15 days, 6 countries, & 1 very small backpack

Packing for spring break has never been this challenging or amusing in my whole life.
I just don't know how this is going to work. I'm really hoping Aer Lingus doesn't mind a very large handbag as a personal item!

I just want to quickly check in before jetting off until the 2nd of May...

I did 9 euros worth of laundry today, painted my nails and they look horrendous, and now I'm about to go and make myself a lunch out of all the food left in my refrigerator. I still need to put minutes on my phone and get out some cash to have on hand, ready to exchange into whatever foreign currency I happen upon.

Although Colleen and I have still not booked hostels for either Vienna or Milan, I hope we can do so either when I see her in London on Monday/Tuesday, or while we're in a hostel elsewhere.
She and her parents are in town so it's been crazy knowing that we'll have seen each other twice in our respective cities.

Ok ok I guess I'll write a bit-- Niamh's visit was really really great. Apart from overpacking a massive suitcase to haul from my foyer to our hotel on the other side of town, we had a great time. She was happy enough to go off on her own when I had classes (I had no problem skipping a few as well...) and we ate some delicious food, including L'Entrecote, a veritable Parisian institution with crowded tables, enigmatic steak sauce, and no menu. Our hotel was comfortable but certainly not luxurious-- I suppose if 53 euros a night can get you comfort in the heart of Paris, we didn't do too badly! Unfortunately I had quite a few tests and assignments due the week she was here, but I managed and we had a really great time. In between getting asked if we were twins, running around Rue Mouffetard, and eating entire fish still on the bone, we took some great pics and just generally enjoyed both being so in love with this city.

"It's bad that we're here together. I get enough compliments as it is, senorita!"

Mum's visit was quite different, as it started out on a train from Paris to the countryside last Thursday. The combination of fresh air, cows, lavender, and a comfy bed made my two nights in Beaufort absolute heaven. I also got a homecooked meal, with ingredients bought hours earlier at the market. I got my cough checked out at the doctor, filled myself with homeopathic medicine, and by the time we sprinted to catch our eternally-prompt TGV to Paris on Saturday, after a chaotic rental-car drop-off, I felt really refreshed and ready to spend the weekend back in the city. We stayed in a great area, smack between the Marais and the Bastille quarters. The weather was decent, meaning the rain was patchy, so we ate some great meals, did some boutique-browsing, ran into our old friend Sofia Coppola on the Ile St. Louis, and shopped at the Bastille market on Sunday morning. After a bottle of Spanish wine and tapas on Sunday night, we conversed with an Argentinian, Philippe, who was, we concluded, completely full of shit, but works with fashion photographers for French Vogue. He called me two nights ago to go and get a drink, but Colleen was in town so I'll have to save that little rendez-vous for after les vacances.

Les Blanchardieres in Beaufort.. just what I needed.

At the market, with the Bastille in the background

I was sad to see Mum leave on Monday morning, but I've been completely recharged and am now ready to take on this last month-and-a-bit of la vie parisienne, as well as 5 other countries, before Philadelphia and I catch up.

The sky has been blue every morning this week, the trees are budding and blossoming, the flowerbeds are planted in the Jardin du Luxembourg, and I think it's going to be harder to leave than I once thought after all.



So, if I survive budget-airline flights, 7-hour bus rides, and the languages of Eastern Europe, I'll be back on the 2nd of May. A bientôt!

prayers, chez le coiffeur

These past four months studying abroad haven't contained as many "firsts" as I'd expected, but this was unexpected: The First Time I Fervently Muttered Hail Marys While Getting My Hair Cut.
For as long as I can remember... realistically probably since our second year in the United States, I have faithfully visited David J. Witchell on State Street in Newtown, PA, every time I've wanted a haircut. When I chopped off eleven inches to give myself a more "mature" look in sixth grade, David was there for me. He's been there for prom hairstyles that cost way too much money, spa pedicures with friends, and the not-so-frequent trim in-between all that.

Now that I'm far away from Newtown, PA, the time came for me to brave the elements and head to "chez le coiffeur" to attempt a safe haircut.
I just wanted a trim, and was in dire need of one since my last haircut was during Thanksgiving break. Althought I had done a decent job translating for Matt in Geneva over the summer, the prospect of describing a hairstyle to Parisians "coiffeuses" was extremely intimidating.
I spent the night before in my room with Anna, poring through the four American magazines in my room, brought to me care of De and Becky. We tried to find a decent photo of a hairstyle I could imagine on my head, but of course neither the paparazzi-style shots in Us Weekly, nor the fashion spreads in Vanity Fair sufficed. We searched for "haircut" vocab on Google instead, and, armed with a little notebook with words like "dégradé" (layered) and "refraîcher" (refresh, a trim), I made my way to the little salon around the corner, where haircuts were advertised for 40 euros.... cheap by Parisian standards, unfortunately.

