Coucou Mes Chéries,
Ça va? I simply cannot believe my time abroad is ending in a mere two weeks. Complete and utter denial is setting in.
While studying abroad was definitely not a spontaneous decision, if you told me a year ago that I’d be taking weekend trips to Mallorca, I would’ve laughed in your face…and then bought what you were selling.
But honestly, the absolute best parts of this experience have been the unplanned, unforeseen moments. In this week’s letter, “The Unforscream,” I’ll take you through some of my life-altering abroad highlights, all of which fall in the “sponty” (spontaneous) or “YOLO” (I am not going to spell this out) categories.
It is important to preface this letter that technically everything I’ve done in my time abroad has been “on a whim,” considering the fact that I normally plan my life months, if not years, in advance #TypeA #StickUpMyAss #IPromiseI’mFun.
- “Tiger Tuesday”
Also known as “TT,” Tiger Tuesday isn’t just a moment or a memory—it’s a lifestyle. As we all know (much to my dismay), very few Harvard students take the leap to study abroad. That being said, instead of going abroad with my entire school or sorority, I landed at Charles de Gaulle with not a friend in sight. I could have had no friends. I could have made “Emily in Paris” look popular. But lucky for me, I not only made friends, but friends I know I will keep forever #EyesMisting.
Anywhosedolf, said group of friends and I all individually maneuvered to have no Tuesday nor Friday classes #ATreasure #Priorities and found ourselves at a local bar called Tiger one fateful Tuesday night. Tiger Tuesday just kinda stuck. As a result, we spent almost every Tuesday traveling to a nearby town in France, soaking up the culture and thanking the gods we were studying and living in Paris proper.
With little to no information about where I was going, I would hop aboard a train and follow my friends to their destination of choice #Follower.
I cannot reiterate this enough: It was profound how Type B I was this semester, and frankly, it was not even that Type B.
In addition to the magical memories and skills I cultivated—like making Moutarde and Chantilly Crème—there is something so magical about wandering around a random place and doing whatever you want—adult “Free Will” is lit.
So while the premise of each trip was only semi-spontaneous, Tiger Tuesday will go down as some of my favorite “Type B Shi” with my favorite “Type B.P.” (people).
- “The Da Vinci Code” Cosplay
If you know anything about me and my mom (my best friend), you know crazy shit happens to us all the time. One could call it luck, fate, good genes (jk!), but more pragmatically, I just think crazy attracts crazy.
In any case, two of my most memorable experiences from abroad happened with dear ol’ Jilly, one of which was worthy enough to make Tom Hanks’ return to the “Da Vinci Code” Franchise.
Picture this: You studied abroad in Paris and went to the Louvre with your mom when she visited. It’s cultural, it’s wholesome, it’s demure. What could go wrong?
We started the day by busting into the student-group entrance because the TSA security for the regular museum entrance is JFK before Spring Break. Hades. We sweet-talked our way downstairs and went to the Fashion Exhibit (mediocre, go to Dolce & Gabbana instead).
After we tore through the exhibition and waved to the mummies on our way out #MummiesandMummy, I decided to try and find a “shortcut” to avoid the masses. Even though my French is good, apparently I have trouble deciphering signs for EMERGENCY EXIT versus a normal one. Charming.
We proceeded to traverse through two big metal doors into a corridor with two more big metal doors. The first doors locked behind us. Absolutely no problem, we went through the third big set of doors, laughing in claustrophobia. We then found ourselves in a GINORMOUS empty gallery with empty frames. A single museum staff member was casually changing a lightbulb.
We rushed over to him, pleading we were sorry in French, convinced security would hunt us down in seconds. Instead of scolding us, or asking us to leave, or telling us how to leave, he said, “I don’t care, I just work here.”
Here, as in the Louvre. THE Louvre. ‘Ight.
After taking numerous sneaky photos because, duh, I found another exit door. Perfect. We go through and find more big metal doors, and whaddya know it? The doors lock in front and behind us.
My mom and I were going into cardiac arrest. Instead of remaining calm, as the parent in the situation, my mom pushed the big red button that says “Sortie.” There was flashing, an alarm, and what sounded like the opening of a vault—aka gears turning and a big unlocking sound. The metal doors opened, and we found stone steps leading to daylight. By Jove! Salvation!
We ascended from the bowels of The Louvre to be situated DIRECTLY in front of the I.M. Pei Pyramid. To add to the what the actual fuck moment, there was a small crowd gathered with dumbfounded expressions. An artsy Frenchman with a face tat approached us in disbelief and stated in the thickest French accent, “I ’ave lived ere my ole life and I ’ave never seen this…those tunnels are normalement for Macron or the army or earthquake.” Lit.
