Paris Memoirs - Dépaysement

It has been over a year since I first arrived in Paris, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, anticipating the span of five months that, in my fantastical imagination, would be pure bliss. It would be all frolicking, colorful macarons, endless bottles of wine, cornucopias of cheese, and elegant style. I just assumed that I would suddenly transform into one of those chic people you see in photos from Paris fashion week at the Tuileries. Indeed, I certainly did consume countless bottles of wine, but what I didn't expect was a crippling reality check.

The French word dépaysement in the most general sense describes the condition of being disoriented in an unfamiliar context. At a deeper level, it is used when a person finds themselves far away from their home country, feeling a sense of alienation and longing for home; the word itself contains pays, which is French for country.

Securing a Parisian apartment months ahead of time did indeed alleviate a boat-load of stress, but in turn, this meant I arrived alone, tackled public transport alone, and entered a foreign apartment building alone, all the while struggling to carry my body's weight in luggage. I had detailed directions written on a note in my pocket that I re-checked every 10 seconds like a paranoid schitzophrenic, even though I had it memorized by heart. The building was super easy to find, a short walk from the metro station and in view of the "city hall" of the 15th Arrondissement.

After taking the miniscule lift to the 7th floor (thank GOD for the elevator) and then spending 10 minutes attempting to unlock the door, I stumbled into my new home. I was simultaneously cocaine-high on nerves, in disbelief at the absolute beauty of the apartment, and absolutely terrified at how utterly FAR my comforts were from me. It had Turkish rugs on the floor, an old wooden armoire, a teeny kitchenette, and a view of those quintessential little chimineys. I kept saying to myself, "oh my god, is this real," over, and over, and over again.

Allowing myself a few deep breaths, I realized how many unexpected logistical issues there were. Wifi was nonexistent, the power adapter I brought didn't work, my lap top died in 5 minutes without power, I didn't know if my US phone would work, I needed a French phone to contact my au pair family ASAP but had no idea how to get one, I had no food, I had no way to contact my family to let them know I was safe, and the next day I had an orientation to attend.

Needless to say, I broke. Uncontrollable sobbing. Violent shaking. The whole nine yards.

I disregarded international charges and called my mama. Even writing this out makes me feel a little choked up. There are certain times when you just need your Mom.


{View from the window, not the most stunning, but charming nonetheless. Unfortunately, I have no photos of the apartment itself! how sad!}
It took me almost two months to get past my depression, fear, and anxiety. I hadn't realized how NOT independent I was, and the vicious cycle of "feeling bad for feeling bad" only added to the situation.

The best advice my mama gave me was to "fake it until you make it," and it eventually worked, after many a sad, lonely, forced trip to the Eiffel Tower or a nearby park.

In fact, the very first "sightseeing" outing I took was to the Eiffel Tower, the quintessential icon of Paris, the symbol of romance and awe... And you know what happened??? I felt no joy whatsoever. I was incredibly scared of practicing the language, and just assumed that people wouldn't have the patience to "deal with me" and my fragmented French... If I had to take the metro, I would pre-memorize the route I would take, the station names and directions to take... I would clutch my bag so tightly just in case pickpockets were lurking nearby... The need to cry would randomly surge up in any unoccupied moments... It was BAD, guys. Really bad. Oh - and did I mention that I was also in the midst of a break-up? yeah... just bad.

My life wasn't magical. It was full of mundane things and metros that smelled like piss. I had to work a job (nanny), I had to combat the French university system tooth and nail to enroll in classes, I had to make sure I was nutritionally balanced, and wear comfortable shoes. I remember one particular afternoon, sitting in a hidden corner of a café and messaging my mom, seriously considering packing up and returning home. After that conversation, I realized that I either NEEDED to enjoy my time in Paris, or leave; because there's no way I could live this miserably continuously for 4.5 more months. I also couldn't let Natalie down - my best friend had bought a ticket to visit me over Christmas, and dropping that ball just wasn't an option.

I was on a mission from that point forward, posting mantras on my walls, forcing myself to make friends and step out of my comfort zone. You don't know how good it feels to be completely content and confident in your life when you've experienced the level of fear that I had. I remember a day in which I resolved myself to find a winter coat, since I didn't own one yet. It was nothing crazy - I just walked a few blocks out of my neighborhood, visited a few shops, and came home with a new black, wool coat!! I was so proud of myself! For something so simple.

And the more I ventured out, the more clarifying moments of accomplishment I had, and after a while, almost every day felt like the best day ever. I was able to walk confidently through the streets, navigate conversational French, and socialize like a butterfly. The new surroundings and my conscious decision to step out of my comfort zone made my time in Paris the most rewarding thing I've ever done. period.

Getting to the good part took A LOT of struggle. The biggest lesson I learned is this: That happiness doesn't mysteriously happen to you according to some unknown system of destiny, but rather, YOU make it happen to yourself. It isn't a passive occurrence, it's one that demands action, a choice.

