Ruffled: Ruched Red Dress + Knit White Sweater

ruched red dress outfit
ruched red dress outfit
ruched red dress outfit
ruched red dress outfit
ruched red dress outfit
ruched red dress outfit
Dress, eShakti | Sweater, mom's | Boots, Target kids | Earrings, Claire's
Photos by Lumi

Disclaimer: eShakti sent me this dress in exchange for blog exposure. All opinions are my own.
The package arrived in 1.5 weeks from DHL, just in time for Chinese New Year (now several weeks back). The dress was a lovely cut, though I wish I'd gone a size up (I sit awkwardly between size 2 and 4 for their pieces). It also wouldn't have been a bad idea to take advantage of their custom sizing. I always customize the dress length and collar, if applicable, but for the purpose of wardrobe fluidity, I opted for a standard size (easier to donate or sell later). While this dress is now sold out, you can find similar styles and colors on their site.

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Before this dress, I didn't have any classic red in my study abroad closet.

It was the week of Chinese New Year (Jan. 28th this year), and I was wondering what I'd wear for the holiday. As a first generation Chinese-American, I couldn't guiltlessly deviate from the custom of sporting the warm color during the new year--that would surely result in bad luck for me and my entire family. 

Typical celebrations boast vibrant shades of red, like the festive lanterns strung across every Chinatown, or the silky traditional dresses. The only red to grace my limited wardrobe, however, was maroon--or bordeaux, if you will. And there was lots of it.

Perhaps it was only a matter of coincidence or taste, but the conspicuous absence of "Chinese red" and the strong presence of "French bordeaux" felt rather symbolic to me.

Being abroad, I've never felt less Chinese. Despite the stark contrast between my very-Asian appearance and more-homogenous European crowds, despite the physical distance from my American roots, I feel weaker and weaker ties to my family's cultural heritage. 

My French language skills have long surpassed my Mandarin abilities. I rarely cook Chinese cuisine, my neglected bottle of soy sauce becoming almost-ceremonious. I clash more and more fiercely with my family's conservative ideals. 

I find it extraordinarily difficult to understand how a wild spirit like me could've come from such a moderate, reserved family. I dream of valiant endurance races. I become restless and miserable in standard office jobs. I dabble in a potpourri of fields and hobbies, though the creative truly holds my heart. I yearn to one day call a foreign country home.

I crave unwavering familial support, but am instead met with: you're too rebellious for wanting to do marathons and triathlons (when most families would meet such goals with enthusiasm). You have to find a practical job so that you can contribute to your brother's college funds (what if standard work just isn't me? And whose college funds will my brother contribute to? This is completely unfair). You have to decide on a specific career path, and you'd better decide now (but even my college advisor told me not to dive into any huge commitments too soon). You don't need to apply to jobs and internships abroad. We want you home in the summer since you spent this year abroad and you need to prepare for your graduate exams (wait, who asked you to dictate my internship search, and who said I was even applying to grad school?). 

And the very worst: we don't want to raise a daughter in the US who spends all her time in Europe.
Hold on, didn't you leave China to go to the US? And just because I forge divergent path from the one you envisioned--one that is still respectable--you'll regret having raised me?

My parents have provided me with much, but I cannot be their puppet. They assure me that they'll ultimately support my decisions, whatever they may be. But their "occasional suggestions," as they so call them, are often suffocating. They are the ambivalent gusts of wind that hinder my takeoff from the nest. 

It's tough to be torn between cultures, and even tougher to toss other contenders in the mix. Instead, I prefer to be rootless--to live and grow in a country that isn't supposed to be mine. It is my middle ground, my space in-between--where I can be both Chinese and American and neither Chinese nor American. 

I'm not sure what's ahead. But I do know how I feel, and I'm determined: it's time to ruffle my feathers and take flight.

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Study Abroad: How to Make Friends with French Natives

how to make friends with french natives study abroad
In Fall 2016, I studied abroad in Bordeaux with the Middlebury Schools in France. This post is part of a series to help make the experience smoother for future study abroad students.

"A realistic goal for the semester is to make one good French friend."

I scoffed then. It was early September, during orientation for my study abroad program in Bordeaux. Confined to the stuffy university classroom, I was antsy. I longed to begin the experience already, to be free from the long hours of powerpoint presentations and overwhelming logistics. I had grand visions for the semester. Only one good French friend? I assumed it was a given--I was positive that things would be much easier than my program director made them seem.

