Thoughts on Paris a week after the attacks

It's now a week since the attacks, and so much has changed. This is how I feel the atmosphere in Paris has changed over the last week; drastically, but not irreparably.
For one, people are scared, and understandably so. The other day when me and a friend were getting lunch from a place just inside Invalides metro station, a siren went off because somebody went through the wrong barrier. Everyone jumped and looked terrified, including the armed policemen who were patrolling, and during the brief moment before I realised there was no danger, my brain went into overdrive and I was prepared to run.
I'm slowly becoming used to seeing armed police everywhere. Yesterday I was on the métro and turned round to be faced with a machine gun. The policeman holding it was chatting with his colleague, which made the whole thing a lot less terrifying, but a little unnerving all the same.
Now, my bag is always being checked, even before being allowed into a supermarket. Security is being stepped up absolutely everywhere. Also, pretty much every big public event in the near future has been cancelled, including the turning on of the Christmas lights on the Champs-Elysées, which shows how seriously the authorities are taking public safety (and rightly so).

Have my own feelings about Paris changed? Yes and no. Something like this so close to home is horrible, and upon hearing the news that an attack was planned for La Défense (which I walk through on my way to work five days a week) I felt physically sick. This week, it has been hard to feel safe, but I am getting there.
However, I am trying to stay positive. The Paris that I know and love is still there, beneath everything. The lights of the cafés and cinemas of Montparnasse are still shining. This may sound silly, and I apologise if so, but the terrorists have already taken enough. They cannot take the spirit of this city too.

Just three hours before the attacks, I was sitting on the steps of La Grande Arche at La Défense. The whole of the business district was lit up in the dusk, the lights from the skyscrapers glimmering against the backdrop of the purple sky. I could see right to the Arc de Triomphe, with a shimmering column of white and red lights from the traffic going towards it. It was so beautiful that I just sat there and let the city buzz around me. I felt at home, and very, very safe.
The memory of this feeling is what is keeping me calm, and it gives me little nudges whenever I hear a siren, or see that yet another suspicious package has been found on the métro (this past week, this has been happening pretty much every hour, no exaggeration).

On Monday, I made a spontaneous decision to go to the Place de la République for the memorial at noon. It was very moving to take part in the minutes silence with hundreds of others, and to see the monument in the centre covered with flowers, candles and messages of peace and hope.
I also went with some people to see the Eiffel Tower lit up in the colours of the French flag, which was incredible.

Fluctuat nec mergitur- she is tossed by the waves, but does not sink. The motto of Paris has never been more apt.

K x

A sad day for Paris.

After the events of yesterday evening, Paris is in mourning. Having been advised not to go out, I'm in my room trying to concentrate on my essay...which is near impossible, because last night countless people lost their lives for no reason other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Paris feels like a warzone.

Last night, we were all gathered in the kitchen until the early hours checking the news and calling friends. I couldn't believe that whilst we were sitting there, free and out of danger, there was a hostage situation taking place just across town, and people were fighting for their lives.
Although the events that were unfolding were horrific, it was heartwarming to hear that all Taxis were made free so that people could get home, and that people were opening up their apartments to strangers who were stranded. It gave me hope that human kindness was prevailing through the chaos and fear.

After spending a while debating whether it was safe or not, I popped to the corner shop one street away, on the usually busy Boulevard du Montparnasse. Today, however, there was almost no traffic and the few people I did see were glancing around them warily. Usually I would take a leisurely stroll listening to music; this time, I walked quickly, on high alert.

I think it will take a while for me, and for countless others, to feel safe in Paris again, or anywhere for that matter. The very vibe of the city is different, I feel. People are terrified, and for that reason all day I've been hearing rumours of a loud bang here, sirens heard there, etc. Fortunately it was just paranoia and nothing serious, but it just shows how deeply this has affected everyone.

It's also important to pray for the other places in the world where attacks have taken place this week, such as Beirut. The tragedy has not been very widely reported in Western media, and this saddens me. This week I'm going to take time to think and pray for everyone affected, and try and donate to a charity. That way I'll at least feel as if I'm doing something to help, however little.

