Alexandra's Paris

Here's a map of Paris, according to moi. Enjoy!

Alexandra's Paris - Paris, France - a Gwigo Map by alexandrashanahan

Au Revoir, Mais Pas Adieu

Here I am, writing up what is to be my last blog post from Paris. As exciting as it is to be coming home to a house full of people who love me, the thought of leaving the city of lights brings a (single, glistening, melodramatic) tear to my eye.

I've seen beautiful things here and met some wonderful people, but it's time to go. I'm not super depressed, because I know I won't be able to stay away from Paris forever. I don't know what life circumstances will take me here again, and who will be with me, and how long I'll have to wait, but I'll be back. I can't wait to have more adventures here, because there is so much to this city that I haven't even been able to touch. It's not for a lack of trying, by any means, but there is so much history and culture and life here.

Ok, so here's the point where this post gets self-indulgent. But this is a study abroad blog about my personal growth, and HELLO anyone who has ever kept a personal blog is totally into themselves. So deal with it. I am important, read on:

Study abroad is supposed to be this life changing experience that you'll never forget. I know I'll never forget this semester, but I'm not sure I've noticed a change in me. Maybe other people will correct me on that point, but I think all I've done is put to use qualities that I've had all along.

For one thing, I am a person of considerable strength and determination, as well as someone who is generous and thoughtful, and I deserve to be happy.

I've had mostly happy days, but some very sad days. I know I have more of each to come in the future for the rest of my life, but it's not a problem. I can deal.

I'm fortunate enough to have the necessary people here for me who make it all easier. My sister Angelica, who is wise beyond her 17 years, told me "So what. It's not part of the big picture". She's brutally honest, and right. The trouble is sooooo not worth my time.

My family always tells me I can do whatever I set my mind to. This semester tells me that it's true. It's not always easy, but it's true. You have to be a go-getter, and passionate about life and happiness, and I am.

I am thankful for everything I've learned here, inside and outside the classroom. I am truly a lucky girl. As a cherry on top of this whole European Union experience, I've just been offered a summer internship in Washington D.C., at the U.S. Department of State, Bureau of European and Eurasian Affairs. I am so beyond excited. I'll have another city to explore during what I'm sure will be a fantastic summer. I have a lot to look forward to!

In the more pressing future: Christmas! Christmas tree hunting, baking cookies, and parties are all in store when I get home. I can't wait. See you on Tuesday!

My plans for my last day in Paris? Probably this sweet shop: http://cafefernando.com/a-letoile-dor-and-denise-acabo/

and suitcase shopping! (fun)


So, I guess this is au revoir, Paris. Notice I didn't say adieu. I will be back, you can count on it.

Bises! xoxo,

Alexandra

P.S. To come: A map of all my favorite places in Paris!

Christmastime in Paris

Danger at Barbes-Rochechouart

I've only felt unsafe in Paris once. It was a bit worrying to discover that the metro closes relatively early: 12:30 on weeknights, and 1:30 on weekends, but honestly it's never been a problem. You can walk for miles in most parts of the city at any odd hour of the night, and no one will bother you.

Ironically, the one time I felt like I was in danger was at noon. Last Saturday I woke up early to check out the marché aux puces (literally flea market) in the village of St.Ouen, just north of Paris. The North suburbs of Paris are actually pretty dangerous, but Ina and Jeffery Garten frequent this market to look for chic antiques, so clearly it must be totally gentrified and pleasant and smell like lilacs from Ina's favorite gay florist in the Hamptons.

The market itself was very interesting, once you got past the people selling Nikes that fell off the back of a truck, and a whole lotta junk, you could find covered markets selling everything from vintage Chanel jewelry and sweet first-editions, to modern art and antique furniture rummaged from estate sales and royal palaces. I spent a few hours wandering around, and decided to head back towards the center of the city. The market was closest to the final metro stop on one of the lines closed for renovation, so they had a bus shuttle service to Barbes-Rochechouart, a metro stop in the 9th arrondissement. Once I got off the bus I was submerged into a huge mob of people, so I guarded my purse and headed towards the metro station entrance. Once inside, I was confronted with perhaps 12 young men, probably my age, all waving metro tickets in my face. "They're free!" they said. Obviously not, why would you be standing around a metro station giving away free tickets when you could be out making money? Opportunity costs, people. I reached in my purse to get my own metro ticket ready so I could just walk through them with a purpose and as little eye contact as possible, when I totally panicked. The next part is kind of a blur of fight or flight and tears, but I'll try to break it down for you.

