Returning to Paris

The roar of the engine pierces the otherwise still morning—the dusk haze glazing the view out of the airplane window.

The plane gains momentum, breaking through the air as it cuts into the sky, tipping to its either side as if allowing us a final farewell. Or rather, a bientot. Because for Paris, it’s never completely goodbye.

I’m ok with leaving this time. Three days and back in Paris, and the romantic, picturesque city of the Paris I remember, remains. But for the first time, I stepped back no more than a visitor, tied by memories of my six months abroad in a city I never quite left behind.

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Paris looks no different, save the bare winter trees that replaced the lush greenery I had left last August. I’d forgotten about the pastel sheen that drapes the city, the gentle sounds of the daily flow of life. I’d forgotten how the metro reeks of urine and of the performers onboard the metro.

You lose touch of a city after a few months away; the fluidity of conversation in another language loses its ease, the expanse of vocabulary fades. And the purpose that once structured your day no longer exists.It's been four months since I left Paris and for the first time, I'm strongly aware that I'm no longer a part of this life, merely an observer onto a world I once had a place within. 

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I spent my three days visiting friends—catching up with my closest girlfriends from the summer, meeting for drinks and dinner with a handful of my French friends and a lunch date with a couple from my grammar class.

I revisited my summer homestay for afternoon tea with Madame and her friend. It was lovely catching up with Madame, the creases of her faces as animated as I remember, her hair less ruffled but her warmth no less genuine. My fluency in French isn’t what it once was, but I appreciated her patience as I hesitantly strung my thoughts into testy, French phrases. She took me through the apartment, introducing me to her current homestay student-- a boy from California just finishing his fourth and final month abroad. He lived in the room opposite to the one I’d spent my summer in-- the same one my former apartmentmates, Arien and then Fernanda had taken over.

People flow in and out of Madame's home. Each student has a unique story, yet there's a common thread that ties their purpose for the time spent within her home. Our context shapes our purpose and defines our connections. It's incredible how quickly connections change as life unfolds. 

Madame and I left her apartment together—she had errands to run before preparing dinner for the homestay student that evening. Why didn't I walk to the metro stop with her, she asked. But I shook my head, telling her I wanted to wander into the Longchamp store just around the corner. 

“They’ll go on sale in three weeks,” she said. “Why not stay?”

From L to R: Dinner with Mariene (British nanny), Lili (German-Jewish law student), Lara, Eric and Audrey (my first French friends)

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An elderly woman asked me for directions on the metro this morning.

"Ca va a Denfert?"

"Denfert?" I responded, racking my mental image of the Paris metro map. Line 4. Line 6. I had met Nathaniel there for coffee his last week in Paris. “Oui, bien sur,” I responded.

It used to be a mark of pride having someone approach you for directions. Four months away, the feeling hasn’t changed-- even if Paris is no longer home, however temporary of a home my time spent in the city had been.

It's strange to realize that the life I built during my six months abroad no longer applies as my purpose no longer exists; but my comfort within the city, my familiarity of their culture remains—allowing a base to work off of should it be a life I one day choose to return to.

Revisited Musee Rodin. One of my favorite art museums.

Connections change; it’s with each experience that we learn to adapt, understanding that nothing is permanent. It takes time to feel as if you fit within a context, patience as you slowly meld with the differences of a foreign culture—a lesson important to understand given change in context doesn’t only apply to life abroad.

Life post-graduation will also bring change—the purpose structured by college stops as we accept the diploma that ties our years of an undergraduate education. For then, it’ll be for us to carve a new place within our environment, seeking out a fresh purpose to structure our reason to stay. Unless we move on, adjusting as we create a new life somewhere else. 

I’m grateful for the opportunity to have lived a life abroad, grateful to have returned to Paris with at least an understanding for the culture that shapes the makeup of the city. It’s revitalized my desire to live abroad—to work in London, to move back to Paris. But I’d love to live in New York, test out San Francisco, visit Chicago, travel the world.

My experience in Paris didn’t end in August. But nor does it end now. I’m ok returning home, for this time, life in D.C. isn’t paused; Paris remains and my connections could one day be renewed, but for now I’ve got the responsibilities of my last semester to focus on. Who knows where the next four months will take me. Who knows where the connections will develop, where the purpose will be.

What I can be sure of, however, is that it all changes. Life refreshes. We adapt. And that's ok.

The summer friends

- Deborah: Had met Deborah at Chabad just before I had left for spring break. She invited me to a party, my first weekend during the summer.

- Amelia: A California native and fellow AEPHi sister, Amelia and I met, as she was finishing up her year working as an au pair in Paris. She returned home at the beginning of July, headed back to start her studies for a teaching certificate.

- Eric: I had met Eric at Chabad, a few weeks before the end of the semester. I had bumped into his girlfriend, Audrey while on a bus headed to Sacre Coeur. She was meeting Eric for coffee—inviting us along? Eric and I ended meeting back up at Deborah’s party. He had spent his summer alone, while interning in Haifa during his college years. As a result, he took me under his wing—calling me often to set me up with plans to got to Jewish get- togethers, drinks with his friends or dinner at various kosher restaurants. I also had the pleasure of joining Eric and his family for Shabbat dinner at his home.

- Audrey: (Hopeful future wife of Eric), I had met Audrey at Chabad, the same evening I had met Eric. In addition to coffee, I got together with Audrey for dinner with Eric and Erica—getting to say our last goodbye at the Jewish soiree I attended, my last Wednesday in Paris.

