I’ve been drinking a little of it here and there since I arrived in Paris for my study abroad program, but I’d much rather have a nice glass of fresh OJ in the morning with my petit déjeuner.

So how did I come up with the idea to call this column “French Press,” instead of something lame like “Freshly Squeezed” or “Orange Juice In Paris?”  If I were telling the truth, I would say that my Dad came up with the name on the way home in the car. If I were lying I would say that it came to me in a flash of inspiration when my plane was touching down at Charles de Gaulle Airport.  For now, we can just go with the latter.

The French press, also known as a coffee press, or en français, une cafetière à piston, is a simple device that coffee purists live by. To use a French press, the brewer pours coffee grounds and hot water into the reservoir; then, after the brewing has finished, uses the plunger to separate the coffee from the spent grounds to produce the final product: a satisfying, warm cup of Joe.

Feeding the birds at the Opera Garnier

To me, “French Press” is much more than a hipster way to drink coffee.  When I think about the title “French Press,” I think about my experiences as an American studying abroad in a foreign country, how I am being pressed and molded by those experiences, and am, in many ways, being infused by the rich culture and history that surrounds me every day.  I aim to approach my experiences with an open mind that can be enriched just as the pure water in a French press mixes with coffee grounds in the reservoir. I hope that this column becomes a place where I can share the experiences that mold and change me, where I can brew, let’s say.

In a cafe near Saint Germain

Although columns are typically done in text, a big part of my brewing process is visual.  Being a photographer means that I process my experiences by taking photos.  Sometimes I think of myself as Lenny from "Momento," who suffers from the inability to create new memories and must take photographs and jot down notes in order to begin to make sense of the world he is living in.  For me, my camera is an essential part of who I am, and because of this, my columns will include both my written and visual thoughts.

Exhibit at Centre Pompidou

For this first column I don’t feel a need to get super deep or share some of the insightful experiences I am having but rather lay some of the groundwork for where I currently am on this journey and where I hope to go. Currently, it would be accurate to say that I feel the same way I felt when I was a 10-year-old. The world here is still relatively new to me, and doing things on my own can seem scary and intimidating, if not gargantuan.  My ability to communicate with people is at a level where my host brother Max (13) feels it accurate to call me a “vache espagnole,” and if you don’t want to bother looking it up, it’s an insult.

A bust in the Louvre

So what do I hope to gain out of this rough transplant into a completely new way of life?  I hope that I can gain a deeper perspective on how people from a different culture live. I hope that I get better at my French. I hope that I can develop long-lasting relationships. I hope that I get to travel, eat good food and have lots of fun. I hope that I’m able to learn more about who I am, where I come from and how I operate.

And who knows?  Maybe I'll start drinking a little bit more coffee.

More to come soon.

Some of my favorite photos so far:

Reach Columnist Matthew Woo here.