Pigeon Party by Giulia

Pigeon Party by Giulia - March 2016 Scholarship Essay

I was fading farther back into our tour group and away from our group speaker. It was just hot enough for me to be uncomfortable but I was just lazy enough to not want to take off my cardigan or my hat. A towering building stood before me, astounding me only in the height. The Notre Dame – a colossal building with marble carvings and some sort of religious significance - was very exciting to some of these people. A plethora of people were going in and out like the tides of an ocean, some stopping only for a picture and some appearing to have a revelation at the sight of this architectural titan.
I found myself using my feet to push patterns into gravel in the courtyard surrounding the building, waiting for lunch, and watching the birds. Birds sat on the grass, the fence, and the statues. A small group of pigeons gathered around a man sitting on a bench who occasionally tossed a handful of rice onto the ground. This was what fascinated me about Paris, this lone man with pockets overflowing with rice who made friends with the birds. But he saw me too and maybe I fascinated him in some way. A girl with a foreign accent clad in a sun hat despite the clouds. A girl standing in the middle of a group of pigeons trying to cup a pigeon in my hands, to no avail. Maybe he saw me and could see my excitement, my desire to touch these birds the size of small chickens. Regardless of what was interpreted, he approached me. At first, shock and confusion raced through my veins. When he rose from his bench and headed my direction, I couldn’t really tell what he was saying as he came close with a palm full of something. I will admit I was a little apprehensive; I was in the epicenter of an unknown country being approached by a language barrier.
He gestured for me to hold out my hand, uncurled my closed fists, and put some rice in my hand. It was an immediate reaction. The pigeons were seemingly trained by this rice-wielding superhero to come to whoever possessed the power of the grain. Pigeons landed around me in a circle, on my arms, and on my hat. They hooked their little bird feet into my sweater, and even though their claws pinched me a little, it could not have been more perfect! I immediately fell in love with them. Imagine that, I was in the “city of love” and falling in love not with the Eiffel Tower, not les escargots or a dinner cruise on the Seine River. I went all the way across the Atlantic Ocean on the largest journey of my life thus far, into another country and fell in love with pigeons.
It’s a weird thing to experience this casual of a journey. I was more amused by the Metro, the wind created in the tunnels that housed those steel worms. The numerous pigeons that roamed the city like registered citizens. The people who stood in the street, speaking seven languages, trying to get people to buy an Eiffel Tower keychain. It had occurred to me when the pigeons detached themselves once I was free of rice. Everyone needs to experience this type of wonder, being immersed in a culture unknown. I had found a part of myself in this place - a part that will forever have a wanderlust in her veins. A key part of myself that will be written on my cells as I grow as a human and a person.