Coming to Paris is the opportunity of a lifetime for me. I’ve had the desire to travel since I was little, but Paris always sat comfortably at the top of my list. I could picture myself as a writer in a cafe with an amazing view of the Eiffel Tower. Being in Paris is a dream come true, and even after being here for days, it feels unreal. In my state of awe, the city can feel like a mere artistic representation of reality. Like an expertly carved statue, it’s incredibly detailed and lifelike, yet smooth and unflawed.
So far I’ve spent much of my free time shopping, often browsing thrift stores for cute finds. It’s been a little disappointing so far, and I find that much of the clothing is either overpriced or not my size. The good news is that there is no shortage of shops to explore.
The language barrier and cultural differences make integrating into Parisian life a bit of a ride for me. During my shopping trips, I’m often embarrassed by little things like when I forget to greet store owners or mutter “bonjour” instead of “bonsoir” after 6 p.m. I didn’t mentally prepare myself for all of the setbacks that not knowing a lot of French would bring, like being unable to read packaging. I find myself increasingly anxious to interact with locals.
Still, there are new things to be excited by every day. The city itself is a masterpiece, filled with both natural and manmade works of art. Beyond the elegant paintings in the overwhelming number of museums, I take time to notice the curated aesthetic of clothing on passersby. I’m drawn in by the quiet charm of the buildings and the bustle of tourists and residents going about their day. There is no one way to view Paris: it’s diverse and dynamic.
Each Sunday I hear “La Vie En Rose” from my window, luring me out for a midday stroll. Not only is this my favorite French song, but I really can’t help but see life here through rose-colored glasses. I notice pink flowers blooming from green stems during my daily commutes, accenting Parisian windows above and brightening my day. They happily juxtapose the neutral buildings that make up the city.
Coming from Florida, riding and navigating a public transportation system was wildly out of my comfort zone before I started at Northeastern last year. After much practice (and getting lost a few times), it’s now an experience I’m comfortable with and love. Many here see the Metro as part of their daily grind. For me, it’s a sense of familiarity. Public train stations are a trademark of big cities. The neat rows of white and color-accented tiles covering the walls of the Metro stations surround me in a reminder of my new home in Boston.
I also love the rush of people weaving through crowds and past brightly colored posters and the signature white tiles. Not only is this another reminder of the hustle back home, but it’s a way to quietly observe the life of the city. While I haven’t entirely learned my way around, and I’m sure I haven’t shed the “loud American” stereotype yet, I’m having an incredible time figuring it out.
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