Well, I made it one week... I guess that's something. Tonight is my last night in the hostel and tomorrow I move in with my host family (dun dun dun)! We have to be out of here by 10am tomorrow, and off I go. More details on that to come....
As for these past couple of days, they've been both low-key and exciting. Class is going well so far. My professor is energetic and extremely helpful, so I have every reason to believe that our time together for the rest of the semester will go smoothly.
Last night, I made a trip to Montmartre with some of the people in the program and ended up having one of the most relaxing and pleasant evenings thus far. When we emerged from the metro, we walked up the cobblestone hills surveying the shops and cafes until we reached the steps leading to the Basilique du Sacre-Coeur (all 500 of them - my butt is going to look so good when I come home!), also known as the highest point in the entire city. When we reached the top, there was the church with its glowing dome; I frankly didn't even mind that I was sweating and my mixture of asthma-smoker's lungs-the cold that I've already developed was causing me some serious respiratory issues. Outside the church, hundreds of people sat in groups, stood taking photos, or simply stared.
Of course, we went inside. And upon doing so, I very literally almost lost my breath. Despite how much of a cliche it sounds like, going into le Sacre-Coeur was one of the most cathartic moments I've ever had. And like anyone would, I cried. Maybe it was because it was nighttime, so the glowing altar seemed that much more eerie; maybe it was that there were large groups of people inside, praying in such deafening silence that it seemed loud; or maybe it was the candles, each representing someone's wish or prayer for a family member, a friend, a loved one, or just themselves. I lit a candle. Not for anything in particular, per se, but more because I was so filled with emotion and overwhelmed by the sight inside this beautiful church that I needed to make my feelings tangible. What better way to physically manifest your feelings than in a small burning flame inside the most beautiful church in France?
Outside, I took a breath of fresh air and sat among my peers on the steps, looking out over the city. We could see the rain in the distance falling over different areas of Paris, but somehow avoiding us. The company that surrounded us on the steps at le Sacre-Coeur consisted of tourists, native Frenchmen and women, and about 20 or so beer-vendors who were all taught to say the same thing as they consistently approached us to shove Heineken in our faces and subsequently ruin the picturesque moment: "Beer? Fresh, very fresh."
The mood, however, stayed the same for the most part. A bald gentleman began to play live guitar, beginning his set with Billy Joel's "Piano Man", or as he sang it: "Monsieur le Piano Man". He then moved onto Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah", and then took a turn for the weird. Turning on a pre-set beat box machine, he continued to play guitar and sing to the Jackson 5's "I Want You Back", which pretty much killed the atmosphere even more than the beer ambush. Afterwards, a guest singer came up to sing, of all things, "Save Tonight" by Eagle-Eye Cherry. At least I love the 90's. Finally, the original musician's set was completed by "Don't Look Back in Anger" by Oasis. I guess the French love the 90's too.
As for tomorrow, I can only hope for the best upon my first day with my host family. I'm excited to finally feel settled and lose the whole living-out-of-a-suitcase-thereby-feeling-like-I'm-just-on-vacation aspect of the hostel. For now, I'm going to enjoy my last meal in this here prison-like place, and my last time rinse in this coffin-sized shower. Thankfully this time, I know better than to shave my legs.
Last thoughts: One of those incredibly coincidental moments occurred today that only happens every so often... or, if you're me, a lot. In class this afternoon, we discussed how when the metro in Paris was first built, there was a very high rate of suicide. People who would just throw themselves in front of the train. That being said, the metros took a long time to finish building because the suicide rate escalated and the whole endeavor seemed dangerous. Today after class and a cup of coffee, I got on the metro with my friends. We were stalled at the station for a few moments because somebody committed suicide.
These days are crazy, people.
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