Les Grands Vacances: The travel diaries

First of all, school is so hard.

I haven't really seen daylight save for walking back and forth between my house and my classrooms for the past month now. I have had major assignments due multiple times a week, and I still have to write about 20 pages before I'm done with my semester... in a week.

But, the reason I brought that up is this: for the first well, more than half of my abroad program, I had little to do except "cultural experiences" and the occasional reading or ungraded writing assignment, leading into a week long break called "Toussaint" (All Saint's Day). Most of the abroad students, including myself, were excited to jet away on extravagant European adventures. It is for that reason that I am providing a retrospective of the travelling I've done in France and in the rest of Europe. It's a good way to procrastinate, at least.

October 23 - Bruges, Belgium

You've all seen the movie "In Bruges", right? You know, with Colin Farrel and that guy who played Mad Eye Moody in Harry Potter? Well, that was about all I knew about the city before I went. And while it was cold and rainy while I was there, I absolutely loved it. The food was incredible, with a specialty of Mussels and Fries that is absolutely to die for. The architecture was gorgeous and unique - unlike the homogenized beauty of Paris. I had a great time wandering around, getting lost and realizing it wasn't so bad because Bruges is small enough to walk across in less than an hour, and dodging horse-drawn carriages every few minutes as they clomped down the street. The most interesting thing I found, though, was the intense political and cultural differences even within Belgium - right now, the country is divided between the Flemards and French-speaking Belgium, and Bruges was very clearly Flemish. As a francophone nation, I waltzed into shops using my very best french, only to be greeted with grimaces and people requesting that I speak English with them. Literally, if you are French or you speak it, you aren't welcome.

October 24 - Brussels, Belgium

More great food! Waffles, chocolates, beer (clearly it's own food group) galore! While still rainy, Brussels was slightly bigger than Bruges, with much more to do. The streets were filled with mural and great found-art, flea markets, and street performers. It was actually a lot "weirder" than I thought it would be, which I definitely appreciated. It was a city with it's own personality and plenty of sights to see. I paid a visit to the Magritte museum and saw there great permanent collection of the Artist, and by night went on a mission to taste as many Belgian beers as possible. My personal favorite was the Framboise, which tasted like raspberry soda - perfect for someone with unrefined taste like me, right? To the left is one of Brussel's most famous "monuments", the Mannekin Pis, which is literally a fountain with a statue of a little boy peeing into it. Not only really classy, but definitely the most crowded place I went to in Brussels. Overall, I was really pleased with my experience in Brussels - plus, they let me speak French there with no problems.

October 25-27 - Barcelona, Spain

Weather wise, Barcelona was a welcome surprise and break from the rest of my travels. Not only was it 70 degrees and sunny the whole time, but the entire city was just beautiful. Several times, I thought to myself that had I started taking Spanish instead of French, I would have loved to study abroad in Barcelona. The city is teeming with culture and spirit, something that is sometimes lacking in Paris. It was completely evident that there is a passion somewhere in the roots of this city, and it shows in every building, every painting, every person dressed as a Flamenco dancer on the side of the road. On our first day in Spain, we walked around the city to get our bearings, then walked along the beach for as long as we could - the beach, while definitely a hot tourist spot, was so, so what I needed - dipping my toes into the water and collecting seashells as I went, watching the waves crash on the beach higher and higher and higher... plus visiting some of the Gaudi architecture (like the plaza pictured left) was just amazing. They've got something real good going in Barcelona, which is why I'm more than excited to be going back (plus a few more cities in Spain, and Morocco) in the Spring. I couldn't stay away from Europe for too long, right?

October 28-31 - London, England

This leg of the trip was all about seeing friends from all over that have found themselves in London. It was my first time being in an English speaking country for a while, and I really welcomed the ability to communicate. And while I spent less time doing all of the touristy things and more time basking in the company of those I love, it was a highly successful trip. I liked eating greasy pub food, wandering around the luscious green space (that is clearly lacking in Paris) in Regent's park, and watching silly British guards on horseback.

November 5-6 - Bourgogne Region of France

After taking a nice long break of 5 days with no travelling, I hit the road again the next weekend to visit the region of Bourgogne, along with 50 or so other "youths". My first stop was to the tiny village of Chablis, which admittedly doesn't have much going on, but is an incredibly beautiful place to visit for a couple of hours. We started off our time with a "tour", which was essentially a guy named Christophe taking out a map and leading us through public parks to kill time. Chablis is most well known for their wine (go figure), and luckily we were treated to a wine tasting in a cold, dark cellar. Chablis is a white, dry wine, and is best when aged for no more than a few years. I think it is one of the best wine's I've had, so of course I picked up a bottle to share with my parents when they arrive, despite the fact that the man who owned the cellar was clearly racist and sexist (his comment "good wine is like a beautiful woman with no make-up - you don't need to cover it up. But a bad wine is like an ugly woman - no matter how much makeup you put on, it's still ugly" was a slight indication).

The next leg of the trip was to Vézelay, a town slightly bigger than Chablis, but just as quiet. It was there that I had my first magical experience with a Croque-Madame, the delicious french version of a grilled cheese sandwich, but with ham on the inside, and a beautiful, delicious runny egg on the outside. Miam miam miam! My friends and I tried to tough out a two hour walking tour, but couldn't quite make it through, so instead took a detour to see a little of that infamously beautiful French countryside Vézelay, and boy, was it worth it.