Despite this entire story, we are two smart ladies, and thought it best to skedaddle before our luck ran out and a special-ops team descended.
- Everyone’s a Paid Actor
Paris is one of the most international cities in the world. I have met people from down the block where I grew up, and people from Uzbekistan. However, sometimes you just need your best friends. For Spring Break, some of my friends from Harvard decided to cross the pond and see why I decided to leave them for five months. I loved showing them my “Little Life” in Paris, and—as I’ve made clear—planning fun things is my love language. When the trip ended, I did cry—but then I pulled myself together and shifted my focus to the next adventure: dinner, a museum, anything but school.
That was until I was on a break between classes and decided to grab a nearby coffee with friends. The SECOND I left the building, a man came up to me with an enormous bouquet of fresh pink flowers and went, “Do you know a Sadie Kargman in there? I have flowers for her.” Um, hello? Paid actor.
Being the coolest and chillest person in the world, I accepted the flowers in front of my friends and found they were a thank you gift for hosting Spring Break—shoutout Jade. In any case, between the divine intervention—regarding the timing and having witnesses—and carrying a bouquet around Paris, it was safe to say this unforeseen moment made me a main character.
- Marilyn The Magic Water Maker
On arguably my favorite trip of my time abroad, Lisbon, my boyfriend and I got super lucky with the weather. It was 75 degrees and sunny, immediately curing my seasonal depression from chilly Paris. After an incredible lunch, earrings purchase, and seaside promenade, we decided to have some drinks and bask in the sun.
However, when we sat down, there were two vocally-confident (loud) American women next to us. One of them, Marilyn, was talking about her ex-husband, whose family was in the Mob, and how she was one of sixteen brothers and sisters or something. I mean, they were practically begging us to eavesdrop. After minute 27 of this conversation, the two ladies dove into the complex topic of astrology and how “one’s chart is ever changing.” K.
It’s not that I’m a non-believer, it’s more that I’m just a skeptic. I’m a New Yorker after all.
When the friend went to the bathroom, I obviously struck up a conversation with Marilyn and found out that not only does she produce and sell Magic Water, she is also my next-door neighbor in New York. That’s like not a thing. I’ll say someone is my neighbor, and that just means they live on the island of Manhattan. Marilyn lives on my block. I got her number if anyone needs a professional energy healer.
- Harry Styles Paid for My Cab
I really can’t afford to come up with a more clever title for this one because I can’t detract from this moment. I was in Berlin, with my mom, of course, and pulled up to our hotel in a cab. My mom got out and whispered to me to look up. Who did I see standing outside of our cab but Harry-Motherfucking-Styles.
“Do you mind if I jump in there?,” he said in reference to our taxi. Um, I BEG you to breathe the same air I breathed, so no, I didn’t mind.
However, by the grace of god, the driver’s credit card machine was not working, and my mom and I did not have euros. Charmed Part Two. Harry (first name basis, obv) offered to pay, whipping out a wad of cash big enough to startle Al Pacino, himself. Harry then dropped said cash on the ground—“Blimey!”—and proceeded to hand me ten euros. Chivalry. Isn’t. Dead. People. It’s just hanging out with Harry!
My mom found ten U.S. dollars in her purse and insisted that Harry take it. “No, it’s okay, really. I am not going to the U.S. anytime soon.” To which my mom jabbed, “We don’t blame you.” Harry chuckled. Harry Styles chuckled at my mother. She’s always been funny, but now it’s official.
So just like that, I hop out, Harry and his friends (not famous) hop in, and I peaked in life. All within five minutes. Arguably the best five minutes of my existence.
Until.
Two days later, I decided to work out and take a schvitz in the hotel sauna because #Bougie #Duh. Who did I fucking see but my best friend Harry Styles. Unfortunately, I only saw him from afar and did not interact, because even rockstars should enjoy the spa in peace.
That’s it. That’s all she wrote. But Harry, if you ever read this, you’re a real good chap, ya know?
…
So my dearest little Shitstains, while I will forever be a Type A baddie, studying abroad has proven that the best moments in life are truly serendipitous. I hope you enjoyed my recount of everything from day-trips to stalking celebrities.
Signing off in One Direction,
Sadie (Watermelon Sugar) Kargman
Sadie Kargman ’26 (sadiekargman@college.harvard.edu) is currently starring as your favorite Shitstain in Paris.