Author: agarc143

Fulfilling a Promise

When I was nine years old, I fell in love with Paris. 

Framed photos of Parisian streets filled my walls, Eiffel Tower statues and knick-knacks crowded my shelves. My days were spent tracing the Eiffel Tower onto notebooks, picking out berets to wear to class, and setting every short story I wrote in France – no matter the prompt. I even threw a Paris themed birthday party, with an Eiffel Tower birthday cake and decorations to match. I had never been to Paris, and I haven’t the slightest clue of how this love affair began, but it did. And from that moment forward, I promised myself that one day I would visit the city of my dreams.

As I grew older, my love never faltered. I would dream of mornings spent at Cafe De Flore, lost in a great novel or jotting down poems in a journal. Eiffel tower tracings turned into detailed drawings of seventeen year old me sprawled on a Parisian park bench with a bottle of wine. Everything would make sense when I was finally there. 

When I heard about my university’s summer abroad program in Paris, I knew I had to apply. But if I’m being honest, I didn’t think I would actually go through with it. I could barely afford my rent, I had no savings, no job to keep me afloat. Surely, I wouldn’t actually go through with it. 

With each month that passed, everything was strangely coming together. I got into the program, I won a couple of scholarships, I even landed a paid internship. I kept expecting something to go wrong, things like these never actually work out for me. But nothing ever did. Before I knew it, I was packing up and boarding my flight. 

My first day on European soil was surreal. I remember staring out the window as we drove to our dorms, in sheer awe of the streets, lights, and buildings that were once confined to my imagination. But with the days that came, I found myself feeling lost. 

It was hard to come to terms with the fact that coming to Paris wasn’t all I had made it up to be. I always thought once I arrived, I’d find myself, but I constantly felt like I didn’t belong. I would go to cafes by myself and feel a pit in my stomach, the anxiety of having to speak to someone that didn’t understand me. I was ashamed for not bothering to learn their language, to be in their country and be so naive. I constantly felt like I wasn’t doing enough. At the same time, I felt like I was wasting my time. I felt like my life was on pause. It was getting hard to live in the moment when I knew my life, my real life, wasn’t here. 

I didn’t realize that following my dreams also meant there were things I would miss. I missed my friends, my apartment, my three-minute walk to Cork & Brew for an iced coffee to-go. I missed the ease of conversation in a language I knew. I missed the familiarity of my surroundings, of knowing which restaurants or bars were good and which weren’t. I missed home. But as I realized this, I felt ungrateful. 

By the end of the trip, I became more comfortable with the city. My friends and I would board the metro and point out confused Americans and reminisce on how that was us just a few weeks ago. I learned how to order what I wanted at a boulangerie, how to navigate the city, how to blend in and adapt. I learned to live in the moment. 

A week before our trip came to an end, we all decided we had to experience hanging out by the Eiffel tower to watch the sunset. So, we walked to the Cite Marche across campus to pick up some snacks and bottles of wine, boarded the Metro, and secured a spot on the damp grass across the Eiffel tower. 

As I sat under the Eiffel tower, surrounded by people who were mere strangers just weeks ago, but have now become a precious part of me, I realized. I realized that the months of saving money, of figuring out flights, it was all worth it. I realized that there were peach kirs to be drunk, pain au chocolat’s to be eaten, cobblestone steps to be walked on. There were days of getting lost on the metro, walking until our feet were sore, and of struggling to communicate with waiters among us. 

Under the Eiffel tower, where so many promises had been made by thousands before me, I realized I had finally fulfilled the one I made to my nine-year-old self. And it really was worth it.

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America is a rising senior at St. Edwards University. She is a Communication and Critical Media Arts major. 

The Immortalization of Life

In the early 1900s, French Banker and Philanthropist, Albert Kahn, sought out to immortalize the planet through media. In the span of two decades, his team of photographers collected thousands of photographs and film. This project became known as the Archives de la Planete. 

Kahn’s ambitious project served as a way for him to understand humanity, as well as to educate future generations. His obsession with the study and reproduction of reality paved the way for photojournalism, predicting the importance of media for the public. 

Why is it then that this man, who was so ahead of his time, isn’t a household name?

When you first enter this exhibit, you are met with a wall of photographs. If you look closely, you will find everything from portraits and landscapes, to buildings and church windows. Each photo gives a glimpse into rich and diverse cultures. Each photo is so powerful that you can’t help but be overcome with a sense of nostalgia for a time you had never even known. 

The exhibit made me reflect on how media has shaped our society, and how society is now being shaped by the media. Have we strayed away from capturing life in a faithful way? 

After the Archives of the Planet exhibit, I walked around the garden. While I was there, I met a group of fifteen-year-old girls who were visiting the exhibit for the first time as well. I was curious to see if maybe in France, Kahn is more well-known or even taught about in school. Surprisingly, these girls had never heard of him either. 

“We found this place through Tik Tok because we were looking for museums,” one of the young girls said. “We had never heard of Albert Kahn before, but it’s a beautiful place! We have never seen anything like this before.” 

I was reminded of one of my favorite videographers, Nelson Sullivan. He is an artist who I stumbled upon by mere coincidence, but I would say is one of the most important videographers of our time. He was the first to tackle on the popular vlogging approach of turning the camera to yourself and narrating your day to it. He captured life in New York in the 1980’s – one of the most fascinating times for the city! What made him unique was that his approach to video making was so raw and authentic. Like Kahn, he immortalized life through media. 

