Pour mes week-ends/mes fins des semaines – 1

I apologize for not writing for so long! The entire experience of study abroad is overwhelming and pretty time consuming. I thought for this post I would talk about the weekend trips I took over the past few weeks, as well

La Rochelle

March 8 – March 10, 2013.

This was my first weekend trip out of Paris. My close friend (also a student at Pitt and colleague on the Original Magazine) decided we would try and do a lot of our travels through France/Europe together, so we started in this gorgeous, historical harbor town. Among the 15th century buildings and churches, a harbor “La Pallice” spilling out into the sea greeted us as we walked to our Air BNB.

Our apartment was right in the center of the Old Port/Town “Vieux Port”, and it was really adorable. Really adorable… except the toilet, shower, and bed were all in the same room. The only thing that separate the bed from the “bathroom” was a curtain. What an experience, indeed.

We visited the three towers of La Rochelle: each had a different function through the centuries. What started first as a harbour master’s home and lighthouses was converted into government  designated places and eventually into prisons, harbouring British soldiers. Today, they stand together as a museum. The history of La Rochelle is rich and fascinating and we had no qualms about traversing the city, being tourists.

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On a more interesting note, we found several little parks/gardens covered with gorgeous, well-crafted street art. It seemed like a collaboration between several artists.

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Throughout France, there are many natural markets that take place during the mornings on weekdays and weekends alike. Zach and I were lucky enough to stumble upon one in La Rochelle on Saturday morning… that ran through 90% of the Vieux Port. I had never seen so many fresh foods and goods in one setting.

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We ate very, very well. Lots of fish and delicious things. Our first dinner was really interesting; recommended on Trip Advisor, you were given raw fish and vegetables and were meant to cook them on a hot rock. It was such an interesting concept, and definitely the most fresh you could get.

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We visited a contemporary art museum and befriended one of the French girls that was working at the reception desk there. Later, we went out with her and her friends for a night on the town in La Rochelle.

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Normandy

March 16-17, 2013.

In Caen, for the few hours we had their at night, everyone was really tired so I walked about the city on my own, looking at the Medieval fortress and churches in the dark. It was really peaceful and really beautiful.

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This is a little excerpt from what I wrote about in my journal about my program’s trip to Normandy. We visited Omaha Beach, a few other D-Day beaches, a D-Day museum, spent the night in the city of Caen, and saw Mont St. Michel for two hours on Sunday.

“I’m listening to Mykonos by the Fleet Foxes and we’re leaving Caen, Normandy.”

“I wish I got to see more of this city: it was so quaint and beautiful. Last night, I walked around until 1 in the morning, perusing the streets, hunting for street art, taking pictures of the churches, the old Medieval fortresses, regretting the rue of restaurants we didn’t get to (Well, not really regretting: the salmon at dinner was delicious, and the apple pie was heavenly. But I want to go to all of these restaurants!).”

“‘The Normandy countryside kind of reminds me of Illinois when the fields are flat and full of farms and green, but then it stats to remind of the Pennyslvanian countryside as soon as the hills start rolling. You can take the girl out of her home (homes?) but you can’t take home (homes?) out of the girl.”

“The idea of temporary and permanence is making a prevalent influence nowadays: I am making relationships in Paris that cover the entire spectrum of permanence: temporary, not-so-temporary, maybe-temporary, give-it-a-few-weeks-temporary, give-it-a-few-decades-temporary, semi-permanent, semi-not-so-permanent, probably-permanent, most-definitely-permanent. I should make a legitimate scale. I do wish I had my permanent people with me, sometimes, but the closest ones are in the southwest of France, Poland,  Germany, and the UK. But, there is something exciting about having my maybe-temporary relationships blossom into long-lasting friendships.”

“What an experience this is turning out to be…”

Nantes/La Roche-sur-Yon

March 22 – March 24, 2013.

I came into La Roche-sur-Yon, a small town in the region Vendee on a Friday afternoon. Zach has been doing a teaching position there for the past several months. First, we took a 30 minute tour of the town… it’s a small town. Really quaint and quiet and unfortunately, under a lot of construction. When the construction is finished, I mean, if the construction is finished (insert joke about the French not working here), it could really be something.

