I studied and worked hard, see:
I had fun too, but I don't think you need photographic evidence to believe that.
Really, though, I just wanted to get to Paris. Then one day, I was there, and boy, was I disappointed... It was February, and it was cold, and grey, and I didn't understand what all the fuss was about.
Still, there were some up sides. Goat cheese, for one, and pain au chocolat. At least there were some funny things, like somewhat-scary bathrooms in the metro stations that looked like they may transport me somewhere if I wasn't careful:
I guess the Eiffel Tower isn't so bad either.
Oh who am I kidding. I hated it at first, it's true, but it didn't take very long for me to fall in love.
I mean, in a city where sights like this are commonplace, how could I not? When the sun started making reluctant appearances, I knew I could never hate Paris.
Not to mention the fact that at the time, I was sure I wanted to dedicate my life to Art History. You could say that I was in my own personal paradise. No really, I think I have more than a thousand photos of artworks that I took while I was there, and even more photos of the city and the people that I spent my time with.
Of course, as always, it wasn't all fun and games. I had two hours of French grammar class every day with the Cours de Civilisation Française de la Sorbonne, along with one hour of phonetics class every day of every second week. On top of that I had a conversational French class, a class about Paris, a class on early 20th century French art and literature, and a class about contemporary French politics. They kept me pretty busy, but they didn't keep me from loving life. Actually, I rather enjoyed my classes.
My semester in Paris was one of the best experiences of my life. I learned a lot about art, and French, and France, and Paris. Most importantly, though, I learned a lot about myself. It's the old cliché, I know, but it's true.
And I had a pretty banging time doing it.
