Mots

Mots. Words. There are not enough words to describe the roller coaster that has been this week. I will start off by saying that I think culture shock is best characterized as a wave of emotions that oscillates between depression, elation, apathy and what most normal people feel as a relaxed state of being. Some days, I go through each one of those emotions, from missing fried chicken and biscuits to feeling like I never want to leave a place that sells hot crepes right on the street. That is crepes with Nutella and bananas.

Sunday started this week on a high note. I visited a French Protestant church on rue de Sevres here in Paris, which was in and of itself an adventure. Fortunately, a kind church member told me how to press the button to unlock the gate otherwise I might have just stood outside staring at the church building for a few minutes like a lost American. Well, I was a lost American in that moment.

What made this experience stand out for me was that it felt so much like home, despite the fact that everything was in French and when it came time for the sermon, I was hopelessly lost. I was part of the people there, and no one needed to interrogate me on where I was from or what I was doing there; we were all there to be in the house of the Lord. The songs were for the same purpose as those we sing in the U.S. In one case we sang an American song in French (Chris Tomlin's "How Great Is Our God": "O Dieu Tu Es Grand"). I think the most powerful time for me was after the Communion, when the pastor opened up a time for personal prayer. Some of the people around me began to pray aloud and to sing verses of hymns, and when each person had finished, everyone else said, "Amen." I think that level of community in the Spirit made everything clearer for me. I didn't understand the prayers, but I could say, "Amen," because I heard the praise and the triumph and the exhortation in their voices. We were truly worshiping together.

After that morning, what could top it, right? Well, nothing can truly "top" the experiences I have had this week, and they are numerous. But on Sunday evening I went to a small theater on Boulevard Saint-Michel to watch a production of Cyrano de Bergerac. The play by Edmond Rostand is a French classic, a story of humor and tragic romance. I really enjoyed the atmosphere at the playhouse, and I'm thankful for the internet, because I never would have found it! Well, I'm also thankful for instincts because I did get lost trying to find it. But that's not really the main story. What is important is that I learned to do more research on logistics before I set out on an adventure like that.

Tuesday was Valentine's Day! And oh, Americans, here me when I tell you, don't tell a Frenchman happy Valentine's day. Here in France, you only celebrate if you are in love or if you are trying to tell someone you like them. They will know you are American if you start trying to wish them joy on a day for lovers.

Wednesday is my giant day: Architecture in town (this week in the Marais), then Cinema and Lit classes, and finally choir. I have been trying to join this choir at Reid Hall for two weeks, and this was the first week I successfully attended. At first I wasn't sure what or who to expect. But after a few minutes under this director, I was amazed to find that the director was an American. She came into the room with verve and spunk and a mouth full of French. I think the best part of the night was singing in French--we sang "L'Hymne de l'amour" by Edith Piaf. My least favorite part was realizing I'm too out of practice to call myself a real Soprano 1.

Thursday I had more classes, including a make-up class for Architecture that consisted of a visit to the Cite de l'Architecture et du Patrimoine. We went to an exhibit about the hotel particuliere, which is a noble family's city residence. It was a wonderful exhibit, full of insight into the rooms and their relationships to each other and to the status-symbols of the eras. The most interesting tidbit of information was that the exhibit's creator is a colleague of my professor. Only in Paris!

Today, Saturday, has also proven full of adventure. I set out to take a train to Chartres, about an hour outside of Paris, to visit the Notre Dame cathedral there. But I miscalculated the amount of time it would take me to arrive and to navigate my way through the station and then when I arrived, I had to wait in a very slow line to get my ticket. By that point, my train was gone, so I had to wait another hour for the next train. It was a lovely way to start my day, a very rainy day, too, which always leaves me in a philosophical mood.

To end my day, I realized I had somehow lost my return ticket, which I had naively put in my pocket. I bought another, because it wasn't too cheap, but now I really know that I need a bigger purse to travel with! Just the day in the life of a first-time international resident. Trains are a great way to travel, don't get me wrong here. Things could have gone much worse. But now I think I'm going to be glad when I go on my next trip (Monday, to Provence). Somebody else has already planned it!

I think there are a few good things that I can share with those of you who are like me and need someone's real-life experience as proof before you'll believe things. Here's some more of my random insight into Parisian life.

Always take other people (aka traffic) into consideration when traveling.

Take a big bag, but not too big. You will be doing a lot of walking.

Prepare/dress for all extremes of weather. That includes an umbrella, good shoes, and a hat.

There are sketchy people out at night, but they won't bother you if you are in well-lit and well-populated areas.

If you don't understand, it's really okay to ask someone to repeat it. The French can and will be patient with you when they know you aren't speaking your first language. But at least try to say it all in French.

Most importantly, take someone with you. France is meant to be shared.