Paris, Je T'Aime.

Here I am. Its 8:24am, and I am sitting at the gate waiting to board my plane back to the grand ol’ U S of A. Kate woke up with me at 5:00 this morning and walked me back to my apartment to help me bring my luggage down, say goodbye, and load up the cab. I definitely won’t miss the expensive cabs. He started charging me the second I arrived. Kate’s and my plans worked brilliantly. We figured if I slept over and we woke up at 5am to say goodbye, we’d be too tired to notice the fact that I was leaving. Success! I made up for it with tears in the cab home and if I could shoot fire from my glare, the passport control man is singed after stamping my passport and saying “au revoir!” with a smile. Not au revoir! Don’t wish me a bon voyage! I’d rather no voyage! I’m sitting at the gate now with my last croissant, tired and clearly in a vile mood (sorry for the ranting!) and looking through my pictures from the semester.

Getting through security was symbolic, to say the least. I knew 1 bag was overweight, but the second one was not! I loaded up my carry on to weigh more than I did, but figured it’d save a lot of money. I also had no room for my many coats so yes, indeed, I am wearing a fleece, a pea-coat, and my down long coat. The plan was to carry my duffel and very-XXL-purse on with my coats, which I’d hide inside each other, which would hide my little purse, and I’d buy a magazine to get a duty-free so I could carry on my mugs. FAIL. Epic Fail. They said at check-on that my computer made my carry-on weight too heavy, and my plan to put allllllll my books in my carry-on duffel gave me a total of 25 kilos worth of carryon. Its all beacsue I insist on only reading books in French right now, to keep current on the language, so its filled to the top with Voltaire, Flaubert, Balzac, Harry Potter (in French), Hugo, and Camus. Who knew that when they said a carry-on and personal item that was code for 18kilos of carryon per person, no matter how it works out! I sure didn’t. They offered me to take a later flight today and pay me $600, which would cancel out the cost of all the baggage (and hey! I’m all for making a profit too!) but Dad said there was too great a risk of disaster. Not that I’d mind being stranded here…plan foiled again! I made it, though, 3 checked bags and an overweight cost later. Woops. Sorry mom and dad…I hope my presents for you make you forget allll about this mess!

I think its fair to say that though New York might be the greatest city in the world, I found myself in Paris. I left thinking I was an adult, and I’m returning unsure of what it means to be a grown-up. Is it whether or not you deal with a landlady and pay bills? Is it the ability to do things by yourself? Wearing lipstick instead of gloss? Because I’ve been there. But I’ve also learned how much I don’t know, how big the world is, and how much I still have to experience. I’ve learned to forgive people, and accept things out of my control. Most importantly, my experience here has shown me who I can be and who I want to be. I didn’t know that self-respect and loyalty for others is not mutually exclusive. Perhaps that is the key to the person that I am coming back as. I hope she sticks around, because I quite like the new feeling of empowerment.

I’m going to buy January’s Vogue and guess what. 10 minutes until boarding. My tears have already allowed me to make some very nice new French friends who are going to visit New York (Hillary-style, some things can’t ever change). We’ve already exchanged numbers because:

If I can’t stay in Paris, then I’m bringing her with me. How? It’s simple! We’ll always have Paris.

T-24 Hours. Pret? Allez! (Ready GO!)

If someone told you that you had 24 hours left, what would you do? A bit dramatic, I admit, but the principle stays the same. 24 hours in the city called Paris. 24 hours to soak up every last cobblestone street, mentally photograph my favorite works of art, savor the buttery macarons and croissants (and goat cheese), admire the impeccably dressed French (especially the men; I feel I will be having a good-looking-fashionable-intelligent-sophisticated-and cultured-yet-straight–as-an-arrow-man dry spell. Is it bad that before leaving I didn’t like the pants around the knees, and upon a return, the mere thought of the boxers and sloppy shirts revolts me?), and hold on to everything.

Is this all doable? Nope. Am I trying? Not really, anymore. Why? Because I am in complete and totally denial that I will wake up tomorrow in a place I called home for so long, yet has never felt so unfamiliar.

One thing has not changed at all – my adoration of Audrey Hepburn. She glows in her roles, and though I have a developed an affinity for French cinema, the mark of a classic film is one which is enjoyed at a young age, yet understood and substantially appreciated at a later time: Breakfast at Tiffany’s. We saw it in Paris’ international film center. a quaint little theater, with blue satin walls and baroque, ornate, metal flower sconces. Only in France!

