Parisan Wine vs. French Wine

by: Charlie Jungwirth

Before I left for France I had my preconceived notions about the city, the culture and especially the wine. I envisioned everyone drinking wine and eating cheese at every street corner. The cafe part was correct but the wine aspect threw me. I figured that being in France, a country notorious for their wine, that the capitol city would have wine overflowing the streets. Boy was I wrong.

They have wine, but its not as cheap and readily available as I thought. Each restaurant offered a variety of wine, not so different from here in the States. I had this idea that Paris had it's own wineries where they make great wine that is local and only available in Paris and nearby towns. Again, I was wrong.

I went to the only known winery in Paris in the Marmont area of the city. The winery was nothing special, as it was the middle of the winter. Being a business, I expected there to be a storefront where I could ask questions and possibly buy a bottle of wine, again I was wrong in my thinking.

Fortunately the Marmont area is full of little wine shops. I went in to a few and asked for local wine, they said that they don't have Parisian wine but wine from nearby towns. I settled for that. In one shop in particular I got to chatting with the store owner, a woman in her mid 30's. She said that Parisian wine is not good and there isn't that much produced each year, so finding some in the winter is almost impossible. But she did have several wines that are produced from towns close to Paris that are much better.

I didn't get my Parisian wine like I had hoped, but I did end up getting locally made wine from France. The experience just goes to show me that things don't always go the way I want them to, but if I try hard enough they'll work themselves out in the end.

Late night crepes

by Courtney Hopper

From the very beginning of my Parisian excursion I always told myself that my feature story would fall into to my lap. With out a doubt that is exactly what happened. Who would have thought that the inspiration for my feature would be just around the corner, literally?

Just 20 steps from the Hotel Brebant was a street stand that sold a French cuisine classic, crepes. At least once a day I would stop by and pick up one of these thin delicate pancakes. The best part about them was the fact that you could fill them with virtually anything: chocolate, orange, carmel and strawberry are among the few. With only three to five euros they are one of the best values in France.

No matter what time it was, the stand would almost always have people waiting in line, especially late at night when all the bars were closing. I thought to myself that crepes were the drunken food of Paris—like Taco Bell or McDonalds would be for us. Open late, really cheap and very filling: a perfect late night treat.

On the day I shot my standup, I was frantically getting ready memorizing my bridged stand-up. I was nervous because I didn't know what some of the people would say. Here in Chicago sometimes you are told to leave, or that you need permission to shoot in the area but that is far from what happened. In fact Gino Ameretto, the street stand owner and his wife were far from cruel. They were delighted and even let us get right behind the glass to shoot them making their crepes. Gino was dancing around showing us how happy he was—they even gave me a discounted crepe price.

This experience also correlates with my theory that the Parisians are more than willing to become your friend despite the rumors that are spread throughout America. With only the Atlantic Ocean spread between us, I advise everyone to take a trip to the historical city of Paris!

The Mystery of How the French Stay Fit

by: Kimberly Trefilek

After all of the excitement of leaving for Paris wore off, one question remained: will I be able to handle not working out for nine days? For most people working out is a chore and they count down the days to get a vacation from it. However, for me, it’s my life. Rumors were going around that there wasn’t a gym in our hotel because it was too small. I also heard there weren’t many gyms in the city at all. Those two statements boggled my mind and I couldn’t stop wondering how do the French stay fit? So, I packed my suitcase with a jump rope, running shoes and an idea for my feature story.

My Observations

This idea had been on my mind the whole eight-hour plane ride. As soon as I got off the plane, I was constantly observing people’s body shapes and keeping my eyes open for any sign of a fitness center.

The U.S. is constantly full of gyms and full of personal trainers and ads for getting in shape. In Paris, it was non-existent. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I noticed that there were a variety of different body types and though most people were thin, none had very good muscle tone.

My Troubles

Suddenly it occurred to me that this story might be a real challenge, due to the fact that there was not one gym in sight. I did notice, however, that people did run outside in the cold, which is barely seen in the U.S. Those who were really dedicated to being in shape, seemed to use what they had around them.

How I Found My Answer

I resorted to talking to people in bars and the answer I mostly got was that they don’t really think about working out and are too lazy to worry about it. I did notice, the younger people were more active because of sports they played, such as volleyball.

Thanks to Jim Bitterman from CNN and sources from the Herald Tribune, I found out exactly what I needed to learn about Parisians and their fitness. The answer is in my story. Stay tuned.

Travel Blog: A shopping bag in every Parisian hand

By John Lendman

Paris’ old money still strong

The January temperature was at a brisk 20 degrees, which is quite cold for Parisians, they would say. I was standing in front of a Dolce and Gabbana on Avenue Montaigne—surrounded by the largest collection of high-end boutiques in Paris—holding my reporter’s notebook and a recorder. I was determined to talk to wealthy Parisians about their shopping habits during the recession, but I felt like a deaf-mute with a press pass.

After smiling politely at mink and Hermes Birkin bag-clad Parisians holding shopping bags from Cartier, Dior and Lanvin, I realized nobody smiled back—they looked at me like I was crazy.

“Um… Excusez-moi, parlez-vous anglais s’il vous plait?” I’d say, which basically means, “Hey I don’t know French, do you happen to know English, I’m kind of desperate.”

The well-to-do elite of Paris shopped on what seemed like a much larger adaptation of Oak Street in Chicago or Madison Avenue in New York City. Many stores were in cruise-wear mode, showing swim-suits and sunglasses.

The lavish display windows showed no sign of “soldes” or sales like the rest of Paris during its biannual government-sanctioned retail sale period. Nobody seemed phased by economic turmoil on these cat-walk-like avenues, their confident strides and loud high-heel clacking could attest to that.