Thank you to everyone that called, texted or messaged to ask if I was okay. I love you all. I'm thinking and praying for the victims families; it's difficult to feel fortunate to be safe when you know that so many others aren't.

K x

The Montparnasse Tower, Halloween in Paris, and discovering monuments by accident

Another week in Paris, and as usual my fridge is empty (well, the measly half-shelf that belongs to me in the fridge, that is), I have a pile of washing to do, and my library books are sitting on my desk giving me accusing looks as they will soon be overdue. Paris or no Paris, the student clichés are still the same!

Last week I did something I've been meaning to do for a long time; I went up the Montparnasse Tower! A bit of background info before I start gushing about the view; from what I've heard, Parisians consider this tower to be the Eiffel Tower's ugly stepsister. There's a joke that the view from the top is the best, because you see everything except the tower itself! 

However, I actually quite like it. It may not be pretty, but it serves as a friendly marker to me of where my beloved quartier is, and at night it lights up, which the child in me loves. And of course, the view is beautiful! 

I would recommend going up at night. When the city is lit up (bar the Montparnasse cemetery, which is a little creepy), you honestly feel as if you are on top of the world. I have no idea as to how many miles you can see, but as the region is quite flat, everything is spread out at your feet. Plus, the Eiffel Tower sparkles for 5 minutes on the hour, every hour until midnight I believe. Go, and take a friend so you can marvel together about how impossibly beautiful everything is. (My friend Josh was very patient with all my ramblings about how amazing the view was!) 

Another great experience was the super thick hot chocolate from one of the cafés in the Place Des Vosges (I can't remember the name, but it's to your left when you're facing Victor Hugo's house). 

Unfortunately I have yet to find the perfect coffee shop, but the Café Guynemer (rue Guyenmer, by the Jardin du Luxembourg) came pretty close! I went there for a catch up with a girl I knew at college and her friend. They were only in Paris for a couple of days so it was great to meet with them, and explore Montmartre a bit together. It was nice to hear stories about home, but also a little surreal, as it feels as if light years have passed since I was living at home and going to college.

Whoever said that French people don't do Halloween certainly hasn't been in Paris at this time of year! I rushed out to buy a Venetian mask the day of a Halloween party, and ended up queuing for 15 minutes outside a small shop that was stuffed full of people trying to find costumes and decorations. Once inside, claustrophobic was not the word. I'm surprised I even managed to get to the till.

I then had to pick up some ingredients for dinner with my friend, which was also a struggle because out of the three shops I went to, none had bacon! Has bacon not caught on over here, or am I just looking in the wrong places?! Armed with a Venetian mask, a leek and bacon fillets (the only thing I could find), I got on the métro and received some very odd looks. The evening then went as follows; my first experience of Lizzie's legendary bacon, leeks and pasta, then onto a bar on rue Oberkampf to meet up with tipsy British students covered in fake blood. All in all, a pretty good night!

On Saturday, I was faced with a choice; do research for my next essay, or grab a vélib and go on a bike ride all around Paris. Of course, I chose the latter, and spent a couple of hours discovering boulevards and squares that I never knew existed! The 2nd/3rd arrondissement is great for this because there's lots of little side streets to explore. I cycled along in no particular direction, thinking about how I should visit the Porte St Denis, when I turned a corner and there it was in front of me! It's actually pretty impressive, and in an area that isn't necessarily on the tourist radar (please correct me if I'm wrong!), so I would definitely recommend a visit, accompanied by a ramble around the quartier.

Although it's Reading Week this week, I'm staying put in Paris with babysitting duties and a large pile of work to get through.

Bisous, 

K x 

Cycling adventures and feeling at home

I've been here for six weeks, isn't that crazy? Some days I feel like I've been here forever, which is great, but also scares me a little because I never, ever want to take being here for granted. I'm a big believer in always appreciating what you've worked for, and what your family, friends and teachers have helped you to get. It's lovely to feel at home, but I don't ever want there to be a morning where I'm walking to the métro and don't think, 'Wow, I'm in Paris. This is where I live, for at least three years.' This thought never fails to lights up my day.