They were definitely cat-calling as I came in, being alone, but whatever, that's relatively normal and doesn't phase me much. Then they started laying their hands on me, or grabbing my arm and pulling. One of them swooped in and tried to kiss me, but I managed to get away in time. All while this was happening, they were trying to get me to take one of their stupid tickets.
All I could manage to say to these people was "I have one, I have one". Not one "stop", nor "leave me alone", in French or in English. I couldn't raise my voice at all, and I didn't even consider hitting anyone. I was too petrified and my body had gone on high alert.

I manged to make my way past them to a metro turnstile, and i put my ticket through the machine. I did this too soon, because the woman in front of me was passing through, and this voided my ticket. In my state of panic and fear, I just started to cry. Some of these men tried to give me their tickets again, but I was pushing them away and crying and running to the handicap entrance and trying to get through and considering jumping over the turnstile to escape what I thought was potential bodily harm. One guy in particular kept following me and grabbing my upper arm, telling me my ticket was "finished" in English, I couldn't tell if he was trying to actually be helpful or not, but I sure didn't want him touching me. During my breakdown I somehow pulled myself together and took another ticket from my wallet and put it through the machine and ran away to the platform.

It scared me so much, and I've never felt so helpless and alone. And disappointed in myself. Why did I let them get the better of me and overreact? Why didn't I say no? This probably happens to some people every day, and I'm sure they don't freak out like I did. What if I was actually in a dangerous situation? I probably wouldn't be able to defend myself at all. I'm supposed to be a strong and independent woman, but I felt like a fool.

Next time, I'm making like the Gartens and taking a cab.


Anyway, you should all read my friend and classmate Jennie's article on North by Northwestern. It really spoke to me, and she writes in a really honest and beautiful way. Enjoy! : I like you, but... By Jennie Wong


**Funnily enough, the photo accompanying her article is a platform in Barbes-Rochechouart. Darn you, Barbes-Rochechouart!

La Tour Eiffel with Carly

16th Arrondissement: BCBG rap

Hello, I'm back from Spain! I can write more when I'm not such a busy bee (this weekend?). But here's a funny rap about the Parisian neighborhood I live in. I'll post the lyrics in English below, but I just stuck the french ones in a translator, so it probably doesn't make sense to those of you who don't speak french. But I don't really care. Tant pis!

BCBG rap (Bon Chic Bon Genre, Good Taste Good Style, aka French version of yuppie)




hey dude
Let me introduce myself
My name is Charles-Henri Du Pre
I live in Neuilly
In a neighborhood but then lost
I am the only son
In a mansion
Is the cross, the banner
To sustain me.
Not an Arab corner
Neither a Euromarket.

Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy: This is our ghetto

Hey man, my name me
It Hubert Valery
Patrick Stanislaus
Duke of Montmorency
At 5 ½ years
I already had my Ferrari.
J'pouvais not lead (pouvais is could...I could not drive?)
Of course I was too young!

Have you grabbed my friend
Our desire to revolt?
I want to scream
"Damn, flute, shit, shit ..." (lol)

Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy is no picnic
Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy: this is our ghetto.

Hello, how are you?
Hello, how are you?

Y is tired of Fauchon
From Hédiard, salmon, caviar

Hello, it's Patrick on the device
Yeah, that's Pat, 'You okay?

And me? And me?
You do not know what is my life?
A rub Chantal
Or Marie-Sophie
To make the hand-kissing
Has evil sluts fucked (ed. note. whaaaa?)
Finally, I wanted to say
In girls a bit stuck ...

I want to be a thug,
True true outlaw.
But when you're born here,
You do not choice. (choose?)
Y is fed up with Mylène
Ségolène, Gwen, Celine, Eglantine
Marie-Chantal ...

Y is tired, my brother,
It has big problems.
Y is tired, my brother,
To experience the system.

My future self is already mapped out:
Private boxes, Sciences Po (ed. note. HOLLA!!!), ENA or H.E.C.
And in the worst case
If I do not work,
I'll have to resume
The box of candy.

Hello, how are you?

Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy is no picnic
Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy: this is our ghetto.

Dude, we're all products
In a society dependent on economic
Market fluctuations
Destabilizing the market.
Yes man!
And out of this straitjacket
Economic, capitalist
We need to say no, no, no, dude!

Hello, how are you?

Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy is no picnic
Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy: this is our ghetto.

Hello, how are you?

We come from a family who has ever suffered
We come from a family that can no longer suffer.
X2

America is my country and Paris is my hometown. -Gertrude Stein

Indeed, indeed.

Also,

"The best of America drifts to Paris. The American in Paris is the best American. It is more fun for an intelligent person to live in an intelligent country. France has only two things toward which we drift as we grow older- intelligence and good manners."
-F. Scott Fitzgerald

Why, thank you sir!

I should probably doing something substantial besides looking at quotes of American expats, but I can't bring myself to read since my brain feels like a fuzzy cloud floating aimlessly behind my eyeballs. I've been sick for the last few days. It's gross.

Waffles in Brussels and Souflees in Paris

I'll be in Spain a week from now, which means it's almost Toussaint, which means it's almost December, which means I'm almost home. Time flies, I tell ya.

Welllll, let me give you a quick rundown on what's happening in Gay Payree and elsewhere.

Monday, a friend and I went to Père LaChaise, a large cemetery in East Paris filled with the bodies of the rich and famous. We hobnobbed with Oscar Wilde, Molière, and Jim Morrison. I'll try to get some pictures from her to put up so you can see my pretty face, as well as the beautiful fall colors. That day was so gorgeous, and the light in the cemetery was just perfect. Paris doesn't do fall very well in general, so that beautiful day soothed my ache for my favorite season back home. It's constantly rainy and cold here, and nobody jumps in piles of leaves, or carves pumpkins, or drinks hot apple cider, or goes apple picking, or goes for a hayride, or dresses up for Halloween. Thanksgiving is going to be ROUGH, you guys. Yeah, yeah, I know I'm supposed to embrace cultural differences with open arms, but when those differences mean I can't have Papou's cranberry sauce, naturally I get a bit rowdy.

Early Tuesday morning I took a truly amazing (technology we don't have at home (yet) blows my mind) 1.5 hour high speed train ride to Brussels, city of chocolate and waffles and capital of Europe. It was a cute city, nothing compared to Paris, but what can you do. Belgium is kind of the Canada of Europe. What are these Beligians all about? No one really knows. All we can tell about them is that they have 2 official languages, and make waffles (which coincidentally go along great with maple syrup).

To add to the oddness of the Belgians, one of the main attractions is a fountain of a little boy taking a whiz. It's called "Manneken Pis", or literally, little man piss in Dutch. I refused to go see it, because that is basically the silliest thing ever. Why would I go out of my way to watch a little pudgy baby pee? I don't need to go all the way to Belgium to see that! French parents don't change diapers, they just let their babies go to the bathroom on the sidewalk. I've seen it far too many times.

We visited the European Commission and the Council of Europe, gained some knowledge, and I got some free EU goodies. All in all a successful field trip, even if I ignored one of Belgium's national treasures.

Now I'm back in Paris, fresh off a visit to the Opera Garnier and a cooking class. The cooking class was fun times, y'all. My friend and I figured it would be us and a bunch of 50 year old ladies, and we were totally right. Our chef, Emmanuel, was laid-back and unpretentious and helped us make cheese and chocolate souffles along with a salad. There was also wine, so, score. Emmanuel clearly loved all the adoring attention he got from the ladies, but who can blame him. Everyone was moaning with pleasure or in the throws of ecstasy after tasting their chocolate souffle (***OMG LOL, There is just something *special* about chocolate, right ladiezzz??? ;-)***), so I guess he does have the right to be appreciated as well. Thanks, Emmanuel. You rock my world.

Oh yes, and everyone is on strike again! Which means lousy mail service, and a crowded sweaty metro, with only a few trains running. Blahhhh. My absentee ballot better get to the states in time!

Bon Week-End, everyone! Now off to start on my piles of papers....

Stuff French People Like.

This is a list. Sort of like "Stuff White People Like", but different.

1. English. Sometimes it's the writing on their shirt that gives it away: "Who are you and why are you reading my shirt?" or my personal favorite, "Cat". Sometimes it's their use of expletives. I wonder if they apologize by saying "Pardon my English"?

2. PDA. I know Paris is romantic and all that crap, but everyone is smooching everywhere. I can't escape it. People are even smooching at the next table over, 4 feet away from my face. I feel like the third wheel, and I don't even know these people!!!

