Under the Parisian sun

The hottest accessory this summer in Paris, is a bottle of wine beneath your arm.  
You can’t go anywhere during the long summer days of Paris, without seeing gaggles of people with handfuls of picnic appropriate foods, and a bottle snuggled carefully beneath their arms. Along the seine, near the Eiffel Tower, on the metro- anywhere. It would almost be unheard of if you were to show up to a gathering near the seine/canal, wherever, without that very fashionable (and delicious) accessory. That’s what i love about this city.  
The priorities of the French, revolve around food and wine. Always. Punctuality and quickness with customer service? Not so much. But they certainly take their food and wine seriously, and I’m okay with that.  
Tonight was one of those occasions where I marveled in my surroundings. The rows and rows of groups of friends, lining the seine during a warm summers night, where the sun doesn’t set until roughly 10:30PM. The Pont Alexandre bridge being our ‘casual’ backdrop for the evening, despite the lack of casualness of the bridge. Between its largely and beautifully carved out details, and the gleaming gold shining from it, it is anything but casual. Yet somehow it is. It’s bizarre being in the presence of such beauty and history, that it sometimes – very rarely gets overlooked, as if it’s just normal to go and have a picnic by these masterpieces. But oddly enough, it slowly has become my new ‘norm’.
I’ve loved witnessing the season changes here. I was convinced fall and winter were my favorite, for falls bright orange colors of the leaves, and the crisp winds. Winter for the excuse to bundle up in your finest French attire, and snuggle up with a hot beverage. Now witnessing summer (technically for the second time) I find myself falling in love all over again. It also seems like everyone else here is following suit, and falling in love as well. But instead of love with the city, it is love (or lust) with one another. A summer in Paris, is for the lovers. It is for the risqué lusters that are a few seconds away from procreating in broad daylight. It is for the inappropriate grabs waiting in line at bar along the seine, and constant smiles.  
Paris has come alive again with the new season change. As have I. I have shed my winter mindset, welcoming the long summer nights in summer dresses, drinking chilled rosé with open arms. Constantly on the hunt for the next place to picnic. These are the simple moments I will daydream about years down the road. The summer I spent in Paris, only caring about how many bottles of rosé and cheese I could carry. The days of pure bliss, under the Parisian sun. 
   
             

Expats don’t wear rose colored glasses

The end was inevitable. At least I thought it was – It was to me. I have now realized that sometimes when things may seem crystal clear to you, they may be a very murky (yet unrealistic) glass of something else to the next person.

My impending departure date was always in the background. It came up in just about every conversation I had, with just about every single person I conversed with. It was the elephant in the room that seemed to always be invited to the party. Especially when those parties housed other guests with soon to come departures. It was the bread to our butter, the topic in which we could all discuss our sadness for leaving soon, and all the people we would leave behind. That may be one reason why I enjoyed hanging out with fellow expats, because we could all sympathize with one another. We were realistic with our situations. The realistic mindsets didn’t seem to present themselves as frequently in say, the people who weren’t leaving. AKA the born and raised French. Although I can’t say I blame them, it’s easier to see the situations through rose colored lenses if you yourself, don’t have a ticket booked back to your other life. Your real life.

A few months back, I proposed the question “was it silly for us to get together, knowing I’m leaving in a few months?” It was quickly shrugged off, as if it were some far away result, and I think it was in that moment that I realized the added pain it would cause to drag somethings on longer than necessary. I’m not implying that somethings aren’t worth the pain, because lets face it – some of the most spectacular moments or relationships have formed from painful circumstances. I just had to be honest with myself, in knowing that this was not one of those circumstances.

This whole experience has presented many opportunities (both personal, and from an outsiders point of view) in regards to how relationships, friendships, or even acquaintances work while being abroad for a substantial amount of time. Am I saying that I have all the answers? Not even close. But, I will say that I am more interested in comparing experiences, stories with other expats, seeing what has worked with them/or hasn’t worked. I recently had the thought of – Is it possible to fully invest oneself in another country/lifestyle, when one has their plane ticket booked back home to return to their “real” life. I now apply that same question, but extend it from investing oneself into a country, but to a person; in said country. Is it really possible to ‘go all in’ with someone that will remain in this new life you’ve created? All the while, you know you’re leaving it in few months matter of time? Obviously there are special circumstances, or stories of a friend of a friend that fell in love and is now married with her Italian lover. Blah blah blah. I’m talking about the realistic stories. From my experience, and even witnessing the experiences of my friends I’ve made while over here, it doesn’t seem like any one of us are willing to go 100% in with anyone that is still living here in France. Is that because the looming departure dates hang over our heads, like a huge reminder, THIS WILL NOT LAST. ( I hope this isn’t coming off as too cynical. A touch of cynicism however, now that’s all good and fine). Are these thoughts simply confined to people living abroad? Probably not. But I do think that the mindset one takes on while living in another country, is a mindset that is constantly all too aware of things not being permanent.