We ran into a few of Zach’s students and friends; then, we stopped by the grocery store to pick up some ingredients for a home cooked dinner. Chicken, salad, and a specialty of the Vendee region, Les Mogettes de Vendee: white kidney beans. A team effort, the dinner turned out to be delicious!

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That night, I went to the first French high school party I ever went to. I imagined a more outlandish/hardcore/crazy scene, but it was actually really nice. Lots of French conversation with people ranging from 17 to 27. It was a very tranquille, tranquille environment, which, as I would find out after my weekend in the Vendee, is the same in all the cities.

Saturday was the day I fell in love with Nantes. We started off with amazing galettes (savory crepes) in one of Zach’s favorite restaurants in Nantes, then continued through the city. We were coincidentally there during the largest street market of the year, with every kind of accessory, gift, and clothing item possible on sale. I snagged myself a pink tunic and bought a pretty white blouse for one of my most dear/generous friends in Paris, Kristina.

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We then met up with Zach’s good friend, Reda. One of the most intelligent and interesting people I’ve ever met in my life, by far. With him, we walked around Nantes, by the river, through the Asian-inspired gardens. One of my favorite moments of the trip was how Reda  explained how one takes a girl out on a date in France. I can’t quote it word for word, but I’ll do my best to retell the beautiful tale:

You start off with dinner. And there’s no time limit to this dinner. Three courses, four courses, it doesn’t matter, the price doesn’t matter. You’re there to enjoy the company of this beautiful woman and to eat delicious food. You can talk about anything and everything, but make sure you sit outside on the terrace. You have to have a beautiful view. Everything about the evening should be luxury. And French girls, French girls always order dessert. None of this bullshit about diets and losing weight. You each order a decadent dessert, then maybe some tea or coffee. By the time you leave the restaurant, it’s late into the evening, but it’s nowhere near over. You take her back to your place, sit on your porch, talk, laugh, have a few drinks, make love, and spend the night together. That’s how you take a girl out on a date in France.

Later, we met up with Reda’s friends for drinks on the terrace outside of a bar. I had a “Spring Beer” and it was one of the most delicious things I tasted: it tasted fruity but not too sweet, and so, so fresh. If only it brought spring closer to Paris! We ended the night on top of Tour Bretagne, the tallest building in Nantes (and by ordinance of the city, no other skyscrapers have been built in Nantes). A special art-exhibition-turned-bar was made ready there. The theme of a stork carrying eggs was display through cracked egg chairs and tables, with the bar server’s quarters inside a giant, inflatable stork.

The next morning I had a transfer over in Nantes to leave to Paris. I got myself a croissant aux amandes and sat by the river, breathing in the beauty of the city I had fallen for.

London

March 29 – April 1, 2013

Oh my gosh, London! What an adventure… We arrived Friday night, delirious and a bit freaked out because every car was on the wrong side of the road… and people were looking backwards when they crossed the road. The Brits on our bus found it quite funny how completely culture shocked we were. When we got off the bus, we had to find our way from Victoria Station to our hostel, Safestay Elephant and Castle.

After wandering around the premises to find some bus stops or someone to ask where we should go, my sleep deprived/tired self commented that London reminded me a little bit of Wonderland. Zach agreed with me, called himself the Mad Hatter and me Alice and we ventured on into Wonderland. The first pub I saw was called Shakespeare Pub which was pretty serendipitous (I’m very much in love with Shakespeare and his works). After getting some change from a small casino and running around the theatre district to a Russian man’s motel to get directions, we found the proper bus stop. Safestay was all pink and orange and bright colors with a lot of surrealist/futuristic vibes going on. Kind of like a 22nd century candy shop. We shared a room with two bunk beds; our neighbors were two Germans, brother and sister.

We wanted to have a quick drink at a pub after our crazy day/night, so we Yelped a nice, local pub called Prince of Wales. It was really homey, very British, with groups of men speaking with a Cockney accent around us. We both got dark beers and the barkeep was so sweet to us: before we left, he made sure we knew where we were going. In France, it is difficult to find that kind of genuine, nice service in a bar, restaurant, what have you, and Zach and I almost cried because no one had been that familiar with us at a public establishment since we left the states.

The next day, Saturday, we got up bright and early and got a day pass to ride the tube. I was really happily surprised/shocked by how comfy, warm, and homey the seats were on the Tube… is this a thing? On any other underground transportation I’ve taken, the seats have always been small and mostly blocks of plastic/wood. It just made everything feel more comfortable, really.

