Welcome to CalSO Postscript
This newsletter features stories for and by Berkeley undergraduates. If you've attended CalSO, you've already learned a bit about the campus. Postscript hopes to expand your knowledge about some of the opportunities and advantages available to you.

Postscript Fall 2006 Stories
Welcome to Cal! | Peer Education: GenEq Resource Center | I "heart" consent | Writer's block: a Berkeley tutor's experience | Campus Politics: the ASUC and me | Community Service: Hurricane Katrina

Postscript Fall 2005 Stories
Dear incoming freshmen | Diversity in Berkeley | Drinking 101 | Research: Expand your undergraduate experience | Paris, France: Fall 2003

The Campanile, Maria, and a teeny tiny Effiel Tower. Photo by Jenne Mowry.

It is known as the city of lights, glamour, fine pastries, and fancy cancan ladies; but for me, Paris was more than just a cliche tourist attraction. By the end of my four-month stay, Paris was home. This is the story of my time abroad, the new people, foods and tastes encountered, the process of assimilating into a new life there, and the memories that will be forever cherished.

L'application
I always knew that I wanted to study abroad. In fact, as a new student at Cal, I found that the Education Abroad Program (EAP) office offered a lengthy list of countries to choose from, including different programs, language versus culture intensives, all of them varied in length: one year, a semester, or summer. The program that fit my needs best was the American University in Paris (AUP) culture immersion program. As an international university, AUP offered an English curriculum and required only one French course per semester. I picked AUP because, one, it was Paris. Two, as a History and Mass Communications double major, the semester program would allow me to graduate on time. Three, I had limited skills in French, and the program had no language requirement. That means that my simple "Je m'appelle Marie" would be good enough.

I started the application process a year before the semester I planned to travel [Note: the actual application deadline for the Fall Semester at AUP is early January]. That means that all of sophomore year I was busy getting passport pictures, filling out tons of forms, and picking courses that would transfer into useful UC credit. While it was a tedious process, the support of the EAP staff helped immensely and thanks to them, the transition to AUP went smoothly.

Bon voyage
"Aren't you nervous? Aren't you excited? Think of how much you'll learn!"I must admit, the best part of my going away party was not the endless array of questions. Was I nervous? Of course! Was I excited? How do you answer such a question? The butterflies in my tummy had turned into moths: would I make friends, how would I communicate, what if I didn't like my homestay family, what if the croissants were really stale? A couple of presents and good lucks later, I decided that I would answer with, "Wouldn't you be excited?" Honestly, I didn't think about being homesick much. Sure, I would miss my family, friends, and my significant other a lot. I wondered what events and football games I would miss back in Berkeley. But then again, I thought of the experience that everyone else would be missing out on: a semester abroad, Fall 2003.

Bonjour Paris
I can still remember the night we arrived, how out of place we all looked in our flip-flops and college sweaters, the breeze from the metro, the icky stains of dog-poo on the sidewalks, the sound of French, the smell of cooking crêpes and melting Nutella, and all of the new faces. I remember everything, especially the day I moved in to my homestay.

Paris is broken up into arrondissements; these are city sectors, and each one has its own flare and history. For example, the Eiffel Tower is located in the seventh arrondissement, so is AUP-how convenient. My homestay was located in the sixteenth, about a twenty minute walk from the Eiffel Tower, close to two metro stops, and two minutes from a prissy little bakery that had the best breakfast: fresh-squeezed orange juice, baguette with butter and jam, cafe au lait, a pastry of choice, and fruit.

In general, the sixteenth is very posh. The buildings are typical nineteenth century, with balconies and decorative windows. Luckily, my building had an elevator.  Too bad the first time I used it, I got stuck, freaked out, and decided to haul my monster suitcase up five flights of winding stairs rather than rationally figure out why the archaic thing would not work. Dressed in my sweaty clothes, I rang the doorbell. I knocked. I thought, why are they not answering? Five minutes later, twenty-four year old Rene, my homestay brother, answered the door in his boxers. At least that broke the ice. He spoke pretty good English, showed me the parlour, with an amazing view of the Eiffel tower (yes, just like in the movies), gave me a mini-tour of the rest of the penthouse, including his smoke-filled room (did those tour books mention that everyone in Europe smokes?), and then on to my room. It was small: a bed, small dresser, a bookcase and a wide desk. The best part was that I had a tiny TV all to myself. The funny part was that all of the channels were in French. Did you know that they have a French version of "American Idol?"

Ma famille francaise
My homestay parents were hardly ever around. They had a couple of vacation homes, including one in Deauville, a small town in Normandy. One weekend, they actually invited a friend and me to stay with them. They showed us around the town, drove us to the D-Day beaches, took us to open markets and called us their daughters. It was like a family weekend, except for the fact we only understood half of what they said to us. They were definitely adamant about teaching us French, even though their English was perfect.

