NOW NOW NOW

Mother has offered to pay for S and I to take a trip abroad (with a reputable, chaperoned program, of course) as a graduation gift. She flourished the National Geographic Students Expedition Brochure in my face, and I nearly rolled off the bed. Not to sound ungrateful, but I've had more of my share of breaking my back as I hiked up cliffs and narrow pathways of various places. I've appreciated these family trips, truly I have, but I've found out that on-the-road travel is not for me. I'm a city girl through and through, with an occasional sojourn in the breezy countryside. But I like to stay in one place, I like to dig out the strange and beautiful spots, make it into a home, and take time to create a connection. 

I don't like to feel like a tourist, walking slowly along a large crowd of fellow fanny-packed, behatted tourists. I've always been kind of a lone explorer, whisking off from spot to spot, loitering for however long or short I please. On family vacations, my family would often tease/yell at me for wandering off. How can you know a place - really, really know a place - if you're always with other people? When I sit down, watch the crowd or landscape, and feel the respective energy of the place flow through me,  the marvelous feeling that comes is like no other. 

 At first we wanted Oxford or Cambridge - indulging our Anglophilic tendencies, fulfilling our girlish dreams of attending going to Oxford for college - it always sounded so glamorous and classic. Of course, I've grown more practical with age, and after a brief visit to Oxford a few years ago, realized that it probably didn't suit me very much. 

S loved Cambridge, because it offered a course on International Espionage (!). It also had an optional post-week in Paris, and S and I were scheming about how to pay for this extra week by ourselves - when I suggested that we look at the Oxbridge branch in Paris. 

OK, so I visited Paris a few years ago with family. I was the only one who liked it - mother was bored, sister had a rude experience with a Parisian and left with a indefatigable hatred of Frenchmen (she even swore off all French labels). They'd take hiking through Costa Rica any day over Paris. 

 I loved it. It was simply irresistible to my inner Romantic. Rambling cobbled streets, low stuccoed buildings, dressy Parisians, crepes and endless outdoor cafes - and just like that, I fell under the enchantment of the City of Lights, just like millions before me. 

My post-Paris years only increased my fondness for things French. My discovery of Sofia Coppola (both the director and her movies) as the quintessential Francophile, Jane Birkin, French hair, macarons, Amelie, "Julie and Julia", Edith Piaf - lo, sophistication! Whimsicality! 

(I think I already posted this, but why the hell not!)

Of course, I was careful not to glamorize it too much. I know that like in any place, I probably won't be whisked off by a charming, wealthy French boy the moment I leave the Charles de Gaulle airport. S and I have already decided to try and keep our expectations below parachuting heights. After all, it's better always to be pleasantly surprised than bitterly disappointed. We haven't even informed our parents of the plan yet. 

But goddamn it, I haven't even touched my homework. I want to go to Paris NOW, and ride through the city on a bike, stroll along the Seine, and taste macarons at Laduree. I want to take a plane ride without adult chaperones for the first time in my life. I want to study "Paris and the Avant-Garde" (one of the courses offered at L'Academie de Paris, doesn't that sound epic?), learn to make Tarte Tatin properly, and speak French. I want to go to college and go to Brooklyn loft parties. I want to...ok, getting carried off here. Breathe. Relax. Oh, why do I always look towards the future with such unnecessary eagerness and fail to take advantage of the present? Maybe because my school is a hellhole. Ok, Ok. Not. But the people here are just....not my crowd. They love academics, but they also like rural campuses and small communities. They shrink from a deviled egg, falafel, or any kind of unfamiliar foods. Most of them would not even consider going to college in New York City, watch French cinema or Broadway plays. 

I want to be in the midst of it all, now and forever, caught up in the whirl. I want to be a composite of Rory Gilmore and Paris Geller, taking risks (though not living on the edge, exactly. My cautious side still reins me in). I've always had a bizarre wish to be "that girl", the one who dates her college professor, summers with him in Europe, and gets involved in a literary circle. But if I want to do that, I should probably get back to work, eh?