 Autumn has definitely set in here. In the little square where I sometimes eat my lunch (nothing beats a chicken wrap), the leaves are falling fast, and I've bought myself a fluffy grey scarf the size of a beach towel to wrap myself up in. I can't wait to experience this city in the winter!

My walk from the métro to Uni takes me past the Assemblée Nationale, which is rather exciting because there is sometimes a protest happening. The other day there was a protest against the job cuts at Air France. Another time, a diplomat of some sort arrived in an armoured vehicle, and  a harassed-looking man was giving a statement to at least twelve journalists who were all sticking cameras and microphones in his face. I just sauntered by in the background, wondering if this was my fifteen seconds of fame! It's also pretty crazy that some of my lectures are focussed around the Assemblée Nationale. I sit there thinking, I walked past it on the way here!

I now cycle home from Uni most days, something I really look forward to because I just love whizzing down the Boulevard St Germain! I've been going out on little bike rides just for the fun of it. On Sunday I cycled to the Jardin des Plantes. It's great for getting my bearings in this city, because I have a terrible sense of direction. But the Left Bank seems to be made up of lots of long Boulevards that all interconnect at one stage or another, so finding my way is easier than I thought.

When I first started this cycling malarkey I was certain that I was putting myself in an early grave. It's true that drivers in Paris can be very pushy to say the least, and the motorbikes and mopeds are probably the scariest of all. But luckily the government has made sure that there's a lot of cycle lanes, and cyclists can also go in the bus lanes, which makes me feel a lot safer. Of course, sometimes I have found myself having to navigate very scary junctions. In these situations, I behave like my responsible adult self. (ahem.) Actually, I pedal at top speed looking wildly around me for cars, while shouting 'HEEEEEEEELP'. I don't think I could stand out more as a British girl if I tried! 

Today, I had the misfortune of choosing a bike with a seat that was very well oiled. So well, in fact, that it suddenly turned round just as I was zooming down Boulevard Raspail, and I found myself sitting on nothing! I couldn't stop because of the traffic on my tail, so all I could do was cycle standing up on the pedals and laugh at myself! 

This week I also joined the local library; which made me very happy because it means unlimited French books are at my disposal! I can't wait to browse the many shelves full of novels; maybe this will stop me spending so much in second hand bookshops.

A conclusion that I have come to is that the UK and France seem to have no consistency when it comes to the prices of items in supermarkets. I don't know if I'm shopping in the wrong places, but I've found things like shampoo, deodorant, meats, and fresh fruit and veg to be horrendously expensive. On the other hand, pastries, milk and things like olives seem to be very reasonably priced. I'm still not used shopping in another currency, but nevertheless I was shocked when I bought two small oranges and paid 1.28! Truth be told, I'm missing the 99p bags of clementines in Morrisons. 

The cashiers at my local supermarket are starting to recognise me; I can't decide if this is a bit sad, or if this is great because it means that I'm one step further in making my home here. I think I'll go with the latter. 

Another thing that is expensive is getting your eyebrows done- girls, beware! In the UK, I got them done for £2. Last weekend I paid 10 euros out of pure desperation because I was beginning to resemble some sort of abominable snowman. My brows turned out okay, and I learned a new word when I winced as the lady ripped off the wax strip, and asked me if I was 'douillette', i.e. if I had a low pain threshold. I never thought that brow waxing could turn out to be an educational experience! 

These next few days will be intense as I have a very scary essay to hand in, but after that's done I'm celebrating with a Halloween party, coffee with some girls visting from home and a trip up the Montparnasse tower. 

Big hugs and kisses to everyone at home, 

K x 

A few improptu Uni and language learning reflexions

In terms of this semester, we're on Week 4 and the pressure is starting to set in. Today I got set the second essay so far which determines 15% of my grade for the history module at the end of the year. This unwelcome news accompanied the realisation that I have not only come to Paris to aimlessly wander around old streets and read second hand books in parks, but to actually do some work and get a degree.

