Sartorialista's blog

La Belle Vie

This semester has been very different from all of the previous semesters I spent in New York. As a native, I never had to adjust to a new place when going to college, so this was my first attempt. At times, it was difficult, depressing, and draining, but at others, it was exhilarating and joyful. Participating in the Art of Travel helped me adjust to life here through weekly reflection.

Originally, I questioned whether or not I should return to Paris next semester, but ultimately I decided that it was the best choice. After having to adjust to a new place for the first time, I don’t think that I’ve experienced Paris in a significant way just yet. I am excited to afford myself the chance. The last couple of weeks here, I’ve been feeling a lot more settled than I have for a long time. In fact, I am a little bit nervous about going home for the holidays. I know that living in Paris has changed the way I function and I worry about how it will affect my relationships when I return.

That being said, I really appreciate the way Paris has affected me over the last few months. I appreciate little quotidian pleasures much more now, like the smell of a boulangerie early in the morning or the taste of hand-made pasta. NYU in France has been really amazing because the program really encourages you to explore the culture of Paris, while maintaining a safe community oriented atmosphere. I think that when I finally return to the US for good, I will appreciate New York so much more for what it has to offer culturally.

Everyday in Paris I feel as though I face my fears head-on. I don’t worry so much about fitting in, and favor growth instead. I encourage everyone to study abroad because it really forces you to break out of your shell and grow socially and emotionally. It’s an incredibly rewarding experience to walk blindly into a new life and come out a stronger person for it.

Exploring Paris

I would tell anyone who is planning on studying abroad to come to Paris, but to come without expectations. The images we are often presented with in the United States of Paris are that of Paris from long ago, not modern Paris. I think it is best to arrive here expecting nothing, in order to really see Paris. That being said, the program here is not a joke. It is pretty rigorous academically, so be prepared and think about maybe taking 12 or 14 credits instead of 16. That way, you’ll get more time to explore Paris and travel around Europe.

Here, I live in a studio apartment in the 4th arrondisement close to the Marais. I asked specifically to live in this area, because if you don’t you can be placed anywhere. Try to fit your preferences some where on the housing form to be placed appropriately. If I had to recommend an area I would say the 3rd, 4th, 11th, and 18th arrondisements are great choices. They all have pretty large young populations, so they are ideal for study abroad students. Also, I know it is very convenient to find housing through NYU, but having done that, I think finding your own is safer. With NYU you get what you get, so you have more flexibility searching for an apartment before you get here. Plus, the landlords NYU works with elevate their prices a bit because they know it’s your only option.

As for things and places to do, I have a fair bit to recommend.

1. Get Felafel in Paris. DO NOT go to L’As du Felafel, its not as awesome as everyone makes it out to be. Go to Chez Hanna down the block at 54 Rue des Rosiers off the corner of Rue Vieille du Temple. Metro: Saint Paul.

2. When you miss home, go to Breakfast in America, a classic American diner in Paris. I prefer the Marais location at 4 Rue Malher. Metro: Saint Paul.

3. If you want to meet some French hipsters and drink cheap beer, head over to Le Truskel in the 2nd Arrondisement. 12 Rue Feydeau. Metro: Bourse.

4. If your family is in town, get them to take you to a three star Michelin restaurant. My favorite is Taillevent. Lunch is a steal at 80 Euro. 15 Rue Lamennais. Metro: Georges V.

5. Be a tourist and take a ride on Les Vedettes du Pont Neuf at night. I don’t care if it’s cheesy, it’s beautiful.

6. Tuesday night is Ladies Night at the Long Hop, a British bar in the 5th. It’s a no frills, laid back atmosphere with super nice bartenders. 25 Rue Frédéric Sauton. Metro: Maubert Mutualité.

7. Go to a bakery that sells a bread called “La Parisse.” It will change your life.

8. Go to La Défense and see a different side of Paris.

Paris has so much to offer. My list could go on and on. Luckily, I will be in Paris for another semester, so for those of you coming in the spring feel free to ask me any questions! And for those of you who are thinking about coming to Paris for the weekend, you should. Everyone should come to Paris at least once in their lives, so why not now?

