Stories
One of my classmates looked out the window on the train ride to Tianjin and said that he’d heard a rumor that half of the world’s supply of cranes were in China’s growing cities.
Ernest Hemingway famously wrote, “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”
The grandpa at Starbucks happily announced for everyone who was wondering,“¡Es americana!” (“She’s American!”).
But when I arrived at my new home I was met with a much different type of Paris than the liberal, trendy one in my mind.
I wake up Saturday morning after a relaxed Friday night of tortilla espanola and sangria with friends and realize I have exactly 0 things that need to be done for the day.
The whole point of the activity was that you had to ask Chinese people for directions and had to use public transportation at least once.
Whether it be the woman working at the Metro who literally came out of her office to help me add money to my card, or the man in the phone company who listened for about five minutes while I recited my e-mail address using the letters of the French alphabet, I’ve only been encouraged to keep trying.
Una vida sin amor y ilusión, es una vida sin sentimiento.
So, my idea of molding myself into the perfect Parisian in three weeks has been discarded. Instead of coming to Paris as a rough clay sculpture, in the need of some retouching and polish, it seems like I’ll get there as a lump. But, all the better, á mon avie, for what better to sculptor than dear Paris, one of the most beautiful places in the world?
I have not choice, but to go at this point
Great article!