In my American high school, we flocked to foreign exchange students like they were celebrities--we eagerly invited them to hang out, grab lunch, share their culture. So I thought that making friends would be effortless. I naively expected the same wild enthusiasm as a foreigner in France. 

I was very wrong.

My initial reception was lukewarm, at best. There were four challenges:

1. The anonymity of the large university system. 

It was very possible to go to class, leave, and never make a peep. In fact, most of my courses were lecture-style, making it difficult to get to know my classmates. 

2. The ubiquity of international students.

Because of the Erasmus program, an EU student exchange initiative, the French students were used to foreigners coming and going. I was just another fleeting face, another errant voice with a weird accent.

3. The tight-knit friend groups.

Courses for majors are basically predetermined, so the French students have already spent countless hours together in the same classes. Close friend groups rarely mingled amongst themselves, so reaching out to a foreigner was even less likely.

4. The lack of campus community.

Since most students lived off-campus, the university activities weren't as vibrant. The only time I really saw my French classmates was in-class, leaving fewer opportunities for meaningful connections

It quickly became clear that French friends wouldn't flock to me--I'd have to do some flocking of my own.


A film class friend and me on one of my last days in Bordeaux

So here's how I made meaningful connections during my semester abroad in France:

1. Reach out shamelessly.

I met one of my closest French friends simply because I had asked her if I was in the right class. While I ended up switching into another literature course, we crossed paths again in a film class. She turned out to be extraordinarily helpful, offering me typed-up notes, sending me helpful resources, and inviting me and fellow program students to do a presentation together. I've yet to meet someone more generous: when I complimented her on her scarf, she gave it to me as a gift the next week. 

We may never have met had I kept quiet out of fear of sounding stupid in French. Sure, not everyone will be wholeheartedly receptive--I got my fair share of weird looks when I tried to strike up conversations. But you may never know unless you take initiative since French students are generally timid with foreigners (they say so themselves!). I actually sat near a classmate for over two months before I discovered that she also was into triathlons and played a stringed instrument. She later invited me to spend Christmas with her family since we had chatted holiday plans.

So be bold: ask people if you're in the right place, introduce yourself, make small talk. It's definitely more intimidating in a foreign language, but conversation skills remain pretty universal.

2. Be a healthy dose of persistent.

Making good friends requires consistency--quick chats between classes isn't enough. For instance, I become close with math classmates only after finagling my way into a study group. I had asked a few friends if they'd be doing group study sessions for an upcoming midterm. When they weren't sure at the time, I asked again a week later. The next day, I found myself chatting, snacking, and furiously solving differential equations with budding French friends. Reaching out again allowed me to to join a solid group of friends--and also gave me valuable academic insight from native students.

Similarly, be proactive in organizing group outings--make a group facebook message, suggest coffee dates, invite classmates on weekend day trips. Once you've found receptive friends, nurture that connection!

Orchestra off-duty

3. Seek linguistic/cultural exchange.

People are more willing to spend time with you if you can help them in some way. Make your foreignness an advantage--especially when it comes to your English expertise. The French can be incredibly enthusiastic about practicing English, so offering to be a language buddy is a great start to a strong connection. They'll improve their English, and you'll improve your French! There are usually university-organized programs to match up students, but you can do this on your own as well. 

If you want something more casual, I recommend Franglish, a weekly English-French linguistic exchange. It was like speed dating, but without the dating--we spoke 7 minutes in French and 7 minutes in English with one person, then we switched partners. You could go as often as you liked, and the event itself was free (though tips were encouraged for the organizers and you did have to buy a drink since it was in a bar). Obviously, you can't make the deepest of connections in 14 minutes, but it's a good place to meet locals and other internationals. And you can always arrange to hang out later if you hit it off.

On a cultural note, be open and enthusiastic about your way of life at home. If French students need your advice on all things US-related, be as helpful as possible. I think that one of the reasons one of my literature classmates warmed up to me so quickly was because I had offered her US university insight. She was planning to abroad in California next year, so when she asked me about housing in the UC schools, I reached out to a blogger friend at Berkeley who promptly supplied all the necessary info. I also showed her RateMyProfessors as she was drafting course lists, which she found incredibly amusing and useful. 