We made a quick stop at 441B Baker Street and took a picture in front of Sherlock’s apartment and the bar he frequented. The English lit nerd in me was extremely pleased.

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Then, we headed to the famous London Top Shop, where we perused for a little over an hour. Zach got himself some accessories and clothing, while I got myself a 15 pound dress from a connected store/featured clothing line, Miss Selfridge. I think this is possibly one of the most lovely dresses I’ve ever owned. Take a look:

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We walked to SoHo to find a Lebanese restaurant I found online before we arrived in the city, called Yalla Yalla (Let’s Go in Arabic). We had to wait a while to get inside, but the food was well worth it. The mezzas and variety of flavors made the entire meal really interesting and so delicious  We found ourselves a stinky, wonderful London telephone booth to take a picture in, then headed to SoHo Square Garden, which was surrounded by beautiful and various architectures from different centuries. The Irish Catholic Church was also quite beautiful, but because we were there just before St. Patrick’s day, the idols were all covered up. Zach told me that St. Patrick himself wasn’t actually Irish, but British, and many Irish folk didn’t know that.

Old Compton Street was our next stop, meaning sex shops, drag bars, and gay clubs. When I come back to London, I would love to see how this place looks/lives at night.

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We hopped back on the tube to get to Brick Lane, a really interesting, historical street. It was occupied by different cultures/ethnicities over the centuries, and at the moment, it’s Little India. Indian markets, grocery stores, and restaurants make up the entire street. Zach and I also ducked into some alley ways to capture the awesome graffiti and street art that covers the walls.

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Off of Brick Lane, we found a street of vintage/resale shops and upscale pop-up boutiques… At this point, we were getting quite hungry, and instead of heading back over to the Indian restaurants, we stumbled upon an apparently very well-known, famous Fish and Chips restaurant, Poppies. When in London, you must have Fish and Chips, and because it was getting particularly cold, it sounded like an excellent meal.

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After dinner, we headed over to Camden for the Camden Pub Crawl. We actually ended up not going on the pub crawl because they were “crawling” through two pubs and then going to a night club, which wasn’t quite the plan we had in mind. So, we made our own Camden pub crawl!

1. We started at Belushi’s where we didn’t stay for long, because the bar started playing T Swift. The beer and space was good, however.
2. At the Wheelbarrow, Zach and I bought each other some excellent ales, saw an amazing, amazing Brit Indie Rock band for free, and met some nice Irish girls who gave us recommendations on where to go next.
3. We missed last call at The End of the World Bar. Not the end of the world because…
4. The Camden Eye was probably the funniest part of the night. Not only was it our last stop on our pub crawl (About 6 pints in per person at this point by midnight), but we each had another pint, then watched as a very happy, curly haired, bell-bottom-pants wearing hippy guy danced around the whole bar, inviting us to dance with him. He proceeded to dance with me, then pick me up, then lead me across the entire bar. After he dropped me back off where we started dancing, he proceeded to do the same with Zach. The music was excellent: a mix of funky tunes, 80s, rock, just really upbeat catchy music. Then, all of a sudden at about 1 am, the owner marched into the center of the bar and turned off the DJ’s music and almost broke his actual laptop. We witnessed our first fight in London, in which we promptly left the bar and tried to find a bus to get home.

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This part of the story gets hazy as we barely knew the bus system and literally hopped on from bus to bus, eventually making our way back to the Elephant and Castle bus stop.

Sunday, the next morning. Two extremely hungover travelers. Zach was a darling (and still is, of course), and went out to get us coffee and pastries while I was in the shower. We had bread pudding, polenta corn bread, muffins and filtered coffee. The coffee was a necessity to stay awake, but the pastries were actually quite good. Especially the polenta corn bread. We quickly ate then headed over to the Victoria and Albert Museum for the David Bowie exhibit. It was, unfortunately, sold out, but we still managed to see two really excellent exhibitions: one was a photography exhibition on the political/cultural/etc. state of the Middle East, and the other was a very detailed, well done Fashion History exhibit.

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Next stop was King’s Cross Station, for (drumroll please) Platform 9 3/4, because I am a forever Potterhead.

