Marissa Kirshenbaum – GW Blogs from Abroad

La Famille

AdminApril 23, 2018

Last week, I had the pleasure of hosting my parents and sister in Paris. Amongst the long list of tourist attractions and miles that we walked over eight short days, the most interesting of the bunch was certainly the reunion with my distant French relatives.

Family is an interesting concept to me because you can fiercely define it in so many different ways. Some people say that family is through blood, but then others feel closer to those with whom they are not biologically linked.

Over the course of my time in Paris, I have come to consider my host family as a true family in its own right: we may not share the same genetics or sometimes even the same language, but we care for one another and we feel comfortable. What more do you need?

Some say that my passion for the French language and culture is derived from my family history: my great-grandfather and namesake Maurice was French and a Parisian in the twentieth century. Not much is known about my family's connection to France, except that we have two living relatives in the heart of Paris. My parents arrival gave me the courage to finally reach out and to establish a relation with them.

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Warmth Over Worry

AdminApril 9, 2018December 14, 2018

By Marissa Kirshenbaum

This weekend, I went on my last weekend trip, this time to Barcelona. It's hard to admit that this would be my last time jetting off to a new country for the weekend: my last time trying new foods, seeing different cultural sights, and hearing a language other than French spoken by the locals. I have enjoyed immensely this opportunity to travel beyond my limits, and live life fully in the moment, treating every day like a vacation.

For every trip that I went on, I was welcomed with different reactions from my peers. When I went to Italy, I was told that it would be beautifully sunny and photogenic. When I went to Morocco, I was told that I would have a significant cultural experience. When I went to Belgium, I was told to eat the fries, the chocolate, and the waffles. And when I went to Spain this weekend, I was told to watch out for my belongings because people would want to steal my phone and passport.

Before I set off for Paris, I had a lot of people warn me about how unsafe it is here. They put ideas in my mind that this beautiful and magical city was also violent and untrusting, that I would be lucky if I made it back without having something pickpocketed. I let these ideas fester in my mind, and for the first few weeks I jumped whenever somebody stood too close to me on the Metro or when somebody came on board asking in a loud and demanding voice for some spare change.

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Professionalism

AdminApril 2, 2018December 14, 2018

By Marissa Kirshenbaum

My host father was a high-level government employee when he was in the workforce. His life is a political sphere: he has friends running for office, weekly outings to different departments in France, and exclusive access to some of the country's most elite gatherings. One of these get-togethers was last Tuesday. A spectacle featuring one of Paris' most beloved rappers and actors of the generation and crawling with celebrities and important political figures, the night was meant to capture the history of France through its different texts in the elaborate setting of the Assemblée Nationale. And I was lucky enough to attend.

My host father spends his free time guest lecturing at a "professional" high school down the street. This term is what we attempting Parisians like to call a "faux ami", because it translates directly to an English word yet means something totally different. In France, there are two different tracks you can take when you are in high school: the general track or the professional track. The general refers to all students who wish to attend college and pursue a career with an academic prerequisite. The professional, therefore, refers to "vocational learning", and tends to be comprised of the underprivileged student population. In France, you are sorted into these different paths early in your high school career, and from there, your life is laid out for you. Unforgiving to those who do not bode well with the school system during a certain point in time, it seems that in my opinion, the French tracking system is concrete and determinant.

My host father took his "professional" students to this event at the Assemblée Nationale last Tuesday, an impressive opportunity for them to see their representatives and legislation in person. However, these students did not seem to take much interest in the tour of the building, and seemed restless throughout the whole night. Their teacher told me personally that they don't have the desire to travel like I do during my study abroad experience, and that they rarely sign up for trips like this one if they are not required to.

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Thank you, U.S.A!

AdminMarch 26, 2018December 14, 2018

By Marissa Kirshenbaum

This weekend, I went to Normandy with my program. The sight of D-Day and the entire battle that liberated France from Germany, the region of Normandy in the north of France is integral to the nation's history in the context of the second World War, yet simultaneously important to France's relationship with the United States. Before coming to Paris, I knew that D-Day was important to history, but I did not know to what extent it was still referenced to and talked about in the modern day.

France is a country with a very long history. It has seen five different republics, countless kings and queens, emperors, and revolutions. Juxtaposed to France, the United States is like a young kid finding its way: so young that it is confused and progressive all at once with enough energy to keep its momentum going for a long time. The two countries are drastically different when it comes to their histories. However, the one true thing that they have in common is the Battle of Normandy. I have thought it so interesting for months how French people seamlessly make fun of Americans, yet at the same time almost strive to be just like them. On occasion, they poke fun with our accents and discredit our global knowledge, yet at the same time, they respect us. They sport our clothing brands, they watch our movies, and they dream of visiting our country. As a sweeping generalization, they seem to hate to love us. And why? In part, because of the Battle of Normandy.

