Thoughts from Notre Dame

It's been a long time since I've been to Paris for more than a travel connection; it's been a long time since I've left the metro/airport/train station. Wednesday night from the taxi, I saw the Eiffel Tower for the first time since 2012. A welcome sight.

When my friend, Melissa, suggested that we meet in front of Notre Dame for coffee, I didn't really think anything of it. Convenient meeting point.

I left the hostel early, unsure of how long it would take to get there (especially lugging around my suitcase). I ended up being a half an hour early for our meeting and stood in the light rain, marveling at « Our Lady ».

The sight of Notre Dame when I surfaced from the metro was like staring into the face of an old friend.

For me, Paris begins and ends at Notre Dame -- historically fairly accurate since once the entire country of France was housed upon that little island in the middle of the Seine. I also pinpoint my time in Notre Dame as the moment I fell irrevocably in love with France.

/Cue flashback

Nearly 10 years ago, I was a (rather surly) teenager picking out classes for my freshman year of high school. Language mandatory. Spanish is for the popular kids. German? Yuck. Friends taking French? French it is! Just like that. One happy little accident.

It's fairly obvious that I fell in love with the language (a mild statement really). What most people don't know is why. Usually I go with some generic variant of « It's the culture! » or « Have you tried the food?? » Both of those are true. But neither really gets to the heart of it.

Nearly 10 years ago now, I sat down in my very first French class. When the teacher asked me « Ça va? » I stared blankly. No French experience outside of a two week intro course 3 years earlier. (Not much stuck, it seems.) The teacher translated and I noted down « Sava = How are you? » (This was later corrected to « Ça va »

A little while later, a young blonde girl walked in. I think I recognized her from middle school but we hadn't really talked -- only seen each other around.

Later that year, we sat next to each other. She became my best friend and remains one of my oldest and closest friends. (Later this year we'll take Paris by storm together.) The next year, my teacher announced that she'd be taking a group of students to France in February. I'll admit: I begged. I used lines like "This might be the only chance I'll ever get to go to France!"

I think it's safe to say that that trip changed my life. I shared it with my mom, which was an experience that I'll treasure forever. For her, going to the top of the Eiffel Tower was the realization of a lifelong dream to travel to Paris. I will always look back fondly at the moments we spent at the top of the Eiffel tower, looking out at Paris all lit up at night. But that isn't when I fell in love.

The « coup de foudre » occurred at some point while I wandered inside Notre Dame, marveling at the age and the architecture.

I spent the trip using my broken, second-year Franch to get « Nous cherchons pour un jersey de Zidaine ». I was so proud of my grammatically incorrect sentences with my horrible American accent. But they understood me all the same and even responded (slowly) in French.  Consider the passion inflamed.

I came back and could only think about studying abroad. I even found a program to study in France for a few weeks during my senior year. My parents objected (given that I would still be under 18). I sulked. They said I could study abroad in college.  And so I waited 6 long years. (Nearly 7.) Too long. Too long.

Finally I arrived back in France. We went to Paris. Climbed the towers of Notre Dame. And the magic returned. A second «Coup de foudre ». My city. My home away from home. My love.

And it starts and ends at Notre Dame. « Our Lady » indeed. My Lady. My one and only true love. There is something profoundly comforting about standing in her shadow. (A comfort, I believe, that has nothing to do with a deity.) Notre Dame de Paris -- the church, the building, the men and women who lived and died building her, Vitor Huge (the author who saved her), her bell tower, her gargoyles, her statues, her age, her beauty. These are my religion.


For most, the Eiffel Tower is the symbol of Paris. For me, the Eiffel Tower is the friend who picks you up at the airport screaming « I missed you!! How are you?! » while hugging you and jumping up and down with excitement. And that's beautiful. That friend is a great friend. (And there is definitely a time when excited screaming and jumping is warranted.) I love that friend. But Notre Dame is the friend standing quietly beside the Eiffel Tower. She doesn't yell; she just smiles. You don't need to say anything to each other. Everything can be said with a look. She's there, silently taking your backpack because she just knows your back hurts, offering to drive because she knows you're exhausted.

Even in the midst of Parisian bustle, Notre Dame is calming. Thursday morning, when the sun was yet to rise, my only company the Lady herself, a few runners and the rats that live in her gardens (a new discovery), I was hit with a wave of nostalgia. This place, this building, this city, this language has shaped my life, given me purpose. The beginnings of it all came back. All the things that French has given me: starting with a best friend and ending with a life purpose. I am forever in the debt of my Lady. The building that started it all. My home away from home; my calm in the storm.

