Cows, Pourim, and Dublin!

I have been so out of touch, taking notes on napkins and pieces of scrap paper from train stations all over Europe, but I´m finally typing it all out. I will summarize lots because there´s too much going on now to elaborate on the past! So here we go - snapshots, thoughts, memories that stuck:

SALON D'AGRICULTURE

In the words of my host mom – it´s the day when all the cows from France come to Paris. Picture lots of hay, lots of dairy products, lots of goats, and Sheilla walking through it all in her fur coat with her nose in the air to avoid the smells. Meanwhile Aline is sticking her nose right into those of the cows, getting her camera as close as possible to the action.

"POURIM"

Amazing costumes – Avatar, Obama, the works. Everyone was extremely welcoming and I met some people that have by now become close friends. I dressed up as a “Native American” - mostly because Sheilla gave me this amazing dress to wear but also because after the fact I realized the appropriateness. If the French were politically correct enough to refer to Indians as “Native Americans,” they might have thought my costume was funny. While picking up soft drinks for a Pourim Seudah the next day, the cashier eyed me strangely until she finally wished me a “Joyeuse Pourim.” Only in… Paris?

All together Pourim was a great experience – the only downside to meeting so many people during this holiday was that thanks to Sheilla´s incredible job doing my make-up (i.e. turning my skin 15 shades darker), many of peole didn’t recognize me the next time we met! Luckily my American accent served as the glass slipper to prove my identity.

IRELAND!

“Celebrating its 15th anniversary in 2010, St. Patrick’s Festival brings the nation alive, and promises six lively days and nights of free celebrations and encompasses a feeling of what it means to be or just feel Irish. We will be in Dublin and Limerick for the biggest and best celebration of St. Patrick’s Day in the world – join us!”

…well perfect timing then. I was in Dublin for the holiday weekend and it was like Christmas in New York. Everything green, everyone jolly, festivities everywhere. I was visiting my friend Shira who is studying abroad there and in addition to spending time with her, I got the privilege of a fantastic, personal tour guide. In just one weekend, she made sure I got to see most all the tourist sites – Trinity College and the Book of Kells, the many beautiful gardens, the Temple Bar area, and Kilmainham Goal, one of my favorites.

Also, she lives in this Bayit-like house (Jewish student home with people from all over doing all sorts of things), so I got to hang out with and hear the stories of lots of young Jews chillin' in Dublin. After spending the weekend dining with Chabad, praying at the first Ashkenazi synagogue I’d been to in a while and getting to know her darling Irish friends moderately well, we all went out together on Saturday night and had a euphorifically awesome time. There was also a group of British students at the house for the weekend which added to our bloody good time.

On Sunday we took a day-trip to a beautiful port town called Howth with one of Shira´s French house-mates (one of her three French house-mates, who helped me tremendously throughout the weekend with my French accent, God bless!). We saw seals, men playing Irish music, and lots of beautiful ocean.

The whole weekend was super refreshing – speaking English, meeting lots of young, interesting people, interacting with the Irish on the street, in cafes, and basically everywhere because they are some of the friendliest people I´ve ever encountered! I love Paris, but I wouldn´t say that openness and friendliness are its strongest qualities.

Lastly, and most humorously for me— so in Ireland we drive on the not-right side of the street, by which I mean the wrong side of the street ;). Fine. But then I kept noticing that the Irish do all sorts of things on the not-right side and though Shira is still skeptical, I´m convinced that it´s all related, and very funny. Their doors open the not-right way, and they even do the “bise” (double-kiss) starting from the not-right side! It was a bit confusing, and very funny.

So, after being very sad to leave Paris for the first time since the semester started, I was very sad to leave Dublin, which I´d grown to adore over the week-long seeming weekend. As I landed back in Paris, I almost wanted to cry as I thought of entering back into the land of French. But it was the kind of crying you do as you jog up a hill, or finish something excrutiating but that you know is good for you. Still, I was happy to be coming home, and happier still that it truly felt like home!