4. Join community organizations.

Keep up your passions--it'll not only help you meet people, but also remind you of your routine at home. I personally joined a community orchestra (the university-affiliated one wasn't the greatest). Rehearsals definitely brightened my week, and I met some of my closer friends there. One of them is even planning to visit me at Oxford!

Some of my fellow program students also found a strong group of friends through their clubs. Even if your hobby isn't common in France, you can find some way to keep doing what you love. Friends joined baseball teams (quintessentially American) and ultimate frisbee teams (still-developing sport even in the US). A cappella groups remained a challenge, so a friend instead joined her Bordeaux church choir.

Literature class friend and me at the beach on Christmas Eve

Though it wasn't easy, I did find my good friends after all. Friendship in general just takes time and consistent effort--a foreign language won't change that.

While communication challenges may have diluted the depth of our conversations, it certainly posed no barriers to our actions--I was shown incredible kindness, and I hope that in turn, my graditude was clear.

Bon courage, mes amis. Be bold, be proactive, and be your fabulous foreign self.

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Adapted from my original post on Amherst College's study abroad blog.

Fragments: Mint and Pink Outfit + Patchwork Reflections


mint and pink outift
mint and pink outift
mint and pink outift
mint and pink outift
mint and pink outift
mint and pink outift
Blazer, Kohl's | Button down, thrifted Ralph Lauren | Skirt, thrifted Hollister | Boots, China

At Oxford, I'm studying French author Roland Barthes, who's known for his avant garde writing. His works are often fragmentary, achronological, sometimes incomprehensible--and oddly-resonant. I'm currently reading Fragments: un discours amoureux (A lover's discourse: Fragments), and I was inspired to write fragments of my own.

Bordeaux, France
December 2016

Pensez-vous qu’il vaut mieux être célibataire ? Do you think it’s better to be single?

In the midst of my government-administered French oral exam, I broke out laughing. For the new five minutes, I stumbled through the oddly-personal, somewhat-invasive prompt. I waxed stereotypical—on est plus libre quand on est célibataire! Singles have more freedom! I admitted that relationships had obvious upsides, but with serious complications. Take long distance: a fellow study abroad student and her two-year boyfriend had called it quits because the physical separation had been insupportable, unbearable.

I kept my story to myself.

I later wondered why—did the formality of the exam make me too timid? Did I feel unable to recount the tale in French? Did I now feel so removed from my US life that the story no longer felt like mine?

I tried to convince myself that it was the first reason. Official exams are no place to divulge personal histories—as relevant as they are, I reassured myself.

But it wasn’t the only time I’d remained reticent.

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November 2016

We were carpooling to our orchestra concert, a fellow violinist and I. She was a sweet friend, having rescued me from the horrors of rush-hour public transport. Between complaints and strong exclamations about the city traffic, we chatted casually. I jumped at any chance to converse one-on-one in French—I was ebullient, rambling away.

But then:

T’as un copain là-bas ? Do you have a boyfriend at home?

Non, pas du tout. No, not at all.

I paused for a moment, debating my next words. For the past few months, I’d strained to bury this story, to leave behind the melancholy girl and her ephemeral romance. I wasn’t about to unearth it again—even if the opportunity was prime. I made my decision.

C’est un peu compliqué quand on étudie à l’étranger. It’s a bit complicated when you study abroad, I added tersely, and changed the subject.

My hesitation went unnoticed. After all, I was speaking a foreign language, and my dialogue was far from fluid.

It was night, the inky shadows dancing with the city lights, so my wry smile went unnoticed too.

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Amherst, Massachusetts, USA
December 2015

It was an impossible love, un amour impossible—we knew it had to end from the beginning.

We were from different cultures and faiths. He was a year older—would be graduating next year, while I planned to study abroad.

We were bad idea—but a really good bad idea. Our scathing banter had quickly become something else.

It was a brisk winter dawn in New England, and we were huddled for warmth, waiting for the sunrise.

“Lily, do you want to go out?”

For a moment, I was stunned. I quickly recovered. “Yeah.”

“For only a semester?”

I was more confident this time. “Yeah.”

He looked pensive, so I added for good measure: “And who knows—if I can get a French-speaking internship this summer, I might decide not to go abroad for two semesters.”