I have been very fortunate here, to have experienced moments with someone who was genuine and kind. Could it be looked at as selfish to have started something, only to know it would end? It depends on who’s looking at it. I however would find the real selfishness in not taking the chances. Not experiencing things, and then making the decision that it isn’t going to work out. This can be applied to dozens of other things aside from simply relationship talk. For example, me moving to France. Is that selfish to leave my job, apartment, family, and friends? Or would it be more selfish to forever regret my decision and wonder what it would have been like, had I just taken the chance to go. Being left wondering could very well be one of the worst feelings.

Long story short, if you must be selfish, be selfish after taking the risks, after having first hand experience.

Missing Paris even though I’m still here

A few weeks ago, I got asked – “what will you miss most about Paris?” 
I am awful at answering on the spot. Especially in regards to questions like this.  So instead of forcing an answer, I told them I would have to get back to them on that. I am well aware that I’m sure I will think of a hundred other things I will miss once I return home and have actually stepped out of my French life. But for now, these are things that will be missed dearly. 
I’ve realized you can miss something, even if it isn’t gone yet.

• I will miss my own personal United Nations. Our group of friends, of mixed cultures and backgrounds, accents that we make fun of, only because we love them. I will miss the variety. 

• The dirt cheap wine.  The deep red, sharp wines coming from Bordeaux, that are cheaper than a gallon of milk back home. 

• I will miss wandering around aimlessly without any plans or destination set in mind. 

• I will miss practicing French, hearing the differences between sur and sous, the words that are so close you would swear they were the same. 

• I say I won’t miss the metro… But I know that down the road, I will long for those constant means of public transportation. I will yearn to hear the words “mind the gap at the platform” spoken in four different languages.  I will forever on, remember to “mind the gap”.  

• I will miss the simple pleasure of ease dropping on complete strangers.  Just in the hopes to correctly translate what they are saying in French.  

• I will miss being able to take for granted the outrageously gorgeous, and historical places to casually picnic in.  The luscious grass at the louvre, the overly crowded, but always entertaining champs de Mars; facing the Eiffel Tower as it lights up.  There is something magical about popping open a bottle of real champagne, while looking out at the lady glowing up and down.  

• Boulangeries. Oh mon dieu, I will miss them so.  The heavenly smell of fresh baguettes, that you will soon rip off the top of to enjoy on your walk home.  The Saint honoré the millefeuille, all of the classics.  I will mourn all of you.  

• Being able to take a photo of anything, even the sidewalk, and having it appearing to be some beautifully crafted photo.  I will miss the beauty that surrounds the city, and the culture.  

• I will miss introducing myself as “Hannah, the American, from Oregon (do you know California? Yes, it’s north of there)”.  I will miss the opportunities to talk up my home.  

• The French take eating so seriously, that they literally wish you a good meal, anytime anyone witnesses another person eating.  You can be walking down the road, munching down on a crêpé and a stranger will waltz by saying “bon appétit” without coming off as a creep.  Ok, yes, I may have originally thought these people were creeps in my first months – but now, it’s a lovely part of being here. 

• Being able to feel as if you can sport a leather jacket, at anytime, any day.  Are you going for a coffee date at 11am? Wear your leather jacket.  Are you going out for the night dancing? You can wear your leather jacket.  There are no limits in regards to fashion here.  Anytime, is time to be dressed up. 

• Cheese.  Fromage. This may be one of the hardest things to say goodbye to.  Obviously coming from Oregon, we have quite a nice spread of local cheeses to choose from, the prices however – not so lovely.  I will be in mourning for quite some time, over the entire aisles presented in the super marché, providing row after row, of affordable cheeses.  RIP cheese. 

• The train ride into Paris, glancing out the window, to be greeted by the Eiffel Tower to the right of my view, and the Sacré-Cœur  to the left. I will miss these beautiful, historical establishments popping up throughout my day.  

• The double kiss.  The greeting and goodbye.  While it was a hard thing to get used to, the idea of getting physically close to a complete stranger baffled me for weeks. Yet now – I get upset at the thought of returning to a simple handshake or head nod. 

