Where to Start
Where to begin. My trip to France in 2016 was monumental in my development as a human being. For months and years, weeks and days, for lifetimes I dreamt about going to France, specifically Paris, and living out this fantastically romantic life. I dreamt about taking walks on the Seine at midnight with the moon shining down and the rustic iron street lamps glowing a soft, dim light, hand in hand with my extremely handsome significant other. I dreamt about picnicking in front of the Eiffel Tower, baguette in hand, food in mouth, as one does. That all being said, it was clear I was positively itching to go.
My idealistic view of France obviously came from books such as “Anna and the French Kiss”, or songs such as La Vie en Rose. It was all so romantic and, as I am queen of all things romance, traveling to France (again, see “specifically Paris”) was my dream. However, instead of the fairy tale dream or the cute romances I lost sleep over, I got a two week vacation with my entire family, and the two boys closest to me in age were my brothers. Que Romantique, eh?
Another important detail to note is that this trip was the trip I took right before my first day of high school as an itty bitty freshman. For these reasons above, I was positive that going to France would change my life, and upon returning back home I would have transformed into a brand-new, shiny me, fresh off the plane and ready to tackle high school. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Our two week trip began with five days of just my immediate family (plus my aunt) in Paris, trying to fit in every single attraction in the allotted time slot, then a full week in the south of France before returning back home to rainy Pittsburgh. However, I am just going to write about Paris, as I know Paris is idealistically, a dreamscape. (Sorry Nice, Antibes, and Grasse!) When our plane touched down in the Charles De Gaulle airport, my heart spazzed. I had been through the Paris airport countless times before on many connecting flights to Lebanon, but this time obviously it was different. We were finally here, finally in Paris. And finally, my true life was about to begin.
What to Wear, WHAT to Wear!
When packing for this trip, it would be safe to say I went slightly overboard. For weeks, I had stalked Pinterest boards endlessly, even titling a board “French Girl,” filling it with clothing inspirations of what to wear. As I saw in movies, the type of girl that got the guy was the girl who wore beautiful, long, flowy circle skirts and brimmed hats and chic sweaters, so that is what I packed, (minus the circle skirt because what store in 2016 sold a freaking circle skirt?) In sum, I only packed nice clothes, which was a huge change from my previous trips to Europe (See “Italy 2013”). Honestly, the trip to France was probably pivotal in my clothing style, especially entering freshman year afterwards. Long gone were the days of athletic shorts and graphic tees found in the boys section of Target. Hello Banana Republic and Ann Taylor Loft, aka women stores that fourteen year old me loved because I wanted to be a grown woman that badly. Don’t worry though, I still dressed normal some days, and my style eventually evolved into whatever mess it is today, but I attribute my switch from tomboy to womanly tomboy to my trip to France. Merci a la france.
La Vie en Rose
As I said before, the moment the plane touched down in Paris, my heart seemed to do twenty flips all in the span of thirty seconds. Little me was so excited to see the Eiffel Tower from the window, pressing her face up against that dirty, dirty airplane window that a baby probably drooled on, breathing in every virus known to man. Honestly, looking back, that is probably why the first couple days of my trip were ruined all thanks to the large zit on my forehead. (Note to self- no more gawking.)
Leaving the airport was the longest hour of my entire life. I just wanted to go go go but my dad didn’t have a french phone number to find the address of the home we were staying in, and my younger brothers (twelve and nine) had to drag behind because they were tired. Imagine being tired when you are in Paris! Jet lag just doesn’t exist if you ignore it. We finally arrived at my father’s friend’s home, unlocking the door to find the cutest little apartment that had one of those gated elevators, a balcony, and windows with a heavenly view of the city. I was in love. At that very moment, it seemed that my plans to find a gorgeous french boy to marry were all coming together, minus my acne prone face which I couldn’t fix thanks to my lack of concealer. (This trip taught me to bring all the essentials going forward, let me just add).
Once I connected to wifi, the true love of my life, I saw that my extended cousins my age were also in Paris. You could imagine my joy knowing that my favorite (and also stylish and super cool) cousins were in Paris too. Giddy at this coincidence, I told my father that we absolutely had to go meet up with them, and that it was crucial we saw them right away. You could call me a hypocrite since my great plans were halted the moment I sat down and slept for two whole hours while my siblings were wide awake.
Ohhhhh Champs-Élysées
After The Great Nap, we met up with my cousins on the Champs-Élysées, making plans to later tour Versailles with them. After that lunch, my family and I freely toured the famous street (thanks, Joe Dassin), stopping in the Ferrari store and the Arc De Triomphe. Like idiots, we did spend close to half an hour trying to figure out how to cross the street only to realize that there is an underground tunnel to the center. However, once we slayed that particular obstacle, it was amazing. While we did have to pay to enter (as this was four years ago, I don’t remember the price), the history and breathtaking architecture made up for the price. Totally worth it in my opinion. Even if you are afraid of heights, I promise you, you won’t regret it to go. While the inside of the Arc resembles a museum, take the winding staircase to the top. Not only is the structure of the entire building incredible, but the top offers a view of the whole city, showing the amazing grid-like structure branching out from the circle of the Arc, lending view to iconic signs such as the Eiffel Tower. One of my best photos was taken at this sight, the joy radiating from my face apparent. For once, I was happy. Afterwards, we walked miles (sorry, France, metric system), about a kilometer until we found the Eiffel tower. We gazed upon it in awe from the outside and after, we went to the cutest cafe across the plaza. I remember ordering a brie sandwich and the waiter telling me that my “American tastebuds” might not be able to handle the exquisite taste of french cheese. Oh sir, if only he knew. Yet, in all of these sights, did I find a French boyfriend? No. Maria 0, France 1.
