Student Manages to Find Spring Weekend Fun Abroad in?Paris
Ali Schwartz '10
Issue date: 4/28/09 Section: Features
Dear Spring Weekenders:
That enchanting time has arrived again. The time when crucial afternoon quadding replaces silly academia, outdoor grilling conquers Mather Mongolian Wok, and Jack Rogers and Rainbow flops are yanked from their shoe racks. It's a time when 'work hard' gets tired, gives in, and joins its counterpart 'play hard.' It's the time I knew I'd miss the most when bidding farewell to Trinity this past winter and embarking on my journey to France.
Upon my post-spring arrival back in Paris with two suitcases full of tired dresses and a hazy mind from Amsterdam, I found myself humming The Roots and imagining a swarm of pink tees dominating the softball quad on which I had lived not too long ago. I missed the "activities on the Quadrangle which left the administration no choice but to ask Campus Safety & College officials for further vigorous rule enforcement." Taking matters into my own hands, I opted to have my own 'Weekend-de-printemps' in the Luxembourg Gardens. Turns out, it was Spring Weekend in Paris as well.
Surrounded by a rainbow of tulips, shooting fountains, and a hodgepodge of Ray Bans, I spread out amidst a typical Parisian day in the park. Young girls played a graceful game of tag while their sophisticated sun hats trailed behind them. Their poised mothers, baguettes and Evian effortlessly tucked into their purses, took a pause from everyday city life to relax and sit dans les jardins underneath a proudly billowing French flag. There was no shouting, no sense of urgency or hostility, but a calm and contagious ease that accentuated storybook Frenchness. It was, as I've coined it before, magical. Maybe not as rowdy as on the quad, but definitely as alive.
Although there was no performer to be found and intense inter-Greek softball was replaced with friendly ping-pong and tennis, there were little hints of Trinity life all around me. A trendy group of friends gathered to eat their moderately (not super) sized lunch on the grass, gossiping about their mornings. A queue of rather frat-like boys decked out in chic sunglasses and tight jeans perused the grass for attractive ladies. Smoke from cigarette butts tucked into skinny French fingers coasted in the air, wafting through laughter and zest coming from the green.
As new amis and fellow lunchers arrived, each was greeted with habitual cheek to cheek kisses, a custom I've learned to greatly admire. Unlike the sweaty high five or empty hug, the cheek kiss carries a genuinely excited notion of welcome, a compassionate reminder that your presence and friendship are treasured whether on the metro or in the park. Welcoming gestures in Paris are essential and it is even customary to say bonjour, bonsoir if it's after 5 p.m., to strangers.
There I was, in the Luxembourg Gardens, amidst my own version of Spring Weekend. It wasn't Trinity, but it was amazing. Though it's somewhat dismal looking through Spring Weekend albums of epic grins and fist pumps, it's incredibly satisfying to find blissful moments abroad that compare. Europe collects nooks and crannies of hidden treasures and uncovering and appreciating them is the best part. And to quote one of my favorite artists, "turns out not where but who you're with that really matters."
That enchanting time has arrived again. The time when crucial afternoon quadding replaces silly academia, outdoor grilling conquers Mather Mongolian Wok, and Jack Rogers and Rainbow flops are yanked from their shoe racks. It's a time when 'work hard' gets tired, gives in, and joins its counterpart 'play hard.' It's the time I knew I'd miss the most when bidding farewell to Trinity this past winter and embarking on my journey to France.
Upon my post-spring arrival back in Paris with two suitcases full of tired dresses and a hazy mind from Amsterdam, I found myself humming The Roots and imagining a swarm of pink tees dominating the softball quad on which I had lived not too long ago. I missed the "activities on the Quadrangle which left the administration no choice but to ask Campus Safety & College officials for further vigorous rule enforcement." Taking matters into my own hands, I opted to have my own 'Weekend-de-printemps' in the Luxembourg Gardens. Turns out, it was Spring Weekend in Paris as well.
Surrounded by a rainbow of tulips, shooting fountains, and a hodgepodge of Ray Bans, I spread out amidst a typical Parisian day in the park. Young girls played a graceful game of tag while their sophisticated sun hats trailed behind them. Their poised mothers, baguettes and Evian effortlessly tucked into their purses, took a pause from everyday city life to relax and sit dans les jardins underneath a proudly billowing French flag. There was no shouting, no sense of urgency or hostility, but a calm and contagious ease that accentuated storybook Frenchness. It was, as I've coined it before, magical. Maybe not as rowdy as on the quad, but definitely as alive.
Although there was no performer to be found and intense inter-Greek softball was replaced with friendly ping-pong and tennis, there were little hints of Trinity life all around me. A trendy group of friends gathered to eat their moderately (not super) sized lunch on the grass, gossiping about their mornings. A queue of rather frat-like boys decked out in chic sunglasses and tight jeans perused the grass for attractive ladies. Smoke from cigarette butts tucked into skinny French fingers coasted in the air, wafting through laughter and zest coming from the green.
As new amis and fellow lunchers arrived, each was greeted with habitual cheek to cheek kisses, a custom I've learned to greatly admire. Unlike the sweaty high five or empty hug, the cheek kiss carries a genuinely excited notion of welcome, a compassionate reminder that your presence and friendship are treasured whether on the metro or in the park. Welcoming gestures in Paris are essential and it is even customary to say bonjour, bonsoir if it's after 5 p.m., to strangers.
There I was, in the Luxembourg Gardens, amidst my own version of Spring Weekend. It wasn't Trinity, but it was amazing. Though it's somewhat dismal looking through Spring Weekend albums of epic grins and fist pumps, it's incredibly satisfying to find blissful moments abroad that compare. Europe collects nooks and crannies of hidden treasures and uncovering and appreciating them is the best part. And to quote one of my favorite artists, "turns out not where but who you're with that really matters."
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