The other day, sipping on a macchiato while struggling to finish my art history final paper in a café near the Sorbonne, I overheard two abroad Americans chatting. They were discussing their excitement to return to the States—eager to see friends and family, ready to be home. As I listened to them rationalize why they were ready to leave France, I realized I couldn’t relate. I didn’t want this semester to end—and I still don’t.
But end it must, and with it, this column.
Living in Paris has just felt right. Sure, the lighter workload and abundance of free time helped, but more than anything, the day-to-day rhythm here suits me. America’s convenience culture, where comfort and efficiency reign, isn’t my style. I appreciate the slower, more intentional pace of life here—one filled with socializing, wandering, and travel.
Take laundry, for example. In the United States, over 80% of households use a dryer, but in France, I’ve grown to love hanging my clothes up piece by piece like the 65% of the French population that don’t own a dryer. Unlike some of my classmates, I’m not eager to return to electric drying—it’s okay to have to wait for things. It’s better for my clothing and postpones my least favorite chore: folding laundry. I’ve already been perusing dorm-friendly drying racks online for the fall (yes, I recognize that online shopping is buying into convenience culture).
Drying methods aside, I’ve also loved the way French people style their clothing. While I hate to admit that I didn’t become the Parisian-chic fashion icon I thought I would—I blame limited suitcase space and an overused travel fund—I do think my style has improved marginally. Or at least, my accessory game has, thanks to my newfound love for silk scarves. Parisians always look their best, no matter the occasion. I once saw a girl at run club put on a floor-length trench coat and cinch it with a western-style belt after running six miles. It was a peak function meets fashion moment, and a testament to the French commitment to style over convenience. There’s intentionality behind every outfit choice. I’m not sure if I’m ready to return to a world of athleisure and sweatpants in the United States.
Still, while I like to think I’ll resist American convenience culture when I’m back, in practice, I hesitate to make such bold promises. On a visit to see my friend at St. Andrew’s in Scotland, I had my first iced latte in months (I was in the UK, so I’m technically not breaking my no-iced-coffee-in-the-EU pact). I took it to-go, and its delicious creaminess made me reconsider my espousal to straight espresso for the past four months. Maybe Europe’s refusal to put milk in coffee after 12 p.m. is a little bit of overkill. I still think a good espresso should be enjoyed sitting down and without milk, but don’t be surprised if you see me reach for oat milk when I’m back to my HUDS iced coffees.
Half the reason I became an espresso snob this semester was because I like hanging out with people. Café culture is one of my favorite things about Paris. Chilling in a café or on a terrace has been a go-to way to see friends here, so I’ve consumed a lot of espresso as the obligatory “sitting fee.” Meals also aren’t eaten alone at desks, and coffee is rarely taken to go. They’re both enjoyed with friends and coworkers at cafés. Even though longer breaks cut into productivity—it’s worth it to slow down and build those ever-important connections with friends.
That’s been the biggest realization of all: how much I value community. Time and time again, I come back to the same thing—community. I found myself spending a lot more time alone this semester compared to at Harvard, where my friends live a five-minute walk instead of a thirty-minute metro ride away. While I’m grateful for the reflective solitude I had, it also made me appreciate getting to spend time with people even more. I realized that strong relationships and community matter a lot to me. Paris’s love of long meals and aperitifs reminds me that this city values it as well. A solid group of friends makes the good times better and the bad times bearable.
At the beginning of the semester, I saw this firsthand. A tough long-distance breakup forced me to lean on new friends and old ones alike. That openness helped me navigate heartbreak and grow from it, and I became so much closer to my friends on account of my vulnerability.
Community also made my wins sweeter. Last weekend, I ran my first 10k in Nice, France. Though I ran alone, seeing my study abroad friends cheering at the finish line made the moment even more meaningful. Their excitement amplified my own, and it felt amazing to have people there to celebrate with me.
As I’ve come to discover the importance of community to me, it’s also shifted the way I value and think about travel. While I still value adventure, I’ve come to appreciate the ways that travel can bring you closer to friends and family. Many of my weekend trips have been to visit friends living around Europe, and save for my one solo adventure, all the rest have been with friends from my program or back home. Each shared trip has let me learn new things about friends and create new memories.
In high school, I dreamed of being a full-time travel influencer or spending two years backpacking after college. Now, I’ve realized that having a community back home is more valuable to me than seeing every country in the world. While travel and community are not mutually exclusive, full-time wanderlust can hinder your ability to maintain relationships.
This semester, I think I struck a good balance—pursuing adventure while building community. One of the things I have loved about Europe is how accessible travel is. Weekend getaways are economically feasible, and weekday life leaves room for friends. One weekend, my host parents took a romantic getaway to Florence, revealing that not just study-abroad students enjoy Easy-Jet plane ticket deals—it’s a European thing.
It’s hard to say where I’ll end up living in the future. New York is a strong contender, but I won’t write off a stint in Europe just yet. No matter where I end up, parts of my Parisian lifestyle will certainly make their way into my future. Perhaps espressos will be evenly spliced with iced coffee as my go-to café order, and a drying rack will replace my drying machine. But beyond these small details, this semester has also shifted my larger views on life. I’ve realized how important friends and family are, and I want to prioritize spending more time with the people who mean the most to me. Even if American work culture leaves me with slightly less free time, I will continue to take the lessons from Paris and find time to build community and see the world, one adventure at a time.
Frances Connors ’26 (maryfrancesconnors@college.harvard.edu) has thoroughly enjoyed being a foreign correspondent for the Indy this semester.