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Outside of King’s Cross Station we found a nice Indian resto called Tamarind, where I had some of the best chicken curry in my life. No surprise that I found it in London.

Now was time for what I called on our printed Google Maps sheets, “The Royal Tour.” We went from Parliament, to Big Ben, to Westminster Abbey, then New Scotland Yard, then Buckingham Palace, and finally ended at Hyde Park.

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On our way to a specific bar with live jazz music (Hugo’s), we stopped by McDonald’s because they were offering – wait for it – A CADBURY EGG MCFLURRY. Only in the UK. Needless to say, Zach and I were very happy 5-year-olds.

Hugo’s was closed, but, we stumbled upon a really awesome, trendy bar called Alice. It had some of the best decoration and ambiance I’ve ever seen, as well as delicious, local beers. Each beer had a listed proximity, showing how close it was made to the bar itself. I got Alice’s house beer and was extremely pleased.

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Monday morning, I was extremely bummed about leaving. I told Zach a few weeks later that I almost didn’t get on the bus with him because I liked London so much. To soothe myself, I got myself a Cornish pasty and an apple turnover for the road. On the bus ride back, we talked philosophy and life and books with a boy from
Cambridge.

Without doubt, I must have been a closet anglophile my entire life, and had only come to realize it the moment we stepped off the bus into Paris. Some day, some how, I will have to visit the rest of the UK and Ireland and live in London, even just for a little while. I have never felt so in love or so at ease/at home with a place
before.

In my next post, which I wil get out before the end of this week, I’m going to tell you about my travels to Marseille, Loire valley, and Bretagne/Normandy Part 2!  In the following weeks, I will be visiting Bratislava, Vienna, Prague, Kiev, and Nantes!

Ciao for now,

Dani

P.S. Adding pictures soon!

❝The limits of my language are the limits of my world.❞ ‒ Ludwig Wittgenstein

So I thought it just about time to discuss my actual academic situation within Paris. I’ve been pretty vague and non-specific about my program within the Sorbonne, so I’ll go into details.

The program I’m doing with La Sorbonne is called Cours de Civilisation Française de la Sorbonne, an international student program with classes entirely and solely in French. Wikipedia does an excellent job of explaining what this program entitles:

French language classes (grammar, conjugation, spelling, vocabulary, approach to literary texts, written and oral expression), with each class 2 hours, per day every day for the semester;
phonetics with language laboratory (expression, pronunciation and understanding exercises) 1 hour per week day, scheduled every other week;
French civilisation taught in lectures or in small groups, with each lecture 2 hours long, once per week
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cours_de_Civilisation_Fran%C3%A7aise_de_la_Sorbonne)

The levels one can be placed into for language/phonetics classes are as follows: Beginning, Elementary, Intermediate 1, Intermediate 2, Advanced, and Superior. I’ve been taking 8 years of French, but to be frank, there’s been enough gaps in my studies and “getting by” in my learning of French grammar. So, I was placed into the Intermediate 1 level. Although at first I thought it was far too easy and unchallenging for me, I realized a few things over the course of 3 or so classes:

1. I really needed a grammar review! For the first few weeks, I knew I would cruise by, but the learning and relearning of basic/advanced grammar rules is how one solidifies their knowledge of  a language. I am here to truly learn and cultivate my French speaking skills. I’m sure I could fare just as well in Int 2 and even Advanced, and many of the people in my program have moved up, but I feel as if I am at an advantage. This essential grammar review will remove common grammar errors in both my French writing and speaking. That’s truly what I need from this class.
2. My professor is honestly wonderful: so sweet, explains everything in great precision and detail, and is friendly with everyone in the class. On top of that, the class itself is such a great group of people. We all get along superbly well (this never happens) and I’ve met quite a few wonderful people that I’ve been spending time with outside of class.
3. I’m taking 4 lectures in addition to my 2 hours of language daily and 1 hour of phonetics (that totals up to 8 hours of lectures per week), so maybe I don’t need to kill myself with even more work.
4. Now, if I were to move up, I would be more challenged, yes, but I also might end up with a horrible teacher and/or classmates I couldn’t connect with. I would also increase my workload by 50%. Did I really need those kinds of stressors during my study abroad experience?
5. I’m a sophomore in undergrad. I have plenty of time for advanced French classes.