3. Dogs. French people love dogs. Probably more than their children. I saw a French lady hit her child, but I've never seen a French person hit their dog. And that's, like, proof, right?

4. Baguettes. At any time, 8 out of 10 Parisians are carrying a baguette. True story.

5. This joke. I've heard it about 3 times on the metro: "What do you call a person who speaks 3 languages? Trilingual. What do you call a person who speaks 2 languages? Bilingual. What do you call a person who speaks 1 language? American."

6. Carbs. My meals at home are quite nutritious, but I worry about what I'm eating the rest of the day. All my options seem to involve cheese, bread, and chocolate. And all the mayo they put on every sandwich!! I don't understand how French women only eat terrible things, and they stay thin. Someone told me it's just because they eat richer ingredients, which fills them up, so they eat less overall. I'm not sure.

7. Correcting you. French people will tell you when you've butchered their language. Not in a rude way, but they'll make sure you know you've made a boo-boo.

8. Drinking in the streets. Any open container is okay in France. A very popular night activity is gathering wine, cheese, and bread for a picnic down by the Seine, or in the Louvre courtyards, or in the Tuileries, or wherever. Some friends and I did this on Friday evening, and it was great! On Saturday, a few of us went to a festival around Sacre Coeur in Northern Paris. There was music, creepy people in costumes, dancers, food and drink from France's different regions. And no fence! That so wouldn't fly in the U.S. But it was a lovely day with lovely weather and lovely people.

9. 16 euro hamburgers. I mean, really?

10. Sitting in a restaurant/café/coffee shop for hours on end. No one ever gives you dirty looks or asks you to clear out. It's glorious. You're paying a premium to occupy their space, so take your time! There is a hierarchy of prices: Sit on the patio>sit inside>stand at the bar>To-Go

Well, I'll be M.I.A for a few days since I'm going to Brussels to visit EU institutions on Tuesday and Wednesday. Think of all the waffles that are waiting there for me. Until then, Adieu.

Rive Droite ou Rive Gauche?

When living in Paris, there comes a point where you must choose between the banks of the Seine. There is no getting around it. You must choose, and then forever define yourself by your choice. I've yet to figure out where I belong, but luckily I live here, so I have time to figure that out. You, however, do not have that luxury, so you desperately need my advice.

I live on the Right Bank (North Paris), and go to school on the Left Bank (South Paris), so I am well qualified to help you evaluate what kind of personality you have. According to some largely untrue stereotypes. Let's go.

1. Do you prefer art or literature?
A. Art
B. Literature

2. Would you dine at an Asian restaurant on on a street lined with sex shops and massage parlors?
A. God, no. I'm getting food poisoning just thinking about it.
B. Bring it onnnnnn. As long as it's authentic!

3. Do you enjoy capitalism?
A. YES
B. NO

4. Do you claim to be well-versed in philosophy, while in reality you've only read the wikipedia summaries?
A. No
B. Yes

5. Macarons or Crepes?
A. Macarons.
B. Crepes.

6. Do you know a tourist trap when you see one?
A. Yes. English on the menu, sub-par food, neon signs...Latin Quarter...
B. No. This place looks lively! I much prefer it to 'typical Parisian' haunts. Too bad I don't realize I'm wasting my money...

7. Would anyone ever describe you as quirky?
A. Never. I haven't a quirky bone in my body.
B. Sounds about right. Call me the quirkmiester.

8. Are you rich or poor?
A. Rich.
B. Poor. But not really. Because I live in Paris. I just like to pretend!!! teehee.

Tally your As and Bs to find your Parisian Personality:


Mostly A: You're Right Bank! Congrats, you are a snobby, shiny, Golden Triangle-shopping, workaholic member of the Bourgoise. Unless you live in Monmartre or Le Marias...but we don't talk about that....
Mostly B: You're Left Bank! Congrats, you are a snobby, ethnic food stand or literary café-patronizing (yo guys, I know this really cool little place), pseudo-intellectual bohemian.
Equal number of A and B: You pont-sitter! Your wishy-washiness lands you on Ile-de-la-Cité, where you will be forced to share a cot with Quasimodo in his bell tower.

Hot Jazz

Sorry for the lack of updates lately, I can no longer steal my internet from the Casa Fernandez, so I need to figure something else out.

This weekend has been rainy and cold. I refuse to wear a coat, so don't be surprised if I catch pneumonia. Coats are for wussies and people who have never hiked to class in 10 feet of snow with gale-force winds coming off of Lake Michigan. Hoo-ah!