• French men. You will be missed, while also relieved to be away from. I will however miss your effortless style, the scruffiness of all of your beards/facial hair, and of course – your accents. Your knowledge of wine/cheese is also a thing I will miss, especially when it comes to the confidence that comes behind said knowledge. 

• Carefree days. Giggling through the streets of Paris. Impromptu afternoons filled with the motto of YOPO (you only Paris once) guiding us through the day.  Even if it means ending up in a tattoo parlor in the middle of Chatelet after a rain storm, jazzed up from coffee. 

   

       

Not quite a tourist, but not quite a local

Last week, when my fellow expat friends and I were wandering around the louvre after one of our many of picnics, with empty wine bottles in hand – ready to recycle of course. We nearly got ran over by a large group of tourists on a bicycle tour. Each one of us scoffs, grunts, or rolls our eyes at the obnoxious scene presented in front of us. As if we are locals here in Paris, being annoyed by simply by the presence of outsiders. As quickly as we rolled our eyes, it then turned into ironic laughter. Seeing as none of us can take ourselves seriously when it comes to getting irritated by large groups of tourists, seeing as we have been/still are them.

That scene proposed a thought in my mind. The question of – do all expats that live abroad, in one place for a significant amount of time, feel the entitlement of acting as if they are locals? Do all temporary Frenchie’s suddenly take on the role of a real living, and breathing native? Or, to put it even more simply, does living abroad (for over a year) make one a “know it all snob?”.

I think with anything, and mostly anyone; If you happen to live anywhere for a significant amount of time, you end up being caught in this weird, unexplainable realm of not quite a tourist, but not quite a local. You know enough about the city, to know the little details people just visiting on holiday would never come to know – nor care to know (for example: the metro line 13 around 18h is the WORST line ever). You pick up on some classic hand gestures, or facial expressions the real French possess (there is a lot of exasperated, exhaling and lip puckering, and eyebrow raising). You know more than what the guide books tell you, but yet, you still don’t ever feel 100% about your knowledge. I think the fact that one picks up on the unmentionable details of a city/country/culture while living abroad, gives us the feeling as if we can get annoyed by the large crowds of people, that seem to roll in out of nowhere come late May-September. This doesn’t mean we think we are better than any of the other Paris daydreamers, that enter this city – because lets face it, we were/still are those wide eyed; eager to eat crepes and drink wine, people. Probably always will be. I get jokes from my family all the time, reminding me that “Hannah, you aren’t French” or “Oh, Hannah thinks she’s French now”. Au contraire mon ami. I prefer to refer to my current state of mind as, embracing the French culture and lifestyle while I can. So if that means discussing how obnoxious the Champs Elysees is during peak season, over a bottle of wine along the seine, then so be it.

While there are dozens of things I notice now, that I would’ve never noticed in my first few months here, there are still hundreds, thousands of things that remain unseen or unsaid. Can one ever truly be a 100% devoted and invested in a place they are only calling a temporary home? That is still up for debate. Will I try? I will do my best. But for now, for my last few months here in France, I will continue mocking the tourists with their selfie sticks, huge maps (friends, save yourself a ton of pain and just download the free metro map application). I mock, because I love. I love, because not very long ago, I was also standing on the corner of a street I couldn’t pronounce, trying to locate my position on those obnoxiously large maps. I only tease, because I care, and I only care because it brings back memories.

Pictured below: the evening spent picnicking in the Louvre, coffee dates, and happy hours.

   

  

  

    

        

The untouched topic

The thing people seem to leave out, in regards to moving abroad, is saying goodbye. No, I’m not talking about having to say goodbye to your family and friends back home. I am speaking about having to say heartbreaking, upsetting goodbyes to the people you meet whilst being abroad.

I was aware I would make friends while I was here, I just never took into consideration that I would have to turn around and say goodbye to them as well. Not only will the goodbyes occur when I finally pack up my bags, to return to the States, but other goodbyes happen. You don’t plan on meeting friends over here, that will leave even before you leave. But it happens. Friendships you feel that weren’t given enough attention, or time to properly develop are suddenly over, fini.

The nice thing about saying goodbye to the people from home, is you know at some point you will return to them. Where as the people you’ve met abroad, there is no way to tell when or if you will ever reunite. It is a harsh reality. After having shared moments, thoughts, feelings with some of these people, to now only have the memory without a promise of encountering one another again can be a difficult pill to swallow.