The women inside were really nice; I had to wait a while to get seen, and I had a literature test later that afternoon so the relaxed French attitude was getting to me. I was finally shampooed, and as I lay with my neck in the little nook that's never ever comfortable, I missed the trendy music and even trendier staff at David Witchell. I missed the fact that there, despite the perpetually uncomfortable neck situation, I could fall asleep to the feeling of a head massage instead of the rigorous scrubbing I received Chez Le Coiffeur.
The haircut itself was a short-lived, rough affair. The five centimeters I had requested were snipped off, a rough short piece was cut in the front, and when I responded that yes, it was in fact short enough, the hairdresser proceeded to snip at it some more. They do that trick at David Witchell too, but somehow I don't really mind as much.

A part down the middle and one incredibly flat, drab blow-dry later, I thought to myself, "She must be able to tell that I don't like it. I just cannot make my face look pleased."

After shelling out forty euros, I marched out of there, short pieces of hair flying into my eyes, and looked forward to showering so I could rinse out the middle part and flatness in an effort to improve my look.
I think it worked.

The cut is simple and definitely growing on me. I don't know if I'll ever jump at the opportunity to go through that again, but it's definitely a story worth telling.
Ah, language barriers.

I spent a fabulous weekend in Alicante, Spain with Matt from Friday night to Sunday. The sun shone, it was about 75 degrees during the day, and we had some delicious tapas, sangria, and paella to give ourselves the full Mediterranean experience. I was sad to leave that little taste of paradise behind, especially as I gazed out the airplane window at the other side of the Pyrenees, where the cloud cover prevented me from seeing any patch of ground. It was only as I sat on the bus back to the city center in Paris on Sunday evening that I realized it was not only cloudy in France, but snowing. I had to change out of flip-flops immediately.
My sunburned shoulders are starting to peel.

I've just come from the second of two very delicious dinners thanks to Finn and Adrian; I feel so lucky to have family close by that can treat me to a four-course meal at the drop of a hat. And tomorrow, FINALLY, I get to see mum. Unfortunately my train won't stop in Angers until 10:30pm, but that way I can still go to my history class tomorrow night and get to Montparnasse with time to spare. We don't have much planned; a market here and there, some yummy food, and a comfy bed in the countryside. We'll be coming back to Paris on Saturday and hopefully hit some of the spots I have yet to see.
I've started making my final list of "Things to Accomplish Before the End of May" as spring break lurks just one week away. I feel already as if my time is running out!

New guilty pleasure, thanks to dad: Catherine Tate comedy bits on YouTube.
If you can handle British humor, sneak a peek here.

how time flies.

I promise a real update soon.

April is upon me and she came out of nowhere; I suddenly find myself going to be away from Paris for the best part of the next five weekends. I also have less than two months to go before my semester here ends.

April 4-6: Alicante, Spain with Matt
April 10-12: Beaufort with Mumsy!
April 17-21: Dublin with Matt
April 21 & 22: London
April 22-24: Budapest with Coll
April 24-27: Prague with Coll to see Rob and Erica
April 27-30: Vienna with Coll
April 30-May 2: Milan "


What is my life.
I'm also only bringing hand luggage...



Bullet point updates:

• I think I'm getting sick; my glands are swollen and both Anna and I are suffering from a bit of a sore throat and cough.
• Niamh was here and I laughed for a week.
• I got an A on my first French exam.
• The sun shone yesterday & today, and it stayed light until 8pm (because Daylight Savings only just arrived on Sunday).
• New favorite dinner: mini leek & cheese quiche, salad with cherry tomatoes, glass of red wine.
• I'm taking my chances and trying my hand at French haircutting vocabulary on Thursday morning, when I'll venture around the corner to the "Coiffure" for a trim.
• I can't wait for the 70 degrees and sunny that awaits me in Spain!
• I find dealing with registration & summer internship applications really foreign as I sit at my desk in Paris.

And I leave you with a few glimpses of my humble abode, at 22 rue de Naples, Paris 75008.