I tried to go visit the Musée D'Orsay after class on Thursday, but it was a free day, and the museum was full with pushy tourists. So I couldn't admire any of the paintings without getting elbowed by large German women. Being far too delicate for such an aggressive and Deutsch-speaking crowd, I left before viewing any of my favorite paintings.

After that, I headed over to the Jewish quarter in Le Marais to look at some of the shops and to try Paris' world-famous falafel. Most of the well known places (like L'as du Falafel, recommended by Lenny Kravitz, or so says the sign in their window) were closed. Probably for some Jewish holiday I'm not aware of. So I stopped by another stand, and may have gotten food poisioning... My hommos and eggplant pita was pretty good, but an hour later I felt really dizzy and nauseated, and had to cancel my happy hour plans to go home and pass out.

Also, my dinosaur of a camera bit the dust. Good bye, old friend. You always kind of sucked, but thanks for the memories.

So, to make up for that disaster of a day, I planned a jazz club outing for everyone who wasn't getting crunk at Oktoberfest this weekend. I had been around Rue des Lombards before, on the trip to France I took with the BHS French department, and remembered it for its oddball nightlife. There are several Irish, Australian, goth, and gay bars around which makes for a colorful crowd. There are also a few jazz bars, so I suggested that we go look around and pick one we liked. We ended up at Le Baiser Salé, which translates into "The Salty Kiss". Thierry Fanfant, a bassist who comes from a long line of Guadeloupean jazz artists, and the rest of his quartet were playing, and it was a lot of fun. Their style was a sort of Afro-Caribbean jazz. They sat our group up front, so I was right next to the pianist, who was really excellent. I've attached some of their songs, so you can take a listen. I much prefer the live version, however. The club was intimate, warm and full of happy, singing and dancing people. It really put me in a great mood, and I was very impressed by the musicians. All and all, a really fun night, and I'll definitely back to see some of the Monday night jam sessions, which are free! I love free.

Also, fashion week starts on Tuesday??? How did I not know this? I'm going to try to get into some of the shows. Maybe STITCH can get me a press pass?




la macaque par Thierry FANFANT

Are you down with the RATP? Nope, you know me.

Never cross the RATP (Paris' CTA), they are ruthless.

Justine and I took advantage of the Journees du Patrimoine (This weekend, buildings owned by the French state not normally accessible to the public were open) by visiting the Chateau de Vincennes, built by Charles V of France, from 1340-1410. Well, King Charlie didn't build it himself, but you know what I mean.

On the way back into the city, I had to buy another set of metro tickets. Instead of waiting in line, Justine suggested I just follow her in through the turnstall, because it was a Sunday, and no one would be watching, and her friends do it all the time.

Of course, as soon as we passed through, we were approached by a stern-faced RATP employee who wanted to know what in the world we thought we were doing. Justine went into the famous French pleading mode I read about in Polly Platt (which normally works like a charm on men, she insists), but this woman would not budge. Even when Justine begged her to "look at me, like a human being". Zero tolerance. Stone cold. 50 euro fine.

Justine insisted on paying, so I just feel horrible. That was the most expensive metro ride ever.

Solo in the 16th

Even in a city of millions of people, it's still possible to feel pretty lonely. I mean, not all the time, and I'm not whining for your pity, or anything. I was just making an observation.

Today I was extremely exhausted. I'm not sure why, I didn't go to the Integration Party for Sciences Po last night, even though I bought a ticket. 11pm-5am on a school night? My, my. However, one of the French students told me there will be a "mariniere" party on a boat on the Seine in early October. As you can see in my profile photo, I am big on sailor stripes. They are kind of my thing.

My lame-ness (or not?) paid off in the end, as I was able to answer my professor's question that she uses to trick Americans. (Q: Where did the idea for seperation of powers in government come from? American Answer: The American Constitution, Correct Answer: Montisquieu) Wow wow wow, this makes me sound like a terrible snobby uptight person who hates all fun times and only prides herself on answering obscure questions about philosophers. Maybe this is who I am. I might as well embrace it. But, no! No, it isn't. I like to have fun just as much as anyone else. I just think my definition of fun is a little different.

Now, the Onion just wrote an article about study abroad that pretty much accurately describes most student experiences. This program is probably one of, if not the most, rigorous that Northwestern offers, and carries quite a bit of prestige, so working is not optional. So, I'm not really looking for that kind of study abroad. I don't want to travel around every weekend, or drink until I'm drunk as a skunk. I DO want to know Paris like the back of my hand, I want to learn, and I want to make good friends, American and Parisian.