Yesterday Kate, Emma, and I walked. And walked. And walked. All day, all over Paris. I picked up a special treat for the Pearson clan, and just breathed in the air. Last night, we went to dinner at my favorite place near my apartment, Charles’ (the café that my friend Charles owns – I never did learn the real name of the café). Afterwards, Emma and Kate sat on top of my suitcases while I tried to zip them (fail) and we went to the Eiffel Tower for one last glimpse of the monument twinkling. To some, it’s a symbol of France. Now, I have walked by it everyday on my way to school, I have studied its history, written a final paper on its nationalistic critique and evolution, had lunch under it in the sun, taken pictures with it in the snow, and most importantly, it has seen the evolution of my person. Saying my moments there last night were my last for a while must mean I’m really going home. WOMPWOMP. (Told ya, I’m in denial!) The excursion was followed up by my favorite dessert (chocolate moeulleux cake) at the café La Terrace, we love there, and we love the waiters, and its right next to the tower! Tonight I’m spending the night sleeping with Kate and Emma – we’re going to stay up as long as we can watching Sex and the City’s series finale: An American Girl in Paris, Parts Une et Deux.

Oh Paris. Oh to stay here forever. What I would give to call it my permanent home.

But if I must return to NY, which it seems I must (I just ordered my 5:30am cab), at the very least I hope Melvin remembers me….

Suitcases and Happy Christmas!

Back from my trip! A quick Vienna summary:
Vienna was fabulous: Schonbrunn Palace, Belvedere, the KLIMTS!, Hofburg Palace complex, National Library, the Imperial State Opera, who could complain?

I learned that its very difficult to travel to other places solo where you don't speak the language - I felt a little vulnerable hearing men yell things in German and not only not understanding, but also not knowing what the appropriate response was.

Night train is the best way to travel. Go to sleep, wake up in another country, and no liquid restriction!

The art inspired me, and needless to say, I had a blast with myself :)

Words don't do Mozart's opera, Don Giovanni, justice, so I'll just tell you the following: I went to the opera in Vienna. And loved every moment.

I made it home in time for Christmas with my Jewish friends! On Christmas, I arrived back in Paris, raced home to shower (trains make you need them) and picked up LOTS of pastries to bring over to my friend Kate's. Kate's twin Emma is visiting now before she continues on to spend her spring semester studying at NYU in London. We feasted on croissants, brioches, viennoiseries, this list goes on.

Later that day, Liz, the twins, and I, trekked out in the freezing cold. We though it would be fun to visit the Eiffel Tower, not knowing we'd wait on line in the below-zero cold for 2 hours. When we finally got to the top, we took a moment (literally a moment - it was freezing) to take in a breathtaking view that only was lacking the Tower itself. It was dark so the whole city was magical and lit up. Knowing the end of the semester is near, anticipating a return home, fearing drastic culture shock, wondering if the new-me will last in the United States, nostalgia, and a desperate desire and need to stay in this wonderful city quickly led to a small emotional explosion on top. No where like the top of the Eiffel Tower to bring the truth out in someone.

As Jews, no matter where you might be in the world, you have an obligation to eat Chinese food on Christmas. Unfortunately, all of the Chinese places were closed, so Japanese sufficed. The four of us met up with two of my friends from Israel at a restaurant and had a very merry Christmas!

Unfortunately, I believe I am sick so I've been keeping it cool and resting a lot. Suitcases presently adorn my living room, and I am about to finish packing. Kate and Emma and I have been galavanting around Paris, trying to see everything I haven't seen yet, and saying goodbye to all my favorite places.  Tonight we are going to Paris' international film theater and seeing Breakfast at Tiffany's...in French!

Tomorrow we'll go check out a hotel for Aunt Donna when she comes in the spring, and splurge on Angelina's hot chocolate for lunch one last time. I think we are going to show Emma the Saint Germain de Pres region. Tomorrow night, I just want to stand under the Eiffel Tower while it twinkles. We're going to have dinner at our favorite near-tower café complete with my favorite dessert - chocolate moulleux (aka chocolate fondant cake). Maybe we'll convince the very good-looking waiters there to give it to us for free...they usually do try to get our numbers! Hopefully I'll stay up all night so I'll sleep on the flight home. It makes sense I have one last Nuit Blanche, the cab is coming at 5:30am after all.

Oh, how I dread what's coming...

Ciao from Florence!