So, after mentally arguing with myself for another class, I decided to stay in that level. And I’m glad I did! We’ve had two tests thus far that have gone really well for me. I’ve also learned some essential nuances in common elements of grammar I would have never known, if not for the class and especially my professor.

Phonetics is very interesting. I’m in a class with all Americans (they base your phonetics classes off your accent and country of origin). It’s a very different way of thinking and I enjoy it quite a bit. For the first half hour of each class, we’re in a phonetics lab with a headset on, repeating after what the professor says and listening to ourselves pronounce french words/phrases. She’ll correct us from time to time by listening in on our recordings. The second half of the class is within the classroom, where we learn about the specific terminology and reasoning behind French pronunciation. I really wish I had a class like this when I first began taking French, because learning the rules of pronunciation, especially in French, has truly helped my accent and French speaking skills.

The French civilisation lecture courses I’ve chosen are (translated into English):

1. French cinema, literature, and society
2. History of French art
3. Poetry and song
4. Paris (a history)

I won’t get into detail about each and every aspect of these classes, but I will tell you about the professors and class structure itself.

All my professors, and this is especially true for my History of French art and Paris professors, are brilliant. They’re the kind of professors you dream up when you’re in high school, anxious to go to college to have your mind molded by 60-something men and women who have lived, learned, and experienced their field to the point of ingenuity. Don’t get me wrong, I have had the most inspiring and amazing professors at Pitt, too, and maybe this is the rose-colored-glasses/I’m-in-Paris! syndrome talking, but I am so extremely pleased and in awe of the professors of my classes for this semester. I know I’m going to learn so much. Each professor hands out pages of notes at the beginning of each class and makes references to the page throughout the 2-hour lecture, where they discuss different topics, show slides for reference, play music/movies, and make relevant jokes throughout the course of the class.

To gauge the attention of 100-something students in a lecture hall for 2 hours is quite the task, but my professors do it with style. And elegance. One of my professors wore a cravate – need I go on?

Now, as I mentioned before, every class in taught in French and only in French, so after two lectures, side by side, I am mentally exhausted. I wholeheartedly understand everything being told to us in class, but I do have to concentrate and focus with every bit of my attention to make sure I am understanding what the professors are trying to tell me.

Luckily, they do recognize that they are teaching international students from all points of the world, so they often stop and explain a word they know we will not recognize – and they explain in French! This is marvelous, and it’s truly done wonders for my speaking skills. I was extremely guilty of asking “Comment dit-on blahblah en français?” or “Blahblah, c’est quoi en français?” instead of trying to explain the word I meant. This made it far too easy for me to rely on my teacher or classmates to simply tell me the word, just so I could forget it five seconds later. Now, I am forced (and thank goodness I am) to explain what word I’m trying to iterate. It’s difficult but so, so good for my language learning.

As for grades: In my language class, we have one test per week, and at the end of the term all these weekly test grades add up to 50%. We also have a final exam in my language class, as well as class participation/grammar/vocabulary as part of our grade. I’m forgetting the specific test schedule for phonetics, but we have several tests throughout the term (we have our first on March 12), as well as a final oral exam. For these classes, we can track our grades throughout the semester. For lectures, it works slightly differently. We sit in through approximately 10-12 lectures, and at the end of the term, we take a test. That’s that: the final grade we have determines our grade in the class. A slightly intimidating thought, but when I remember that all these classes only count for transfer credit, I feel slightly more relieved.

Oh! I’m also auditing a class on the history of Versailles on Fridays. But, since I’m going to be travelling many weekends and leaving around 13h00 (I’m finally on European time!), I’m missing more lectures than I’d like to say. So, I will attend when I am in town for the weekend and sit in and enjoy myself.

I must run to class. More posts coming soon on:

1. Study abroad probs ft. Danielle Levsky
2. Balancing talking to people from home and talking to people in Paris
3. Meeting Parisians/people from other countries and trying to speak in French plupart de temps

Ciao!

-Danielle Levsky

Sous le ciel de Paris

I’m sitting in my apartment doing what I believe are some of the most cliche study abroad/Parisian visitor things to do: sauteeing mushrooms and boiling potatoes to later add on Camembert on them for dinner, listening to a French Accordion Music playlist on youtube, and researching flights/train rides for weekend visits to other European locations.