Mouches
In the days following, my family and I attempted to squeeze in about three to five attractions per day. We first departed bright and early on a cloudy grey day on Les Bateaux Mouches, or in english, the fly boats. This tour of the Seine was wonderful, despite the freezing cold and gloomy August weather. We saw Notre Dame by the boat, as well as the Eiffel tower and other famous landmarks like bridges in movies. Needless to say, I was Delighted with a capital D.
Afterwards, my family traversed to Notre Dame when the sun finally started to shine. I took this as a sign that like Anna from “Anna and the French Kiss,” I was about to meet my Étienne by the circle in the center of the square. (I did not.) Notre Dame was historic, absolutely breathtaking, and just… massive. While it wasn’t as large as other churches I had been to, (See “La Sagrada Familia”) it was still ginormous in it’s own way. Notre Dame is significant. It is what Victor Hugo wrote about in Hunchback in his valiant attempt to save the church. (Picture this! Mr. Hugo running in front of flaming torches with said manuscript in hand, waving frantically at them to stop before it was too late. Pretty romantic huh?) It is where the gargoyles stand tall and proud. It is home to a piece of the original crown of thorns. Notre Dame is, and I repeat, massive. Astoundingly massive. While fourteen year old me did not get to climb to the top from the outside like she wanted, she still found solace in knowing that she was now a part of the greats. I had stood where history was made.
Later that evening, after passing by Moulin Rouge (no, fourteen year old me was not allowed inside) we met up with my aunt and cousins as we traveled to MontMartre, home of one of the craziest artist squares and Sacre Coeur. Everywhere I looked, there was something new. I thought immediately of An American in Paris and smiled, since the hectic little corner of the oh-so glamorous Paris, felt like home. Like a mouche on the wall, I watched as my cousin got his portrait drawn, I passed by a cafe called “La Claire de Lune” (I love you!! Debussy) and looked out at the entirety of Paris from in front of Sacre Coeur. At that moment, life was complete.
Royalty is Key
The day we went to Versailles was probably the most exciting day for me. Going to Versailles snapped a switch inside of me, unleashing my inner history nerd. I was where Marie Antoinette lived, breathed, ate, slept. I was standing where the Louis reigned, and more importantly, partied. Although the lines were long to enter, my cousins and I fooled around waiting to finally pass through those giant golden gates. The moment we passed through into the inside, my heart soared. When people talk about the charm of Paris, they most definitely had to have been talking about Versailles. The art left me speechless. I mean, how could someone be that rich, that important, that powerful to have collected and commissioned that much wealth. (The answer is peasants, see “Les Mis”). Anyways, the resounding thought that kept coursing through my body was that if I could, I would get married in Versailles, or at least take wedding photos there. It was exquisite. My favorite room, however chiche, had to have been the Hall of Mirrors. I could only dream of the wealth that had once passed through those halls.
If Versailles is an estate, then the grounds surrounding it had to be a suburban neighborhood. The grounds are NOT to be slept on. Not only can you spend a whole day just traversing through those gardens and fountains and statues and mazes of hedges, but you will find something new every time. My dad and I bonded that day in the gardens, cartwheeling through the grass and running up and down the rows of magnificent trees.
I think about that day a lot. Life was easier. I really really miss Versailles.
For Me, to Die is Gain
While Versailles was unexpected for me in the art department, I was absolutely floored when I knew we were going to the Louvre. Getting to see Nike of Samothrace, the Mona Lisa, and Venus de Milo? Yes please. My brothers and aunt on the other hand were not as excited, choosing to sit down at every possible moment instead, unlike me who wanted to see the entire museum before it was time to go. Leaving my brothers and aunt behind on a poof, my dad and I took off, seeing every depth of the museum in about three hours, but not truly seeing if you know what I mean. I didn’t care though. Note to self, the Louvre takes about a whole day and even then you don’t see it all. It is my goal one day to study abroad and spend the whole year seeing the Louvre bit by bit.
After the Louvre and eating the macaroons we bought, we went to the dreaded catacombs. For me, this was terrifying. Like yes, we all had our emo phase but to be surrounded by a bunch of dead dudes UNDERGROUND. Horrible. However, I took this trip as not only an opportunity to face my fears, but to see a vital part of Parisian history. While walking, there were many stone signs with quotes on them. My favorite was “For me, to die is gain” which actually comes from a Bible Verse. (I did not know that at the time and chose to think I was some emo cool chick, thanks Philippians 1:21)
Later that evening, my brother and aunt decided to rest at home while my youngest brother, father, and I decided to see the Eiffel Tower. Finally. This moment was the moment I had been waiting for: going to the most romantic spot in Paris with my love... I mean.. My father. And brother. How lovely. (Keep in mind, at this point we are at France 4, Maria still 0). Climbing all the way to the top was a feat, but it was worth it and the charge we had to pay to see the tippy top? For a view like that? Priceless.
Goodbye
While I did not get my great European Parisian romance that I dreamed of (I will one day... just you wait), my trip changed me, and not just my fashion sense. I learned about an entirely different culture, breaking the stereotypes for myself surrounding the french. I got to practice and perfect my french with people who weren’t my family members, but at the same time, I grew closer to my family. Most importantly, I found something within myself. Searching deep, I found an independence I didn’t know I had and my flame. That gusto for life and a desire to see the world that began burning in China? That flame hasn’t burned out since. Merci Paris.
