#nyuparis

It’s Thursday morning. I am SPRINTING to campus to print out a paper. I check my watch. Merde. I don’t have enough time to go to campus then meet my class at the Louvre.

My mind starts plotting. I remember a professor saying there is an “anticafe” (a working cafe) next to the Louvre. Viola!

I sprint over there. I know I will have to pay a few euros for my short time there, but whatever. A sister was desperate.

I dash in there, grab a card from the young man there, and sprint to the restroom. I pee, then aim at my next goal: to print my paper.

I’m sweating. I only have 5 minutes to do this. I emailed to document to the anti cafe, and he prints it. I tell him I am ready to pay now, and he says that I pay afterwards. I told him I needed to go, and he tells me…

He tells me I don’t need to pay for the full amount, just the 10 cents for the print job.

My prince. The love of my life. I hope this guy finds a million euros on the street.

God bless Paris and God bless the Anticafe near the Louvre.

I have attached pictures and here is the google maps link: https://goo.gl/maps/F66DSXdUSvw

So yeah, if you have not gathered this was a slow week for me. But sometimes that happens?

À bientôt!

It’s a lovely dimanche after church. I have plans to go café hopping, in search of the best latte (I since have now converted to noisettes myself, but I was younger and more naive then), grabbed a jambon sandwich from my local boulangerie and hopped over to a park to watch the world go by, philosophize, and munch on a baguette. Indulging in flannery, if you will.

I enter the park, and three guys stare at me. Now keep in mind, French people don’t look at other people they don’t know in the eye. Whereas Americans are genetically coded to give a half-ass :| smile every time they pass a living being, the French do not posses this gene. You could see as to why I felt slightly unhinged.

But, in the words of the wise psalmist Cardi B “Me: Unbothered. Moisturized. In my Lane. Well-hydrated. Flourishing.” However, not a minute after I sat down on the park bench, a français homme, who was probably an eager young lad during the reign of Napoleon Bonaparte, started babbling to me in french.

I was flattered. Wow, look at me, an ex-pat, conversing in pigeon-french. Thriving.

“Américanes sont belles… très, très belles.” Oh, that’s weird. I thought he said that American women are beautiful… Probably just lost in translation!

THEN “Vous voudrais aller un rendez-vous avec moi?” Uhhh POURQUOI, bitch!? I gently let this gentleman’s offer down as I shook my head “non” then made some excuse that I was seeing “mon amie” at a cafe in ten minutes.

As I exited the garden, on of the guys who were staring at me whispered “Bonjour.”

God, I love being female.

I settled down at a lovely little café called Oberkamf with a flat white. Moisturized. In my lane. Well-hydrated. Listening to a militant body-positivity health-at-every-size podcast. Flourishing.

Besides having the elderly try to seduce me, my week has been peachy. I made plans for a solo trip to Amsterdam and Copenhagen for spring break (please don’t tell my mom, lmaooo). Will I end up in pieces in the back of a serial killer’s quaint garden shed? Aha, that is ME to experience and YOU to find out, sis ;)

À bientôt!

Hi babes.

Happy dimanche or whenever you are reading this.

So it happened: I made French friends. I mean, not super close friends that you could call up when you need to move or anything, but friends that I was able to use the informal “tu” with and kiss on both cheeks.

Her name was Alice and I met her through Tandem, a language-exchange app. Our first meeting was in a grungy bar called “Askini” in the 10th or 11th arrondissement. My phone conveniently lost service, so I had a bit of trouble finding it and was convinced I was going to wallow through Paris as a homeless woman. But alas, I found her.

The language level difference was extremely apparent as Alice was able to discuss swiftly about politics, cinema, and culture as she had been speaking English since elementary school. I; however, coming from the American educational system struggled to ask her if she had any siblings or what she liked to do “sur le week-end?”

However, Alice was patient and kind and even lied and told me my accent wasn’t thick. Afterwards, she invited me to go to a bar and dance with her friends. I felt like the Kayla from Eighth Grade who got invited by a high schooler to hang out at the mall. Hell yeahhh

Shortly after, anxiety set in because I knew I would be unable to keep up with the conversation. I would probably be awkward in the corner while all these Francophone speakers gracefully conversed. But whatever, I was ready to gO FOR IT.

If you ever wondered what a college bar looks like in France, imagine a bunch a twenty-year-olds drinking full beers in the street and smoking cigarettes. If this happened in the States, MADD would have an aneurysm and send each college kid with 3 DUIs.  

As we descended to the basement of the bar, I heard Beyoncé “Single Ladies” playing. About twenty minutes in as drunk college students were singing Selena Gomez and Ariana Grande, I forgot that I was a foreigner for a few moments. I was just dancing with my girlies and having a proper gaff.

As midnight approached, I decided to split. The SIM card in my phone kept on asking for the unlock code, which I had no recollection of receiving, so my GPS was a no-go. When I tried to go to McDonalds, the WiFi apparently discontinues after 11pm, so that plan failed. Tired and hungry, I eventually circumnavigated back to my apartment. My brief Cinderella moment that Paris gave me had evaporated.

But on the bright side, I was able to figure out the SIM card sitch, so that is figured out, thank G. Other than that, this week has gone swimmingly. Just straight grinding, conjugating “avoir” and analyzing Notre Dame. Also, I saw “Vice” in theaters and I skurt-skurted out of that theatre so fast before you could say “Dick Chaney is satan” so I wouldn’t get clocked as an American.

