There's No Place like Home
I grew up in a northern New Jersey suburban town. Minus the white picket fence and lawn gnome stereotypes, the town that I grew up in is everything one would imagine "'burbia" to be. Big homes, large green yards, kids riding their bicycles through the neighborhood streets, dogs barking, the smell of grilling barbecue filling the air on the weekends... the list goes on. Life back home became a routine; everything was so predictable. Friday night football games in the fall were a guarantee and the milkshake from the local diner was a promise. You would see the same families at church every Sunday and the same faces picking up breakfast sandwiches and a dozen or so bagels there after. Weekdays were all the same - school, sports practice, dinner, homework, repeat.
That's not to say that I did not love growing up there. Of course by the time I was a senior in high school, the predictability of it all was old and mundane. I was eager to see the world and what different cities have to offer. However, it was, and still is, always incredibly comforting going home over breaks and knowing exactly what to expect. I actually miss the predictability. I miss the comfort of just simply knowing - knowing what to latte to get at the coffee shop, knowing that I will be greeted on a first-name basis when I walk into my nail salon, knowing everyone and having others know me.
Paris is nothing like home, which obviously isn't surprising considering that it is a major metropolitan city and I grew up in what some people may refer to as a "small town." Although I live in a residential area of the city, it is still a city and not a suburb or the comfort of Loyola that I grew to love so much. It was daunting at first - having to morph into the city-savvy girl that I always wanted to be, but I knew that it was an adjustment that I had to make in order to make the most of my time abroad.
One of the tips that I still remember from orientation was the word of advice to "not compare everything here to home because if you will get caught up in the fact that the shower is not the same as it is wherever you came from, then you should leave." It was the reality check I did not know that I needed. Despite having been in Paris before this adventure began, I was sure to leave all of my expectations in New Jersey. I did not want to sweat the small stuff because if that was the case, then maybe, like the presenter said, I should not be here. Of course, that is easier said than done, and I have found myself noticing the differences.
For starters, the amount of walking I do here versus in the states. I walk on average 15,000, yes, fifteen THOUSAND, steps a day. The most steps I walked in a day was just shy of 25,000. I love the amount of walking I do here. I feel good after a long day of constant moving...and it gives me a good excuse to eat a crêpe :) One of my favorite tasks to do is being able to walk to the grocery store do to my shopping. I will absolutely miss that walk when I return to Baltimore and find myself driving to Giant only to pick up a few items. Paris definitely lives up to the trait of being a walking city!
Going off of walking everywhere, there is a heavy reliance on public transportation. Neither in my hometown, nor at school, do people rely on public transportation as much as people do here. I use the metro every day to get to campus and if not to campus than anywhere else in the city. Of course, my hometown does not have a need for a train system to get from one place in town to another, but nonetheless I was surprised to learn just how important that mode of transportation became to me.
Walking around the city, a major difference that I noticed compared to home is the way that people acknowledge each other. In the States, it is not out of the ordinary to catch eyes with a passing stranger or to even share a smile. Here, people do not even make eye contact! It is apart of the French culture to keep to yourself, and nothing is wrong with that! People are noticeably private. That does not mean that the French are rude or snobs. They are simply quiet.
Finally, the people here are not the only quiet part of the city. The city itself is noticeably quiet. The metro in the morning is nearly silent. You can hear more birds chirping in the morning than the hustle-bustle sounds of a city. You hear a woman's heels clicking on the sidewalk over car horns or passing conversations. There are even enforced city-wide quiet hours each night after 10pm. Paris is truly a quiet city. Of course, my hometown is also quiet, considering it is not a major city, however considering Paris is major city, it is shocking.
That's not to say that I did not love growing up there. Of course by the time I was a senior in high school, the predictability of it all was old and mundane. I was eager to see the world and what different cities have to offer. However, it was, and still is, always incredibly comforting going home over breaks and knowing exactly what to expect. I actually miss the predictability. I miss the comfort of just simply knowing - knowing what to latte to get at the coffee shop, knowing that I will be greeted on a first-name basis when I walk into my nail salon, knowing everyone and having others know me.
Paris is nothing like home, which obviously isn't surprising considering that it is a major metropolitan city and I grew up in what some people may refer to as a "small town." Although I live in a residential area of the city, it is still a city and not a suburb or the comfort of Loyola that I grew to love so much. It was daunting at first - having to morph into the city-savvy girl that I always wanted to be, but I knew that it was an adjustment that I had to make in order to make the most of my time abroad.
One of the tips that I still remember from orientation was the word of advice to "not compare everything here to home because if you will get caught up in the fact that the shower is not the same as it is wherever you came from, then you should leave." It was the reality check I did not know that I needed. Despite having been in Paris before this adventure began, I was sure to leave all of my expectations in New Jersey. I did not want to sweat the small stuff because if that was the case, then maybe, like the presenter said, I should not be here. Of course, that is easier said than done, and I have found myself noticing the differences.
For starters, the amount of walking I do here versus in the states. I walk on average 15,000, yes, fifteen THOUSAND, steps a day. The most steps I walked in a day was just shy of 25,000. I love the amount of walking I do here. I feel good after a long day of constant moving...and it gives me a good excuse to eat a crêpe :) One of my favorite tasks to do is being able to walk to the grocery store do to my shopping. I will absolutely miss that walk when I return to Baltimore and find myself driving to Giant only to pick up a few items. Paris definitely lives up to the trait of being a walking city!
Going off of walking everywhere, there is a heavy reliance on public transportation. Neither in my hometown, nor at school, do people rely on public transportation as much as people do here. I use the metro every day to get to campus and if not to campus than anywhere else in the city. Of course, my hometown does not have a need for a train system to get from one place in town to another, but nonetheless I was surprised to learn just how important that mode of transportation became to me.
Walking around the city, a major difference that I noticed compared to home is the way that people acknowledge each other. In the States, it is not out of the ordinary to catch eyes with a passing stranger or to even share a smile. Here, people do not even make eye contact! It is apart of the French culture to keep to yourself, and nothing is wrong with that! People are noticeably private. That does not mean that the French are rude or snobs. They are simply quiet.
Finally, the people here are not the only quiet part of the city. The city itself is noticeably quiet. The metro in the morning is nearly silent. You can hear more birds chirping in the morning than the hustle-bustle sounds of a city. You hear a woman's heels clicking on the sidewalk over car horns or passing conversations. There are even enforced city-wide quiet hours each night after 10pm. Paris is truly a quiet city. Of course, my hometown is also quiet, considering it is not a major city, however considering Paris is major city, it is shocking.
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