Feeling stupid in France was the greatest lesson I could learn
Four months ago I wrote my first travel column, and this week I’m writing my last.
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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.”
This weekend was my first time celebrating Thanksgiving abroad. Of course, I figured it would be different. Grocery stores don’t exactly sell canned yams here.
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.
It’s been three full French days of guttural “-rr’s,” pursing “-ou’s” and drawling “euh’s” and honestly, I don’t sound American.
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.
As December rolls around, it’s time to take a step back and reflect on all that fashion has given us this past year.
One week post-Thanksgiving, the turkey comas have finally worn off – almost enough to make us forget the damage done. However, the damage from Black Friday shopping can never be erased.
I may have never cooked a turkey, boiled figgy pudding or mastered how to cut the first piece of pie without manhandling every other slice. However, when all else fails, I thrive at the awkward Thanksgiving table small talk.
Bust out your Juicy Couture tracksuits and your high school club tees – it is home clothes season.