For many of you reading this, you may already know I reached my goal last night (sunday, before midnight), of donating $2,100 to the American Cancer Society. I wish I could thank those who contributed in person, but I guess I’ll have to stick with social media, since I guess it was how I was able to reach my goal anyways!

It was shocking to see the support I received from people I don’t even know, since many of my family and friends shared my message with their own friends. Words cannot describe how blessed I feel and proud that, in under 2 weeks, I was able to make that much of a difference. The best thing is, people are STILL donating.

I had the best birthday weekend anyone could dream of. My best friend surprised me Friday morning and we went to Santa Cruz to watch the sunset in the evening. Saturday I went to San Francisco for time with family and a surprise Parisian-inspired dinner party and Glide sunday afternoon. I had a big party last night and today I got to drink for the first time! (I’m so shocked how good alcohol tastes!)

This birthday was about giving back in honor of my uncle, who has asked for so little during this difficult time, but has been giving away so much. A few people have told me that I have inspired them to do something similar for their birthdays, and while that wasn’t the ultimate goal, I can’t say I’m not proud!

Thank you again for thinking of me and making this a year filled with much hope and love.

For my birthday this year, I would like to do something a little different. I’m turning 21 (on the 21st of January), which means it’s my golden year. But the more I think about turning 21 and what I want, the more I can’t seem to think of anything that I couldn’t already buy for myself. Don’t get me wrong, presents are great, but what’s even better is giving back.

The American Cancer Society, an organization I have been involved with on and off since I started high school, aims to create a world with more birthdays. And this year, that phrase takes on a little more meaning for me. My uncle has cancer. He doesn’t have much time left. And instead of being one of those people who you see in movies who take their last six months as an excuse to do all the ridiculous things they didn’t do their previous 50 years of life, my uncle is giving everything away. His house, his car, his air miles, literally, everything he has worked for and earned up until now, will no longer be his within a short period of time. For example, he is giving enough air miles for my parents to fly to Laos, to have them look after the details on an orphanage he was involved with for many years and will continue to support after he is gone. My uncle has seen so many places and met so many people that he has lived more lifetimes than anyone could ever dream of. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that it is too soon for him, as it is too soon for so many other people. It makes me sad that I get to have this birthday when other people are not so lucky.

So I am asking you, my family and friends who have been so supportive and kind for (almost) 21 years of my life, to help me as I aim to raise $2,100 to donate to the American Cancer Society. It is an amazing organization that I am proud to be a part of and if I achieve this goal, give me even more reason to celebrate this year.

Please click this LINK to my donation page.

What I have come to find the past few months while living in Paris is that the Parisiens are full of contradictions. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just something I realized. For one, they are uptight about many things, such as their wine – snobby, even – yet they refuse to shower for days on end. In fact, one time my host mom poured out my 3-euro bottle of wine 2 days after I had opened it (and had yet to finish), claiming “It’s vinegar now, it’s no good” (yeah, lady, that 3 euro bottle was probably vinegar before I even opened it), and dumped it down the drain. Bye bye wine. Also, the Parisians (and Europeans in general) walk reallyyyy slowly. But they are ALWAYS late. They seem to walk slowly everywhere except when they’re in the metro station, when they suddenly seem to realize they’re late and actually care. Another example: legal (young) adults LOVE to drink alcohol out of baby bottles while 13 year olds are allowed to be chain-smoking cigarettes.

On the topic of smoking, I actually had a personal project for the semester I named “Les Francais qui fument” – taking pictures of Frenchies smoking. I didn’t manage to get as many pictures as I wanted, but I loved noticing people smoking in parks, restaurants, indoors, outdoors, you name it, they always have a cig in their hands. 20 degree weather, no gloves, no problem! It’s like a permanent accessory. I have a theory that lung cancer doesn’t exist in France, because no one ever seems to talk about it, and they all just look so fabulous smoking their cigarettes, so how could it be deadly? Anyways, I have posted my pictures of “the French who smoke” on my Flickr, so feel free to look at it! My favorite is the series of the couple on the park bench who pulled cigarettes, lit up, and took drags at almost the act same time.

The Parisians (and French in general) take serious pride in their food, but for lack of a better way to phrase it, are petrified of eating too much for fear of getting fat. They come off as impatient, rude, and snobbish, but, I have come to find, in 4 months here, that they are some of the most down-to-earth, helpful, and amazingly caring culture of people I have ever had the honor of meeting. I speak French, so maybe that adds some bias to my opinion, but I have had friends tell me throughout the past few months that their weekends here, while short, allowed them to see that the stereotype of the French was falsely given.