But hear me now: I am a walking (sitting?) cliche and I am proud!

I realized this recently. Earlier in the day, I was rushing to and from metro to get to my Sorbonne classes and to buy a carte jeune for traveling on the SNCF trains. I hung about the train station for another 30 or so minutes, eating my packed lunch and perusing through Mango. Finally, I got home, checked some emails, called some people back home, and by the time I started pulling out my cooking supplies  my roommates had left the apartment. I was alone, it was peaceful. It happened when I sprinkled some herbes de provence on my olive oil smothered mushrooms. An instrumental-accordion version of La Vie en Rose played in the background.

“Wow,” I thought to myself, “I’m going to be living in Paris for four months.”

This realization never ceases to amaze me. This isn’t the first time it’s happened. The first time was just three days after my arrival, and my reaction to the thought occurred in this order: elation, nausea, sobbing, anger, sadness, elation again, nervousness. I basically turned into a bipolar pregnant woman for the first five days of studying abroad. Luckily, the worrying and weirdness subsided when I found some good friends to be around within my program and within my classes.

This realization was different: it was an exhilarating but calming feeling, shocking but joyous. I’m having this wonderful experience for the next four months, and, thanks to the generosity of my amazing parents, not just in Paris. I get to travel around Europe with friends and family while being a temporary resident in Paris and having a Sorbonne student ID. This entire journey, I just know, is going to be part cliche but part enlightening. What better way to grow up and truly become independent by living/travelling on your own in a foreign country?

The cliche I’ve created for myself that I’m most fond of occurs just before my classes. I chose the time frame 8 am – 10 am for my morning language class. At first, getting up at 6:30 am to be out the door by 7:25 am seemed like a terrible mistake. But, in the past few days, I’ve come around. I enjoy it so much now. Maybe it’s drinking my black coffee while looking outside my kitchen window and staring at the vine-crawling apartment complex, watching other French families get ready for work. Or maybe it’s leaving my apartment to the cerulean sky, watching the town wake up. I steal glances at our closest chocolaterie as the sweet lady inside prepares her pastries and baked goods in the dark. Perhaps it’s riding the metro, all the smelly parts aside, because there’s plenty of space for everyone and the morning crowd is quiet. I, and about 30% of the other metro riders, read as we travel to work and/or school.

But really, I know what it is. Coming out of the metro, approaching Montparnasse, the sky lights up before me. I walk down the street and stare at the tree park that divides the street into two. Today, it was lightly snowing. Paris is so pretty when it snows.

There are good and bad parts to living in Paris. I can complain all day like a true parisienne about the weather, the people, the metro, the streets, the prices, and I probably do, but my eyes are beaming and my mouth  is sprawled into a big smile when I’m sputtering those hot words. In Paris, the good parts are really, truly good.

My potatoes are boiling! A-bientot.

– Danielle

I made dinner for my friend and myself! Baguette with butter and salami; greens salad with olive oil, lemon; potatoes and mushroom mix; Remy champagne. I’m going to make an excellent housewife someday when I can’t find a job as a journalist/English professor. *quiet sobs*

Less what-I’m-doing, more what-I’m-thinking

So I didn’t want to make this blog completely about all the things I’m doing in Paris. Every study abroad student/visitor/temporary resident goes to all the sites, visits the highest rated and cheapest cafes, bistros, and restos, and talks about how wine is cheaper than water.

These are all valid and wonderful subjects to discuss, but I want to make this a little more personable. I want to make this blog an account of what Paris has been like for me and what it will continue to show me as I live here.

Plus, there’s a million thoughts that go through my head every day I’m here. I say I’m used to the culture, and in a way, I am used to European culture, but a lot of things are different.

Studying abroad, for my first and foremost example, is a very different life experience. At times I feel like I digress to a Descartian argument of my life being a dream, and in a way, while I’m here, I feel that. The experience itself is something I’ll probably never have the chance to do again, and even if I do, it won’t feel the same. I’m being pulled out of my comfort zone (my family and home in Chicago, my friends and boyfriend and second home in Pittsburgh) and thrown into this dream-like reality where each person around me speaks French, wears a lot of chic and expensive clothes but doesn’t use makeup or shampoo, eats gluten all day, screams at each passerby, and pisses on every street corner. (People would say that I may or may not be describing NYC sans the parler du francais, but roll with me here.)