A New Kind of Thanksgiving

About two weeks into the semester, I realized that the NYU in Paris students had the misfortune of going to school on Thanksgiving and, better yet, I would have to spend the next day at a conference on the European Union. I was a little upset that I wouldn’t be spending the day cooking a delicious meal for some of my friends. However, looking back Thanksgiving in Paris was much better than expected.

The NYU staff here set up a great Thanksgiving dinner for us. It just happened to be on THE EIFFEL TOWER. While I’m not one to buy into eateries for the novelty, even I will admit that this was particularly cool. NYU rented out the upper level of the restaurant, where every table had a magnificent view of Paris. First we were served pumpkin soup with croutons and chestnuts. It was delicious and was a nice French ode to thanksgiving. The carnivores were served turkey with some accoutrements that were vaguely reminiscent of a traditional thanksgiving meal, while the vegetarians were served vegetables with a garlic emulsion. The meal ended with a pumpkin tartlet with vanilla chantilly crème. After a great meal and several glasses of wine and a delicious meal, it was very clear how lucky I was to be in Paris.

The next night, after a daylong conference on the European Union, I had a dinner party at my apartment. I didn’t want to miss out on cooking a Thanksgiving meal, so I decided to make some of my vegetarian favorites. We started out with a cheese plate, followed by an arugula salad with pears, Parmigiano, and Julia Child’s lemon dressing. Then I prepared risotto with truffle oil and ratatouille. Luckily the responsibility of dessert wasn’t entirely on me and my lovely friends brought macarons and tarte aux citron. I did, however, go to the American grocery store here so I could prepare a no-bake lemon cheesecake, which was pretty good if I say so myself. The night was great. It was really nice to sit around the table and talk with friends. It felt like a real Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving in Paris was certainly a different experience, however, it was a great experience. In a way, it seems very representative of my life here: part resident, part tourist. Since I’ve been here I’ve been trying to find my footing in this odd space, and I feel like I found it at the perfect time. 

Suspended by a String: The most uncomfortable travelers see the greatest views.

As the end of the semester draws closer by the day, it’s hard not to think about what it will be like to return home. Although I won’t truly be returning until June, I’ve been thinking about what it will be like to re-enter a culture I have been away from for so long. DeBotton’s “On Habit” made me consider the many aspects of travelling and living abroad.

For me, the most striking part of the essay concerned the difference between the eyes of a traveler and the eyes of the native. After visiting foreign lands, we often return to our homes with a lackluster perspective of home. “…The appearance of London on my return was a reminder of the indifference of the world to any of the events unfolding in the lives of its inhabitants.” I remember returning home from my first trip abroad as a teenager and feeling this way. I think it’s a common and almost safe response meant to validate our time away. However, I am very much looking forward to returning to New York, its comforts, and hidden pockets of unconventional beauty. If anything, living in the space between tourist and resident has instilled in me a greater appreciation and openness toward the beauty of home.

Travelling is truly a gift, especially for a college student. I realized this when DeBotton considered the work of Alexander Von Humboldt. We are constantly learning and expanding our interests, however, very often we do not stop to consider the importance and the impact of our surroundings. By spending time abroad, I feel as though I have a heightened awareness of the intricate details of places I experience. Being somewhere new, somewhere uncomfortable, or even somewhere familiar in a new context can awaken an intellectual and personal curiosity. “On Habit” made me question my habits and forced me to consider the value and benefits of feeling uncomfortable.

As I am spending the year in Paris, I feel as though I am more inclined to make my apartment and the city feel more like home. While I feel like this is important, I feel that there is a certain danger in this sentiment after reading DeBotton’s perspective. Gaining new appreciations and expanding your world view requires a certain amount of feeling like an outsider. “There are some who have crossed deserts, floated on ice caps, and cut their way through jungles but whose souls we would search in vain for evidence of what they have witnessed.” I want to be the fruit of my experiences and DeBotton made me realize that habit and complacency will never serve that end.

