Anouschka during her time in Paris, France

Hey! Where are you from? Where do you study/live/work?

Hi, I’m Anouschka and I’m from the Netherlands. I lived and studied in Paris for the past few months.

What was the first thing you thought when you arrived in France?

“This really is the city where I live now!”

What was the most shocking difference between the Netherlands and France?

Customer service. In the Netherlands, the customer is always king, but in France, they know you’re the one with the problem. When I arrived, I decided to order my bedding because I had no idea where to buy it and the internet didn’t help much either. I thought I could live on a yoga mat with a blanket for a few days. But it turned out there’s no weekend or Monday deliveries. Then the delivery took longer than expected. I was later informed the delivery person couldn’t find my house (what’s so hard about the description “that huge red building at the end of the street”?). Then they accidentally sent it to a pickup point. The wrong one, as I found out when I went to get it. After eighteen days, I was done and ready for a good night’s sleep, so in frustration I ordered an extra set of bedding, made my bed, and then suddenly the doorbell rang. Package delivered... I have to say I learned French pretty quickly since I was so close to customer service.

Have you ever been homesick? How did you deal with it?

The only time I felt homesick was the day after the terrorist attacks. It felt awful that I couldn’t easily visit my parents. I called them, had a good talk, and spent a lot of time with the friends I hid with that night of the attacks. We became very close friends and since we were all far from our families, we invented our own fun rituals. My remedy for homesickness is to put on that nice black dress, apply lipstick, and then enjoy a nice glass of wine with friends at a café.

Do you feel at home in France? Why (not)?

It was amazing. I felt more at home in Paris than I ever did in the Netherlands. Apart from a few moments of Babylonian confusion, the pace of life and the beauty of the entire city suited me well. The way libraries are organized (free subscription for Parisians), the metro system, and the fifteen-minute chance to read; in all these normal, everyday realities for Parisians, I felt at home. Until the bureaucracy kicked in, but I’m told even Parisians hate that.

Give us tips on who you should befriend abroad. The Russians? The Irish? The Chileans?

The people from Sweden are really nice, especially if you get the chance to live with them. The Irish and English have a kind of madness in their character that makes it great to walk with them at night and talk about life. Americans are so different from each other that I advise you just to talk to them once and give them a chance. The French are very loyal and friendly if you speak their language – they are quite shy about speaking English, so don’t make them do it. If you ever meet a French Australian, you will have an unforgettable evening. Especially when that person tells you that at age five he went to McDonald’s for the first time and stood guard while his mother, stoned, was insulting a rich kid.

Describe the inhabitants of Frankfurt in three words.

Relaxed, hospitable, inefficient.

Is there a typical local dish that you REALLY can’t eat (or that you really like)?

I still have to learn to appreciate blue cheese.

What did you learn from your experience abroad? Was it the beloved community you liked? The cheap cocktails? The beautiful nature? Or was your experience less than expected? Details, we want details!

All I wanted from Paris was a time of growth and a moment to breathe in pure beauty. In a city like Paris, I quickly understood what it means to be a flâneur and I often wandered since my school sometimes gave me a moment to breathe. The people I met were mostly expats but not Erasmus students, so I was surrounded by people looking for the same hopeless romance, which meant that on nights out we always had someone who brought a cheap bottle of wine to drink by the Seine or Canal Saint Martin. Quickly but surely, the French community opened up and they knew me by name. To be recognized abroad for what you long for inside — that’s what Paris gave me. It also gave me the courage to search for the same thing back home: to go to places where I want to be.

There is a photo from my first week when I visited the Musée d’Orsay and one of me flâneuring with my fake fur coat. Looking back at all these photos, I see I totally forgot to take group photos — they’re actually all photos of me in Paris. I think my adventure made me forget to take photos as memories for later, but I’m sure I will come back to Paris.