Ahhh... Paris

Well I still can't believe it, but I'm here.

Beautiful. Complex. Mysterious. Classic. Blah blah blah. You've heard it all before. Normally, when something is talked up as much as Paris is, it doesn't quite live up to its reputation. But let me tell you: Paris is everything it's cracked up to be. Now granted, I may still be a little star-struck, not able to view the city from an objective angle, but my my my... I love it here. One of the first things I did upon arrival in Paris was to go on a tour of the city with my host mother (Mme. Tardy) in her car. That was my first introduction to the beauty of Paris. To me, the most difficult part was to get it through my head that all the sights were real. All my life, the Musée du Louvre, the Tour Eiffel, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Champs-Élysées were just set pieces in a movie or photographs on a postcard. But here, someone took all those postcards, blew them up to life-size, and lined them up side by side for us to drive by and say Ahhh. And I did indeed say Ahhh and Ohhh and Wowww and any other verbal cue I could muster to mark my amazement.

Everything here is just so... different.

It's a little disorienting -- dizzying even. But maybe that's the draw. Maybe that's why I felt the need so deep within to come here: I needed a change. And boy did I find one. Take the people: Everyone is so incredibly beautiful, fashionable, and put-together. I mentioned to a friend the other night that I've yet to see one truly, miserably ugly person in Paris. Those people don't seem to exist. Everyone seems to be much more aware of themselves, much more conscious of their appearance, than in the states. And it definitely shows. When I walk down the street, stroll through a market, or take a ride on the Métro, I fall in love with every girl I see. Although I know that I probably stick out like a sore thumb with my shabby American clothes and unkempt pile of hair.

And yet at times, it feels so familiar...

I imagine that had I not gone to school in a city like Chicago before coming to Paris, I would have had a much more difficult time adjusting to the lifestyle. For instance, some of the other IES Paris students were worried about riding the Métro, but I took on the challenge and came out a champ. Paris' Métro is a lot like the El in Chicago -- if the El took steroids and somehow found a way to be efficient, that is. So far I love it, but we'll have to wait and see if my opinion changes after the first transportation strike of the school year. The city itself really isn't much different from a large city like Chicago, for the most part. Now, there are large differences, but urban life is urban life.

I have found it pretty difficult to hide the fact that I'm an américain. Even if I were to ditch my wardrobe and dress myself to the nines in Parisian clothing, they would be able to tell the moment I opened my mouth to speak. I think I've learned quite a bit in the 5 years I've studied French in the states, but to the French themselves, I probably still sound like an American counterpart to the Swedish Chef on the Muppet Show.

Which is something that my host family seems able to put up with. So far, I'm loving life at Chez Tardy. The family is very nice and very patient with my level of French. My host family consists of Monsieur et Madame, Théophane, Liesse, Nolwenn, and Nathou. The youngest, Nathou, is in his teens, but the other three kids are all around my age, if not a touch older. That's pretty cool, since Nathou speaks in verlan (a type of French slang in which syllables are inverted) from time to time, as most French youths do. I know I'm going to learn a lot from being immersed in things like this. The family is all very good at slowing down their speech a bit and taking time to explain things I don't understand. And they can usually speak English (sometimes with a British accent) if all else fails.

Another bonus: my family is feeding me like a king. Ahh, French food. For an example, the first meal I had in Paris was a lunch consisting of fresh melons, rice, grilled fish, bread with 3 different types of fromage, and fruity yogurt for dessert. All served in separate courses. It has been strange getting used to the formalities of mealtime, but I have enjoyed it immensely. And let me tell you: the French must have some kind of magic working for them during meals. I've heard from so many people that meals can sometimes last for hours, what with all the conversing and laughing. And that may be true. But the French do not, by any means, eat slowly. I think I'm a pretty quick eater (just ask my friends) but I find myself rushing just to keep up with my French hosts. I don't know how they do it, but trust me: it's magical.

These were just my first impressions of the City of Lights. I hope they've given you some idea of what life is like here. I know, I know: you want to see some pictures. Fret not: I will be posting some very very soon, as well as accounts of my touristic journeys. Stay tuned.

(edit: I've added a link to some first photos. Check it out to the left.)

Happy Travels.
-- Cody