La Joie de Vivre: Paris, Paris...

It was my first visit to Paris, and of course I had to start somewhere, so I figured why not with all of the traditional tourist attractions?

Let’s see, there was the Arc de Triomphe (bigger than I had imagined), the Louvre (putting my meager art history education to use!), Notre Dame (imposing architecture on the outside, really dark on the inside, and gorgeous stained glass), a stroll down the Champs Elysees to lécher les vitrines, which is the funny French phrase for window shopping. The literal translation is “to lick the windows.”

Everything was great. But I do have some regrets, first and foremost with FASHION.

When I was packing my suitcase, I was aiming for practicality. Bad thinking. What I completely forgot that--hello! I was going to Paris!--A parisienne would never wear a windbreaker… sacre bleu! I felt when I was walking down the street it practically screamed, “I’m American!” Or that whenever I went into a shop, the salespeople automatically identified me, touriste. Okay, granted, I could have taken it off, but then I would have been cold and uncomfortable and…wind-bitten. So in some ways I embraced the fact that yes, I was indeed, a tourist. (Like when I awkwardly turned around in the middle of a street after realizing that I was heading in the wrong direction of where I wanted to go, I thought, “Oh well! It’s okay, I’m a tourist!”) And for example it was kind of fun to see the look of surprise on some people’s faces when they realized that contrary to my outsider appearance, my knowledge of the French language expands outside of the phrases found in guidebooks. At the big attractions, I didn’t particularly stick out in comparison to the camera-toting, polar-fleece-wearing, white-sneakered tourists. But in other parts of town I didn’t exactly want to look like an easy victim, so to try to make up for it I emphasized my scarf, tying it around my neck in the fanciest French manner I could muster.

I am happy to say that Paris was even better than I had expected it to be, because I have heard of a lot of people who come to the city with high hopes and end up leaving disappointed. But the city did offer me some SURPRISES; some good, some bad, and some in-between.

One was how many other tourists there are in the city. I knew there were going to be a lot, but not exactly that much. It’s kind of crazy, because the Louvre is overwhelming e-nor-mous. And yet with everyone else milling about, I felt quite claustrophobic. When I finally got to see the Mona Lisa face-to-face, it was like getting a glimpse of a Hollywood celebrity. The enormous crowds of jostling people were like paparazzi trying to steal a snapshot.

The highlight of my Parisian food experience? In fact, not with the quintessential baguette or croissant. Rather, it was found in my first bite ever of falafel in the quartier du Marais—warm pita bread with a slightly gooey interior, raw crunchy cut-up veggies, fried balls of falafel, and “special spicy sauce” (that’s what they actually called it!) on top.

The Eiffel Tower, too, at night was a little different than I had expected it. They’ve rigged it up with these multi-colored lights that blink and alternate in all sorts of ways—which gives it a kind of cheesy grandeur, different from the romantic emblem I always had in mind. Aside from that, well, the city is gorgeous in daylight. So at night, it becomes magical, with all the streets and sights illuminated and shimmering in the water of the Seine.

To get from Paris to Geneva I took le TGV, which stands for “Train a Grande Vitesse.” It was a bit of a disappointment because I was expecting what the name suggests: to achieve speeds of grand vitesse, and that was not the case. Nonetheless, it was agreeable to watch the French countryside pass by, despite the lack of whoosh or whizz involved.

A funny coincidence: I was sitting at a cozy café, writing my postcards to home, when all of a sudden I look up and who do I see but D (my host dad’s) 21-year old son from a previous marriage, who lives as a student in Paris. Given the city’s grand immensity, I’m pretty sure it was very statistically unlikely that our paths should accidentally cross. Because we had met only briefly before, he didn’t recognize me at first, and guessed that we had a class together, until I explained—oh yeah!—I’m the au pair. I guess it just goes to show, dare I say it? It’s a small world after all.

So I saw a lot of Paris. Yet there is so much more than I didn’t see. Which is exactly why I can’t wait to go again!