I needed her that morning. After Wednesday's craziness, mishaps with printing, and all the rushing to come, I needed my calm. I needed the reminder of why I'm here, of why I'm going through the stress of grad school applications, why I'll dedicate the next chunk of my life to the careful study of French literature, why I'll spend the rest of my life a slave to students and the American university system while weathering the Pressure to Publish.

Paris begins and ends at Notre Dame; she is my true love. No one will ever hold me like she does. And I'm glad she reminded me. I've spent the last week and a half re-centering myself -- starting with Notre Dame, my family, my friends. Who knows what will be next.

I leave for Paris tonight, and my only regret is that I won't have time to go visit Her until April. Until next time, my Lady.

Belle Paris

Last week was pretty uneventful--the tram broke down and has yet to be fully recovered, so that led to an interesting time getting to and from school on Friday.

Speaking of Friday--WE WENT TO PARIS THIS WEEKEND!!! I can't lie, you guys, Paris feels like a second home to me. We stepped off the train and it was just incredible. We rented an apartment for two nights for super cheap and it was in a great area. If you are traveling, I definitely recommend checking out airbnb.com for accommodations. And if you are coming to Paris, let me know and I can tell you the apartment we stayed at because it was amazing. Even came with a cat to cuddle and play with. :)

This is Terton. He was so cute!

SO, the weekend was pretty jam packed, so I'll try to condense it. We arrived Friday afternoon and got settled into the apartment before deciding to head off to the Eiffel Tower where we got tons and tons and tons of pictures. I wasn't really expecting to be as impressed by the sight as I was. I mean, sure, it's beautiful, but I had already been there, seen that. Boy, was I wrong. I almost got choked up just staring at it. When I came to Paris almost 6 years ago exactly, our trip up the Eiffel Tower was the embodiment of her dream; now, it's the embodiment of mine. It's something I feel that I will always be able to share with my mom, and I got a little emotional.

The view from Trocadéro.

After the Eiffel Tower, we took a cruise on the Seine. It was so absolutely beautiful with everything all lit up at night and, depending on the cruise line you take, you also get a bunch of history and information related to the city and it's architecture. Then it was time to hit up the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs-Élysées. It's something that's pretty cool to see, but if you're not one for shopping, you can probably skip the walk down the Champs-Élysées.

The Arc de Triomphe

To top the night off, we had dinner at this absolutely charming restaurant in the 13th Arrondissement (near our apartment) called L'Aimant du Sud. The owner was fabulous and ended up giving us almost a full bottle of wine on the house. Plus the food was just to die for. If you're ever looking for a good meal in the 13th, I definitely recommend this restaurant.

Saturday morning, we got up early and went to the CATACOMBES. I've been waiting for this moment for six years. It was incredible. I think we spent about an hour and a half wandering around, and I could've easily spent another hour or two reading all the different inscriptions. The entire experience was equal parts terrifying and awe-inspiring. If you're at all into history, you have to check out the Catacombes.

Surrounded by bones--freaky

Leaving the Catacombes

Later we went to Montmartre and Sacre Coeur. It was pretty. The church was pretty magnificent, but the sky was kind of cloudy and overcast, so the view wasn't as great as it really could have been. Then we headed out in search of Moulin Rouge. I was kind of disappointed by it, to be honest. It was okay, but I was much more interested in the two bagpipe bands (plus traditional Scottish dancers) and the marching band that randomly converged in front of the Moulin Rouge.

In front of Sacre Coeur

Moulin Rouge--smaller than I had envisioned.

I think we definitely saved the best for last because Sunday, we went to Notre Dame. The church was as magnificent as I remember (dare I say, more beautiful than Sacre Coeur?). I was especially emotional here, too, remembering my grandparents. I lit a candle for all of them and even though I'm not religious, it was still a pretty moving experience (especially after the Scottish dancers the day before that reminded me of my Maut Mah).

In front of Notre Dame

Then, the pièce de résistance: we climbed the bell tower of Notre Dame (which my youngest host sister thought was called "Monsieur Dame"). This is not for the faint of legs (400 stairs to climb), nor the easily dizzied (winding staircase), but if you can stomach it, and you can make it--DO IT. I think it was easily the most awe-inspiring thing I've ever seen and could easily end up being the highlight of the entire semester. I seriously recommend putting "Climbing to the bell tower of Notre Dame de Paris" on your bucket list. You definitely won't regret it. The view was absolutely incredible, even though it was cloudy at first. But then the sun broke through, and the city just lit up. I just... I can't even. It was awesome.

The Eiffel Tower

Gargoyles with the Eiffel Tower in the background

After Notre Dame we got our stuff from the apartment and said "Au Revoir" to the kitty and our beautiful Paris and made our way home. It was seriously a great weekend--and a great big THANK YOU to Stacie for navigating pretty much the entire time.

This also happened.