A Little Word on Religion

Something I find it hard to adapt to a country in which its people call themselves Catholic, but when it comes time to practice their religion, they scoff off the idea as if they are forced to pick up their dog’s poop off the sidewalk. 

We once had a guest over for dinner. He was a friend (more or less if we want to put a label on it) of my host mom’s. He told me that French people are only Catholic three times in their lives: at birth, marriage, and death. I found it ambitious to be able to call yourself a Catholic if you are technically only a Catholic for three days of your life, but chose not to argue with him on what he thought dictated his religion. 

A few weeks ago, a friend from class told me that on Ash Wednesday, French people kept going up to her to tell her that there was something on her forehead. They then drew to the conclusion that she must be Indian. 

When I was in Rome three weeks ago, I was shocked but in awe of how seriously the Italians took their religion. On Palm Sunday, almost everyone we passed by carried a palm branch. People there seemed happier, like they were more optimistic of what came their way although their economy was in far worse shape than the French. 

I then asked myself what could possibly be so unfortunate that the French seem to find it all the merrier to complain as freely as water flows? Could it be that they have been so jaded by the grandeur and magnitude of their city after spending too much time living here? 

I found myself smiling less here because it’s almost like I’m forced to. I see all the bleak expressions and instantly feel like I must adapt. 

Lately, I opened my Bible again. It’s been a guiltily amount of time since I last did so, but I’m so glad I did. Being immersed with the all too far familiar ritual of passage reading brought back an overwhelming rush of euphoria and calmness that I hadn’t felt in a while. 

I knew that it would be a challenge to adapt to the language and culture here, but never twice did I have to question the religion. I wish I could share with everyone here how cathartic it can feel to actually practice what you preach.  

Here’s to my final weeks of living joyfully and generously in this elegant city of lights. 

Tour of My New Humble Abode

For optimal effect, listen to the MTV Cribs Theme Song while scrolling through (but stop at 0:38 because it gets sketch). 

I’ve been in Paris for over two weeks so I think it’s time that I finally post a few pictures of the apartment I’m staying at with my host mom, Evelyn. She wasn’t home when I took these photos, otherwise she definitely would’ve made it into one of them.

The living room. If I'm ever in here, I'm usually sitting at the dining table that you can kind of see in the right hand corner.

Voila, the dining area. I'm here 5x/week for dinner.

Kitchens in Paris are smaller than the ones back at home but it's definitely manageable.

My room. These were taken at night because I didn't have time to clean my room in the morning before dashing out the door. It's a daily struggle. Normally, the chair on the bottom right hand corner doubles as a coat rack, purse rack...basically it's my other closet.

I will never need this much space for books since I'm only here for five months so naturally this book shelf works as my second closet.

Some French books that Evelyn dug up for me to read. That Dirty French book is from my friend Lea before I came because why wouldn't I need it (kidding). Insert Evelyn laughing her head off while silently agreeing with all the ridiculous phrases. I was dying just hearing her say dirty American phrases out loud (imagine a cute elder lady pronouncing the word "hash" and etc. in a heavy french accent). 

Wanderlust Yoga Review

I've been so busy my first week and a half here with eight hours of school, a half hour commute to and from every weekday, trying to pack in as many activities around Paris after class while still making it home for dinner (and passing out an hour later). I haven't had any time for a workout, which has definitely made me feel sluggish. 

I was excited when my friend Milena knew of a place that offered free yoga on Sundays, and since we didn't have anything planned that morning, we decided to give it a try.

Wanderlust is a nightclub that transforms itself into a yoga studio every Sunday morning. Kind of weird, right? I had never heard of anything like it. I wonder how many people party there the night before and then return in the morning to cure their hangovers. I left an hour early (everywhere in Paris takes at least half an hour to get to) and ended up being 20 minutes early, so I waited outside patiently with the other yogis. 

I definitely wasn't the only person to hear of the free deal though. The line was piling out the door and we were all smushed into a small cramped space. It was very comfortable. Quite the workout itself isn’t it, trying to push your way towards oxygen? I got accidentally smacked in the face by a few yoga mats because it was that crowded. I felt like I waiting in line for Wanderlust the club and not Wanderlust the yoga studio! 

See how our mats were literally on top of each other's?!

Inside, the dim lights reminded me that I was in a club, and I had trouble relaxing because I couldn't stop imagining couples getting it on at the same spot I was trying to do yoga. The fact that we were only two inches away from each other didn't help. 

It was interesting taking the class en français. I learned how to say "breathe in" and "breathe out.” We did a lot of breathing exercises that I've never done back in the U.S. and at one point, I had to pinch my nose while holding my opposite leg up. Not like I knew the reason behind what I was doing though, so I'm sure I made a confused face multiple times throughout the class. 

When we finally got down to business, we didn't hold any of the yoga poses for more than two seconds. The instructor only had us go through the motions, which was disappointing because I barely felt a thing afterwards. I know it was a free class but I wish that the instructor could've made us work a little more. 