It’s interesting calling Paris my home for four months. Ever since I made that Europe trip with my parents before I was even a preteen, then made that fatal choice in sixth grade to start taking French, both my parents and I knew that it would lead to this.

So yes, I’m here. It’s wonderful in a lot of ways and also not-so-wonderful in other ways. But whenever I get home sick, or lose my sense of comfort or stability, I usher myself outside my apartment and just look up.

All I have to do is look up at the tops of the buildings, decorated and ornate and breathtakingly beautiful each and every time I look. No matter how sleepless and restless I feel, I always this angle of the town, I will always have my Paris.

-Danielle

P.S.

I will quickly sum up what I did do this week so you know I’m not a hermit, but will continue onto more personal and thought-provoking accounts in the post I will make next:

• Centre Pompidou with a few girls from my program, specifically saw the awesome Dali Exhibit. Dali’s museum in Figures (sp?), which I had the pleasure of visiting the summer before my freshman year, obviously has more of his work, but Dali is my favorite artist and I think that the Pompidou did an excellent job pulling out his more notorious and exquisite works to put on display.
• I finally figured out my phone situation and sorted things out with FreeMobile. The problem, initally, was that I gave them the incorrect address to send my SIM card to and I didn’t know how to switch the address to the correct one. Turns out all I had to do was go to the boutique in Paris and ask for them to mail me a new SIM, free of charge.
• Went out several times with friends I made in the program, had visiting, or met in my language class. I quickly learned, as most people do, that it is better to buy liquor/wine before you go out to the bars so you don’t end up spending a ridiculous sum of money on three cocktails.
• I took the Paris night bus for the first time! It was shady (Learned the French word for shady: luche) but we made it to a 20 minute walk from my apartment. Of course, on the way, a kid tried to smoke on the bus to which the bus driver promptly tried to throw him off, then then some drunk girl insulted the bus driver and he called the police on her across the street… Bienvenue a Paris.
• I was able to hit the post-Christmas sales (soldes) on rue de la Commerce and found some lovely pieces at Zara and Promod: my two favorite stores of all time… and they are located specifically and only in Europe. Before you say anything, Zara’s American line is nowhere near as nice and not the same. #firstworldproblems
• I went to a Wed/Sun morning market. There, I had the option to purchase just about anything I needed but quickly discovered that buying fruits and vegetables at the market was ten times cheaper than getting them at the store (unless Franprix is having a sale). So I did that. It was exhilirating and fun, and really, really reminded me of the Jewish market outside the old city in Jerusalem. I didn’t haggle but I could have, and probably will in the future.
• Found out our washing machine was a piece-o-shit and have quickly learned how to use the washer and dryer. The bad thing? Using both the washer and dryer for approximately two loads of stuff costs about 7 euro. Yikes.
• I keep finding the best little cafes with seating areas and cheap/delicious products and making mental notes (also notes on my smartphone), so I know where to go when I need to study, read, or just get away. Which will be quite often.
• My friend, Zach, who is doing a teaching program a few hours ago, came to visit me for the weekend. To sum up our list of events/places and elaborate later: meh Vietnamese food because all the cheap restos were closed, bars named The Kremlin and Pigalle Country Club (both were an experience), the Red Light District (need I say more?), walking around Parisian streets at night, running around Bastille to find an art opening, meeting a bunch of international students studying in Paris, walking to the top of Montmartre to drink wine and eat baguette, cheese, and salami with the Sacre Coeur behind us and Paris at night in front of us, delicious dinner at 11 pm, drinking wine in front of Les Invalides.

Paris Bucket List

I decided to do the cheesy thing and make a list of some probable, some improbable things I want to do while in Paris. Please help me add to it if you have any more ideas. Better yet, if you’re in Paris, join me in doing them!

