?), so thank you for sticking with my quasi-novel. I am grateful for you all, and I miss you.

Gros bisous,

Julia