By Amanda Waldron

Walking through the brisk autumn streets of Paris, huddled under an umbrella while dodging puddles (and poodles), I wondered just how the all the Parisians could manage to look so darn… tan!

Apparently, the perfectly bronzed men, women and children are an indication of what the French call, “La Rentrée,” or the return. For the months of July and August, the French go on holiday en masse to their beach properties in the South or to other places in Europe. And while the Anglo-Saxon U.S. certainly understands fall’s bittersweet call to productivity, La Rentrée carries a heavier significance to the French than merely “back to school” and a depleted bank of vacation days (wait, no, I don’t think that happens in France).

Whereas Americans feel anxious after too many days on the beach, the French seem to really embrace the summer “vacances” as a time to relax, rejuvenate and restart their lives in the fall. It might seem like an incredibly lazy arrangement from an American’s point of view (and you can be sure that nothing gets done around here in July and August), but there is something to say about the healthy equilibrium that Parisians have found between work and play.

As for me, I couldn’t seem to shake that American work ethic, and after two weeks of painfully little productivity I was geared up for my own “rentrée.” I won’t say that aimlessly strolling on Parisian cobblestone, taking in the sights and nibbling on piping hot Nutella crepes was “painful,” but I am, at heart, a buzzing American worker bee who needs to feel productive. Thus my first week of classes came just on time

My “rentrée” to lectures, homework and tests came on with full strength. I walked to the Metro at 8 a.m. for my morning commute alongside French children walking to school, one hand clutching their mother’s hand and the other clutching a Kleenex box, just as I had done on my way to Woodway Elementary every September. I sat down for the first day of my 9 a.m. grammar class, during which we had a lengthy exam as well as a short paper due. Next up was French Politics in the European Union, followed by the French Artistic Milieu in the 18th and 19th Centuries, and last, History of French Cinema. Each class was stimulating, taught by energetic and friendly professors, and with the exception of a few Anglicisms, featured not a single word of English. With time between classes, I returned each day to the same cafe (seemingly the only one in the city to serve bagels, chocolate chip cookies and simple black coffee) to finish up homework and get out of the rain. In the afternoon, I went shopping for books in the “librairies” of Paris: There are no college bookstores here with all the textbooks required by classes; it’s up to the student to find it at any of the countless bookstores across town. Phew, now I was working.

My rentrée to productivity also inspired me to put on some running shoes and attempt to work off the croissants, crepes and baguettes of the past weeks. I discovered a beautiful park — the Bois du Bologne — and a great path along the Seine to go for afternoon jogs. I pass by ducks, tennis courts, exceptionally well-dressed children frolicking in the grass and beautifully maintained gardens — I also manage to avoid roads laden with patisseries and boulangeries. It’s a decent way to see the neighborhood and stay in shape, but I must say, I do regret all the days I passed up on going down to Harbor Square. The cigarettes, the eating culture, the small portions and smaller appetites: something is keeping all these French people looking fit, and it’s not hitting the gym everyday. But for me, a non-smoking foodie with a powerful sweet tooth, it will take a dedication to frequent jogs in order to return to the states with minimal extra baggage.

In addition to having a productive body and mind, I will soon be having a productive wallet, too. My host mother has set me up to tutor a French teenager, Hugo, who is studying English in middle school. For being so incredibly lost and confused for most of my time in France — even in performing most simple tasks like reading microwave instructions and package ingredients — I am relieved to remember that my mother tongue can be an asset and not always a burden.

However, I am even more relieved that I will finally be getting some cushion for the ridiculous costs of everything in Paris. At home, having money usually just translates into the ability to buy clothes and shoes and shampoo. While that is obviously the case in France as well, money also means traveling to nearby countries, museums and expositions, tasting incredible food and desserts, meeting French people at bars and cafes, and concerts. There are an infinite number of events advertised on Metro walls that I hurry to write down and remember to research, which all cost between 10 and 20 Euro: a Flemish art expose, a masters’ tennis tournament, the Edward Hopper exhibit, an H&M sale. So a couple of hours per week with Hugo translates into getting the absolute most out of my French adventure. Or as the Parisians say, “Profitez d’être à Paris!” (A bit more fun than “do as the Romans do.”)

But even this American knows that it can’t be all work with no fun. My return to productiveness this week was gratefully forgotten this weekend for partying and picnics in the park. A big group of friends and I went to “Club Mix,” a giant “discotheque” of Paris that features “International Night,” where foreign students get in free and often sport flag stickers to represent their nationalities. I was twirled by an Italian and drank tequila with some Mexicans, and made it back to the Metro before it closed at 1 a.m. The next day, we drank beer in a Canadian pub called “The Moose” and watched rugby and soccer (obviously the boys chose this activity),  followed by baguettes and chilled rose wine in the park (and this one, chosen by the girls). There was also time for shopping along the Champs-Elysees, eating a world-famous Pierre Herme macaroon (chocolate and caramel), gazing up at the Arc de Triomphe  then down at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, and finally people-watching at the Jardin du Luxembourg. Work hard, play hard!

Au revoir from Paris!

Amanda Waldron, a 2010 graduate of Edmonds-Woodway High School and a junior at Santa Clara University, is studying in Paris this fall and has agreed to write about her experiences for My Edmonds News.