The Stereotypical Frenchman

Patrick Guedon is a very strange man. I first encountered him the first week of the preliminary French course taught at the beginning of the semester. He walked in to the classroom and proceeded to speak in a multitude of accents from various regions of France with a joy I had never quite experienced before. I have had French teachers who teach because they love France, but for the first time in my education, I met someone who just loved languages.

A multilinguist, Patrick Guedon can speak English in just about every accent. British, New Jersey, Valley Girl, without a hint of his native French accent coming through. For his students, it’s inspiring to see the power of phonetics this way. For me, Patrick was one of my first visions of France upon arriving here. In many ways, I feel as though Patrick and several other professors here truly represent a new vision of France. Attached to their heritage, but overwhelmingly interested and passionate about the intermingling of new and old, of French and American, of formal and informal.

On top of that, Patrick is silly, educated, and unbelievably awake at 9 am. I have danced and sung more in his class than one would expect and, ultimately, I feel like I understand the French more for it. He is willing to open himself up to the same lighthearted mockery that he directs towards the class, knowing that it builds a more productive and trusting community.

On the streets and in the cafés of Paris, you meet a variety of people, but it is hard to get to know them. In my experience, the French are fairly untrusting, or at least reserved, and it is often difficult to meet people and make connections. For this reason, I am grateful that I spent my mornings during my first two weeks here with Patrick. I felt as if I got to know a different and less obvious side of France through his style of teaching. I appreciated his infectious sense of humor and personality as it made me feel more comfortable in France and more comfortable with speaking the language. Adjusting to a new city and a new culture can be difficult. In my opinion, people make all the difference in making that transition easier. Patrick only proves this point.

Grenoble

After living in a large city for the larger portion of one’s life, becoming conditioned to a certain way of life is inevitable. New Yorkers, and Parisians alike, function at a faster pace with higher stress levels than most other places of the world. I generally forget this fact when escaping urban metropolises. Today, NYU in Paris was kind enough to take some of the students to Grenoble in the south east of France at the foot of the Alps. While most would consider Grenoble a city, I have a hard time understanding the way of life here.

On the streets of Grenoble, there is a sense of idleness. There’s no sense of needing to be somewhere or feeling the need to move quickly. It is slow. I truly want to appreciate this, but it seems indulgent and wasteful. In the various realms I have lived and functioned with in, I have rarely encountered this mentality and usually, I laugh it off.

This mentality is understandable given the beauty of the area. A small city tucked between the mountains, Grenoble is a cross between modern life and fairytale France. Everywhere you look, there are mountains straight of the Evian label lining the vista. It’s a calming force. While exploring the area, I am aware of the inherent beauty of the area, but it’s hard to see the appeal of living here. It’s strange to walk down the street and not get caught in clouds of cigarette smoke or not be able to walk into a store before noon. I hate to sound sheltered or set in my ways, but it seems like Grenoble is the middle ground between pastoral living and city life and the combination doesn’t seem particularly inspirational.

That being said, Grenoble is an interesting place to visit. It is the former home of the Dauphinois and the location of an impressive Bastille perched atop a mountain. There is a large Anglophone population here as well, which provides the populous with various British imports, which seem to permeate the city, and cupcakes. Overall, I’ve found France to be a beautiful and varied country and Grenoble is no different. It is very much an interesting intersection of a more rural community-focused lifestyle and city living.

La Parisse

In Paris, and all of France really, bread is a religion. From certification to selling, Parisian bread is made and sold with extreme care. The culture of bread extends beyond the boulangeries, however, into the daily lives of the French people. Parisian’s buy bread on a daily basis and care for it with a ritualistic sense of pride. If there is one thing that I have learned in Paris thus far it is how much the bread culture here reflects many other facets of the French way of life.