Paris’ Soldes, You couldn’t find anything not on sale

The long strip of shops on the Avenue Champs-Elysees by the Arc de Triomphe on the other hand—which is as commercial as Michigan Avenue in Chicago or Fifth Avenue in New York City—was swapped with “soldes” and “soldissimes” signs and bargain shoppers. The Galeries Lafayette, which is like a seven-story Macy’s, had even more insistent “soldes,” some displaying as low as 60 or 70 percent.

It was like the United States’ tax-free weekends in August. Throughout Paris, the streets filled with a lively consumer-driven vigor. On the dawn of French recession, for the Parisian middle-class at least, “soldes” couldn’t come at a better time.

Blogging about the Feature

by: Bertha Serano

Street musicians serenade the streets of Paris

After attempting to research and read about what life in Paris would be like before we left, I was still clueless about my story ideas. Sure, the tips and lists of places people recommended seemed intriguing and exciting but I didn’t think they were worthy of a feature story. I wanted to get there and take it all in. After arriving, I found myself snapping pictures of everything I saw, from the graffiti on the walls to the license plates, forgetting I needed ideas.

The first couple of days were so exhausting my stories were the last thing on my mind. When Tuesday came, we went to talk with a lady who worked for a cultural center in Paris. I tried brainstorming for something, in order to ask her for sources and hopefully get a quote from her. When my turn came, I simply asked her about the street musicians in the metro.

Back home, I had written a story about the different permits they needed to avoid getting arrested and I wondered if musicians in Paris were in the same situation. So much for my luck, she didn’t know too much about it. She said it would be interesting to write about the differences between street musicians in Chicago compared to those in Paris.

I took her advice. Throughout the next days, I took pictures of all the street musicians I came across. Lucky me, every time I went into the metro, there was one playing in my section. The only problem was communicating with them. As I tipped them, I would ask them if they spoke English or Spanish but I always got no for an answer. Aside from some decent pictures and videos, I don’t have much to work with for this so I’m getting worried. I’m hoping that the student we met, Sigo, can help me out since she knows a lot of musicians. I’m crossing my fingers on that one.

Losing Stories, Finding Paris

By Regan Crisp

In Retrospect

I arrived in Paris confident and convinced that after putting in some hard work and solid reporting I would return home with a healthy list of sources and all the quotes I needed to bring my stories to fruition. Now, 10 days later, I can see that my journalistic nativity was clearly a result of both sleep deprivation and prolonged cabin pressure.

I still hadn’t settled on the topic of my feature story on our last day in Paris. In the grips of extreme exhaustion and a sadness having to leave France so soon, I was feeling lost on more than one front. Fortunately, it’s impossible to leave Paris without having grown culturally and intellectually. For me, the stories lie more in the experiences that found me that in those that I looked for.

‘Gaza’ Spelled Out In Candles

Paris is a feature-writer's dream. The city is overflowing with history, art and culture. Perhaps most intriguing is how the French approach the world differently—they have a consideration to detail I’ve rarely seen in the United States. Parisians seek out the best in all aspects of their lives, whether it’s the best wine, clothes or education. In their humble strive for perfection the French have an appetite for protest that is inspiring to witness. In the last few weeks that protest has been centered on the conflict in Gaza. Parisians blocked traffic, streamed through the Metro and lit up the city with public outcry while we made our way to various cultural landmarks. If it hadn’t been for a scheduled trip to Doctors Without Borders, which I nearly missed thanks to Metro security, it may have never occurred to me to write about what I witnessed. Finally, the topic I chose for two of my stories was also probably the most newsworthy.

C’est la Vie

I’m glad I saw as much as I did and didn’t waste a second in Paris, even if I was left without time or energy to generate and research new story ideas when my old ones fell through. In the end the stories mercifully came to me, in the form of a press conference. I only wish I’d had more time to expand them and to take advantage of the inspiration that Paris has to offer.

An Unlikely Tourist Stop

By: Caroline Rowland

Where fans come to mourn

While this may seem weird, I've always been fascinated with cemeteries. So while I was in Paris, I had to see one of the world's most famous cemeteries, The Pere Lachaise Cemetery.

Pere Lachaise is now home to Jim Morrison, Chopin and Oscar Wilde, as well as some of the most monumental people in French History.

The cemetery was the largest one I have ever seen, every grave had so much detail, so much thought, and was so gothic looking. It was beautiful. It almost looks like a little town, the way the streets are designed.

In the week we were studying in Paris, I hadn't really seen or met a lot of American tourists, especially young ones. But when I went to Pere Lachaise on Day 5 of my trip, I ended up meeting a group of young men that were backpacking through Europe who had the cemetery on the top of their places to see.

Of course they had come there to pay tribute to one of their favorite musicians, Jim Morrison, and they were not alone. It seemed surprising to me that so many tourists had made a cemetery a destination while on vacation. But after walking around the cemetery I understood.

In fact the crowds have remained permanent at the cemetery partly because of Jim Morrison. When I was there, I did not see any vandalism on the grave but there has been a history of it.

I was told that this has caused tensions of families of less famous people that are buried at the cemetery. When walking through the cemetery there are arrows purporting to indicate the direction toward "Jim," but many are pointing in conflicting directions.

On the anniversary of Morrison's death, devout fans still come to pay tribute to the former Musician.

While it may be thought of as contradicting to say that a cemetery is beautiful, but something about the Pere Lachaise Cemetery keeps visitors with no connections to the deceased coming back.

I have to say of all the typical tourists sites in Paris, this was one of my favorite sights to explore. If you do travel to Paris, the sight is a must see for a view on how the more fortunate are laid to rest.