Sometimes I do feel a bit lonely all the way out here in the 16eme arrondisment. It takes a while by metro for me to get anywhere, I have dinner at home at 7:30, and then the metro closes again at 1:30 or so. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for Sonia's hospitality, and her insistance for me to use French at all times, but sometimes I'm a bit jealous that a lot of our group is in a more centralized location. And at the same time, as much as I love my fellow Americans, I'm itching to meet some French friends too. Plus, I have a lot of time on my hands, with no job or extracurriculars (yet, I think I might check out the SciencesPo choir/orchestra tomorrow) to keep me constantly busy. It's still early, but I'm waiting for the pace of things to really pick up! And filling my free time with shopping is a terrible idea for my bank account, so let's hope something comes along quickly.

My cell phone is in working order now, and I can call anyone I want to, so I really shouldn't be complaining. I just think I spend too many Parisian nights in my room studying, when I could be in some café studying, perhaps with another human being.

I'm going to definitely make more of an effort to organize meetings outside of school, starting this weekend. Sunday I'm meeting up with Justine and some of her friends to visit President Sarkozy's palace/residence.

I've had a good week so far, it's just lonely when you're tired, alone, a bit sad and worried about family at home. But this too shall pass!

The Real World: Paris

Lately, I've been getting some complaints that my blog is boring (Angelica). To remedy this, I've finally found time to breathe between inhaling flaky pastries to write a blog post for you all. How generous of me, I know. :-)

So far, Paris has really blown me out of the water. Last time I was here, for 3 days as a sixteen year old, I came, I saw the monuments, and I left with photo-perfect memories. Living here is another animal entirely. It's soooo different, like...a real city? Who would have thunk it?

I am absolutely amazed at how many young people are out and about...all the time. Day or night, there are huge groups of kids, in high school, or college-aged just loitering about, hanging by the Seine, or on bridges, or on street corners. Sometimes there is alcohol, sometimes not. My friend Justine says that this is partly because Parisian youth have lots of money and little supervision by workaholic parents, which make sense. I suppose rich American teens do the same thing, but inside family homes, since the police wouldn't look kindly on large public congregations of young people or underage drinking.

Paris also seems much more diverse to me than it did four years ago. Maybe this isn't statistically true, but since I'm actually living here, I have noticed all the ethnic minorities and their integration (or not, regrettably) into Paris, instead of monuments and palaces. It is interesting that some non-native French are considered completely assimilated, but others are not. Recent European immigrants or 3rd generation Black French do not seem to face the same difficulties as Arab immigrants, for example. All citizens are supposed to be considered French, and that's all, no hyphenated labels here (statistics on ethnic origin are not kept by the French Republic). But just because race and religion are officially ignored by the state, doesn't mean ethnic and religious prejudice doesn't exist. Whether the struggle of ethnic minorities in the suburbs is a class issue or a race issue, it's still a major problem in France.

But not all of Parisian life is troubling. Hardly. Trust me, this is coming from someone who just had dinner in the Latin Quarter, and then just swung by the Louvre for a few hours for FREE. I am just blown away and thankful that I am able to do such amazing things. In the past few days, I've ordered my first cocktail (a mojito, and just 1. Mojitos are very trendy in Paris, btdubs.), visited the most AMAZING department store (Le Bon Marché) that I've ever seen. I've visited the first of the trifecta of Parisian burial places, De Passy (Manet, DeBussy, Fauré). Pere La Chaise (Wilde, Morrison, Piaf, Chopin, Delacroix, Callas, Proust) and the Pantheon (Voltaire, Hugo, Curie, Monnet, Dumas), I'm coming for you. I've sat on café terraces or park benches with views of the Eiffel Tower, reading for class and sipping café crème, so happy to be in the most beautiful city in the world. Life is pretty good, here and now. I like it. Classes are great, and I love Sciences Po already. I'd like to branch out somewhat from our Northwestern-English bubble, though there are so many amazing people in my program! Justine has offered to invite me to meet her friends, who go to another grande école in Paris. I'm also considering where to go for Toussaint, a long break I have from school at the end of October. If you have any suggestions, let me know! Or if you know any good Parisian jazz clubs.

