I went to Paris looking for answers to questions that bothered me so. It was the summer of 2009. While I was studying in Oxford that summer, I found a great deal via the Eurostar from St. Pancras to La Gare du Nord. I disappeared into the French cafes, restaurants and museums for three solid days. I don’t know if I have ever had a more fabulous vacation.
I decided when I left that I would only speak French. If you know me, you know that’s not necessarily a wise decision. But I figured, if they spoke English, they would reply in English if my French was that bad. Wise decision actually. I did pretty well, and I’m glad that I made that choice. It was fun.
I chose to take a leave from grad work while I was gone despite my better judgment. I had an enormous paper on Ulysses due the following week. But I didn’t care. I took the Metro everywhere, leaving my hotel at nine in the morning, and returning around eleven or midnight. I took probably 500 photos that weekend. I tried on French clothes, only to be disappointed that they didn’t fit a curvy girl well. I smoked French cigarettes, and ordered wine and cheese for my lunch.
So what were these questions that bothered me so? Continue reading