- Mariene: The girl who became one of my closest friends this summer. A British nanny, who I had met my first shabbat during the summer, Mariene had moved permanently to Paris. From spending evenings with her various friends to cooking pasta dinners, watching the fireworks on Bastille Day and getting lost on our way to a Jewish bbq, we shared real quality moments together. She’s promised to come visit the states in April—and I’m truly looking forward to it.

- Lili: Also one of my closest friends this summer. I had been put in contact with Lili through Eric, meeting her at Chabad. She has such a unique sense of humor, a genuine kindness and warmth to her personality. And while I only got to spend about a month with Lili (given she headed home to Berlin for her summer break), I truly savored each memory from our adventures—evenings at Jewish soirees, afternoon in the Marais and shabbat dinners at Chabad.

- Arien: A boy from the Netherlands who lived in my homestay for the first month. We had interesting conversations, typically centered on the differences within our religious beliefs.

- Fernanda: A girl from Brazil who took Arien’s spot in my homestay. She and I became quite good friends, eating and cooking our meals together, spending our morning on the Champs Elysees for Bastille Day, heading to the Jardin de Tuilleries and taking a quick nap before ending our afternoon together at the Louvre. We also spent an afternoon at Angelina’s, me introducing her to the loquid goodness of Angelina’s hot chocolate.

- Alexi: Madame’s 31-year-old son. Often in his own little world, as a result of functional mental illness, Alexi was nothing but warm. I loved our conversations, his touch in making the apartment I lived in feel more like home.

- Madame: The most charming, sweet and genuine woman who I lived with, this summer. I rented out my bedroom in her apartment—a beautiful location in the 6^th arrondissement. Madame was a terrific cook, stirring up home cooked meals for each of the four dinners I paid for. We’d sit for over an hour, during dinner. Wonderful conversations and good practice for my French.  

- Nicholas: The French intern at work. I had thought we weren’t going to be friends, given he didn’t talk to me much back in June. But come the end of my internship, he and I regularly had conversations.

- Eric: My co-worker who trained me.

- Michelle: My summer, good- luck charm. Had met Michelle, a Canadian, med- student, at Chabad—she was traveling alone in Paris for the week before meeting up with friends for three weeks in India. Michelle and I spent a Sunday together—showing her my favorite parts of the city before meeting Joh and Phillipe for an evening in Montmartre.

- Joh:  My summer Prince Charming. From a boat cruise along the Seine to dinner in a restaurant in the Jardin des Tuileries, Joh added quite a different dimension to my summer.

- Phillipe:  A recently, turned orthodox- Jewish man, Phillipe is on the hunt for a wife. But I told him his best bet is not to look. For when you’re not trying is when you end up finding.

- Judith: A chatty, lovely 22- year- old, who I had the pleasure of meeting at a birthday party Eric had invited me to. She had invited me for drinks, two weeks before I left Paris. We grabbed kosher sushi for dinner in St. Germain, my last week in Paris—wishing eachother goodbye at the Jewish get- together on my last Wednesday.

- Julia: Also put in contact through Eric, I joined Julia, a Parisian native, on her mission to take Paris on as a tourist. We met up at free yoga at the Jardin du Luxembourg, in addition to heading up to the Montparnasse Tower’s viewing point.

- David: A native Mexican who spent time living in the states (in addition to studying at Georgetown), David moved to Paris as a result of a job offer. I had met him at Chabad a few months into my semester, meeting back up during the summer. We walked to Pont Alexandre, one evening after Chabad—pretending to be on a guest list for Showdown, the club just under the bridge. David joined Naomi, a camp friend who came to visit during a weekend, for an evening at light and sound show at Versailles.

- Naintara: A classmate from my time in French Grammar. I had always quite enjoyed talking to her during class—both on the same page as to how confusing our teacher made the lessons! Naintara and I got together for drinks with Astrid, a fellow classmate. Naintara joined me the following Friday for Shabbat dinner (although she wasn’t Jewish), ending our evening at one of Joh’s friends, Benjamin’s apartment just on the Champs Elysees. Naintara met me for lunch one afternoon at work, the two of us spending my break at the Jardin du Luxembourg.

- Astrid: Out of the hundreds of people at a free concert at l’Hotel de Ville, I happened to bump into Astrid and her boyfriend! We, along with Naintara, went for drinks an afternoon after work.

- Naomi: A camp friend who came in town to visit. We spent a lovely weekend together—starting as just over acquaintances and ending off as truly good friends.

- Ari: A friend of a friend who I had been put in contact given he was traveling in Paris, alone. I spent the weekend taking Ari around the city-- from Chabad Friday night to a Gay Pride festival at St. Michel on Saturday. 

Picnic in the Montparnasse Cemetery

My friends joined me for lunch today-- the four of us enjoying a picnic in the Montparnasse Cemetery. Lili had brought a towel, laying it onto the carefully manicured grass patch in the cemetery center.

We'd get scolded, by security on duty, for sitting there at the end of the hour. But we pretended we only spoke a little French and that, naturally, we hadn't know it wasn't allowed.

For the hour of lunch, we sat and talked, catching up on our lives over the past two weeks we all hadn't seen each other. It was an hour of enjoying each other’s company and of conversation solely in English.

But it also marks the last time the four us would spend time as a group. Lili and Amelia return home tomorrow- Lili to Berlin, Amelia to California. Mariene leaves to travel for a bit starting Sunday. I'll get to see her for a few days in July. And then I leave, at the beginning of August.

I've got Chabad to thank for these girls-- for all the summer friendships I've created. But just as quickly as they're created, so too do they refresh, renew, move on. Distance separates us, for now. Maybe we'll see each other again in the future, reminisce over the memories of our time abroad. Or maybe we won't.

Either which way, we've all got the memories to hold onto. And for that, we're all quite lucky.