And so our fate was sealed. We grinned stupidly at each other, bathed in the golden glow of the morning sun, high on the elusive euphoria of romance.

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Hartford, Connecticut, USA
May 2016

That semester was short.

We were at the airport now, waiting for our flights home—to different sides of the country. I rested my head on his shoulder, sedated from lack of sleep and an unprecedented storm of sobs.

We didn’t know when we’d see each other again, or even if. I tried to convince myself that it’d be relatively soon. 

“Maybe I’ll be able to come visit campus during spring break—Oxford gives us a whole month-and-a-half. International flights are expensive, but the French department gave me a travel stipend for Bordeaux. So I’m better off than I expected.”

The moment he disappeared down the jet way was the moment our relationship ended. It was a tacit breakup, an understanding that had been established months before.

But my naïve hope persisted over the summer. I was too devastated to bid farewell to him and my close friends in his year. I downloaded multiple flight apps and tracked price changes for flights home—aka flights back to school.

I was elated when a March 2017 London-Boston roundtrip fell to under $400 in mid-July. But I was realistic—I knew I couldn’t accurately predict circumstances eight months ahead. So instead of buying the tickets, I dreamt of my return. That sliver of hope was sometimes enough to pierce though the dark cloud cover that persisted still months later.

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London/Oxford, United Kingdom
January 2017

I decided not to wish him a happy birthday. I had decided, actually, weeks before.

On the day of, Facebook gratuitously notified me that it was indeed his 21st. When I remained taciturn, it reminded me to send him belated birthday wishes a day later. I was slightly irked—especially since last month, the selfie we took on that fated December morning popped up in my feed as a “memory.” How thoughtful of you, Facebook.

It felt both wrong and right to say nothing. Wrong because of the strong albeit ephemeral resonance we shared, wrong because I post birthday wishes to nearly everyone—minus the so-distant connections that feel more like strangers. It felt right for that very reason: we were like strangers now.

I’ll never know if it was me or simply la nature des choses—the nature of things. After all, I’d spent a semester in France, where I hadn’t kept regular contact with the friends I’d been so upset to leave. But I’d also spent that semester wrestling with a foreign language, thus forging a new identity. I am no longer the girl who I was.

I remembered walking home from my university commute in Bordeaux months earlier. My thoughts are restless as my feet wander, and they drifted that day to him, to us. I remembered, I reminisced, but for the first time, I didn’t long for that fleeting time and space. Instead, I cringed. I remembered, and wondered who that girl was, who was so taken by emotion, so unable to let go. C’est plus ma vie...That’s no longer my life.

I remembered the mesmerizing sunrise. I remembered the fluttering bliss. I remembered the monotonous everyday. I remembered that hazy morning in the airport and my naïve hope to be reunited.

I remembered, chuckled wryly, and bought a plane ticket back to France for spring break.

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My Soap Opera Life: Settling into Oxford + Another Quite Unfortunate Story

study abroad oxford
kings arms oxford
hertford college oxford
taylorian library oxford
maths institute oxford
oxford university
jericho colorful houses oxford

It began with a simple request: could you show me how to turn on the stove?

This request would land me several displeased university administrators, one ruined hallmate relationship, and a lovely 162£ fine ($200).

My soap opera life has no mercy. It was only my second day in Oxford, and I was already creating disasters. No matter how many buttons I tried, the temperamental stovetop in my new university residence failed to work. So I sought help--I knocked on a hallmate's door, whose room neighbored the kitchen.

Luck wasn't on our side: the doors in our house automatically lock on their own. My hallmate quickly diagnosed the problem as a turned-off fuse switch, but then discovered that he'd locked himself out. Getting a spare key meant trekking down to main campus and trekking back up. My hallmate was in slippers, and I had just gotten back. So I had a brilliant idea.

"Let's try to pick the lock!" I exclaimed.

I had been successful before in pinches like these, so I was hopeful. Worst case scenario: tinker about for a bit, give up, then trek down to campus. Easy.

Nope. The bobby pin we used broke in half. Now, there was a foreign object stuck in the lock, and even if we did have a spare, the door wouldn't open. Now, instead of trekking down to campus for a spare, university administration would have to replace the entire lock. 

Hence my several displeased university administrators, one ruined hallmate relationship, and lovely 162£ fine.