Is it all negative? Am I refusing to see these experiences as a glass half full type of view? No. Not at all. I am simply touching the untouched topic, of having to say goodbye, to people you didn’t expect to say goodbye to. It’s hard to prepare yourself for things you aren’t even aware will happen, or people you will be introduced to. Does this fact stop me from meeting people, or creating new connections? Nope, and it never will. I just think it’s necessary to admit that moving abroad, while it seems is a constant vacation, has its own downfalls. It is important to keep in mind though, that not all downfalls are negative. Not all difficulties are bad.

Plus side, I now will have friends in many Countries! Having friends with different cultural backgrounds is only proving to be a positive thing in my life, opening up my eyes, my mind, and my knowledge of things outside of my own experiences.

One year in Paris

Twelve months have come and gone. I have officially been in France for over a year now, and it still feels weird saying that. Prior to me leaving, I had sworn up and down, promised on everything, that I would under no circumstances, stay longer than one year. My family and friends have enjoyed quoting me these last few weeks, “I swear I will be back in one year” reminding me that not only have I broken my promise, but I should actually be home today. I was foolish to think that I would not grow attached to a foreign place. I shake my head and laugh at myself, thinking how could I have been so nieve? To think that I would not make a life here for myself, and form a strong bond to this beautiful country. I will blame it on my lack of experience of traveling outside of my comfort zone. I will blame it on knowing how much I would miss my family and friends, therefore influencing my emotions when it came to thinking about extending.

When I made the decision to extend, I essentially had to not think of anyone else but myself. I had to be extremely selfish, and that was not the easiest of things to do. I was nervous to reveal my new decision to stay a few more months here in France, but the nerves were uncalled for. All my friends and family were more than understanding and supportive (as they were when I originally informed them of my decision on coming here). Yes, they all may want me home right this second, but their understanding of me, and why I feel the need to stay longer has been great.

I feel myself getting very upset when I begin thinking about my departure date (still to be determined). I was wanting to travel more around Europe during these last couple months, but due to the fact that I no longer hold a valid visa (yikes) it puts a little damper on my carefree travel days, wondering around as I please. So, I will have to ‘settle’ (sarcasm heavily implied) for just traveling around France. Normandy is on my list, coming up in a mere 9 days! I am quite excited to see another area of France. But back to the point, me being sad. I don’t want anyone to mistake my sadness for leaving here, as me not wanting to return home. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I know the right thing for me to do is to return home, begin working in the pastry field in which I miss so very much. I have realized that just because something is the right thing to do, it doesn’t make it easy. I am already imagining me, back home, longing for the days I would have no plans, aside from exploring. Going and picking up a fresh croissant, a cheap wheel of cheese, consuming these things under the most gorgeous buildings. I am already missing Paris, and I haven’t even left yet. It is a problem.

I am soaking up as many memories as I possibly can. Last week I had four picnics either along the canal, the seine, or the eiffel tower. One of those picnics happened to be in honor of my one year anniversary in France. We celebrated the only appropriate way, with all the works. Champagne (real champagne) french cheeses, hams, homemade cheesecakes that had been baked in adorable little individual jars. The eiffel tower sit quietly in our background, lighting up towards the end of our meal. Sitting on the wined stained blanket, with some of my friends I’ve made since being here, giggling over sipping wine, all talking about where we come from, where we are going etc. was exactly what I pictured for celebrating this day. I have loved having my alone time here, but it is true when people say that making memories with other people is important. Sharing moments with someone else is a lovely feeling.

With all of this rambling about being sad, I am remaining positive in the fact that I even get to experience three more months living in France. it is a beautiful reality, that does not deserve to be mourned, just yet.

   
                            

Last weeks with the German

It had never occurred to me, that all this time I have been missing my friends from back home, that I didn’t realize at one point I would also have to go through the goodbye process with the friends I’ve made abroad. While yes, the friendships may not be the same in comparison to the ones back home, that have been in the works for years and years… but they still have depth, and emotions involved.

One of my dear friends I’ve made over here, E, is from Germany and has been in Paris for a year now, working on her master’s. Now that the year has reached its end, so has E’s time in Paris. I have been very fortunate to have made a friend that shares my passion for all things Parisian. She is the pal that will accompany me to food exhibits, track down cafes I’ve googled, and sit with me as I critique these places. While yes, E is constantly late to every single rendezvous we make, it only adds to her charm.

Her last couple weeks in Paris were spent dining at little cafes, going out dancing at Cafe Oz with all the girls, and one last hoorah at a swanky bar overlooking all of Paris.