Before I got here I was worried what a semester in all French would look like. Knowing that I would have an entire program in French didn’t scare me off, but I was a little worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the work, knowing it was bound to be a harder program than a lot of my friends would be doing. Turns out, the French way of life doesn’t seem to give much “busywork,” so most days I really had nothing to do. That is not to say that I SHOULDN’T have been doing things and just chose not to. I had several projects along the way, I had texts to read every week, and then of course midterms and finals. As for physical work, that’s as far as it goes. Mentally, class was work EVERY DAY. Zoning out in another language doesn’t work. And after 4 months time, it gets really damn hard to use that much brainpower every day. Sometimes I was more used to it than others, but certain weeks all I wanted to do was speak in English. This quarter was a true test of my dedication and patience. I can now successfully talk to a Frenchie on the phone and understand (nearly) everything they are saying. That was an ultimate success. Overall, I think I managed to do pretty well!

As I started to think more about the very very end, I couldn’t really believe that my semester here has ended. Days passed like minutes – being abroad does something magical with time; it just disappears. I think about how how I have spent more than 3 months in this city, the one I had always lusted for, dreamt of, seen in movies, listened to songs about, but really knew next to nothing about until I got here. And now, it seems, it is time for me to get up and leave.

I don’t think I’m a different person from when I left America 4 months ago. I’m the same old me. I just know that I found someplace that makes me feel more like me than I have ever felt in my life and I know I can’t ever let that feeling go. It was 7 years ago when I sat in my first French class and started daydreaming that one day I would be here. I watched Sex & the City when Carrie moved to Paris with that (god-awful) Russian and she looked so fabulous walking around in her winter gowns. I repeatedly listened to all the cheesy classic French jazz from Something’s Gotta Give and closed my eyes imagining the sound of the street musicians playing on various bridges on the Seine. It was first and foremost, my grandma who would occasionally teach me French words when I came to visit. That made me curious to know more, to be able to talk to another person in another language. And now that I lived that, it’s harder for me to distinguish between what I knew before I was here and what has all blended into my life as I am living it now.

Paris is a city full of love – love for their language, food, art, smoking, sex, fashion, relationships. They are passionate in everything they do. And, as for me, well, it happened: I fell in love. I didn’t expect to, it kind of snuck up on me and surprised me, and as much as I hate to say goodbye to the ones I love, Paris, it’s time for you and I to take a break. I know that when I do leave, I will be leaving part of my heart here. Planted somewhere in the city nobody knows where. Perhaps on the old streets of le Marais, next to the Seine, in my own neighborhood, or Montmartre, who knows. It will be left here for a long time, and I know I’m going to have to come back and save myself from this inevitable heartbreak.

Au revoir! Gros bisous. Paris, I’ll be back, dah-ling.

Last night was a challenge to get through. While I should have been celebrating the last Friday evening with all my friends in Paris or the fact that I purchased my first-ever Justin Bieber concert tickets (haters welcome), instead my mind kept wandering back home, wishing I was with my mom and dad giving them a hug. I’m sure so many Americans around the world felt a tug on their heartstrings as everyone got emotional over the events of yesterday morning. I couldn’t even manage to hold in my tears as I walked back from the restaurant into my apartment and sat down to watch Obama’s quick, yet heart-wrenching, speech. Our country has been through a lot this past year, these past few MONTHS, and it’s been hard to watch from the sidelines in Europe as events pass. Yesterday was one of those days that made me think my departure from Paris couldn’t come soon enough.

The gun control debate was actually discussed in class earlier this week. Someone presented his position on the right to bear arms, which I not-so-respectfully disagree with. When I went to Germany in the first month here, I talked about this issue with the German friend I was staying with. He told me that if you want to own a gun in Germany (not an easy task), you have to be psychoanalyzed as part of the process in obtaining one. He basically said it’s impossible. In France, “To obtain such a license, people have to practice shooting during at least six months in a club of the official French Federation of Shooting. After the Federation has given its favorable opinion, the police investigate on criminal or mental records. If the police do not find anything, they give an authorization valid for five years. The owner must then buy his gun in a limited period of three months if he doesn’t want his authorization to expire. There is also a limitation regarding the number: a maximum of twelve guns can be detained, while in Norway, such restriction does not exist. Since the French law of 1995, it is nowadays compulsory to keep guns into a locked safe.” Just reading that I got a headache.

It’s been an interesting comparison between the major violent events that keep happening in America and seeing the stances of the governments here in Europe. I don’t know much about politics, but I do know that things should change.

If anyone hasn’t watched Obama’s speech yet, I highly urge you to. It won’t take more than a few minutes to watch. 

I’m not a parent (yet), but the tragedy still hit so close to home. With my mom as a preschool teacher and someone whose life revolves around children, it just about broke my heart.

Sending lots of love, shabbat shalom wishes, happy last night of Hanukkah, peace, and healing from Paris.