First, let’s talk about the variety of breads in France. They can vary region to region, but there are always the standards. Baguette, Demi-Baguette, Pain de Tournesol, Pain Complete, Pain Multi-cereales. The list goes on and on and on. My personal favorite is La Parisse, a rustic looking-baguette that is perfectly crusty on the outside and soft and delicate on the inside. For a bakery to be able to make La Parisse, they must be certified by on organization, which monitors its production. This bread is particularly special because it is made with wild levain instead of yeast, giving it a more complex and ultimately satisfying flavor.

The French generally buy their bread at a boulangerie or a boulangerie/patisserie, rather than at the local Monoprix. The quality is better and the price is lower. Plus, freshness is always a consideration in the French food culture and very often you can get a just baked baguette at any point during the day. Bread is a true art here, which you can see through a daily bread like La Parisse and it is respected on a similar level. Bread in Paris is cared for like a loved one. In a boulangerie, the breads are stored out of reach of patrons and are available for sale the moment the come out of the oven. When they are bought, the bread is carefully placed in a sleeve for the walk home. I appreciate this care. It makes me feel good about what I am buying. However, the French cherish their bread in a way I could never understand. Generally, the French buy bread that will be consumed immediately. If it is not, they carefully wrap the bread in a tea towel to preserve flavor and freshness. It is always stored in a dry place of moderate temperature. It never stays in the paper sleeve it came in, nor is it consumed when it is past its peak.

Despite their particular habits of bread consumption it is never wasted. Stale bread is used for soups, stews, breadcrumbs, breading, etc. The entire process of selling, buying, and eating a baguette is distinctively French. The French have little everyday rituals like this one for almost everything: buying cheese, picking vegetables, getting dressed. There’s a formula and they appreciate the consistency. This idea is present in every café where you can always pick from the same menu of steak frites, omelets, or salads. I have not assimilated to the French formule of life completely, but I have fallen in love with les secrets du pain.

Paris to the Moon

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about the way American Media portrays France and also, how those images have affected my experience in Paris. In my experience, there are two extremes (aren’t there always?). As Americans, we view Paris as the romance capital of the world or the land of lazy socialists. I never really thought of Paris as the latter, but I admit that the idea of Paris being a place full of possibility and romance definitely resonated with me. However, after living here for a few months, I am beginning to realize that being an American in Paris is nothing like what you see in TV and in the movies.

For my second book, I chose to read “Paris to the Moon” by Adam Gopnik. A first, I wasn’t thrilled with it because it didn’t glorify Paris. Then I realized that I didn’t particularly enjoy it because Gopnik’s experience was a little too close for comfort. Paris to the Moon chronicles Gopnik’s five-year sabbatical to Paris. Along with his wife and son, he discovers the joys and the disappointments of living in a foreign land. Truth be told, in the end I really enjoyed this book because of its honesty.

More and more, I am realizing that as American tourists we have strong preconceived notions about going to any place—be it Paris, London, or Ghana. I think the media and personal experience shape these notions, but I think the important idea to realize is that these notions can truly detract from our experiences. By buying into images constructed by Hollywood or whomever else, we are really selling our experiences short. After reading “Paris to the Moon,” I realized that I’ve been finding my experience to be lackluster as a result of preconceived notions.

Gopnik describes the little differences in everyday life between Paris and New York in several sections of this travelogue. Whether it be fax machines or trying to go to the gym, these differences should be a source of learning, not of frustration. Yet, they inevitably are. It just serves to illustrate that as tourists, or non-natives its important to break down barriers which keep us from truly experiencing the daily joys and lessons. I am learning, with the help of Mr. Gopnik, that life is more fully lived without expectations.

Lucky LukeI am taking a French film and culture course in which I have to view 3 French films currently in theaters over the course of the semester. I have several issues with this aspect of the course, but overall I believe it is worthwhile. However, everyone in the class must vote to select the film, so there is a good chance I will end up seeing films that I have no interest in. Such was the case this week, when I had to see Lucky Luke, a film so awful it made my head want to explode.

