Thanksgiving

My Thanksgiving post is a little late, as the Christmas season is already in full swing, but I am going to make one anyway. Halloween was kind of a dry-run for being in a country that doesn’t celebrate a holiday I’ve never not celebrated; at least then there were a few non-Americans around in costume. However, Thanksgiving does not exist at all over here. I made the joke to a few friends that it’s because the French aren’t thankful, which obviously is only slightly true.

In any case, Thanksgiving is, if nothing else, a family holiday – much more so than Halloween. This made it both weirder and harder for me to be in Paris. I went to class, which just did not feel right. I didn’t sit around and watch the Detroit Lions lose – I actually worked! Later, I was at least able to talk to a fellow Michigander (I know I am only one in the thinnest sense, but it counts for something, right?), and we held up our hands to show where we had lived.

The university held a big dinner for all of the students, which was very nice, but it felt a bit like a soup kitchen. We were given plastic plates and served buffet style by some very considerate professors. I got extra servings on all the vegetable dishes when I told them I was vegetarian. I also came across three of the largest vats of mashed potatoes I have ever seen. We ate sitting at rows of tables inside the main hall, with a big fireplace against the wall and three balconies overlooking the avenue below. I felt a little bit like I was in Harry Potter, and those who have read the novels should know what I mean…

The only really normal thing about this Thanksgiving was that I ate a lot. After the meal, I went with some friends to a nearby café. We discussed what we were thankful for, but there were so many of us that the conversation ended up breaking up into groups of twos and threes. I don’t know how the French do it, but if there is a large group of them eating together, they manage to support a conversation that includes all of them; I guess us Anglo-Saxons just aren’t suited to the art of discussion. Regardless, many of the things I was thankful for were echoed by the rest of the group: I’m thankful to have family and friends to miss at this time of year, thankful to have the opportunity to be in Paris, thankful to have the university make dinner for everyone, thankful to come from a country that has a holiday both as hedonistic and as surprisingly meaningful as Thanksgiving.

That night I went home and went to bed early, so I could wake up and begin working on Friday: I have two term papers due this week. Oddly enough, I’m excited about writing one of them. Shows how much of a literature nerd I am, I guess. I’m happy to say that my excursions around Paris have not been too limited because of my workload, though. I made an interesting trip last weekend: I went shopping, 19^th century style – as one can only do in Paris.

In the first half of the 19^th century, there were a series of covered passages constructed in the alleyways around the city. Shops and restaurants were installed, and of course great efforts were made to make them visually appealing. And thus the first shopping malls were created. They were very popular. People came from all over to see them and shop in them. However, with the coming of the first department store, Le Bon Marché, in the 1860s, the era of the covered passage came to a close. A few still remain yet, since Paris has rarely abandoned its past in any entirety. The majority of them are in the 9^th arrondissement on the Right Bank, an area just north of the Louvre and the Opera which seems to have never left the 1800s. I came off the metro in front of a grand Neo-Classical church, which I learned was Sainte-Trinité, constructed not long after the appearance of Le Bon Marché. While quite young for a Parisian church, it is rare for the fact that it is Neo-Classical, and not Gothic. From there I wandered through the neighborhood and the various covered passages, which were all beautifully decorated for Christmas. The shops inside were all mostly antiques, old books, and classic toys, fitting for their antiquarian environment. There were also some incredibly lush (and expensive) cafés, which really escape description in their luxuriousness.

From the 9^th arrondissement I went Westward towards the upper 8^th to see a Russian orthodox cathedral I have been meaning to check out for a while. I really wanted to attend a service, but not only was the cathedral closed to the public save for specific hours, the services were open solely to those confirmed in the church. Slightly disappointed, I navigated my way to the resplendent Parc Monceau, which, like so many Parisian parks, has its own unique character. My impression of the park was that it was much less frequented by tourists and somehow much more calming than Luxembourg or the Tuileries. It seemed to belong in its regality to the wealthy residents in the surrounding area. Despite the fact that it was quite chilly, I enjoyed my walk through.

For my creative writing class on Wednesday, we went to the mosque in Paris and had Moroccan mint tea in the unbelievably ornate tea room attached to it. I didn’t have my camera with me, unfortunately. Looking into the courtyard of the mosque, one felt transported to a different place. It was the same in the tea room. Though the tea room apparently gets very busy, the mosque itself certainly had a hushed air of holiness about it, such as one feels in a very old cathedral. While most of the class went home, I went with my professor and a few students to the roof of the Arab World Institute, which has a great view of Paris. During that time I talked for a long while with my professor about Sori Graham and we saw eye-to-eye on her poetry. Then we talked about churches and architecture for a while. It was nice to have this sort of connection with my professor because, while Northeastern’s professors are approachable and friendly, I find it is often hard to get past that initial obstacle of awkwardness when talking with them. I suppose that is one of the downsides of going to a school with over 15,000 students – shear numbers prevent any sort of intimacy. I have grown to be pretty well acquainted with my Modernism professor, as well, and in leaving AUP I will miss that friendship.

In spite of my difficulties and frustrations the last few weeks, I can still say that I will miss Paris very much when I leave. No, I won’t miss some of the people I have encountered, but I can’t yet dismiss the French as a whole, and I never will. But the things that have made this trip so amazing – fresh bread; a nice warm café to read in; the endless plethora of beautiful parks, churches, museums, promenades, stores, and restaurants; the history and the way it is ever present – those will be the things that I remember and miss dearly.