Florence

Buonjourno  from Florence!
I'll leave the deets of the train out because they're no fun (basically the train was 2 hrs late. I got super anxious and worried on it around 3am with all the lurching and sabrina wasn't there for me to wake up and make sing to me!!). While waitig in the station, I met a girl from cornell who grew in Westchester (Larchmont) and is bffs with Kaitlin Atlas at school! Small world. I did, true to form, make friends with my cabin mates: the two adorable and anciently old brothers from Sicily who told me their life stories. I made friends with the woman who needed me to translate her problem with her room into French. She had diabetes and needed a single room so she could inject herself and had paid extra for this! How dare they put her in a room with other women! I mean really, she's 57..it's not college dorm life and she deserved a single! Obviously this was an awkward translation to do for the conductor...

I did everything in Florence today: Duomo, Accademia, Bargello, the uffizi in it's entirety plus special Caravaggio exhibit (nope! Didn't skip one painting! Dad would've died-it's all renaissance through Michelangelo), Dante's house, Pontiac Vecchio, Palace de Vecchio, 3 gelatos, leather market ( present for mommy!), Santa Croce, and last but DEFINITELY not least, Santa Maria Novella. Longest day ever but I've decided it's easier to travel alone because you can accomplish as much as you want! 

I didn't wait anywhere...I guess Tuesdays aren't that popular-the city was basically deserted. At one point, the guard laughed at me bc I got all excited that it was just me and Botticelli! Face to face! I also haggled beyond brilliantly at the leather market if I don't say so myself...the guy said it was a Christmas present hahaha. Score for the keester s!

Florence was great but I stand by my word even stronger-I could only live in Paris or New York (or Tel Aviv for half the year..I need seasons). And oddly enough, unlike everyone else, I like Parisians better than the Italians in Florence. I get a warmer feel but that might be a language thing. Conpared to Sicily, Italians were nicer there than in Florence. However, I just like the Paris culture overall. Whatcha gonna do-guess I'm a francophile! 

Even though I don't know that I have a need to ever go back to Florence,  What a wonderful city! Art everywhere..it truly was my Renaissance textbook come to life! Lippi, Masaccio, Duccio, Cimabue, Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello, de Monaco, Fabriano, Fra Angelico, the list goes on and on. At one point in my life, all the Renaissance Madonna and Child images looked the same. When I walked into the Ufizzi and, left to right, immediately identified them Duccio's, Giotto's and then Cimabue's, I just wanted to hug the NYU art history department.

The only place I didn't get was the Pitti Palace...

David Donatello and David Michelangelo send their regards and want you to know they successfully defeated Goliath. 

Next update will come from Vienna! Pictures to come once I'm home in Paris and can get them up.
Ciao!

FINALLY!

My last final is today, and then I am freeeee!!!!!

In the meantime, here's another fun comparison. I must say, I much prefer the bobos.

PS

On my way out to my favorite studying café, I saw this! So,

In the spirit of finals (irony noted) and winding down the semester abroad,  here's the most recent from my favorite blog comparing New York to Paris.

FINALSFINALSFINALS

Despite my best efforts to stop this from coming, finals are in fact upon me. Like a flood. They say that going abroad allows less stressful class, and perhaps that's because the number of assignments due throughout a semester is limited, but this is NOT the case. Well, not in Paris anyways. My friends in Prague, Florence, London, and Cairo barely have any finals, a two-page paper here and there, and overall, are gliding right on through this time. NYU Paris gives us no such luck. 5 15-20 (one of which is not yet completed) page research papers later, all I have to look forward to this weekend is learning all of Byzantine art history for my Sorbonne final on Monday, a cumulative final for my European Painters final (cumulative art history finals are wonderfully unheard of in NY), 3 essays to outline for architecture, and figuring out what exactly my conversation final will be. Needless to say, the stress is no less in Paris.

Ali's visit last weekend made this weekend worth it. Only when I see her do I get less reluctant about my return home.

In other news, my United Way fellowship has THANKFULLY come to a close. Though I truly disliked the people in charge, and overall disliked the way this program was organized, the day of action went great. We set  up a day of "fun"for a lower-class neighborhood school out in the banlieus, an important part of Paris to see, and dedicated the profit of our book-drive to them as well. My favorite part was when the head of the United Way Organization in NY showed up and asked for feedback. These few months of (and I am not exaggerating) truly painful meetings paid off and I told him exactly what had gone on. Strongly worded,  but sweet as sugar! He said he'd take care of it for me. Score!

My train pass arrived yesterday! Unlimited trains anywhere in France Austria and Italy, 1 week when the semester ends, tons of fun! I'll be back for Christmas in Paris with two of my two best friends here (also Jewish). It turns out that one of my roommates and other friend from Israel will be here Christmas too, so CHristmas is shaping up to be one of the best ever.

Clearly I have no business blogging right now. The evolution and origins of the Byzantine Crucifixion is calling to me. Perhaps I'll upload some pictures on my next break.