Column: American food in Paris cures homesickness

After being immersed in French culture for a month, I am really starting to miss the United States.

It doesn’t help that across the street from the market is a McDonald’s. I have repeatedly stopped myself from walking in because of a promise I made myself to try to not eat American food while here.

I ended up breaking my promise this week.

I know homesickness is starting to kick in at my school. Our student affairs coordinator once reprimanded us not only for speaking in English, but also for craving macaroni and cheese.

“You’re in France, why are you craving mac and cheese?” she said, before heading back to her office.

Don’t get me wrong. I love France and my life here at the Institute for the International Education of Students.

However, I miss feeling completely at ease in my culture and language competency. American food is my way of creating a sense of comfort and familiarity.

Julia Schrank, an annual Institute for the International Education of Students Abroad participant, said she feels the same way — though she has been here a full semester more than I have.

She said she felt homesick a week into the program. What gave her a sense of home was an unexpected box of Raisinets.

Schrank said the candies were an afterthought. Her mother threw them into a care package at random.

“At first, I wondered why, since I have never really been crazy about them, but as soon as I opened them for a study snack, I felt so much more at home,” she said.
Care packages are one way to stave off homesickness, but I wasn’t sure how to create one on my own.

Fortunately, I realized during my time here that America is trendy, and this can be seen in the numerous American foods accessible to homesick expats.

Out of American foods available here in France, the most easily accessible is fast food. McDonald’s has a big presence within the American and French communities.

I walked into one this week for two reasons. I missed America, and I was highly curious to see if the French version of a cheeseburger and fries would make up for it.

There is something about the initial smell of fried food that makes me feel at home. I remember when I first felt the homesickness kick in.

I was close to a falafel stand, and the oily smell had my head turning. I specifically remember turning in circles, like a dog when it chases its tail, trying to find where the smell came from.

Once I bit into my McDonald’s burger, supposedly the best-tasting and easiest American food to find here, I found my place in the world again.

Feeling homesickness is feeling as if you don’t belong, not that you want to go home. I miss feeling cohesive, and as much as I hate to say it, the French-ified burger filled in the gaps.

­audperki@indiana.edu