The thing about going to university in France, even if my uni is part of the University of London, is that everything is in French. This may seem blindingly obvious, but it doesn't stop hour long lectures on French politics being a little overwhelming at times. Of course, I love learning and taking notes in French, but it means that I sometimes come home very tired and wondering if my overloaded brain will ever function normally again.

Today, after a particularly frustrating exchange with a man in a post office and a class in which I made some stupid grammatical errors, I found myself thinking, 'I don't feel as if I've made any progress in French at all since I got here. I spoke better French in class at college than these past few days!' I sat grumpily on the métro contemplating life, and when I got home I went to the kitchen and made myself some comforting pasta. That's when a lovely girl from the room next to mine came in to make some tea, and we had a catch up. After our conversation, I felt so much better, having spoken in French with a friendly face. It restored my confidence; I am capable of speaking this language!

It made me realise that the standard I had for myself in college is impossible to maintain here. In language lessons I wanted to write and speak perfectly with no mistakes, and if I did make silly errors, I would get frustrated with myself. (Any of my friends from my classes will know what I'm talking about). That was the only way I knew how to learn a language; learn everything as quickly as possible and make as few mistakes as possible. Of course, that is unachievable when you are using the language to communicate on a daily basis, especially when it comes to post offices, banking, and over complicated things that require specific vocabulary.

Now, my main aim is to just chat with people and get my meaning across. Of course, I would prefer to make minimal mistakes, but whenever I get the gender of a word wrong or forget the subjunctive, the girls I live with just correct me with a smile. It's hard to be annoyed at yourself when nobody else sees it as a big deal!

So, a lesson I have learned not only from today but from my time here so far is this; it is okay to make mistakes. This may seem obvious to a lot of language learners, and I agree that to a certain point it is, but when you have a perfectionist mindset it is difficult to accept anything less that the standard you have set for yourself. From now on I've resolved to be a lot more laid back, and to have more realistic expectations of myself.

Well, this has turned into a semi-philosophical Tuesday. I'll post more soon about my Parisian adventures! 

K x 

First month in Paris

Today I hired my first vélib (Paris' take on the Boris Bike), booked tickets for the opera at Versailles, and the heating has gone on in my room, which I have now occupied for a month. Life is sweet.

Pretty much everything that has happened this week demonstrates that I have a long way to go when it comes to fitting into Parisian life! I'm staring to notice a pattern when it comes to embarrassing moments; they always seem to come along just as I'm feeling like I've cracked this whole adult, earning a living, studying abroad thing. 

For example, take the time I went to the swimming pool at 7am (which we shall hereby refer to as the Incident of the Overly-Complicated Locker). 

The Piscine Armand Massard is near to me, and in a well-meaning but misguided attempt to get fit I decided buy a 3 month subscription and go in the mornings before Uni, as it opens at 7am. Those of you who know me are probably staring incredulously at your computer screens, and rightly so, as me getting up early to do sport is about as likely as France restoring its monarchy (casual reference to this week's lectures *applauds self*).  But nevertheless, that is what I did. 

I got to the pool, changed and put my stuff in a locker. They have a different system over here; you need a PIN code to access your locker instead of a key. Great, I thought, and went off to have a nice refreshing swim. 45 minutes later I came back and entered the PIN, and tried to open the locker...and could not.

Picture this; a frantic English girl wearing only a bikini and swimming hat (yup, they're compulsory here) running through a sports centre full of fully clothed dignified French people in order to find someone at the desk to help.

As if this wasn't mortifying enough , when a very patient security guard came my aid, it turns out that my locker was actually open the whole time. I hadn't shut it properly in the first place, which was why the PIN wasn't working. All that embarassment for nothing!

Yes, I will carry on swimming, despite running through centre in nothing but a bikini. There's nothing that a glass of wine with my friend from the 5th floor won't cure, and that includes mortifying pool incidents!

