Favorite Part.

As I've been home from Paris, the question I constantly get is, of course, "So what was your favorite thing about Paris?"

Because a person can pick that.

As I've responded to all these people, I inevitably pick the same thing: church.
Yes, even in the most beautiful city on earth, my favorite thing was church.
Here's why.

We spent a lot of time at the church. Not only did we have the normal 3 hours every Sunday, but we always had religion there on Mondays, plus FHE, and most weeks, the 4 hours of normal class. We were constantly at the church, hanging out at the institute, taking advantage of the free wifi, and eating at the corner boulangerie. The institute quickly became our second home. We all felt comfortable there, we were friends with Elder and Sister Haward, we knew the missionaries who came in to email every monday afternoon, we knew where the comfiest seats were, where the best wifi was, and that the church would always have clean bathrooms with hot water to wash your hands in (both rarities in Paris). The church was safe, it was far from the hustle and bustle of Paris life and we could leave our purses anywhere without worrying about pick-pockets.

However, the actual congregation was also incredible to be around. Going to church every week, and being surrounded by the members of that congregation, who were doing their best to live the gospel in a place where most people think Mormons are Amish, was simply remarkable. I realized over those three months, that I can't even begin to comprehend how blessed I am, and how much I take for granted living in a place where the vast majority of my neighbors are members of the church. They proved to me that faith is so much more than just confessing that you believe, it's living like you believe each and every day. It's sharing the gospel with coworkers, people on the metro, and the people you meet in your apartment complex elevator. Faith is living each day as a representative of Christ, being aware that you are always being watched by those around you, and making sure that those who watch, can tell you believe. They showed me that no matter what your circumstances are in this life, you can love God with all you have, and then give him even more than you have.

I think the greatest thing I learned from the Paris 1st ward is that this gospel, is precious. The gospel changes people in ways that we cannot even begin to comprehend, and even if I've been a member my entire life, it's supposed to change my life, too. They taught me to truly put my faith in Christ, because through him, everything is possible. They taught me to never give up on a person, because everyone can change, it just has to be on God's timing. They taught me to love everyone: rich, poor, black, white, Harvard grad, or elementary school drop out. Above all, they taught me that this gospel means everything, and should never be taken for granted.

I hope that I can remember what I learned from those members.

Thank you, Paris 1st ward.

Love always,
Ems

Seeped in Memory.

As I prepare to leave Paris, I can't help but think of how seeped in memories this city has become. Everywhere I go in Paris, I have memories of the first time I visited it, or the time something funny happened, or a person I saw there who impacted my life. Everywhere I've walked, I've created memories. Every second of this study abroad has created memories. The city is drenched in memories.

I don't want to leave France, ever.  I cannot tell you how much I am going to miss this place. So much about it has become home now- even the ridiculously crowded RER train that always happens to be more packed than usual AND 20 minutes late when I must get to class. I'm going to miss the beautiful city, the way it shines in the rain, the way it sparkles at night. The river that's gushing with rain water right now. The storekeepers who always greet you with Bonjour and help you with anything you need. The boulangeries on every street corner. The adorable little children. The faithful members of the church. The cobblestone streets. The rushing of the metro. The calm of the Tuileries. The art of the Louvre, Orangerie, Orsay, Pompidou. 

There is just so much that I love and so much that I want to keep forever.

I want to stay. Or come back all the time. One of the two. Because America may be my home, but this feels like where I belong. I've found it, and it's Paris. Somehow I always knew it would be.

So as I say goodbye to my city tomorrow, I'll be holding back tears the entire time. Nothing will ever be able to replace this time in Paris, and no matter the new memories I create here, nothing will ever compare to the first memories I created here. 

As Earnest Hemingway said: 

There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other. We always returned to it no matter who we were or how it was changed or with what difficulties, or ease, it could be reached. Paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it. But this is how Paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy.

Love always,

Ems

Thoughts from the Metro

A world of loneliness
in a sea of people

That's how I feel about the metro. Every day, I ride the metro. Quite literally every day, I am on those trains. I find the metro to be such a paradoxical place, and every time I'm on it, I think about what a paradox it is. You see, the metro is busy, inherently. There are so many people in Paris, and all those people have places to be, and the metro is the fastest way to get there. The paradox is, the metro is the loneliest place I have encountered in Paris thus far.