Back in Paris, I saw them every once in a while. When they were home, they would invite me to have dinner with them, even though my homestay did not include a meal plan. Monsieur would always leave his fresh baguette and coffee out in the mornings and Madame would show me what a typical dinner was like for them. Of course, dinners in France are completely different from the American concept of dinner. Americans like it fast, ready to go, sensibly priced. We sit down to eat and then go. French people take their sweet little time, from the first glass of wine they pour, to the pace at which the courses are served. No matter if it is a restaurant or a home-cooked meal, dinner takes at least 2 hours, not counting dessert and the lengthy conversations that take place after. If anything, my French family taught me to relax, that for at least a couple of hours a day, I should stop the rush and sit down for a good meal and good conversation.

Les cours
I have to admit, compared to Berkeley, the classes at AUP were not difficult. For the first time in my college career, I had time to enjoy my evenings, to sightsee all weekend, and overall, I spent very little time studying or at the library. Going abroad was not about the books, it was about the experience, although in many ways, my classes managed to enlighten me without the burdens of many hours of homework.

I took four classes at AUP: French (required), Paris through its Architecture (breadth), History of the Hapsburgs, and Gender Psychology (for Mass Communications). Most people in the program ended up taking beginning French. I took the placement exam and got bumped up to French II. Apparently being fluent in Spanish makes learning another Romance language much easier. The art history course was amazing, absolutely amazing. Every week we met at a different location in Paris. Lectures included tours of Notre Dame, the Pantheon, Napoleon's tomb, and the Louvre. Thanks to this class, I got a pass that allowed me to visit any museum in Paris for free.

The history class met only once a week, but for three hours, sometimes more. It was worth every minute. The class included a weeklong trip to Vienna, Austria. It was a group of 15, including our professor, who was all about showing us both the daytime splendor of Vienna's cultural and political history--and the nightlife. It was literally one of the best weeks of my life. We finished off the semester with a presentation on Viennese food, which included a full out, traditional dinner. Salut!

Overall, my academic experience taught me a lot, but all of it was outside the classroom. It was just a different way of teaching and for one semester, I relished the opportunity that final grades were based on things like my ability to describe the different buildings I had visited and knowing something about the history of Western Europe.

Mes amis
Of course, this experience would not have been possible without my friends. Aside from a couple of French acquaintances, the core of my group consisted of UC students. In fact, my two best friends, Blessing (UCSD) and Ausra (UCLA), were Americans. We met on a Sunday morning. The night before, someone had said, "Let's meet at Notre Dame for mass tomorrow." I guess only Bless, Aus, and I thought it was a good idea because we were the only three, out of a group of more than 20, to show up. It was a beautiful day. We walked around the Latin quarter, had the best ice cream in the city and crêpes for lunch, took pictures by the Seine, talked about what we wanted to pursue in the future, how all three of us were hyphenated Americans. I was Peruvian-American; Blessing was Nigerian-American, and Ausra was Lithuanian-American. We called ourselves DCU, developing countries united. All of us had been raised to cherish our cultures, but at the same time, we learned to assimilate into American ways of life. Most amazing was the fact that all three of us looked forward to becoming future ambassadors.

We traveled to Munich for Oktoberfest, to Normandy, all around Paris, to Vienna, and to this day, we keep in touch. The friendship we share is incomparable. No one will ever understand how excited we were to take pictures with pretzels in Germany, how we danced on a stage in front of a crowd of Germans in Vienna, the time Ausra and I had apple cider with a mouse head, and all of the times Blessing called me from Zara (a clothing store) to ask whether or not she should return the blazer or buy it in a different color. We would drool at the site of macaroons at that little purple bakery where it is rumored that President Chirac gets his bread. We came home at dawn, watched the sunrise from the Eiffel Tower-and it all sounds so completely spectacular, that I still have to look back at my scrapbook to believe it is all true.

I spent only four months abroad, but gained a lifetime of experience and knowledge about myself and the world around me. I realized that after graduation I wanted to pursue a career in international relations, and today I am working for the US Department of State in Washington, DC.

--Maria Jimena Acuna
Graduated May 2005, Mass Communications and History Majors
Born in Lima, Peru, Grew up in San Jose, California

Postscript Fall 2006 Stories
Welcome to Cal! | Peer Education: GenEq Resource Center | I "heart" consent | Writer's block: a Berkeley tutor's experience | Campus Politics: the ASUC and me | Community Service: Hurricane Katrina

Postscript Fall 2005 Stories
Dear incoming freshmen | Diversity in Berkeley | Drinking 101 | Research: Expand your undergraduate experience | Paris, France: Fall 2003