Hopes things as well wherever you are. Are you excited for the dumpster fire that will be the Oscars next week? Woo-hoo!

À bien-tôt!

hi girls,

So you might be thinking “Lauren, you have found the love of your life already? Aren’t you going a little fast?” And yeah, our relationship has gone fast, but love is love, and that’s the tea, sis

We first met in the NYU lobby. She was gazing right at me. I smiled and went up to her. The rest of history...

She is so sweet and makes my heart flutter. She never disappoints and is always supportive.

Everyone, please meet the love of my life, my partner, my girlfriend, the 50 cent espresso machine.

And just because I have met my future wife, doesn’t mean that I am a changed woman. I still turn metal incapacitated whenever the lady at the boulangerie asks me “ça tout?” (“That’s all?”) after I order my baguette. Just today I tried to ask someone “Where is the trashcan?” but accidentally asked “Where is the wallet?”  Why am I like this.  

Anyways I hope things are going well in the States. What you have been up to? How’s your internship? What’s your man’s up to? I’ve been learning my ABCs and looking at slabs of cement that have once been Roman baths. Pretty invigorating if you ask me.

Parle à vous prochain semaine!

WEEK 0

Bonjour mes amies,

I am here in Paris, thriving. I wake up every day and at the same time bright and early to watch the sunrise with a café in hand. Jet lag? We don’t know her.

I arrived here three days ago wearing a beret and red lipstick having slept like a summer lamb on the plane. I have had no problems with the language barrier as I was able to speak near-perfect french thanks to practicing Mango ten minutes a day a month before I arrived.

I glided my suitcases to my room as my host mom led me to my room overlooking the Eiffel tower. After I neatly unpacked my suitcase and folded all of my clothes the Marie Konmari way, I was feeling a little fatigued, so I strolled to the nearest café where Pierre, the most charming partisan, served me a warm and luscious pain au chocolat. At night, I shimmied into my silky PJ’s, did my nighttime skin care routine, made a cup of tea, and drifted into a deep slumber. Paris: my home.

ha.

Yeah, it didn’t go like that. I’m NOT an easy, breezy, glossy instagram travel bitch. My week 0 (I’m saying that because I have not technically spent a week here yet… Classes start on Monday) was been A ROUGH ONE, hon.  

The flight here was; surprisingly, better than I anticipated given that I upgraded myself for free to business class because the plane was very empty. I had no one sit next to me and plenty of leg room. Sure, I got no sleep, but at least I was able to go pee without somersault over three people.

However, this quickly turned sour. Painful memories of silent cab rides because the taxi driver and I did not speak the same language, awkwardly laughing when I didn’t know what someone was saying, and waiting for an hour outside my host mom’s apartment because I told her the wrong time awaited me.

After I threw my bags down, I went to a school-sponsored Vivaldi concert because I can’t miss “an opportunity of a lifetime.” I slept through most of it because I was so jet lagged and on the way back to the apartment, I scored a 35 euro fine because I did not understand how the Paris metro station worked and some asshole metro ticketer decided to penalize me.

I cried on the way home.

I wish my misfortunes ended there, but there were many more ups and downs during the week to come. Parisians giving me the cold shoulder because I don’t speak the language very well, sharing crepes with friends in cafes, miscommunications with my host mom, being able to order a ‘pain au chocolat’ in french, considering jumping out of my window to my death, receiving french lessons from a barista, waking up between 2am-4am for no freaking reason then inadvertently sleeping until noon.

I know that many people go through culture shock and it is going to take a while to get adjusted and I am very lucky to have to opportunity to study abroad. But also I want to be honest about my experience. I wanted to fully embrace the city and get married before my time ends so I can get the hell out of America, but my mental and physical health needs to take priority to adjust. As RuPaul says, “If you can’t love yourself, how the HELL can you love somebody else?”

Thanks for reading :)

À bientôt!

like-dancing-about-architecture:

Top 5 NYUP Tips

If someone asked me what the biggest pieces of advice I could give about living in Paris, were, this is what I’d tell them. Some of this is what you’ll read on any study abroad survival guide, but really, there’s a reason that some advice is repeated so often- it’s good. Follow it. Especially 1 and 2 in this case. Anyways, this is what helped me survive in and learn to love the city (not that Paris is hard to love!) and I hope that anyone incoming students find them helpful!

1.) Make French friends. Really. I know it can be daunting, but the very best way to see the city is to meet people who know the city. (Not to mention that the best way to learn a language is to practice with native speakers!) I had a few friends who studied in Paris and all of my best adventures were with them. It’s easy to get trapped in the NYU/ American bubble, but try to get out of it as much as possible. Hang out at the Sorbonne library, look into any NYU planned meet-ups with French students, find events in the city. (I found that the app Couchsurfing was helpful to find events). You will regret it if you spend your year only hanging out with Americans!

2.) Get out of the dorms. My biggest regret was not completing the Paris bucket list I made in the beginning of the year. While I had many unplanned adventures and discovered so much that Pinterest didn’t tell me about, i was a little sorry that I hadn’t seen some of the things I’d planned on. My biggest excuse? Laziness. It’s so easy to get sucked into the routine of class, dorm, Netflix, and spend more time in your bed than in the city. You’re only in Paris for one year, and the city has so much to offer. Someone told me that Paris is underrated, because the sights labeled as must-sees are overrated. Once you’ve seen the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame, get out and discover what the guidebooks don’t tell you!