Since my first week in Paris, I have heard of French people adoring Americans because "we saved them in the war." At first, I discounted this as a stretch of our history with the French. However, as the weeks passed and the confusion ensued, I realized that in fact, no matter what we as a country seem to do, French people continue to like us because of the sacrifices that we made for them during the war. As a country of tradition, it is not surprising that they share a long memory.

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Switching Gears

AdminMarch 19, 2018December 14, 2018

By Marissa Kirshenbaum

Life abroad is all about adjusting your mindset. You are in a weird place, knowing more than the tourist yet always less than the local. You look like you belong there, and people don't doubt it until you open your mouth, but you cannot associate with the vacationers. You are caught in between two different mindsets, and sometimes you can't even notice it until something interrupts the constant flow.

For me, this is what happened over Spring Break when my boyfriend came to visit. His French vocabulary comprised one word, "bonjour", and only recently grew to include "merci" and "s'il vous plaît": he is a raw American, a type that I have not interacted with that often since my time living in Paris. Over the course of the week, he brought things up to my attention that I had never noticed before about the city: he just saw things differently. He noticed the bilingual ads in the metro, the cafe seats facing the street, and the rapid weather changes. He compared the city to its American counterparts: New York, D.C., and Boston, using descriptions that I had never thought of before. Growing up learning about French culture through my nine years of language education, I had grown used to the differences that he noticed so blatantly. He allowed me to change my mindset around the city a little bit to an identity that is more familiar to me. For the first time, I saw Paris as an exploring American rather than an impersonating Parisian.

Perhaps the biggest mindset change happened when my host parents invited us over for dinner. Seeing as my boyfriend does not speak French and my host family does not speak English, I became the designated translator. Over the past month and a half, I have gotten so used to my way of living in my homestay. On the first day, I was so overwhelmed with the idea that I would not be able to speak at all in my native tongue to any of the members of the host family, but at this point it came as second nature. To have to change my mindset, my actual language and thought process when conversing with my boyfriend and with my host family was a strange yet eye-opening experience.

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Grieve the Grève

AdminMarch 12, 2018December 17, 2018

By Marissa Kirshenbaum

At this stage in my abroad experience, I feel as though I can more properly compare the two cultures in which I have lived. I can more confidently say what I like and don't like, with enough life experience to back it up that it doesn't come across un-researched and unprofessional. Now, I feel confident to declare what things I dislike about French society without seeming petty, the things that I miss from back home. On the contrary, I I can also say what I love more about France. As a short list, I can confidently say that although my love for cheese was birthed in the U.S., French cheese has stolen my heart. I can say that popcorn at the movies in America is more suited to my tastes in comparison to the butter-less and salt-enhanced French popcorn. Besides matters of food, there is one aspect of French society that has me looking more to the East: the culture of striking.

La grève, the strike, the headache. Like the fact that winter is a constant rainfall in a sky of gray, the French do not advertise their culture of strikes. It was first presented to me in my "Business French" class when my professor joked about how to Parisians, protesting is like a sport. Whenever they feel passionate about a certain issue, they take it to the streets. You have to admire this action-based way of trying to make change happen. I am all too used to hearing strong-willed words from angry American citizens without seeing the mouths behind the statements. Strikes seemed like a proactive way to combat issues. They make a statement, and they sure are noisy.

However, what happens to the child who throws a fit every time that they don't get ice cream after a meal? They get ignored. As soon as the month of April hit, it was strike season, and the appeal wore off. Three days of work, two days of strikes. Like clockwork. Trains delay, flights are canceled, buses are stopped. Reform is all about progress, so why do we have to regress?

I believe in speaking your mind, and I am passionate about equal rights in the workforce. However, I feel as though la grève can inconvenience more than it aids its point. Is it not the lay public that you want to vote for your reform?

We, the people, want the metro.

A Day with Marissa

AdminMarch 6, 2018December 14, 2018

By Marissa Kirshenbaum

This weekend I did something that I had yet to do in my (almost) eight week adventure in Paris: I traveled alone. I did not cross any international borders or even go very far at all. I stayed in the city, but I traveled through it by myself. I went to countless monuments and museums, I walked over bridges and through tunnels, I sat and I strolled. I saw Paris through a different lens this weekend, a lens that presented the city as a sight of exploration rather than a the scene of classwork and tight schedules. When something caught my eye, I went to it. When I felt like walking to a new spot, I did so. No rules, no constraints, no boundaries.

It took me a while to feel comfortable enough in Paris to be able to travel through it alone. Even though my normal collegian life is spent in a city, it took time to readjust back to the urban lifestyle as well as to the culture of studying abroad. Just because you are used to living in a city doesn't mean that it is easy to live in any city in the world. Every change in life requires an adjustment period, and studying abroad in no different.

