Fighting budgetary and culinary temptations in all corners of the world

There’s a reason there’s no direct translation of the word “cheap” in French.

A week into my semester abroad at Columbia’s Reid Hall in Paris, the entire concept of my series, “Abroad on a Budget,” seems adorably naïve.

My goal was to find innovative ways to experience Parisian culture—the food, the wine, the art, the fashion—without entirely emptying my wallet. I would take on one aspect of French culture each week, comparing student-friendly cultural activities in New York City with those in Paris and reporting on how well Reid Hall facilitates students’ access to culture.

But as I type on my laptop in a café, sheepishly sipping the equivalent of a $5 coffee and nibbling on an $8 panini, it seems my plan is in need of slight adjustment. At the end of my first week, I’ve discovered three things about being—and eating—on a budget in Paris.

First, a student’s ability to save money is directly proportional to how embarrassed she is about her broken French.

During my first three days in Paris, I wandered around for hours at a time, taking in the impressive displays of pastries, cheeses, and wines in the windows of the specialty shops that line my neighborhood’s narrow streets.

(It is my personal opinion that food shop window displays in Paris are equivalent to department store window displays in New York. Both businesses take them incredibly seriously, not only as effective ways to attract customers but also as veritable works of art. And in both cases, their main purpose is to inspire lust. It seems fitting that in French, the word for window-shopping is “faire du lèche-vitrines”—literally, “window-licking.”)

But every time I peeled my tongue off the glass windows and walked into a store, I got so nervous about having to speak to the shopkeeper in French that I pretended to be looking for someone, turned around, and walked out. I hardly spent any money that weekend.

After three days of subsisting entirely on the free orientation lunches at Reid Hall and whatever I could sucker my host family into offering me, I made my second discovery about eating on a budget in Paris. There is, in fact, one easy way to eat good French food without going broke.

Step one—swallow your pride and acknowledge that you have a thick American accent. Step two—go to a patisserie and buy a baguette. Step three—walk down the street to a fromagerie and buy some cheese. Step four—go to a wine store and ask the woman behind the counter for the best, inexpensive red wine. Voilà, affordable breakfast, lunch, dinner, and drinks for at least one full day.

(One caveat, however. Like any fad diet that relies on eating the same thing multiple times a day, this kind of financial diet can lead to unexpected cravings and hiccups. Hence the $8 panini.)

My third discovery is a bit more troubling. Although I have managed to eat well, visit museums, and even go out a few times during my first week here, I’ve realized how truly challenging and almost unfeasible it is to study abroad in Paris with severe monetary limitations.

I don’t mean my own—I’m on a budget like most students, but I don’t rely on income from a work-study job, and I can count on my family to help me out if I run out of cash entirely.

With the value of the dollar plummeting, I think it is important to acknowledge that the term “budget” is relative, and that for many students, a cup of coffee—let alone a dinner out—is truly an unaffordable extravagance in Paris. Even being able to feed myself here is a constant reminder that this experience is not available to every student.

But though I feel it is a privilege that I must acknowledge, it is also one I do not intend to squander.

That is, until I run out of money.