When the bells signaled that the subway doors were closing, I leapt down the last few steps, two by two, and jumped triumphantly onto the train. I did the urban thing by avoiding all eye contact and taking my seat quietly. But after a few seconds with my heart still beating madly, I couldn't resist a glance around the car to see if anyone shared my delight. Ah, but they were being the perfect urbanites too, staring out of the window or at the floor and not a jot interested in my mini conquest. They were far too busy contemplating another busy day in the life of a New Yorker-er, scratch that-a Parisian.
Yes, if you are acquainted with the ways of the world's big cities, then a transition to Paris, as an urban alternative, is easy. You can wear your dark clothes and the dark glower, carry an umbrella in an aggressive don't-mess-with-me way. You can, however, be a little more daring on the accessory side of things: that is, wear the black coat like the urbanite that you are, but spice it up with a bright Chanel scarf or an Indian-inspired gold trim scarf. The style of the Parisians is immediately recognizable as that of the cities of the world, yet somehow elevated to include slightly finer accessories, slightly nicer shoes than those I have seen in London and New York. At the same time, you can also walk around with a three foot loaf of bread called a baguette and chomp on it madly, disregarding the shower of crumbs that floats down around you like a gastronomic halo.
In regards to cheapo food, the same can be said: recognizable, that is, sandwiches, burgers, pastries, but a cut above what I eat in New York. Much as I would love to sample the many expensive restaurants and delicious restaurants that I pass, as a student, I am eating the cheap way. And eating incredibly well at that. There are these amazingly delicious sandwiches called panninis, which are about the length of half a baguette and filled with cheeses and hams and tomatoes. They are then roasted in a sandwich grill so that the result is warm bread oozing with cheese. Baguette sandwiches are out of this world because the bread is heavenly. The pastries are soft and flaky. And crepes are around every corner at these little stands called Creperies, where you can get anything from simply sugar in your crepe, to jam, chocolate, bananas, cheese. . .they are the enemy of those watching their weight.
I have been somewhat surprised, actually, at the lack of health concern in this country on the part of the French, but I find it refreshing not to be consumed by guilt at the thought of a little butter, cheese or red meat. In fact, it would seem that the thought of margarine over butter is laughable. To even consider cutting out a large part of cheese consumption is ridiculous. Meat two or three times a day is how it should be according to them. Cigarettes. Yes, they're unhealthy. But so is the sun, so is pollution. There's a sentiment of living life to the fullest here, something I think the French like to call the joie de vivre. If I learn anything during this semester abroad, I hope it has a lot more to do with enjoying the smaller things in life than with being able to analyze a Picasso.