I love sitting on the metro and watching people: people reading, people listening to music, people talking to friends, people on the phone, people oblivious to the world, people pondering life, people watching me watch people. We all sit there, consumed in our various activities, and try, as best we can, to be oblivious to everyone.

Why is it that we isolate ourselves like this?

I sometimes wonder if there are people looking to be not-so-lonely on the metro and conversely, those seeking solitude by slipping through those turnstiles. Is it possible that somebody's looking for a kind word or a smile among the sea of people? Looking to do a good deed by giving change to the saxophone man? Or is everyone only wanting to be anonymous?

It's amazing that in a city so bustling, you can feel so alone. Such a paradoxical world we live in, is it not?

Love always,
Ems

Writer's Block

I'm suffering from major writer's block.
Although, it's more of just writer's-lack-of-motivation.
Either way, I've been trying to formulate a post about Normandy
and failing
so instead, I'm just going to say
you may or may not find out about Normandy.

In case you don't...
here's a picture.

Ya, it was pretty beautiful. 

Here's to breaking free of writer's block! 

Love always,

Ems

Fun French Facts.

After being in Paris, here are some things I've noticed about the French- things that actually live up to or challenge the stereotypes.

True:
-they carry around banquettes
-they eat more cheese than you can even imagine
-they are very much into PDA
-they ACTUALLY wear berets (and scarves!)
-there is a distinct smell that you will smell at least once in your day
-to counterbalance the last one, everyone wears parfume/cologne
-Paris is more beautiful in the rain
-they do smoke a lot, and they start at a very young age
-the food is heavenly

False:
-they are rude: I've met a grand total of 2 rude frenchmen while I've been here.
-they dress in all black (they do wear a lot of neutrals, but also a lot of color!)
-they eat snails all the time
-they hate Americans

There you have it. Paris stereotypes in a nutshell.

Love always,
Ems

For the Beauty.

As I've spent numerous hours in churches, I've grown a great love for the way in which the catholic church makes their houses of worship. These churches are incredible. Each church I walk into, I reflect on how it portrays the beauty of religion and the devotion of the people. Many of the great churches we've visited took decades, if not a century, to build.

We were able to visit Chartres last weekend, and it was magnificent. We had a tour from the man who wrote the book (quite literally) on Chartres Cathedral: Malcom Miller.  He explained to us many of the stained glass windows, as well bestowing some facts about the various fires Chartres survived, and the competition between Chartres and Notre Dame de Paris.

After enjoying the beauty of Chartres Cathedral, we had some free time to wander the town of Chartres and we stumbled upon the most beautiful church- Église Saint-Aignan. We weren't completely sure we could go, but since the doors were open, we decided to head on in. In Alex's words, "I'm really glad we're go-inners."

 

One thing I've come to appreciate while walking through these churches is the Catholic practice of saints. Saints usually illude my religious understanding, but as I've sat in the chapels built to different saints, I've come to understand the comfort in saints. While Jesus Christ suffered for the entirety of our existence, these saints experienced specific things, or did specific things, that we can relate to. It's hard for me to explain in which ways I understand prayers to saints, but the more I see candles lit for saints, the more I understand the practice. 

I love the opportunity to visit these beautiful places of worship and to reflect upon God nearly every day in an awe-inspiring church. The craftsmanship of each building is astounding, and while none of these buildings are where I worship, I cannot deny the presence of God in each of them. I believe that any building built with such devotion to God will welcome God's spirit and touch your heart. 

Love always,

Ems

Our new Favorite Crêperie.

A few days ago, I started researching cheap eats in Paris because, well, I'm a college student, and so are all my friends, so cheap eats are a must. Well, we were in the mood for crêpes the other day, and I stumbled upon this gem: Crêperie Oroyona.

