What Four Months in Paris Taught Me: Lessons of Culture, Politics, Society and Self-Discovery
(2024)

In transit to Paris, I was waiting at the check-in counter at the Hong Kong International Airport when I sparked a conversation with another passenger on my flight. We covered typical airport small talk such as China’s unparalleled innovation, the corruption of Philippine politics, Algeria’s unique charm, and of course, the “American Study Abroad” experience. I asked him, a friendly French-Algerian man who considered himself a citizen of the world, what advice he had for me, a freshly turned twenty-year-old about to embark on a four-month journey to France equipped with a French vocabulary equivalent to a two-year-old's. I remember his answer verbatim: “Don’t hang out with the Americans. Make friends with French people.” In retrospect, his words were the first indication that my semester in Paris was going to be unlike any academic or cultural experience I had in the past. Especially after two and a half years studying at UC Berkeley, I had become accustomed to the liberal-loving lifestyle of the Bay Area. However, the advice from my new frequent flyer friend inferred that I may need to reevaluate my American tendencies and be open to vivre à la française.

To state the obvious changes: the language shifted from English to French, the US Dollar converted to the Euro, the BART turned into the Metro, the drinking age lowered from 21 to 18, the government gained a prime minister, and all the sweatpants simply disappeared. But as the weeks rolled by, I noticed more and more parts of my everyday life required a Parisian reconfiguration: simple errands like grocery shopping became a consultation of connoisseurs, the city’s unceasing strike schedule followed my daily weather forecasts, and Google Translate became the top suggested app on my phone. After four months of living and learning in Paris, I was left with a variety of cultural, political, and social observations that have helped me not only better understand French society but also gain a new sense of self that I now carry with me no matter what corner of the globe I find myself in.

Cultural: Take Your Time

One main cultural difference I quickly realized did not translate in France was the American mindset that equates time to money. In the US, where everything is adjusted for convenience and efficiency, there is no problem with ordering your breakfast sandwich to-go and eating it on your walk to work. But in France, eating while walking meant that you weren’t taking the time to thoroughly enjoy the food that someone had prepared for you — a lesson that my friends and I learned the hard way when a Frenchman scolded us on the streets. France’s title as the “Land of Gastronomy” (as my professor put it) makes more sense once you understand how every aspect of your food—the ingredients, its preparation, and your consumption—is valued as an art form crafted for your unabashed pleasure. This is also the reason why my one-stop grocery run at Berkeley Bowl stretched into one stop at the farmers market for fresh produce, a second stop at the boulangerie for the good baguettes, another stop at the fromagerie for the best selection of cheeses, an extra stop at the boucherie for quality meats, and then finally the supermarket for everything else. While this multi-stop errand sounds a lot less convenient than what is standard in the US, tasks like grocery shopping or getting my morning coffee slowly turned into nourishing rituals instead of an annoying box that I needed to check off my to-do list. This attitude that shamelessly dedicates time for pleasure is manifested in France’s renowned work-life balance. Personal time like the leisurely lunch break becomes not only an everyday enjoyment but a fundamental right worth protesting for—and if anyone knows how to protest, it's the Parisians. This leads me to my next observation concerning the political atmosphere in France.

Political: No One Protests like the Parisian

Through my program’s excursions and talks with guest speakers, I was able to learn about how France’s history, culture, and language of social justice and activism have evolved into pillars of French society. Especially considering that I come from UC Berkeley, the campus where the Free Speech Movement was born, I was eager to live and learn in a city that averages more than 2,000 duly declared demonstrations per year. To me, the most intriguing aspect of France’s protest culture was how the history of their social movements—from the French Revolution, May 68, and Des Gilets Jaunes—continues to echo in contemporary times. There seems to be a strong collective memory of activism which has resulted in an impressively organized and relatively effective process of protesting today. It would take a substantial amount of research to fully understand the intricacies of the country’s habit of striking since it involves a delicate relationship between politics, violence, and freedom. However, France's centuries-long history of revolutions has paved the way for its people to understand the power of dedicated collective action in effecting tangible change. While the US also shares an impressive history of social activism, from the Civil Rights Movement, #MeToo, and Black Lives Matter, the culture, frequency, and efficacy of American protests simply do not compare to that of French demonstrations. Even after studying social justice in both contexts (US and France), I have yet to find a satisfying answer to the following question: “What makes French and American protest cultures so different and what can both places learn from each other?” But putting my political inquiries aside, I’ve learned that discussing differences such as the ones I’ve written about so far tends to lead to the most fascinating conversations especially when with people who hail from different cultures than your own. This is why my next observation comes from how I managed to navigate the Parisian social scene.

Social: Learn from the Locals

I would suggest a slightly modified version of the advice I received from the French-Algerian man I met before my semester started. I wouldn’t say “Don’t hang out with the Americans” because I did, and I ended up with three close friends who I now share an unforgettable experience with. However, I would like to echo the second half of his advice and tell you to “Make friends with French people.” As exciting as it is to explore a foreign city on your own for the short few months of your program, nothing compares to learning about a place from people who have lived there their whole lives. I was lucky enough to melt the cold exterior that Parisians tend to preserve themselves in and ended up with a few local friends. Soon enough, we were engaging in French-American interrelations at our weekly billiards session at Le Bap, music trivia night at The Highlander, or happy hour at Les Anemones. Even though there will most likely be a language barrier, we’ve learned that Google Translate still works perfectly fine in the club. We would discuss the nuances of slang in our native languages, teach each other card games from our hometowns, and discover new places together in a city that is everything but boring. Overall, my time in France gave me a new perspective on the differences between France and the US but it was also a time of introspection.

On one of our last nights before my friends and I would part ways for the summer, we sat at our favorite bar, sipping our regular wine orders, reflecting on our past four months in Paris. The conversation started with all the ways we think we’ve changed since the semester started but it ended with me asking everyone “What do you think has stayed the same?” All four of us had different answers ranging from our individual academic interests to the relationships we will always cherish. I answered (a little less eloquently than how I’m wording it now) that my passion for art and culture, my insatiable curiosity for our ever-changing world, and my relentless urge to continually challenge myself—all values that drew me to study abroad in the first place—have continued to grow as integral parts of my identity.

All in all, I would tell anyone who’s studying abroad in France to go to the connoisseur, eat slowly, intentionally get lost in the city, hunt down the cheapest happy hour, make friends with locals, become a regular somewhere, and lastly (and maybe most importantly) pay attention to what parts of you stay the same. At the end of your program, it is the parts that return home with you that expose what you hold close to your core regardless of where in the world you are.