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Through the fog of my jet lag, it almost seemed a dream. Before my eyes, in the bustling cobblestone streets of Aix-en-Provence, France, stood a woman calling to a tiny Pomeranian 10 feet away from her.
This semester, I’m studying abroad in Aix-en-Provence, France, where I’m taking classes at a local university alongside French students and doing a homestay with an elderly French woman.
Four months ago I wrote my first travel column, and this week I’m writing my last.
There are a lot of words that translate from English to French strangely. Take “French toast” for example, which I discovered on my breakfast menu had been translated to “pain perdu,” meaning “lost bread.”
Final exams are almost around the corner, but there’s only one test I actually care about acing – the Vogue Paris Fashion Festival. In case you forgot to study, here’s a quick recap:
Back in 6th grade French class, I remember wanting to go to Paris for three, specific things: First I wanted to see the Centre Pompidou. Then, the Catacombes. But most importantly, I wanted to stay in a youth hostel, or as I learned the phrase on my vocabulary list, "une auberge jeunesse."
When travelling as a college student, you have to be comfortable with a variety of sleeping arrangements. We don't have a stable income, so a lot of times this also means not having a stable place to crash.
You meet a stranger on a Monday. By Tuesday, you’ve learned each other’s majors. By Wednesday, you’ve booked a trip together to Portugal.
When packing for a trip to Paris, it’s not hard to fill a suitcase or two. Okay, maybe even three.
The first real Parisian I met once told me being a vegetarian in France was “unpatriotic.”
When visiting a foreign country, the last thing you want to think is, “Wow, it’s just like Indiana.”
I didn’t know my clothes could speak English until I visited Paris. It was my first day in the city, and I had just attempted my first French conversation to ask the grocer if he carried any almond milk.
Monday morning classes are a little different here in Paris. Whereas I used to roll out of bed and sprint to Ballantine Hall, this Monday I swiped my metro pass and headed for the Louvre.
The internet seems to care about the French woman — how she dresses, prepares a coco vin and eats croissants all day without gaining ten pounds.
For study abroad students, the visa application can be pretty traumatizing.
I don’t remember how my obsession with Paris began but gosh, I wish I did.
Dragging myself out of bed at 6 a.m. is no easy task. I assume for most people who aren’t marathon runners or neonatal nurses, waking up early is equivalent to listening to crying babies on eight-hour flights or getting food-poisoning.
This past week was spring break for my study abroad program, so my friend Bridget and I flew to Brussels, Belgium, to stay with some of my aunts, uncles and cousins. Living in a two-story flat that faces the beautiful 15th century cathedral walls of Église Notre-Dame du Sablon, resides my mom’s older brother, Kevin Conru.
While Tommy Wiseau’s new movie “Best F(r)iends” is set to release March 30, it is his first film, “The Room,” that has become a classic, not for its artistic brilliance but for its intoxicating awfulness.
“Hey, I want to go to Norway,” my roommate said in a coffee shop about a month ago.