Around Paris I have seen some funny sights, one of the oddest being a goat and a couple of sheep grazing on the Esplanade Jacques Chaban-Delmas behind the Dome des Invalides (I have yet to find an explanation). Another is an elderly lady wheeling her cat down the rue de Rennes in a special cat suitcase (I feel like this is my future self).

I also had an odd moment on the Métro. I saw a man looking very confused, in a very Anglophone way (I can't explain this. You have to see it to believe it). I helped him find his stop and he gave me a pancake. Odd, yet strangely heartwarming.

On Sunday, I came home from a lovely visit to Versailles to find a protest happening practically outside my window. Literally thousands of people were marching along the Boulevard du Montparnasse against reforms to the school system. When I saw on a placard that languages were under fire, I felt like joining the march myself! Just as I was contemplating whether it was socially acceptable to join a protest halfway through and alone, a woman shouted through a megaphone, 'At 3pm, we lie down in silence!' I kid you not; thousands of people just dropped to the floor. It was almost eerie; of course the police had stopped the traffic, but seeing people lying down as far as the eye could see on one of Paris' busiest Boulevards for a cause they believed in gave me goosebumps. 

And then, I went home and ate a baguette. What an anticlimax. 

These past few weeks have been super busy and the next few seem to be similar- apart from the fact it's the school holidays next week, so I have time off from babysitting, which I shall use appropriately (ahem, most likely reading second hand novels in the Jardin de Luxembourg and having a few glasses of cheap wine with the girls on my floor). 

I must go off to bed now like the sensible adult I am, because I've planned another 7am swim tomorrow! I must be mad. 

K x 

Opening ramblings

I've been living in Paris for three weeks today, and I feel like the time is finally right to start my blog. I'm not yet sure what my actual plan for this blog is- I'm thinking maybe (hopefully interesting) snippets of my life, funny happenings and maybe some pictures, if it so takes my fancy. 

I feel like I'm starting to find my place in this city. I realised this today when I jumped off the Métro at La Défense to go to pick up the kids I babysit from school.

 Brandishing my Navigo pass, I found my place in the stream of commuters and allowed myself to be carried along by the current until I reached Sortie A; at which point I seamlessly broke away from the crowd and hurried up the steps in the direction of Courbevoie. Wearing my trench coat and clutching my current Métro reading book (Elle s'appelait Sarah by Tatiana de Rosnay- an amazing read but maybe a little too emotional for public transport!), I felt like I fitted right in with the hoardes of other commuters. And I loved it. 

I feel at home too when I'm walking down the Boulevard du Montparnasse in the crisp autumn mornings on my way to Uni. The leaves haven't yet fallen, but there is a general feeling of approaching winter as everyone is wrapped up in their cashmere scarves against the biting wind. There's an odd charm to everything in the 14th in the mornings; sometimes I find myself smiling at nothing in particular as I pass by the green kiosques selling the daily papers and the trench-coat-clad mothers ushering their children to l'école maternelle. I shake my head and roll my eyes along with all the other Parisians at drivers who try to jump the lights, and sometimes stop to pick up a warm pain aux raisins from the street vendor at the Place du 18 juin 1940. 

It's very strange to think that I've only been here for three weeks. Sometimes when I come back from work late at night on Line 6, which takes me past the Eiffel Tower all lit up, I can't help but look up from my book and pinch myself. The other day, my friend and I were crossing the Esplanade des Invalides on the way to the library. We had to pause on a traffic island, and suddenly the wind picked up and blew our hair around our faces. Laughing, we looked around and there was the Eiffel Tower peeping over the rooftops, the Dome des Invalides to our left and the Pont Alexandre 3ème to our right. My friend shouted above the roar of the traffic, 'Oh my God, is this where we actually live?!' It's hard to describe what I felt, and I'm not going to try. But whenever living here is difficult (and I'm under no illusions that sooner or later that may happen), I will remember that moment. 

I could ramble on for a long while about this, but alas it is late and my roommate is already asleep. 

More soon x