Imagine your perfect Parisian cafe: mini, filled with delicious aromas, Parisian youths, and mini stairs. That is Crêperie Oroyona. It is perfect in every sense, and we love it so much. It's located in the 5th arrondissement right next to the most beautiful little bookshop where I bought the BFG in french, as well as John Green's Looking for Alaska in french. I couldn't help myself. I can never help myself around books.

So, we love this place. We love the 5th. It's wonderful.

Love always,
Ems

Random Encounters with Old Frenchmen.

Here's a funny story for your Sunday.

Our little morning walks group consists of 5 people nowadays. There used to only be four of us: Jared, Rachel, Alex, and me (side note: we love having five and love that Linda joins us).

Left to Right: Jared, me, Rachel, Alex, Seine, Boat.

The four of us are the cast of characters for most of my stories- that's what happens when you spend everyday together. Here is the story:

So, we are sitting at a wonderful little restaurant on Rue Cler, waiting for our food, enjoying the Paris sun, good conversation, and many a laugh. We are seated thus:

Alex || Rachel

--------------------

Emma || Jared 

As we talk, a French man comes up to us. This man does not seem to be homeless. He seems like a normal, well dressed, kind, old Frenchman -- nothing out of the ordinary. He touches Alex's arm and begins speaking in French, telling her something about how it's  a shame, that she shouldn't be in love with Jared, that he's probably a nice guy, but she shouldn't be in love with Jared. Why is she in love with Jared? It's all such a shame. Rachel and I are trying to hold in our copious amounts of laughter, as Alex tries to act as though this is totally normal and she knows 100% what the frenchman is saying (which she doesn't, because she's not Jared and doesn't understand French perfectly). Jared, meanwhile, is sitting, a bit mystified at the whole scenario, as he listens to this old man profess Alex's apparently undying love for him. 

When the frenchman stops prattling  Alex's response is, "Oui. Il est très beau." That's all she could muster out without laughing, and really all she could think to say, in general. We think we're rid of this man, but he walks up to Jared, puts his hand on Jared's arm and essentially says, "Good luck, you handsome young man." Then walks away. 

And just like that, we all erupt into laughter over the entire situation. 

We still have no idea why this man felt the need to stop by our table and tell Alex her love was misplaced, but maybe he just could see the innermost places of Alex's soul and Alex isn't sharing everything with us. 

I suppose it's possible. 

Lucky for the old Frenchman, Jared is dating neither me nor Rachel, which would seem like the more obvious choice considering the seating arrangement.... That would have created some awkward moments. 

Love always,

Ems

A Monday in Montmartre.

Monday, we journeyed to Montmartre. I love Montmartre, let it be know.

We zoomed over via Metro, and as we exited the train, all the Parisians were lining up for the elevator. We looked at them, looked at each other, looked at the stairs and said, "We're young and spritely! Let's take the stairs!"

Bad idea, my friends, bad idea. Apparently, unbeknownst to us, the Montmartre stop is 6 flights of stairs underground. This would be why the Parisians were all taking the elevator. As we begin climbing, it's fun and there are beautiful murals on the wall. But then we keep climbing. And keep climbing. And keep climbing. And start laughing. And are dizzy (because they're spiral stairs). And are sure we're never going to make it out a live. And keep climbing. And finally reach the top of the stairs in hysterics of laughter. Do you know how hard it is to climb stairs whilst laughing your guts out?

We headed up to Sacre Coeur, and climbed the steps to the basilica, and then Jared and I decided to climbed the 300 steps to the top. Which was worth it, but took our stair count for the day to about 1,000. Guess it was the workout of the day!

              

       

We left the tourist trap that is Sacre Coeur to go out an explore where we found the oldest cabaret in Paris, after finding one of the oldest churches in Paris, because ya know, you gotta balance out your religious and sexual sides when in Montmarte. Rachel and I were big fans of the name of the cabaret: The agile bunny. We decided that's where the idea of the play boy bunnies originated from. Don't you think?

We wandered around Montmartre, found Renoir's house, found Van Gogh's house (with a blue door that made me really really happy), found the Moulin Rouge, walked up and down lots of hills, saw lots of tourists and also lots of gypsies, and then decided to go to ghetto-ville: Saint Denis.