We assumed that we'd be charged 90£ at most, since a reputable locksmith in town had given us that estimate before we'd notified the university. At one point, we'd even hoped that we wouldn't be charged at all, since it seemed that the college had taken care of it. But this is no feel-good soap opera--this is a tragedy, full of nasty plot twists. So of course I'd be charged the full replacement fee for someone else's door. And of course the cost would be exorbitant. 

Luckily, the visiting students' director has been trying to advocate for us, and my hallmate seems to want to play his part. But this nonetheless goes down in the books as one of the most unfortunate episodes yet (other noteworthy ones include causing a car accident on prom night and dropping my brand-new phone down a storm drain).

Please don't try this at home. Soap operas are best experienced from the safe comforts of your living room couch.

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Study Abroad: A Vegan/Vegetarian Guide to Bordeaux, France

vegan vegetarian guide Bordeaux France
For the 2016-2017 academic year, I'm studying abroad in Europe (Bordeaux, France and Oxford, England). This post is part of a series to help make the experience more manageable and fulfilling for future study abroad students.

Full disclosure: I'm not strictly vegan/vegetarian, so I speak from a flexitarian perspective.

During my first few days in Bordeaux, I was hangry. I couldn't find my unsweetened soymilk, hemp seeds, veggie burgers, tofu--and I was upset. 

Hunger-induced grumpiness was no way to begin a new adventure. But in a country that thrives on meat and cheese, I began to wonder if solely salads would beome my sad reality. 

I soon discovered, however, that Bordeaux's veggie scene was vibrant--much richer, actually, than the plant-based resources in my American hometown. All it took was some good advice from locals, a little exploring, and a little luck.

From the charming French city that was my home for four months, I present to you my favorite vegan/vegetarian picks. 

Greedy restaurant, Bordeaux

** Since I'm a thrifty (aka cheap) college student, all restaurants listed have options for 15 euros or less **

Best all-around: Greedy
Vegan, organic, gluten-free friendly // Tram stop: ligne A/B, Hôtel de Ville

The Thai sweet potato curry in the above photo was one of my favorite meals in Bordeaux. The food was hearty and scrumptious, the service was friendly (the waitress took time to chat with me), and the atmosphere was unpretentiously chic. While the menu (the 3-course meal) rings in at 19 euros, the main dish on its own is a more manageable 12 euros. Location is prime as well--right near city center, just a skip away from the Cathédrale Saint-André. There's a popular vegan burger option every Friday evening, but make sure to reserve in advance--the restaurant is small and often fills up! For regular lunches, I recommend arriving near noon (opening time) to avoid waiting. 

Best value: Cosmopolis
Mostly-vegan, omnivore options too! // Tram stop: ligne A/C, Porte de Bourgogne

The menu for lunch was 10 euros. I repeat, the 3-course meal (entrée, plat, dessert) was 10 euros. To take advantage of this crazy deal, make sure to go during weekday lunch hours. I'm still in disbelief that I paid so little for a steaming bowl of squash soup, aesthetically-pleasing rice dish, and square of apple cake. One of the perks of this resto is that you can take your non-vegetarian friends along too--there's normally a meat option as well. I chatted a bit with the owner, who said she didn't want the options to be prohibitive--she hoped that in offering omnivore dishes at a mostly-veggie restaurant, customers would become more open to trying the meatless lifestyle. The restaurant is cozy, which sofas and a piano in the waiting room. It's in a quiet part of the quartier Saint-Michel, close to the iconic Pont de Pierre and cloche St-Michel.

Most convenient: Smart Green Corner
Vegan, organic, gluten-free // Tram stop: ligne A, Meriadeck or ligne B, Gambetta

This was the only place I went to more than once--it was just so easy to drop by and grab a box to-go. I never ate in, but the ambiance is very modern and clean. This is actually a buffet, with a reasonable cost of 12,50 euros for the soup, extensive salad/hot food bar, and small dessert (I'm not joking when I say small). To get more bang for your buck, I recommend eating out--they gave me a large tray I could fill however I wanted, which was much more than I could've eaten in one sitting (about 1.5-2 meals, depending on your appetite). In the warmer months, there's vegan ice cream/gelato, which I still wish I'd tried.

