Paris– the romanticized rose capitol of the world where every street corner harbors a tormented artist and every café claims it has the most authentic coffee in the country. It is the city of amour, of art, of inspiration. Its streets are soaked with turbulent history and the echoes of famous and infamous footprints. Oceans of hopeless lovers and wayward wanderers surge to its gates to realize their oldest dreams.
Of course, all of this could be directly copied from a kitschy tourist pamphlet or an over dramatized documentary; while sentimentalized propaganda is most definitely an essential part of the French experience, it is not my main motivation in crossing the Atlantic for the summer. Instead I am listening to the overly ambitious, slightly insane, and always overenthusiastic part of my brain that desires nothing more than to prove its knowledge of the French language to the hoity-toity natives.
I envision my French studies as a way to compliment my major in history by providing me with a competitive advantage for my second major in business. Having grown up bilingual, I have seen the cutting edge that speaking multiple languages provides in this rapidly expanding global world. As a business student, I am also keen on immersing myself in a different economic system, especially as France moves towards more radical social programs as a result of its new political leadership. This would provide valuable insight during a time when the American political and financial scheme is also undergoing considerable changes. Lastly, the myriad of historical attractions is also a considerable enticement since I consider myself to be Napoleon Bonaparte’s most relentless fan. In the end, however, sipping a mocha latte beneath the Eiffel Tower is as ardent of an invitation as any.