Please don't ask me what I plan to do with my life or with my major in French Studies. If I'm certain about only one thing, it's that I'm in Paris, grappling with the often daunting complexities of the French language and doing my best to adapt to life in this large, bustling mecca of the Francophone world.
"Paris, ?a brasse" ("Paris, it's intense"), I was told by a young French woman I met while traveling in Eastern Europe this summer. It turns out that she was right. The traffic is intense, the rate at which people talk is intense and the prices are quite intense as well, almost to the point where the cost of living in D.C. is beginning to look like a bargain. When I look at the daily exchange rate for the U.S. dollar, I can't help envying those French students who are spending a year abroad in America. Nevertheless, I am studying in Paris and I have the feeling it will all be worth it in the long run.
I've met many people who idealize student life in Paris. I think the phrase "university life in Paris" probably brings to mind images of students flocking to lectures at the Sorbonne, having long discussions about the meaning of life in crowded, smoky caf?s and going on promenades by the Seine with attractive Parisians. I have yet to experience those last two stereotypes. Right now, student life for me consists mainly of racing against the clock and the afternoon tide of Parisian crowds in order to get to class on time.
I'm also trying to familiarize myself with the eating habits of the French. Every morning, I eat the same uninspired breakfast of corn flakes and toast provided by my host family, a breakfast which leaves me feeling hungry as soon as I walk down the flight of stairs to the street. The French breakfast ("petit dejeuner") is really light and consists basically of a croissant and a cup of coffee, which is supposed to last you until the afternoon. I have the feeling that cooking some scrambled eggs for breakfast in my host family's kitchen would be tantamount to sacrilege.
After my first class, I'm usually quite famished. I am lucky if I can grab a sandwich to eat while sprinting to the nearest Metro station.
On days that I don't eat with my host family, I often go to a Resto-U restaurant or student cafeteria. Unlike the dining halls in American colleges, the Resto-U rules don't permit seconds or thirds. It seems that the French tend to eat less than Americans, and what they eat emphasizes quality over quantity, the Resto-U being no exception to that rule. Even though I was like most AU students and enjoyed complaining about the shortcomings of TDR, I now sometimes find myself with a feeling of nostalgia for its quantity over quality approach to college food.
Taking the Metro in Paris is also a different experience. As someone accustomed to the air-conditioned D.C. Metro system, the Paris metro seemed like a mobile sauna during the last few hot days of September. I definitely experienced some culture shock on my first few trips. People occasionally eat on board and pets are apparently OK as well. I've already seen a woman with a "caniche" (poodle) and a man with his pet ferret.
My host sister's friends describe the metro as "glauque" (crummy, dirty and shady), but I wouldn't go quite that far. What I think makes the Paris metro unique is the presence of street musicians at almost every platform and even on some trains, especially in the morning. It is possible to hear everything from jazz to typical Parisian "bal-musette" accordion tunes to classical violin in the course of a half-hour. I left my MP3 player at home in the States but I don't regret it, because there is almost always music in the vast, dark labyrinths that wind beneath the City of Light.
Miro Nikolov is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences. His e-mail address is mn7752a@american.edu.
