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| Oh hey, that's me! |
Some hallmark moments pass without even
noticing. October 5th marked the five year mark for a little boy
from Bucks County who found himself in Paris more or less by accident. Instead
of throwing a big party and going crazy, I was eating Japanese food in Lyon and
watching Indiana Jones in
anticipation for a marathon – not something that the Bryan of 2008 necessarily
had in mind.
This weekend, a neighbor asked me how long I’ve
been living in Paris, and my eyes widened as I realized it’s been 5 years. Long
enough to apply for citizenship. Long enough to be taken seriously by locals.
More importantly, long enough to know the difference between a good baguette
and a great baguette.
From working at a study abroad program during
the day and selling pizzas at night, with a short stint as a weekend brunch
cook in between there (oh Rose Bakery…), I started off in a unique position. I
didn’t have to come teach English, marry a Frenchman, or uproot my adult life
to move to Paris. I just had to leave my friend’s apartment floor in Manhattan
and pack a few sweaters. It was a comfortable floor. But I had a job, and for
the first time, money, in a city that I hardly knew. Paris welcomed Bryan with
open arms and a confused look each time I opened my mouth to speak French (cue photos of me!).
The first two years took me to Grenoble, Arles,
Strasbourg, and St-Malo among other places, while longer trips to Amsterdam,
Brussels, London, and a backpacking excursion through Spain helped me tick off
European locations that I thought I should see before going home. As I neared
the end of my work contract, and consequently my visa, I felt like I had “done”
Europe in the most superficial sense, but I wasn’t through. Still, work was
finished, and I appropriately celebrated my last day at the office by drinking
on the job, wearing wigs with coworkers, and nursing a bottle of vodka while in
line for the Lady Gaga concert. There,
now you know how real Parisians
live..
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| Modeling with dinosaurs in Paris... |
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| Discussion with Traveling Teddy in Spain... |
After working in an academic setting, I realized, somewhat somberly, that I
wanted to go back to school. The vacation time was by no means least on my list
of reasons. It was a rejection letter from Columbia University more than an
acceptance letter from the Sorbonne Nouvelle that facilitated my decision.
America didn’t want me just yet, so I stayed. A master’s program awaited me
where, upon my very first class, I found the professor who would be my mentor
and inspiration up until the present-day. To finance my newfound student life, I
went to Copenhagen with a friend to learn how to make coffee properly before
becoming employed at her coffee shop adventure. I mean, obviously Copenhagen, right? Duh.
A few months of working as a barista and a cook
left me hungry (ironically) and poor (surprisingly), giving way to a new job opportunity that I hoped would
help pay the rent: tour guiding. Around the same time, I dabbled in some travel
writing with a local journalist, Heather, who would continue to keep me around.
It was around this time that I understood what being down and out really met. Thanks, Orwell. After giving free tours to
notoriously cheap backpackers in the dead of winter, I began working more
closely with Heather, giving private tours, while making new contacts in the
journalism world. Let’s call 2010-2012 the formative years, accruing contacts
and jobs as well as a passion for my studies and an extra hole in my ever
tightening belt.
By the end of my masters, I had started running
seriously, tour guiding seriously, and writing
seriously. Things were looking up. The best part? I was hardly ever hungry
anymore and buying food was, well, never an issue. I could even splurge on
things like meat!
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| A first marathon in the Médoc... |
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| Wine in baby bottles with sister... |
The step into the PhD world was a natural one,
as my mentor encouraged me and supported my project (I study what I know: travel
journalism and writing). I threw myself into silly things like reading,
researching, and finding pleasure in analyzing scientific articles.
By the end of 2012 I had completed my first marathon and 2013 gave me three more. I had presented at my first academic conference – exciting for, well, academics – and completed my first chapter for an actual book on journalism. I had gone on tour with the great-granddaughter of an Arabian king and visited Italy with my sister. I had organized four charity events based around cupcakes of all things in addition to securing, finally, a teaching position at the Sorbonne.
By the end of 2012 I had completed my first marathon and 2013 gave me three more. I had presented at my first academic conference – exciting for, well, academics – and completed my first chapter for an actual book on journalism. I had gone on tour with the great-granddaughter of an Arabian king and visited Italy with my sister. I had organized four charity events based around cupcakes of all things in addition to securing, finally, a teaching position at the Sorbonne.
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| You do this in Paris... |
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| You do this in Amsterdam... |
Where is Bryan? He’s training for the Paris half marathon in March, the full one in April, and hopefully something fun and exotic like Barcelona, Berlin, or Chicago afterwards.
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| Sometimes you meet donkeys wearing pants on an island off the Atlantic coast... |
Where is Bryan? He’s writing his thesis, with two years left, hoping that someday writing in French won’t seem so daunting, or at least that he’ll have a French keyboard to write more easily in his adopted language.
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| Sometimes you just find cows in the Alps... |
Where is Bryan? He’s in Paris, and happily so for the moment. Though things like lead-footed neighbors and constant hammering often amplify his rage towards Paris, even after 5 years it takes just one cheerful interaction with a neighbor or a sunny day along the Canal to make it all right again.