Here's the real quick version of the story of Saint Denis. Saint Denis was preaching to all the Parisians about what sinners they are and some dude whacked off his head mid-preaching. Not to be phased by a whacked off head, Saint Denis picked up his head, continued to walk and preach, and walked to the area of the Basilica where he died. I love the saints. They are so incredibly awesome! Sometimes I wonder why we don't have cool saints like that in mormonism... 

This is Marie-Antoinette and her Husband

Anyway, now Saint Denis is home to all the tombs of the kings of France. So Jared, our French major, was in heaven. Apparently, it is also the first example of gothic architecture, so Alex, our art-history major, was also in heaven. I just asked a lot of questions. Fun fact of the day: Prince Phillip in Sleeping Beauty is based off of Philip le bel. So yup. I loved it all. I especially love that my nerdy friends were so incredibly excited to be somewhere. Nerds make life better.

Oh, also in this same day, Jared had to go buy some random things at the grocery store. So Alex and I accompanied him. However, he didn't have anything to put his goods in. I happened to have my very nifty expandable bag that Christine kindly bought me before I left to Paris, so he rocked it like a man. I made him stop for a picture after FHE because it just made my day that he kept walking around with this bag. What a man, what a man, what a man, what  a mighty good man. 

Aimer toujours,
Ems

Sundays are the Best Days.

I love Sundays in Paris. Even though they make my head hurt because I'm concentrating so hard on understanding the meeting (three hours in french with various accents is a struggle sometimes), it's a wonderful feeling to know that the gospel is the same all over the world.

After our first day of church, we went to Notre Dame because it's about two blocks from the church building (i know, right?).  The inside of Notre Dame is magical. I wanted to sing "God help the Outcasts" the entire time; however, mass was going on, so I couldn't do that #disappointment.

After, we wandered up the left bank to discover the Sorbonne and the Latin quarter, which, deceptively means Latin as in the language, and not Latin as in Latin-American; that was confusing for an Arizona girl like me. Regardless, it is a beautiful part of Paris, and full of a history of things like revolts, angry students, professor/student affairs, etc. Very French. Not to mention that there was an accordion player in the place de Sorbonne- can you get more French? 

We proceeded up the road to the Pantheon, got sad that we couldn't go in since it cost money and it was a Sunday, then marveled at the beauty of the building and the crazy ceilings. I have this new love for ceilings so I'm going to have to have an album of just ceilings in my iPhoto soon. 

 We concluded our wanderings at the Luxembourg gardens, basking in the sun and watching all the adorable French children push their boats around the fountain while some nonadorable French 7 year-old tried to wreck all the ships with his electric boat. Those electric boat people, they think they're sooo cool.

Aren't my friends cute? Anyway. We finished the day off with a welcome fireside at the bishop's house, which was beautiful. He thoroughly convinced me to come back to Paris and live. Sold in one minute. We also were fed delicious salads and treats including CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES which essentially, do not exist in Paris. This is a problem because they are only my very favorite dessert in the entire world. I'm a girl of simple pleasures, and chocolate chip cookies are one of them. 

You could say Sundays in Paris are lovely. 

Love always,

Ems

The Eiffel Tower.

I have a new saying: 

One cannot have too many pictures of the Eiffel Tower. 

Am I right?

This was our conversation Saturday night:

"Well, what should we do after dinner?"

"....We could go hangout by the Eiffel Tower..."

I still feel like it's all a dream. 

Love always,

Ems

In Which our House is Nonexistent.

My friends, I will tell you this:
When in Paris, there is hardly time to blog.

And so begins our first story from a week+one day ago.

Kate and I were all ready to go- we even had flowers for our host family. We were the last of our shuttle to get dropped off, and as the cabbie took off, we looked around and thought, "Hm... this isn't what it looked like on google maps..."

With three suitcases, a duffle bag, and our giant backpacks, we were stranded on a street, outside of Paris, with the ominous skies brewing above us. We were at 9 Bis and we need 9- just 9, no bis. After a lot of walking around, we decided to try the creepy alleyway in between 9 bis and 11.   We dragged out suitcases as far as we could down the pebbled street, left them there, and continued onto the house behind 9 Bis.

