French Expectations vs. Realities
Ummé Pisavadi
Unless we’re counting a weekend trip to Disneyland when I was eight, I’d never actually set foot in Paris, or even France, until the day I arrived to begin my year abroad. Everything I thought I knew about the country was based on a mixture of my A-level curriculum, the (very) few French culture lectures I’d attended, and the odd Damon Dominique YouTube video. Suffice to say, it wasn’t much.
Cut to my first encounter with an actual Parisian – the journey with an Uber driver from Gare du Nord to the place from where I needed to collect my keys. In my very rusty French, I eventually managed to ask him to wait for me while I went to get the keys, and then to drop me to my next destination. He told me I had thirty seconds – which already seemed tight. I then got out of the car and discovered that he’d actually dropped me a five-minute walk from where I needed to be – not ideal at all. I walked there as fast as I could, got my keys, and raced back, to find that the car had moved. A few stressful moments later, I finally caught sight of the car parked further down the road, with the driver now standing outside smoking. I hurried back and apologised, only to be grumpily greeted with the words: “You’re in Paris now. Paris time waits for no one.”
And so, the first stereotype – that of the grumpy and curt Parisian – was met (and has frequently recurred since).
Credit: Ummé Pisavadi
On to my second day, when my next two expectations were also quickly met: French fashion sense, and prices in Paris. As soon as I left my apartment and started wandering around, I was genuinely in awe of the fashion – every single person looked effortlessly chic. Before leaving for my year abroad, everyone had warned me not to pack too much because I’d want to buy an entire new wardrobe the second I got here. And they were right. Even just walking past the same High Street shops we’d find in the UK, everything was somehow superior. However, I’ve since talked to quite a few French people who disagree, and think that the UK is more fashionable. The conclusion we reached was that in the UK, everyone is individually more stylish – there’s no fear to wear something that stands out, whereas here, everyone is dressed in neutral tones and similar styles, so the general aesthetic of the city is much more seamless.
After a few hours of being a tourist, I finally met up with a friend and sat down in a café, and was promptly shocked by the outrageous prices. I grew up in London so thought that I’d be ready for whatever came my way – but eight euros for an apple juice?! I was ready to leave, but my friend just smiled and said that eight euros was about average for what she’d seen in Paris so far. Luckily, I’ve now managed to find a few places that are more affordable, but that first café experience did set me up pretty well for what sort of thing to expect here.
Three expectations down, the next one was the nightmare of doing anything administrative in France. More specifically, trying to sort out my Navigo (a monthly travel card). I’d been told this would be easier to do online so I looked it up, only to find the most confusing website I’d ever seen in my life. After about three hours of trying to figure out what was going on, I finally made an account, but then proceeded to give up once more when they wouldn’t accept my UK phone number.
Credit: Ummé Pisavadi
A few days later, I plucked up the courage to speak to a member of staff at a Metro station (leading me to another expectation – every Parisian I’ve met complains endlessly about the Metro, but I love it – much more punctual and faster than TFL!). Finally, stereotype one was defied as he was the loveliest and most helpful person ever, but he did laugh at me when he saw that I’d “half-activated” my account online. He gave me my Navigo, and told me I could top it up from the 20th of the month – things were looking up! Or so it seemed, at least. The 20th came, and I tried to top up my card – and it failed. So I tried again the next day, at a different station, and the same thing. I tried a third time, and still, nothing. I then tried online, and hallelujah! It finally worked, telling me to activate it at a station on the 1st of the next month. Again, things seemed to be going well! Until it was the 1st, and nothing activated. I tried three times that same day and, still, nothing. So I checked the email again, and it said I had to go to a station that had an overground line – I clicked the link to “find a station near me” and, surprise surprise… it didn’t work. We got there in the end, but honestly, it was a nightmare from start to finish, and only one example of the disorganised mess that is anything useful for practical life in France.
Credit: Ummé Pisavadi
The last, and probably most well-known, expectation I had coming to France was that I’d struggle with finding vegetarian food. Unfortunately, this was the most accurate expectation of them all. With internships in France, you’re usually given “tickets resto” to spend on your lunch. Often I use these in restaurants and bakeries, but the limited veggie options and the stress of having to choose something while there’s an ever-growing queue of people behind me sometimes feels like too much, so I go to the supermarket instead. Where, rather than just “limited” veggie options, there are… none. Nothing at all. Not a single vegetarian sandwich. Last week, something was labelled as a “plant wrap”… with a chicken filling! It was called a plant wrap because the chicken was organic. And the £3 meal deal? That’s just not a concept in France, and it breaks my heart every day.
I don’t want to end this on a negative note though, and while many of my more negative expectations have been surpassed by life in Paris, all the expectations of Paris possessing a beautiful, captivating charm were all also completely accurate. Even amidst a pandemic, with all bars closed, and a curfew just being introduced, the architecture and atmosphere of this city still manage to enchant me every single day.
Credit: Ummé Pisavadi