I have finally reached that place where I feel extremely comfortable in Paris. I don't clutch my bag every second in fear that somebody will pickpocket me, and I don't hesitate to sit close to someone on the metro even though there is an open seat. When I bump into someone, I say "Pardon!" instead of "Sorry!", and when someone on the street offers to make me a bracelet I just walk on by instead of indulging in their con act. These little adjustments have helped me to feel more like a local, like someone who is well-versed in the subtleties of the Parisian urban lifestyle. Because of this, I have gained the confidence to be able to travel places on my own without any fears or hesitations.

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Chez Moi

AdminFebruary 26, 2018December 14, 2018

By Marissa Kirshenbaum

It's funny how the first time I truly felt like Paris was my home was the minute I left it. When you travel, you simultaneously indulge in a different culture and reminisce about the place you left behind. You compare, and you analyze. The second you begin to juxtapose your trip with your normal life, you recognize that "normality" as the place that you call home. And that is what is truly special.

My first trip was to Milan, a spontaneous voyage one of the first weekends into my program. I was so excited to go to Italy, a place I so passionately hoped to visit that it has practically been engraved into my bucket list for as long as I can remember. I absolutely loved the sights, the food, and the atmosphere: although geographically close to France, Italy does not nearly resemble it. I found myself making note of the people and the culture of Milan, and analyzing its similarities and differences to Paris. Some things were positively different, while others were a negative change. I found comfort in my comparisons, for I felt as though I knew enough about Paris to compare it.

This pattern of comparing and analyzing leaked into second trip to Brussels, and even more into my most recent voyage to Fez. I remembered Paris when I was traveling, keeping it alive in my thoughts as I walked different streets. Paris was in Italy, in Belgium, and in Morocco. Rather than a weekend trip or a check off of a travel list, Paris was the destination at the end of everything, the place to come back to.

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The Phantom of the Opera

AdminFebruary 20, 2018December 17, 2018

Shakespeare once questioned: "What's in a name?". A name, however permanent and solidified it may be in one language, is ironically also arbitrary. It is only until you enter foreign territory, where a name is different, that you realize that all along what you considered so fortified was in fact solely constructed.

Since living in Paris, I have become so aware of language: its use, its meaning, and its connotations. Language builds walls but also barriers. The other day, my professor lectured on the idea that in terms of culture, although one thing can be true, its opposite can also be true in another culture. Therefore, if language is a force to bring people together, it is also the thing that can set us apart.

I have been taking French for nine years, and although I do not consider myself fluent just yet, I would confidently say that I can communicate with other people in this language. However, language barriers still continue to exist. I find myself taking things too literally in conversations, like a child who doesn't understand sarcasm. I find myself searching for specific words in my mind, and then resorting to silence because I could not bring myself to correctly engage in a conversation. It is very hard to learn another language, even if you are immersed within its culture.

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À la Table!

AdminFebruary 12, 2018December 14, 2018

By Marissa Kirshenbaum

Think to yourself, "What is the first thing that comes to my mind when I think of Paris?". I'm guessing that right now you are thinking about either the Eiffel Tower, a bunch of striped-shirt and beret wearing men with moustaches carrying a baguette, or some cheese. Now, keep in mind that two of the aforementioned stereotypes include food. The gastronomy of France is integral, essential, and embedded into the culture of the country. Understanding how one eats in Paris is as important to the comprehension of the society as understanding how a suburban kid in the United States navigates the college decision process. However, what puzzles me the most is not necessarily the eating habits of the people and how close their relationship is to food, but more so why their relationship with food differs from our own, a country that undoubtedly loves a great meal. What is different about our love for food in the United States in opposition to that of France?

Any hopeful study abroad student venturing off to Paris will learn after doing research before their arrival that gastronomy in France is central to the culture: but what does this mean? For starters, people here do not take their food "to go", or even walk with it on the street. Food is to be enjoyed while sitting down and engaging in meaningful conversation with pleasant company. A meal is not something to be rushed. Products are free of preservatives, and everything that one eats is made fresh, without the influx of importation. This is all well and good, but it goes further than this. As I mentioned in my first blog, cultural norms go further beneath the surface and cannot be fully observed or understood without an eye for analyzation. A person's cooking in France is more than just a plate of food. Indulging in a meal is like opening up someone's gift: it is special, thoughtful, and must be enjoyed to the fullest degree. If you don't finish a plate of food, it is thought that you did not like it, and therefore do not appreciate the actions that the cook has made in order to provide you with this alimentation. This deeper meaning into the significance of food is key to understanding the French person and their way of life: once you indulge in one's meal and enjoy their company over freshly cooked food, you become closer to them in a way that cannot be experienced in the United States. Rather than solely a necessity for life, a meal is life itself.

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