Black List avocado toast Bordeaux

Best brunch/coffee: Black List
Veggie-friendly // Tram stop: ligne A/B, Hôtel de Ville

Look no further for that insta-worthy brunch. The avocado toast has raving reviews, and I was quite satisfied with my taste run--it's definitely not standard though, boasting a dusting of cajun pepper and exotic citrus-y seeds. While I'm not a coffee person, Black List's brew also has a big thumbs up from the online community. The sleek shop is often crowded, so also feel free to stop by for a quick pastry or organic juice--its city center location makes it quite convenient.

Best ambiance: Kitchen Garden
Vegan, mostly-organic // Tram stop: ligne A, Place du Palais

I would've gone in just to soak in the quaint decor, if that was socially-acceptable (seriously, see the below photo). The food is equally photogenic, boasting colorful veggie bowls and mason jar smoothies (though wasn't a huge fan of the smoothies--mine was watery). Definitely wish I could've gone back to try their gorgeous lunch plates, however--they're all over high-profile Bordeaux bloggers' instas. 

Kitchen Garden Bordeaux

Honorable mention: Mokoji
Veggie-friendly, Korean // Tram stop: ligne A, Rue Ste Catherine

If you're feeling Asian food, this is your place. The Japche dopbap without beef and beossot bibimbap without the egg are vegan and scrumptious. The atmosphere is sleek and has a bit of an upscale feel, with prices to match--my bibimbap was 14 euros. In a bustling part of town, it's a great place to stop after running errands or seeing a film in the nearby independent theatre, Utopia. The restaurant is incredibly busy though, so make sure to book in advance or head over just as it opens!

The one that got away: Rest'O
Vegetarian, organic, mostly gluten-free // Tram stop: ligne C, Les Hangars

I wish I could've gone back to all of these restaurants, but my greatest remorse is not swinging by Rest'O. Everything about this resto (what a pun of a name haha) seems prime--the dishes are so beautifully-presented, and it's located just on the quais overlooking the river. Prices are resonable for the posh-looking fare at 14,50 euros for the lunch menu and 21,50 euros for dinner.

romanesco broccoli, quinoa beer, red lentil hummus

Best all-around: La Vie Saine
Tram stop: ligne A, Rue Ste Catherine

I found just about everything I needed here, and more--organic peanut putter, alternative milks, meat substitutes, hummus. There was even a beauty and vitamin section. Definitely the most extensive stock and overall reasonable prices for organic-specific stores in Bordeaux. Location is convenient as well, just a few steps away from la rue Ste Catherine, a major tourist destination because of its plethora of iconic retail stores (it's also the longest pedestrian road in France, at 1.2 km!).

Most convenient: Naturalia
Tram stop: ligne A/B, Hôtel de Ville

Need some groceries, and some clothes? Luckily, Naturalia is in the mall Saint-Christoly, which also boasts an H&M and Monoprix. This shop is smaller than La Vie Saine, but could be much more cost-efficient for certain items--I liked buying their bulk items, as well as their chia seeds (a 500g bag was only around 5 euros!). They also had a nice selection of fruits and veggies (see the romanesco broccoli in the above photo). 

Note: there are also several organic chains, such as Bio C'Bon and Biocoop, which are also very convenient to pop into!

brunch

Best value: Casino
Tram stop: ligne B, Peixotto

When my parents saw my credit card statement, they were appalled to see "Casino" listed so many times--they thought I'd been gambling! In reality, I'd been shopping smart at the supermarket near campus. The organic section here is inexpensive and extensive--I was able to score unsweetened soymilk fortified with calcium for only 1 euro, whole-grain bread for 2 euros, and dark chocolate dipped rice cakes for 1,20 euros. This was all basically half-price compared to organic stores! Another perk--you can make grocery runs between classes (especially if you're at Bordeaux 1). And final pro tip: sign up for a student card, which automatically gives you 5% off each trip!

Note: for a large supermarket with organic aisles closer to downtown, Auchan Meriadeck is a good option, though not nearly as cheap.

Honorable mention: Vegan Eco
Online delivery!

This was my savior in my beginning weeks. While it's not a physical store, online selection for meat substitutes is top, and delivery is free after 15 euros (though the nearest delivery date may be a few days out). I recommend the veggie burgers--the veggie duck and veggie jerky was a unique experience, but not as tasty as the hearty patties.