And as Blair Waldorf says, you can't let anything prevent you from jumping into the belly of the beast, which is Paris. Gossip Girl premieres tonight, I'm a little excited.

Also, there are new photos below. I'm not a photographer, I'm sorry, and I don't take many, but hopefully you can get some idea of what I'm up to.

J'ai un problème...

Tomorrow there will be a huge strike against pension age reform, with two million Frenchmen expecting to take part, and I have to find some way to make it to class at 10:15... Google tells me it's about a 50 minute walk, which is a little ridiculous. Trying to take the metro will be too risky, with only a 1/3 of trains in service. Apparently the buses will still be up and running, so we'll see if I can figure out a route.

It's a huge no-no to be late to class, especially if you have a French professor. All this trouble because they're planning to raise the retirement age from 60 to 62! My goodness. Can't the French be happy with their 35 hour work weeks and 7 weeks of paid vacation?


Agrandir le plan

Nervous for nothing, I'm sure.

I have no idea where the snooty Parisian stereotype comes from. So far, I've made lots of 'friendships' on my way to or in Paris, and I've found that Parisians are willing to go out of their way to help you and befriend you, as long as you are polite. I sat next to a fellow study-abroader and sorority girl from SMU on the airplane, who was incredibly kind and empathetic and made my 8 hours aboard Delta flight 44 as pain-free as possible. After having trouble finding my airport shuttle, because I was directed to the wrong terminal for pick up, a AirFrance staff member named Ralib took care of everything for me, got another shuttle lined up straight away, and even gave me his phone number in case I need anything during my stay in Paris. The shuttle driver and I bonded over rush-hour traffic, and he even told me I was 'hyper-cool' for dealing with the delay. At my host-apartment on Avenue Victor Hugo, i've enjoyed the company of my Turkish host-mother, Sonia, who should brag about keeping a virtual United Nations of host-children, with deux Japonais, un Brésilien, et moi, l'Américaine. That being said, the others are leaving, since they are summer students. This means I get a room with a sweet view of La Tour Eiffel, but it also reminds me that I'm starting my SciencesPo orientation with a blank slate tomorrow.

I'm looking forward to meeting my classmates, since it is difficult to enjoy and navigate a city (especially at night) without friends. Plus it's just a bit lonely. At the same time, I am extremely nervous, which is bizarre, if you think about it, since most are Americans, all are Northwestern students, and many are Poli Sci majors, like me...

I put a lot of weight on first impressions, and I know that forming these friendships will be important, for the rest of my stay in Paris, for the next 2 years at Northwestern, and beyond. I will be spending the next 3.5 months with these people, and it kind of freaks me out that I've never met any of them before.

But if all else fails, and I'm just too socially inept to get along with people who are exactly like me, I have Justine, my French friend, who will hopefully introduce me to her school friends and give me the inside scoop on the city.

Either way, I'm sure I have plenty of long-lasting friendships on the horizon.

In Paris, at last.

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, I realized that I need to fall hopelessly, unabashedly, head-over heels in love with Paris this fall. I mean, it shouldn't be the hardest thing to do, with all the bread and cheese I can eat and beautiful architecture to gawk at. But I need this to happen. I'm going into this knowing that our love affair won't last forever, since winter quarter in Evanston awaits. But somehow, I'm alright with that, realizing it's going to end. It will be terrible, since Paris makes me so darn happy, but at least I will have seen it coming. I never thought being a lovesick fool would do me any good, but right now that seems to be the only cure for the pain I'm feeling.

Okay, Paris, wine and dine me, do your worst. I am strong enough to handle it, and I need some joie de vivre, stat.

But otherwise, I'm here, and ready to get this semester started and to meet my classmates on Wednesday. I can't wait to get into the swing of things!

Contact Information

T-7 days until my departure. Absolutely surreal.

For anyone who cares to know, I’ll list all of the ways I can be reached overseas, in order from most to least efficient.

Email: ashanahan@u.northwestern.edu

Facebook: www.facebook.com/alexandra.shanahan

Skype: alexandrashanahan. Please add me so we can schedule a video chat! Time difference from Central TZ is 7 hours, East TZ, 6 hours.

Cell Phone: +33 06 71 57 59 68

*I will not be taking any 262-215-7049 calls or texts, but if you leave me a voicemail I can listen to it!

Mailing Address:

Alexandra SHANAHAN

c/o Madame Sonia PIRAN

112, avenue Victor Hugo 75016 PARIS