Column: My first bite of Paris

After being in Paris for only a day, I discovered Paris is not as French as I thought.
 
When I first arrived, I thought the typical Parisian had croissants every morning in a café with a shot of espresso. I soon found that stereotype was false.

For me, the food of Paris is a physical manifestation of the city’s cultural diversity.
Unlike the United States, a country created by the mix of cultures and foods of many nations, France’s history has been more focused on the French national identity.
 
So I thought France would have a plethora of foods ingrained in French culture, like croissants, for instance.

Considering how nationalistic the country is about its culture and lifestyle, I was surprised by the diversity of its food.
 
Though this is my fourth time in Paris, I feel like I have always been a tourist.

Everything I saw was through a tourist’s rose-colored glasses. I knew minorities existed, but I never saw evidence of their existence in terms of French culture because I was in what I like to call the “touristic bubble.”

I only saw and smelled the bakeries, looked up at la Tour d’Eiffel and saw other tourists.

That bubble burst earlier this week. But in a good way, I promise.

After coming home from lunch in a Moroccan restaurant, a country with strong cultural influence due to its proximity to Europe, I found my host mother and one of her friends at the dinner table making homemade sushi.

I sat at the table in front of a bamboo bowl overloaded with cooled rice.

At that table, a bizarre mix of French, English and Japanese ensued as we made conversation while alternating between rice and cut cucumber.

It was then that I realized that I was living in a city that was a huge melting pot.

I mean, why else would a French host family bring in an American student like me if they weren’t interested in experiencing a broader international culture? It would be cheaper and easier to host a French student.

I watched my host mother and her friend converse as I attempted to roll sushi.

None of us were perfect with our second languages. Hand gestures flew about as we attempted to either ask about or correct each other’s grammar and vocabulary, but it was fascinating to see a group of three women of different nationalities, languages and cultures interact so comfortably.
 
What is even weirder?

I feel like my first real “bite” into Paris and its culture was not of a croissant, but a piece of sushi.

Follow columnist Audrey Perkins on Twitter @AudreyNLP.