I don’t seek out alone time. I don’t actively avoid it—though my packed G-Cal might suggest otherwise—I simply prefer company. I’m an extrovert, so being surrounded by people, any number, energizes me. At Harvard, this means countless lunches, dinners, club meetings, and working in social spaces where I can always have people around me. Applied Math appealed to me because of its collaborative nature—I’d much rather do problem sets with friends than sit alone in my room writing essays and doing readings. When I walk through the streets of Cambridge, I never have AirPods in so I can easily strike up a conversation with anyone I run into. I like that at Harvard, I’m surrounded by friends, acquaintances, and classmates—I never feel alone.
Constant good company is harder to come by while abroad. I wouldn’t say I feel lonely here en soi, but I’ve definitely had to develop a different way of finding that warm and fuzzy feeling of belonging that I effortlessly found at Harvard.
Paris isn’t always known for being welcoming. You might have heard the stereotype that Parisians are unfriendly and irritable. But in my experience, that’s one of the biggest misconceptions about the French. Yes, the occasional waiter has snapped at me during a lunch rush, but these interactions are the exception, not the rule.
One of my favorite parts of French culture is the friendliness I receive from complete strangers. It’s customary here to say bonjour or bonsoir as soon as you enter any establishment, and forgetting to do so is considered rude. I once had a waiter correct her coworker who spoke to me and my friends in English so that we could practice our French instead. Admittedly surface level, these daily interactions still bring a sense of connection between me and the city. No matter where I go, I’ll never fail to find someone to say bonjour to. With each friendly exchange, it feels like Paris wants me to be here.
Besides greetings from shopkeepers and kindness from waiters, I have also had some delightful encounters with Parisians who are off the clock. One stand-out moment happened on a Friday night train into the city. I was sitting on one half of a two-seater metro seat facing another two-seater on my way to meet friends. Suddenly a gaggle of four girls waltzed in and took the surrounding seats and one across the aisle. One of them had turned an umbrella into a microphone and held it up to everyone’s face like a news interview to hear their opinions on Metro Line 9.
I was laughing along with them when, suddenly, the umbrella was in my face, and it was my turn to weigh in. My two years of Harvard French hadn’t exactly prepared me to critique a metro line, but, fortunately, my response was unimportant since the girls were far more interested in my foreign accent. We made all the proper introductions and exchanged Instagrams as the doors were closing at their stop. Later that night, they invited me out with them, and although my previous plans did not allow it, it felt good to know that friends could be made anywhere in Paris.
Third spaces—places people spend time outside of work and home like parks and cafés—are the secret ingredient that allow these kinds of organic encounters to flourish here. The beauty of third spaces in Paris is that they spill out onto the street, rather than being confined by four walls. Because of the strong smoking culture here, every café and restaurant has plenty of outdoor seating, and even in forty-degree weather, I always see terraces filled with people. This effect is what makes Paris feel alive. When I stroll down a street lined with bustling restaurants, I feel invigorated because I see so many people who are all a part of this broader Parisian community with me.
One night in the vibrant Latin Quarter, my friends and I walked into a bar with a soccer match on—or should I say a “football” match. Despite having no previous allegiance to Mbappe or the French team, I found myself cheering along with the whooping thirty-year-olds at every goal and groaning when two goals got taken away because of off-side calls. I was a part of the fraternité in a way I never could have been if I had just watched the match at home.
Everywhere I go, I am reminded that this city is alive and filled with people who want to enjoy life, whether it is through watching a soccer match or lingering over lunch with friends. Love Actually says it best, “If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that love actually is all around.”
Since arriving in Paris, I’ve been playing this quote on repeat in my mind. Nowhere does this feel better embodied than in Paris. When I see couples cuddling in the park or a parent walking their child home from school, I’m reminded that this city radiates love, and its epithet rings true. While I still don’t actively seek out alone time in Paris, when it does naturally arise, I never truly feel alone because love is everywhere. It exists in the interactions I both have and observe and the potential connections I can make. Even without a person in sight, I always know that Paris m’aime.Frances Connors ’26 (maryfrancesconnors@college.harvard.edu) would consider herself a hopeless romantic.