Today, we are so obsessed with being entertained that we can’t appreciate life for its subtle nuances. It’s hard to appreciate the mundane aspects of life when the media these days is so sensationalized. All we seem to care about these days is the latest gossip or scandal. Years from now, what will we have to show for these last two decades? Will there be museums filled with archival footage from TMZ and E! News? 

As a video artist, Albert Kahn made me realize the importance of what I do. Collecting footage of moments we find beautiful or inspiring can serve to help future generations get a sense of what life was like for us. It made me hope that one day, my work sparks wonder in others, like Kahn’s work has done for so many. 

Traces of the Forgotten

I’ve always been convinced that other people don’t really exist, at least not until I can see them existing. It’s hard for me to grasp the fact that there are billions of people in the world, not to mention hundreds of billions that came before us. So I guess you could say that exploring the Marché aux Puces de Saint-Ouen was an unsettling and overwhelming experience.  

Walking past an endless row of tarpaulin tents, I was met with remnants of what once was. Boxes filled with lenses and antique cameras, brooches and jewels, undeveloped rolls of film, stamped cards, grainy photographs. I found these booths and their vendor’s more compelling than the luxury boutiques with glamorous articles of clothing, chandeliers and ornate furniture. I just couldn’t quite figure out why. 

I continued to explore the maze of booths and eventually stumbled upon a tray of seemingly worthless trinkets: paper clips, pins, chains, buttons. As I shuffled through the items, I came across a silver pendant with a photo of a woman printed on it, the date 1917 engraved on the side. Although the photo had faded with age, I could make out the young woman. She had thick dark hair pinned up in a bun, a gown with puffy sleeves, and a pearl necklace around her neck.

Who was this woman? What was her name? How was it that her pendant ended up here and now in my hands? Would she ever know that in a hundred years, this pendant would bring her memory back to life?

Unlike a vintage leather Prada purse or Valentino gown, the objects I was fascinated by don’t have much economic worth. But what they lacked in monetary value they made up for in sentiment. Something as trivial as a paper clip or a ribbon has a history we’ll never know, an owner we’ll never meet. These objects symbolize someone who once was and can now only be remembered through them. 

Our possessions are our identities, and one day our entire life will be condemned to items in a box. Perusing through a crowded Parisian flea market, I couldn’t help but think about how for every article of clothing, antique, trinket and photo, a glimpse into someone’s secrets is being offered. And all we can do is piece these items together and create our own idea of what they meant to their previous owner. 

One day, our existence will only be remembered through a rusty locket or a wallet-sized photograph scattered alongside keychains and bottle openers in a tray of a foreign man’s booth. 

Giselle is becoming THAT girl!

Giselle Rodriguez is a rising senior at St. Edward’s University studying Environmental Science and Policy. She aspires to work in animal conservation, hopefully somewhere abroad. Born and raised in San Antonio, Texas, Giselle has never traveled outside of the United States. She is the first in her family to really step out of her comfort zone and tap into her independence. She hopes that her decision to come to Paris inspires those around her- including herself.

 

Q: What’s been your biggest struggle while in France?

A: Feeling comfortable. I always assume people are staring at me, thinking ‘oh she’s such an American’.

Q: How about your biggest strength?

A: I think stepping outside of my comfort zone. I’ve noticed that in these past couple of days, I am more open to going up to someone and asking for a table in French. I feel like I am typically outgoing, but only in English. And even then, it still takes me a while. But if there’s someone more outgoing than me, I won’t be outgoing, I’ll let them do the talking. 

Q: You mentioned that you’re studying Environmental Science and Policy, what’s it been like taking the art of traveling course? Is this something really new to you?

A: Taking the art of travel course has been amazing, because most of my classes are science and controversy based on my major. So this has been a really relaxed and fun experience, I don’t have to think that much. I’ve always wanted to be someone that writes and draws. Yesterday, I came to API and didn’t realize we were not meeting anymore. Usually, I would’ve gone back home but I was like you know what let me go to a park. And so I went to a random park and just journaled! I also think this course and experience is making me realize I would like to work abroad. I’ve always wanted to do it, but I never wanted to be too far from my family. But now I realize I would love to be abroad for a year or so. 

Q: Who are you when no one is looking?

A: I feel like I’m definitely shy around others. Especially If i don’t know them, I hang back a lot. But when I’m alone, I am more relaxed. I read, I sleep.  I guess when no one is looking, I am my true self. I think I’m like that around certain people too, like my family and boyfriend. I’m more silly I guess

Q: What’s the best advice you have ever received?

A: To study abroad. People always told me to study abroad but I always thought well if it doesn’t happen – oh well. But I’m so glad I did. 

Q: If you could give your past self advice, what would you tell them? 

Be more outgoing, make more friends. My sophomore year I got an apartment off campus and it stifled me when it came to making friends and being apart of the campus environment- and I didn’t realize it until now. So if i could, I would’ve told her to be on campus. 

Q: What do you miss about home and what will you miss about Paris?

A: I miss my boyfriend, my family, everything. Sometimes I lay down to go to sleep and think I wouldn’t mind being home right now. But I’m so glad I am here, I am really happy I’m here. It reminds me of a time I went to summer camp, and every night I would cry because I wanted to go home. But once it was over, I looked back and was grateful I stayed because it was a great experience. And as for Paris, I think I’ll miss the architecture and feeling like a badass when I use the metro. 

Q: We talked about how your family doesn’t really travel a lot. So, what does this mean to your family?

A lot, since I am the only one that really travels. I took a trip to California before I came here, and they couldn’t wrap their heads around why I wanted to go there. But I think they’re very excited for me…they’re probably terrified too if I’m being honest.