I feel like reflecting on my past is so appropriate right now, considering my future move to Versailles coming up in January. The upcoming move will be a completely different one. Things will be more familiar, and I'll be arriving to the comforting presence of my boyfriend, Erik. I know that my comfort zone will be challenged, nevertheless, and I'm really looking forward to see how it all unfolds! At least I'll have a handsome Swede to greet me at the airport this time 'round!


Enjoy these photos and their accompanying captions. The next installment of the Paris Memoirs will be about all the magical times.


{Ready to depart at the airport}

{First French meal}

{I will always remember the taste of that Éclair au Café}

{The loneliest hour at the park ever - wrote in my journal and cried here, Eiffel tower in the distance}

{First touristy outing - didn't go so well}

{In an attempt to work through my depression after the anticlimax of the Eiffel tower, I took a very long walk down the Seine and spotted this pretty steeple}





Here are some excerpts from the journal I kept: (yes, this is a Rifle Paper Co. Journal)



{I saved my metro ticket and directions from airport to the apartment}

{doodles from when I woke up randomly at 4am from jet lag... Mr. Frog is my stuffed animal friend}

{"It's fear. I'm afraid of everything."}

{"I think the word is disillusionment."}


I really hope you enjoyed this memoir. Please share your experiences or thoughts with me in the comments if you have any. :D If you have a specific question or private concern please email me. hannah.wilson27 (at) gmail.com



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Breakfast in the Marais

Last Sunday I made the (somewhat) long trek from the 15th over to the 3rd Arrondissement, just to have a taste of Breakfast in America. As you can probably guess, it's an American-themed diner-type restaurant complete with breakfast items of all sorts, shakes, and a lunch menu of burgers, fries, and the like. The only disappointment? NO HASH BROWNS. Major let down. But the bottomless mug of strong American-style coffee instantly redeemed my mood.

They even had a variety of shakes, including one called "Obama" that had peanut butter, along with other ingredients. Needless to say, it was tasty.

{Breakfast in America - a taste of home}
{Enjoying our "Obama"}
{Breakfast Burrito & BOTTOMLESS cup o' joe}
{Bacon}
{Too enthusiastic}
{happy}

After breakfast, we explored the Marais a bit. We first dug through the racks at Vintage Dèsir, an extremely well-priced vintage shop that had plenty of over-sized sweaters to choose from. I believe this one has a sister-store in Montmartre, near the Abbesses metro station.

Rue des Rosiers is the main thoroughfare of the hip Marais district, and has numerous delis and food shops offering kosher goodies. The street itself is inherently charming, due to it's narrow width, cobblestones, and non-Haussmanesque buildings. The grand boulevards with their 7-story buildings, ornate iron balustrades, and homogeneity are magnificent, but it's nice to see a different, more down-to-earth, simplified, and varied version of Paris.

I realized taking these street photos, that my photo collection is seriously lacking! It's inspired me to take more photos in the streets, which I plan to do this weekend, if it doesn't rain too much.

{Street band}
{Pedestrianized street with lots of delis}
{Rue des Rosiers}




{What a typical French waiter looks like}


{little alley}

Look forward to more Parisian street photography!

Also, I'm looking into taking a 2-day trip to Chartres, a small city about an hour from Paris. They've got a great Gothic cathedral, and tons of opportunity for charming street photography. :)

Pondering Paris

The last week and a half I can't stop thinking, pondering, and obsessing about Paris in the Fall. I lay awake at night, as I'm supposed to be getting much-needed sleep, coming up with scenarios in my head, such as - searching for an apartment, ordering a crepe, finding my favorite boulangerie, taking art history classes in French, and the list goes on. I've even spent a significant amount of time exploring the streets of Paris via Google Maps street view. I've been researching like crazy for advice on studying abroad, and brainstorming ways to save up money. If you're wondering where in the world I've been the last two weeks - this is what I've been doing.

This Fall, I will have the chance to live in a new country. I'll be there for five months, I'll rent a tiny closet-sized apartment (shared toilet down the hall), I'll be an English tutor part time, and I'll study art history in the company of the best museums in the world. I almost can't believe it's going to happen - It still feels surreal.

Photo by Rebecca Plotnick

When most people think about Paris, they think Luxury and Fashion. But those are two stereotypes I don't care much about. The experience I want to have in Paris is a real one, full of busy metros, rude French waiters, picnics along the Seine, scavenging flea markets, buying fresh food at the outdoor market everyday, practicing my French until I'm so frustrated I throw my school books across the room (though they won't go far, as my apartment will be 5 feet across), finding nooks and crannies of the city no tourist has touched, and most of all, make my own way. Of course, I desperately want to experience the opulence and grandeur of all the tourist must-see sites, but most of all, I want to have an authentic Parisian life, even if that life lasts less than half a year.

Photo by Cherie Lester