Saturday, February 2, 2019
College Admissions Essay: Moving Beyond Pastry :: College Admissions Essays
Moving Beyond Pastry   A few days ago, I innocently happened upon what, according to the bakery sign, was an almond croissant. Delighted, I ordered one, and dreamily handed over my two dollars as memories of industrious capital of Franceian streets and morning bakery smells drifted back to me. However, as I took my archetypal bite a record screeched in my head, violently thrusting me forbidden of my daydream and landing me back into the reality that I was not in capital of France, but in the middle of the USA, eating what amounted to a dry writing of wonder bread with two barely distinguishable almond bits on top. Ah, Paris If you were to ask me why one should live, visit, or return to Paris my answer would undoubtedly be, Pastry.   But on a to a greater extent monstrous note, as much as I love pastries and sweets, I didnt invade out student loans, search for scholarships and cross the Atlantic Ocean so I could eat a crepe or a pang au chocolat as shamelessly thin, stylish people wearing macabre walked by. I thought I was going to France to study French. And this I for certain did. My classes were all in French, including a religious studies class at the alumna level (funny how no one mentioned this to me before it was too late to demean it). But the true benefits of my studies abroad continue to become more and more apparent the longer I am home in the linked States. In short, I understand that the world is great big focalise with all kinds of places and people not in an abstract sense, but as a result of experience.   When I see the Mona Lisa on television I think of my first visit to the Louvre as I stared awful at her small, mischievous face. When I heard that 200,000 Germans gathered in solidarity at the Brandenburg Gate to express their beneficence for the US citizens in the aftermath of the recent terrorist attacks I think about the German people I met this summertime and the day that I walked through that gate myself. An d when I heard that the Paris traffic and metro stopped as a display of sympathy and grief, I felt my eyes sting with tears.
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