Jean is a young boy living outside of Daisy Town, Utah in the mid-1800s. His mother is a stereotypical Native American and his father is a stereotypical farmer, straw hat and all. Long story short, one day, and a group of cowboys show up to their home and kill Jean’s parents as he watches through a small hole in his bedroom door. He proceeds to escape the house and ride off into the distance with his horse. Several years later, we learn that Jean has assumed the identity of Lucky Luke. He is a cowboy, but has sworn to never kill anyone. One day, President Wilson asks him to bring peace to Daisy Town, which is now run by the corrupt Pat Poker. After a series of unfortunate events, Lucky Luke has a crisis of identity and his friends Billy the Kid, Jesse James, and Calamity Jane must help him to find himself so he can once again save the day.

Adopted from the comic book of the same name, Lucky Luke is one of the most terrible and horribly offensive films I have ever watched. While in Paris, I have never encountered an anti-American sentiment, until I saw this film. Painting Americans as simple, stupid, and accidentally successful, the film comes across like poorly veiled indoctrination video for the youth of France. Furthermore, it shows little responsibility in portraying violence by not only portraying it as funny, but also with out consequence. No one in the film dies, despite several gunshots to the chest and a frayed red handkerchief represents bleeding.

To see this film was utterly shocking. I have a large amount of respect for French cinema, but Lucky Luke seriously offended me. I am not some one who is fiercely patriotic, but I truly took this film as a slap in the face to American history. While other films have mocked this period of history intelligently (i.e. Blazing Saddles), Lucky Luke was all camp without the intelligence or fun.

It was a real disappointment to have such a bad experience with this film. However, it did display that France has a taste for tasteless films, just as America does. I hate to sound like Debbie Downer, but it’s disheartening to see your culture and history projected so negatively in a foreign country and I can only hope that it is not a trend in French film, but an isolated experience.

Local or Tourist?

MacCannell’s “Staged Authenticity” offered an interesting perspective on the role of the tourist, traveler, and local. However, I felt, overall, the article is extremely outdated and difficult to assess in relation to my experiences abroad. As I have been exploring Paris, I’ve come to realize that Globalization has truly taken hold. There are very few “undiscovered” neighborhoods, very few bars that haven’t been infiltrated with American students looking for a cheap beer. It’s harder and harder to even seek out authenticity as a tourist or traveler, as tourism has become more and more common.

On the other hand, I felt that MacCannell accurately describes the role of the tourist and the local. “The possibility that a stranger might penetrate a back region is one major source of social concern in everyday life, as much a concern to the strangers who might do the violating as to the violated” (MacCannell 591). I have very often noticed a distance between the locals and myself. As much as I would love to “infiltrate” the “back region,” I’ve found it difficult to make French friends. It is not for lack of trying, but rather protectiveness on the part of the locals and a fear of intruding on my part. MacCannell’s clarified what I could not accurately pinpoint myself. The only barrier between my superficial exploration of Paris and a deeper more authentic exploration is commonly held social standards. “Under modern conditions, the place of the individual in society is preserved in part, by newly institutionalized concerns for the authenticity of his social experiences” (MacCannell 590).

If there is one thing that I have learned since arriving in Paris, it is that the world is rapidly becoming smaller and smaller. MacCannell’s vision of authenticity, or even staged authenticity, seems too concrete for our rapidly changing world. The role of tourist is rapidly changing, as are tourist attractions, which are becoming part of the regional landscape. The Louvre is not inauthentically Parisian, nor is the cous cous vendor on the corner. They are products of need, local culture, and globalization. Authenticity doesn’t solely exist in hidden corners of the city, but rather in the circumstances that surround a place or attraction.

As tourists, I believe it is a venerable goal to strive to seek out authentic experiences. However, I am not certain that MacCannell describes those experiences accurately. Authenticity is found in the little everyday interactions and experiences, not necessarily in back regions. In a globalized society, we can not expect such concrete distinctions.