Although I am sad to say goodbye to our Paris adventures together, I am happy to have had

 those memories with one another, in such a beautiful city. Plus, now I have an excuse to go to Germany 😉





















The necessities for moving abroad

I originally started this blog for two reasons.
1. To have a specific spot for myself and family and friends to go to, to keep up to date with my current travels and escapades and something for me to look back on.
2. To possibly shed light on the steps it takes in becoming an au pair (from an American perspective) in regards to paperwork, legalities etc.

While I have tried to do my best to be as specific as possible in regards to paperwork, obtaining visas, and all of the necessary steps it takes in order to become an au pair, I have also realized there is one main part I have left out; a part all other websites seem to forget as well.

I have come to the conclusion, that in order to move abroad, one needs a serious support system back home. My main supporter, being my mother. There are things you don’t think about before taking that leap across the pond. Such as, “where will I have my mail forwarded to?” Just because you leave your life, doesn’t mean that your mail takes a long holiday. It continues to arrive, whether or not you are in the Country. You will need a reliable place for this mail to continue arriving at, whilst you are abroad. And who is more reliable than a mother? Aside from the mail issue, one doesn’t even think about the bigger task, known as tax season. Even though I had only technically worked for three months in the year of 2014, prior to moving to France, I still have taxes taken out, therefore required to file. Now how am I to file taxes across the world? Not only that, but my important documents holding all of my tax information had been sent to, you guessed it, my mothers. Having someone back home, continuing to take care of your legal documentation and such has made my life a thousand times easier. While yes, I will admit that my mother still did my taxes even with me living in the States… having someone back home that took care of it while I am over here eating croissants just removed a huge weight off of my shoulder.

While yes, I made majority of the steps necessary to get myself over here, I couldn’t have done it without my support system. Ranging from my grandparents, with their constant encouragement and support. My sisters/brother who continue to spread that sibling love via facetime, my friends who continue to remind me that they are still remaining friends with me, despite of my extension, and most importantly; my mother. The woman who would search for the legalities of my visa when I was unable to find them on my own, the woman who sends me emails, pertaining to news stories to inform me to be safe, and to the one who is safe keeping all of my furniture/clothing/mail/legal documents.

So if you are thinking about making the decision to go abroad for a while. Make sure you have some form of support staying back home. Whether that be family, friends, or a neighbor. There will come a point where you can only do so much over here.

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The battle of ‘being all here’

My current life is a constant battle of learning to be “all here”. Most of us have read one of those inspirational quotes from pinterest, saying “where ever you are, be all there”. I have come to the conclusion that whoever wrote that, probably lived abroad at one point in time.

When I say that I am attempting at being all here, I am referencing to not being half here, and half back in the States. Sometimes you do things subconciously, without even realizing it. You may leave a party early in France, just to be able to make it back home to facetime your family. Your thoughts may be consumed by not being able to hold an actual conversation from beginning to end with your BFF, therefore making you less present in your current conversations with people you are physically in front of. I have noticed that I find any and all excuses to incorporate home/Oregon/the states/my friends & family into all conversations. While most people do hold a genuine level of interest, that interest can only go so far – especially since most don’t have any personal experiences or memories of the things I reference, which makes it difficult to sustain a legitimate conversation on those subjects. Mastering the art of being all here, mind body and soul in France proves to be an uphill battle. Is it fair to constantly be only partially invested with those with whom you are spending time with, in your current place of residence? Probably not.

Am I suggesting that anyone who lives abroad, must abandon all communication and thoughts of family and friends back home? No, not at all. I am simply suggesting to make an effort at whatever it is you are doing, wherever it is you are doing it, try to be more present. I can apply that to talking with people back home as well. Rather than multitasking, scrolling through social media while I am on the phone with them, I can stop doing that; and be all there.

I suppose you can apply this mentality to anything and everything you see fit. For me, I will continue working on being all there whether that be out with friends in Paris, talking to friends back home, or even when I have my alone time.

Yesterday, we were blessed with the appearance of the sun in Paris. I haven’t seen blue skies in over a week, so I was thrilled to be greeted from that sunshine. I had a prior engagement in the evening last night, but before I made it to T’s apartment, I decided to go and enjoy the sunset, atop all of Paris at the Sacre Coeur, whilst enjoying a crepe. I was all there in that moment, and it felt great. I could notice how much more present I was when I arrived at T’s, welcoming the evening with open arms. Even if majority of the conversation was in French, leaving me with a migraine from constant concentration.