I can't judge since that was my first group exercise class in France, but I hope that class wasn't representative of the majority of yoga classes in Paris. Not feeling the least bit sore was such a let down that I doubt I’ll ever return to Wanderlust (the yoga studio…maybe the club still has a chance). 

That Time We Got Tipsy On Top of La Tour Eiffel

My first day in Paris was a bit of a whirlwind. I flew in the night before and passed out as soon as I arrived at my new humble abode. I'll post pictures of it soon! It was dark when I went to sleep and when I woke up at 8:30 am the morning after, you would think that the sun would've popped out to say hello but it decided to lay low instead. I woke up to darkness for the first time since my old roommate Mac and I (crazily) woke up at 5 am to wait in line for three hours to buy the new iPhone. We're big Apple fans. 

I patiently waited for the sun to rise while my host mom drove me over to my study abroad program's office, where I got to meet all the other students.

There were six other girls in my program and each of us were as eager to see the city as the next girl. After orientation, we got straight to business and decided to go to the most touristy spot first.

After struggling with the Metro for a bit, we arrived at La Tour Eiffel with our cameras ready in tow. I hope Lady Eiffel was ready for us.

Someone suggested that we climb up the stairs instead of taking the elevators and once the first person agrees excitedly, there's no going back. 

Mary and I before the workout

We hauled ourselves 1,556 steps up the stairs which surprising wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. We kept ourselves busy by cracking jokes, laughing, complaining (this happened quite a bit), talking to strangers, and keeping a head count of everyone at all times.

Blair, Gabby, Maggie and I rewarded ourselves with a glass of champagne and an even greater view.

After making a toast to new friends and cities, we walked around the top some more. 10 minutes later, we were tipsy. I guess the altitude and the (obviously strenuous) work-out got to us. Maggie and I couldn't stop laughing at how sad it was that we felt such a buzz off one glass of champagne. We skipped around the La Tour Eiffel some more before taking the long flight of stairs back down. You can bet the buzz was gone by the time we reached the bottom.

We decided to wait until the Eiffel Tower lights turned on before we left, but they weren't cooperating. The girls and I were determined and had a mini photoshoot on the Jardin du Champ des Mars while stalling at the same time. As soon as we were about to turn around and go home, there it was: Paris and shimmer. The timing was so great and we were so excited that everyone stared in silence for a few moments.

Vintage

A failed attempt at taking the perfect illusion photo

Afterwards, we gathered in one of our apartments and talked for hours.

It was a perfect, perfect day filled with new friends, experiences, and of course the impromptu work-out. There is nothing I love more than a spontaneous rendezvous with a fun group of people.

23 Hours

Currently, I’m sitting in the Warsaw airport waiting to get onto my flight to Paris. My only source of entertainment is watching people struggle with scanning their boarding pass to get the free WiFi code (I swear the scanner's broken. I stood there myself waving my boarding pass in the air for a good five minutes). It didn’t work. So I improvised and decided to start this baby off early on Mike Word. By the time I upload this post, I’ll already be at my host mom’s apartment. I’m so tired and physically drained from not getting enough sleep the past few days that I can barely process any emotions right now. 

These last few days have been crazy to say the least. In the past three days, I spent my last night at my apartment on New Year’s Eve with my roommates and best friends, packed, moved out of my apartment, packed some more, and then hopped on a bus to Chicago to see Saskia for 23 hours after she got back from studying abroad in Hong Kong. 

We had no agenda (except to gossip and find food) and ended up at a tapas restaurant called The Purple Pig. We ordered a few plates to share. Everything was savory and amazing and I’m absolutely going to hunt down a similar restaurant in Europe.

The entrance

Both of us cleaned our plates so naturally we were in a major food coma afterwards. We barely made it to the Chicago Riverwalk before heading back to our hotel and getting into bed by 8pm. We are officially old ladies. At 11 pm, I got a text from our friend Ryan asking us if we were still in Chicago after he saw our Instagram pic by the river. Turns out, not only was he in Chicago also, but our hotels were less than a block away from each other. I told him to come on over, and Saskia and I ate foie gras in bed while we waited for him. It was a lazy but spontaneous evening and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I loved spending my last night in the U.S. with them.

By the Chicago Riverwalk

Casually eating foie gras in bed

The next day, the three of us went to breakfast at Eataly, a new Italian grocery store two blocks away from our hotel. There was a Nutella shop inside so of course we had to try the pane con Nutella. 

Heaven on sliced bread

^Truth

So true that we took a picture with it

Afterwards, we did a little bit of shopping on Michigan Ave. (I only bought a Passport cover from J. Crew because I could not fit anything else into my suitcase). It was so cute though and I’m obsessed with the gold lettering with the mint color. 

We said our goodbyes to Ryan and met up with Saskia’s roommate Davina for lunch at The Cheesecake Factory. Davina had actually just gotten back from Rome recently from her study abroad and so she gave me tons of helpful tips of how to do Europe property. 

I had to say goodbye to them for five months again after seeing them for really just a hot second. I waved to them as I got in my cab destined for O’Hare Airport, and headed out on my big adventure…