• Sit on the lawn of Champ de Mars in the shadow of the Eiffel Towerand drink wine/have a picnic
• Drink wine at every street corner in Paris
• Basically most of these bullet points will involve drinking wine – No shame!
• Sit in the cafes/restos where Voltaire, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Descartes, Sartre, Monet, Manet, Picasso, Van Gogh, etc. wined and dined in
• Start the day off at a cafe with a good book and a notebook for writing, and proceed to drink the same cup of coffee for 6 hours
• Hit up every museum in Paris
• Actually see everything in the Louvre
• Ride a bicycle in a striped black and white shirt, with a beret, with a baguette under my arm
• Marry a mime
• Eat really good food and drink really good wine and stumble up to Montmatre while you’re legally drunk and just look out at your kingdom and be like “I AM SPARTA” – thanks to Zach Adams for this wonderful suggestion
• Sit down on one of the benches at the Jardin des Tuileries and enjoy the sun while I read a book under the shade of a tree
• Sit on the beach (?) near Voie Georges Pompidou
• Actually have coffee at Les Deux Magots – need I say more?
• Sit in front of Tour Eiffel as it lights up and sparkles
• Enjoy at picnic on the banks of Canal Saint Martin in the 10th arrondissement among the Parisians.
• L/Inconnu – Come here after dark to hang with the Parisian hipsters
• Add a Love Lock on the Pont de l’Archeveche, facing Notre Dame
• A walk around Ile Saint-Louis

 

My next post(s) will cover topics of

• A Russian in Paris: Searching for Mah Peeps
• Homesickness: my personal experience
• Crashing on my own couch
• Classes I have and want to/will take at La Sorbonne
• Staying in contact with people overseas… but not too much!
• Making friends in Paris 101: Man up and talk to those pissed off looking Frenchies
• Events/places I adventured through this week

 

Who Am I? …Not Jean Valjean (About This Blog!)

First of all, I would like to thank you for clicking on this blog link, despite my very cheesy use of puns and literature references.

Second of all, allow me to introduce myself!

My name is Danielle Levsky, and I have been granted the amazing and once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study abroad in Paris, France, through an International Studies Abroad (ISA) program with La Sorbonne. I cannot tell you how excited and nervous I am for this trip, with all the many adventures and probable mishaps it will entail. I’ve left my family in Chicago, my classmates, professors, and friends at the University of Pittsburgh, and my magazine staff at The Original Magazine to pursue this journey, so in order to ease their worries (and possibly my own), I made this blog.

As Pitbull said, “Now we’re international, so international”

I’ve been to Europe a few times before to visit family friends now living in Dusseldorf, Germany. With them, we’ve traveled to Paris, Carcassone, Barcelona, Girona, most of Tuscany, Rome, and Amsterdam.

In this blog, you will find posts about…

• A tedious and well-documented observation of French culture, as well as how it stands in relation to the way my Russian-Jewish family dealt with a) The French, b) Europe, and c) The French.
• Zee American vs. Zee French.
• Expectations of studying abroad vs. Reality of studying abroad.
• Culture shock!
• Really, really great (bad) puns.
• My visits within France and out of France.
• My experiences and visits to/with friends from the U.K, Poland, and Germany.
• How one can successfully live off of bread, wine, and cheese for four months! (Disclaimer: Don’t do this.)

In this blog, you will not find…

• Re-enacted scenes from the infamous movie “Eurotrip.”
• Especially the one concerning hitch hiking to Bratislava.

So why Paris, you may ask?

Growing up in a first generation Russian-Jewish family, I grew up speaking Russian at home and English at school. The very beginnings of my bilingual language experience taught me that if you were going to make language mistakes, you would have to do so in the privacy of your own home. I will tell you now: kindergartners are ruthless creatures when it comes to a little, brown-haired girl in pigtails stumbling across her words in a thick, Russian accent. But, within a year, my accent was gone and my confidence was high. I have first hand experience in the process of language immersion and know that, no matter how long I study French in the United States (Approximately 8 years now), I will never be fluent or rid of my accent until I immerse myself in the language.

A study abroad student’s promise

I’ve been warned that Parisians will not speak to Americans in French, but as you will come to find in this blog, I am a persistent and stubborn femme. Here is my vow: I will speak to Parisians in French or Russian, but never English.

I will post at least once a week (Pics or it didn’t happen!), if not twice, and do my best to make you laugh and cry as you read about my experiences.

Now, as the French say…

Bienvenue!

Blog content, writing, and posts are copyrighted by Danielle Levsky; all other content is copyrighted by its respective authors.

Copyright © 2013 Danielle Levsky – All Rights Reserved.