Belle Shea | Paris, France | Post 4

Belle Shea | Paris, France | Post 4

A Recipe for Thanksgiving in Paris   Wake up on Thanksgiving Day to the distinctive sound of your backup emergency alarm (Demi Lovato). Roll over, reach for your phone through the tangle of your green sheets. It’s just a little before noon. Realize that you have, once more, missed your Thursday morning drawing class. Console yourself with the fact that, as a God-fearing American, no one could possibly expect you to go to class when you should be celebrating the…

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Carrie Plover | Paris, France | Post 4

Carrie Plover | Paris, France | Post 4

It’s with melancholy that I acknowledge that this will be my last “Far and Away” post for the Miscellany News. It’s almost as if my time abroad is nearly over. Wait! It is. Yesterday, as we sat in a shamelessly hipster coffee shop (the tip jar toted a sign that implored patrons as to whether or not they were “feeling tipsy”), a friend informed me that we have only five weekends left in Paris. I nearly spit a bite of…

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Clivia Wang | Paris, France | Post 4

Clivia Wang | Paris, France | Post 4

And here we are, the last post of the semester. I’ve come a long way. Today, during dinner, the oldest son of my host family came back from Germany — he’s an engineer, working in Munich. My host mom says he talks like a machine gun, but to my surprise, I started following his conversations rather effortlessly: he talked about his work in a job about “simulation,” about his co-worker who made a very bad Power Point, and about his…

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Clivia Wang | Paris, France | Post 3

Clivia Wang | Paris, France | Post 3

Oh, Paris. The fact that I’ve been bumming my brains out at one o’clock in the morning trying to sum up Paris is the real evidence that Paris refuses to be logically examined. The City of Love. Once the capital of the world. The city of magic, according to Woody Allen. The city of elegantly bitchy girls. The city of stuffy and smelly metros (but really though, it’s good enough compared to New York). All in all, THE CITY. In…

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Carrie Plover | Paris, France | Post 3

Carrie Plover | Paris, France | Post 3

    De-Romanticizing the City of Love The beginning of most romantic relationships proves a happy period of time. During the honeymoon phase, as it’s popularly called, partners tend to come to mutual decisions easily, avoid bickering, and embrace in public approximately ten times more than is necessary. All good things must come to an end, however, and the honeymoon phase is no exception. After a few weeks or months, it will probably dawn on you that your new partner’s…

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Clivia Wang | Paris, France | Post 2

Clivia Wang | Paris, France | Post 2

The first month is a really interesting threshold in an exchange year. My sleeping situation is finally better, I have managed to not catch the cold that’s been going around the group (fingers crossed), and I have learned how to say “to go” in a cafe (suck it last-post-me). But I blame Paris for having so many must-see-places-in-your-life that I constantly feel like a tourist. The first time you go on the Eiffel Tower (not yet), the first time you…

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Carrie Plover | Paris, France | Post 2

Carrie Plover | Paris, France | Post 2

I’m a big believer in signs. Growing up, in my desperation to confirm whether or not my crushes “like-liked” me, I ascribed meaning to our most insignificant interactions. If the object of my affection glanced at me in the hallway as we crossed paths, for instance, I could safely start planning our future together. At Vassar, too, I routinely took the presence of my favorite mushy, tasteless cantaloupe in the dining hall to mean I’d have a good day. My…

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Clivia Wang | Bordeaux and Paris, France | Post 1

Clivia Wang | Bordeaux and Paris, France | Post 1

Bordeaux: As I stuff my wrinkled tees back into three suitcases, I realize that my first two weeks in Bordeaux, France have slowly and quietly come to an end. In my first 24 hours in Bordeaux, I had not acknowledged that my New York state of mind was no longer applicable to the small city of bikes, parasols, and casual wine hours. Because school had not yet started in Bordeaux, 95% of residents were still vacationing somewhere along the Atlantic…

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Belle Shea | Bordeaux, France | Post 1

Belle Shea | Bordeaux, France | Post 1

If you’ve ever taken a class with me, you would probably be unsurprised to know that I planned on giving this article an ambitiously clever and all-encompassing title, something probably along the lines of “Flights I Have Missed or Accidentally Taken,” or “The Paranoid Guide to Europe” (that would of course feature key vocab such as serial killer [un serial killer] and to send oneself in a nervous spiral [bad-tripper].) But it turns out that just these two weeks in…

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Carrie Plover | Bordeaux, France | Post 1

Carrie Plover | Bordeaux, France | Post 1

As I wait for my bus to arrive, I survey my surroundings. The schedule for the 29 – “my” bus, as I’ve come to know it over the past week – hasn’t yet been updated, and I periodically observe exasperated Bordelaise check a nearby timetable to no avail. To get out of their way, and to avoid blowing cigarette smoke in their faces (which, admittedly, few French seem to mind), I lean on a street sign and twiddle my thumbs,…

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