The shutters clearly bolted, all lights seemingly off, we decided to knock anyway. I get to the door and see a sign warning of a mean dog; I immediately think, "We are about to get mauled by a dog. We will no longer be able to study in Paris. This is the worst way to go."

Lucky for us, like the rest of France, the mean dog and the mean dog's owners were on vacation.

As the thought of the dog subsided, the rain reentered the picture as I felt the first droplets assault me.

By then, an hour and a half have passed, and we are no closer to knowing where the house that we're supposed to live in for the next three months is. Desperate times call for desperate measures. We phone Dr. Hodson, our study abroad director, and after five+ phone calls with him, he calls our host dad who comes to save our sorry souls. He even brought his car down the alleyway so we didn't have to keep dragging those ridiculously heavy things through the pebbles. We like him.

Best part? Our house is at the end of the creepy alleyway- aka the third house to share the number 9 on our street. Because clearly, that's how addresses work. Who would want only one #9 when you can have 3? The more the merrier, right?

Also, I realize the alleyway doesn't look creepy. However, when it's night, and you've just gotten off the metro with some very funky people, and it's pitch-black, it's dang scary to walk all the way down to #9.

Love always,
Ems

Adventure Begins.

Those are the dying words of François Rabelais.  I only know that because of John Green's Looking for Alaska, but because I know that, I feel a lot cooler.

But that's not the point. The point is that in a few short hours I will board a plane that will stop in NYC before heading to Amsterdam which will lead me to my next great adventure: Paris. 

I wasn't scared. But I'm getting jittery. I don't know if it's because I'm nervous or just excited. But I'm jittery. And I really feel like I'm going to seek a great perhaps. Figure some things out in my life. Figure myself out (wouldn't that be a grand thing to accomplish). Time away from everything and everyone I know is much needed at this point in life.

So wish me luck.
I'll let you know how the journey goes.

Bon voyage! 

Love always,
Ems 

Croissy: My future home!

Monday was a monumental day because I got an email from....

MY HOST FAMILY!

It was completely in French and for the first time since I've known I was going, my study abroad felt real.
I was so excited all I could do was research the city I'll be living in, ogle at the beauty, tell everyone I knew, and talk nonstop about it.

My roommate, Kate (who I absolutely adore and know we will be best friends forever), and I will be living with a wonderful couple in the beautiful town of Croissy- about 30 minutes west of Paris.
Our host family's house is literally steps away from the bank of the Siene. It is the most beautiful place I have ever seen via google maps and... I.am.living.there.

I cannot even tell you how excited I am. We have a ten minute walk to the nearest RER station then a 30 minute ride into Paris (via the RER A, M1, and M8 trains), but I could not care less- Croissy is so incredibly beautiful I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world!

Here's to 23 days and counting!
#parisorbust

Love always,
Ems

So Much Excitement!

Folks, it's official. 

This fall, I will be studying abroad in Paris, France. 

To say I am excited would be an understatement. 

I actually don't think there is a way that I can fully describe my happiness.

Paris has always been one of my dreams. 

I just can't even fathom that I actually get to spend three months living there!

The program director is fabulous and I can't wait to meet everyone who is going. 

SO MUCH EXCITEMENT!

Love always, 

Ems 

Paris and The Gap.

I should be asleep.
Like really...
But I decided to just give up on sleep for the week.

Anyway, I have the most fabulous thing to tell you!
Yesterday, I was talking to my very best friend, Zack.
Now, he is my best friend, and a wonderful guy and so I said, "Will you fake promise to take me to Paris?"
He responded, "I fake promise to take you to the city of love."
And I said, "And I promise it will be the best trip of your life."

So I'm going to Paris.
Someday.
With a fake promise.
Because in my world,
fake promises do come true.

So thank you, Zack,
for making my dreams come true.
Even if you were just kidding.


And here's another fabulous thing:
a compliment from Denton Hatch yesterday directed to me.
It went something like this....

Emma, you look like you just walked out of the Gap.

And my life was complete.

isn't life swell? :)

Love Always,
Ems