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After hearing the price to go skydiving in Interlaken, my friends and I decided to go paragliding instead. They drove us up to the top of a mountain, got us in our harnesses, and then suddenly I was running off a mountain being asked urgently by the experienced paraglider behind if I could “run faster.” Despite my lack of speed and apologetic “No…Ah!”, we made it up in the air and began our sail over the Swiss Alps. It was beautiful and oddly relaxing. Unless drifting hundreds of feet above solid ground only suspended in air by parachute plastic, reliant on intermittent winds scares you – I wouldn’t anticipate an adrenaline rush.

My instructor recommended I try it again in the summertime – To which I said yes and asked if he’d buy my plane ticket. The rest of my time in Interlaken was spent with two feet firmly on the ground – Taking in lots of Swiss cheese, Swiss chocolate, and time to appreciate the pristine scenery of Switzerland.

One of my favorite things about my visit to Switzerland was asking as many locals as possible to say my last name. While obnoxious, it was exciting to hear “Buchholz” pronounced correctly after 21 years of correcting teachers, friends, and basically anyone that has ever needed my last name for any reason.

While wandering around alone in Paris with no cell service or sense of direction, I stumbled upon my new friend Damien (pictured above) and thousands of French protestors marching down Le Republique. Just before landing in Paris, the government had announced a renewed state of emergency. I asked Damien why this mattered and he explained to me in impressively broken English that a state of emergency gives more power to police and administrative authorities. He described it as an “increasingly fascist political situation.” Damien’s banner reads “Committees against Le Pen” – Referring to Marine Le Pen, a French politician running for president representing The National Front – an increasingly popular and influential political group in France at the time with far-right learnings.

Later at a pregame with some of Franny’s new French friends, I asked how they felt about “Le Pen” and got quick responses that compared her to Hitler. I also found out that the French strongly oppose discussing politics while drinking – a social grace that should be introduced to the U.S.

While I didn’t make a trip back up the Eiffel Tower or revisit the Mona Lisa at the Lourve, I got a unique taste of Paris that I shared with my brilliant Turkish professor who has been lecturing about the rise of political parties, like the National Front, across Western Europe for the past 2 weeks. I also made a lone visit to the creepy depths of the Catacombs – ossuaries underneath Paris containing the remains of more than 6 million people. Creepy? Yes. Cool? Definitely.