The Daily Baguette: Anticipating My Next Trip

In seventeen hours, I will be starting final exams. For two hours I’ll sit in a freezing room, trying to figure the remainder if I let p(x)=2×47+21×15-14×4-6 and divide said quantity by (x+1). Three exams and two days later, I’ll be sitting in a different room taking my last exam, which happens to be French III Honors. Oui. Four days after the last exam, my summer really begins: I board a plane for an extended visit to France. I have a hard time recalling specifics about my first visit. I was 8 and, because I had never studied French, the names of places, food and events didn’t stay in my head for long. Our hotel room in the Loire Valley was a trogdolyte cave; the bathrooms were marble.  I remember village gardens along the rivers, with each family’s plot carefully tended; the older citizens walked these garden paths in the evening, with their baugette and freshly harvested produce under their arms. I remember the Metro very well. (An underground train is a cool concept for a young boy, even if the entry-gate bumpers kept slapping me in the face because I wasn‘t pushing hard enough and Mom had to rescue me every time.) My second trip, three years ago, is a little more accessible in my mind.  A few details I remember with perfect clarity, and these make me anticipate my trip to France more than any I have ever taken. I remember the beautiful architecture of Nôtre Dame and St.- Chappelle in Paris, and the incredible spectacle that is Mont Saint-Michel. I especially remember the wonderful food served in every French restaurant I visited. I had never eaten such food before: foie-gras, moules frites, and the crêpes sold by street vendors. All were exotic and especially good. Even the simple things in France, like mayonnaise, tasted better.  Although I can’t recall many specifics, I do remember the impressions I absorbed during both trips. Many of the people were friendly, especially in the country. Everything seemed older; the buildings, the people, the customs. Everything seemed to have a story. But I also remember perceiving that, although everything was old, almost nothing was worn out: it was meticulously cared for. Notre Dame is a good example. On my most recent visit, it was covered with scaffolding and being cleaned, rather than being torn down.  Maybe this is a testament to how well built things were hundreds of years ago, rather than decades ago. France is a centuries kind of place, rather than a decades kind of place. Perhaps the most memorable impression I got from my previous trips was that the majority of French people lived differently, in a more leisurely fashion. The best example I can give of this is the fact that the French never seemed to rush a meal. They took their time, enjoying the food and company. This, I think, is wonderful. As I prepare for the coming trip, I am very excited. I am also apprehensive. I know I will have an awesome time traveling throughout the country, sampling foods from each region, improving my French, and writing The Daily Baguette for BonjourParis. But will things be the same? Will I leave France with the same great impressions I had from my first and second visits, or will things be different now in a very different world? I hope the French people will be just as nice as I remember, even though I am an American. I hope I am able to view the grand architecture with the same awe that I did when I was little. And I definitely hope that the food is as good as I remember it being. The more I think about this trip, the less I think that I will be disappointed. I really like France, and no matter what happens, I’m sure the trip will go well and I’ll have wonderful experiences. And really, at its roots, that’s what traveling is about: having great experiences that you can treasure for years. Now if I can just get through the Metro entry without getting my face slapped by those bumpers. Follow Taylor’s adventures throughout the summer.