An American in Paris.

Before going into this blog, one should know something: I never had any real desire to go to Paris. It's unbelievable, I know, because Paris was once the center of the world, and is still a cultural powerhouse. And it's beautiful. And while I hoped to get there one day, if FU-Best's field trip hadn't been to Paris, I would not have gone while in Europe.

However, looking back on my week in France, I was pleasantly surprised by Paris. Mind you, at first I was not--the trains were hot, crowded, and would occasionally lose power while in motion and stop, and Paris is sooo expensive and full of tourists and annoyed Parisians. (I would be annoyed with all of us too.) And like any other vacation, the first day I got a horrid sunburn, complete with sunglass voids and a necklace line. Dirk even made skiing gestures through the window the next morning. Thanks for that.

Yet Notre Dame Cathedral was awe-inspiring and humbling--both the mass on Sunday and climbing the tower a few days later. As cheesy as I thought the Eiffel Tower would be, in person it is gigantic and at night, beautiful. I went to the Louvre, and while I knew it would be awesome, it really, really was. Of course we saw the Mona Lisa and Madonna on the Rocks, but there were so many other paintings there that I love that I didn't know were going to be there--Raft of the Medusa by Gericault, The Death of Sardanapalus and Liberty Guiding the People by Delacroix, and the statue Cupid and Psyche. The last place I saw in Paris was the Louvre, and what a send-off. All my unpleasant or ambivalent attitudes towards Paris were drowned out by glass pyramids and oil paintings.

Normandy was awe-inspiring in a different way, and I was definitely more excited about going to Normandy then to Paris. I've always been a history buff, and World War II history is what brought me to Berlin in the first place. Both my grandfathers fought in WWII and my Uncle Ralph fought on D-Day--being able to walk on Omaha Beach was amazing, and also humbling. It was one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever been on, which I think is appropriate--after all that happened there, it should be turned into something natural and serene. The beach deserves it, as do the men who died there.

After another 15 hour bus ride back to Berlin, I was completely relieved to be back. To be back home. What an interesting thought, that my tiny apartment in Berlin could feel like home to me. Maybe its because I got to go to bed after an incredibly long bus ride and use the internet at length, but I think it's also something more, and it might help to explain how I felt about the two cities. Paris was definitely a tourist city, and I acted like a tourist. I don't speak French either--too bad we didn't go to Spain, where I might have been of use to someone--but I didn't really try to learn. I spent all my time at major landmarks, trying to cram an entire city into 5 days, and then an entire war into 2 days. Berlin has a different feel to it. I'm taking my time, attending school, ordering by number at the Asian food shack around the corner from the apartment, even though the man always points to double check my horribly American-accented German, while throwing in some museums and landmarks. Its nice to be able to live in a city completely foreign to you and attempt to learn from experience, as opposed to cramming a guidebook into a week. Not that I am knocking vacationing by any means--I spent one day in Rome a few years ago and the few hours spent in the Vatican were awesome and I am glad I got to have them. Yet it is definitely a nice and new experience to have time to spend and time to form an opinion.