Unexpected gem: HEMA
Tram stop: ligne A, Meriadeck or Rue Ste Catherine (2 locations with health foods)

This Amsterdam-based chain had cute school supplies, chic interior decor, cool snacks, AND shelled hemp seeds. It was the only place in Bordeaux where I could find my precious superfood (at one point, I was so desperate that I ordered hemp seeds from Amazon, shipped them to my US home address, and had my mom ship them to me in France). A 250g container ran for about 3,50 euros. It also offered chia seeds and goji berries at similar prices.


marche Bordeaux

** These markets are obviously not veggie-only, but they're great options for groceries! ** 

Best all-around: Marché des Capucins
Tuesday-Sunday mornings // Tram stop: ligne B, Victoire

The best-known market in Bordeaux, for many reasons. Prices are quite affordable and fare is far fresher than what you'd find in-store. This was my place for avocadoes, which are quite pricey in France (usually 1 euro each in-store!). There are also several places to grab a quick bite to eat, such as tapas, and many colorful flower stands to admire.

Best atmosphere: Marché des Chartrons
Sunday morings // Tram stop: ligne C, Chartrons

A lovely place for a Sunday-morning stroll. Located just along the river, Chartrons has a more refined feel than Capucins--the prices correlate, but it's also quite possible to find affordable fare. If you're looking for a more classic market experience, this is your place. There are also several stands to grab  a fresh lunch or sweet dessert. 

Sunday mornings // Tram stop: ligne A, Hôpital Pellegrin (a bit of a walk though--bus is probably better)

Not nearly as touristy as the other two, this market is better if you're closer to residential Bordeaux, and downtown is a bit too far. The merchants here could be particularly kind. I was offered free items on more than one ocassion--a shopkeeper once purposefully didn't charge me for my onion and garlic when I purchased veggies, another gifted me a mini canelé (classic Bordeaux dessert) when I only wanted one. Prices here were most affordable.

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So hopefully with all these resources, you Bordeaux-based vegans/vegetarians won't need to be hangry. If you have any questions about eating mostly plant-based in France, don't hesitate to drop me a comment or shoot me an email! I could talk for days about food and Bordeaux.

Bisous,
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Uprooted: White Lace Dress + Leopard Print Rain Boots

London, United Kingdom
study abroad outfit
study abroad outfit
study abroad outfit
updo medium hair french braid
study abroad outfit
Me: it's way too cold for this!
study abroad outfit
Cardigan, Forever 21 | Dress, Kohl's | Button down, thrifted (in Bordeaux!) | Boots, China 

I miss it already.

My voice sounds foreign as I converse with the sea of new faces in this new place. It sounds harsher, more confident, oddly-resonant. It doesn't sound like mine. 

My English-speaking persona is dusty after four months on the back shelf. It's been idle, tidily packed away in the cupboard, brought out only for special occasions--the weekly skype session with family, the peppering of linguistic exchanges, the haphazard run-ins with lost American tourists. 

As the dust falls away, I should feel more like myself. But instead, I feel disoriented. 

As my American voice regains strength, I feel my French voice fading away. When a French couple joined my table at an open-air market, I happy-danced in my head, eagerly (and probably awkwardly) struck up a conversation, and promptly became appalled at my clumsier-than-usual pronunciation. 

I find myself reminiscing over photos, rereading old blog posts. I wonder how my Bordeaux friends are doing. I complain about British wine quality (that mulled wine/vin chaud in yesterday's pub...oof, definitely have had better). I gush about my semester in France to my new study abroad program friends (though as judiciously as possible, since I dread becoming that annoying girl). 

I dream already of excuses to return. The French language has become a luxury again, rather than a necessity. I still play my French versions of American pop hits while I work. I've taken to watching a daily episode of a hilarious French vlog (for purely lingustic purposes, you know). I changed my Bible app language to French so I could kill two birds with one stone. I even rethink the day's conversations in French and mutter under my breath in imaginary French dialogue.

Basically, I've gone even more insane. Language is such an integral part of identity--France has changed me, and I don't want to lose who I've become.

But England is my now, and Oxford will soon be my reality. I will embrace this wild ride of continuous transformation. And of course, I'll keep nurturing the resonant voices that thirst to grow stronger (okay, I'm going to sign off before I begin to sound seriously deranged).

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P.S. I took over the Amherst College study abroad blog for a guest post on making friends with French natives. Feel free to take a gander!

@imperfectidealist

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