After leaving Vézelay, we spent the night in the city of Dijon, most well known for (you guessed it!) Dijon mustard. The city itself was full of great food, beautiful sights, and a lot of mustard shops, but the highlight of the trip came from the night we spent in our hotel. Instead of finding "culturally significant" things to partake in, Morgan, Holly, Clare, and I decided that the more appropriate thing to do would be to buy a couple bottles of wine, some chocolate, and some cookies - and have at it. You can take the girls out of America, but you can't take America out of the girls...

December 1-4 - Berlin, Germany

Berlin is silmultaneously one of the most beautiful, most interesting, and coldest places I have ever been in my life. I think it speaks to the city when I didn't find it troubling to walk for four hours in -10 degrees Celsius weather, in the snow, just to listen to a guided tour. The city, though, has just got this incredible recent and tangible history that it keeps alive on every corner. They refuse to forget what happened there, which I think is not only admirable but extremely powerful even as an outsider. In my few short days in Berlin, I was able to see the all of the major talking points (Berlin Wall, Checkpoint Charlie, etc.) as well as a great exhibit on "Hitler's Germany" at the German Natural History Museum, and a deep look into the details of the holocaust at "The Topography of Terror". It was fascinating to see that out of the somber nature of the city's history, Berlin has picked up a new and modern vibrancy - they have not let a tough past stifle their progression as a culture. We went to a modern art museum that brought tears to my eyes with certain pieces, notably a series of photos and letters relating the comforting "home" we all know to the "home" of those housed in Guantanamo Bay. No worries though, for all of the intellectual stimulation there was an equal amount of "fun" - visiting Christmas markets, eating sausages and pretzels, finding a neat bar where everything was upside-down. Berlin - two thumbs way up.

So there you have it. My travels are momentarily halted while I scramble to finish final papers, but soon enough I will be jetting off to Amsterdam and Florence for the holidays. More to come soon (I promise, as there is much to say). À toute de suite!

I have been doing a terrible job with this whole "blog" thing. It's just that the deeper into the semester I get, the more things I have to share with everyone, the more overwhelmed I get by trying to process them. I'll try.

First of all, I'm not sure how I missed this fact during the first month or so of my journey, but Paris is incredible. After travelling to other parts of Europe (that's an entire other post, definitely) I realized that I chose exactly the right place to be for this semester. There is so much to do and the city has so much to offer, that for maybe the first time in my life - I am in complete control. What I want to get out of my abroad experience is entirely in my own hands, and no one is holding my hand and taking me on tours of the city every day. Paris is my city to discover for the time being, and it seems like every day has something exciting waiting in some small alley of a quaint Parisian street corner. I'd never been much of a museum go-er, mostly out of circumstance - the only museum in Portland that ever interested me was OMSI, and that was because I got to play with all of the toys in the boat room or the Dr. Seuss exhibit. But here, where there are too many museums to see even over a five month period, I can't get enough. I love the food, the theatre, the architecture - it's like a treasure chest of culture.

Strangely enough, many of these revelations come as winter rears it's ugly head. Normally, I am a member of the Seasonal-Affective-Disorder Club, complaining about cold and rain to no end. Something about Paris lends itself to a gloomy climate, though - looking out at the Eiffel Tower on a thick foggy day is almost better than blue skies... one can see the appeal for the moody and artistic writers that flock to Paris during winter to sip on cafés and smoke cigarettes, if I were writing a memoir I'd do it here, too.

I realize that I have less than two months left abroad before, whether I like it or not, I'll be on a plane home. Admittedly, during the first month or so in France, I dreamt about that trip home, the time when I would reunite with my friends and rave about how much better home is than Paris. Somehow, slowly but surely, I've arrived in an entirely new place: I am happy where I am. That sounds simple enough, but for me it means everything - having a positive attitude about what I am feeling and experiencing, the people I surround myself with, and knowing that when I return home and back to Vassar, I will be confident in what I am doing because of what I learned here. At the very least, I won't be afraid to go to French class anymore.

I guess what it comes down to is that finally, I know I will be sad to leave.

Le Déjeuner

I am already well aware that transitioning back into an American diet will prove challenging. What is it about French cuisine that is so, so mesmerizing? They don't use many spices, their plates are simple, bus somehow I feel like I could eat all day and never find anything I don't love. It's a tiny slice of what it means to be here, but an important step towards embodying the Parisian lifestyle. So, I present a small guide to eating out - the French way.

1. Always start off with wine, or for those special occasions, champagne. Wine gets your palette ready for whatever else is headed for your tastebuds.

2. Choose an aperitif or an entrée. This is like the warm-up round (in french, entrée means "entrance", meaning the first course rather than the main course, as we use the word in English), so it could be a salad with warm chèvre, assorted cheeses, or soup.

3. Make sure your cheese goes with your wine (general rule is red wine with mild cheeses, white with more pungent ones), and have a basket of fresh baguette nearby.

P.S. Though it's in French, I did write a blog entry on a cheese tasting for my program... if anyone's interested,here it is!

4. The "plat", or the main course, is the star of the meal. While everything else may have been rather light, the plat is hearty but not heavy, like the duck breast and roasted potatoes Clare is modeling to the left. This day, I had a delicious Beef Bourguignon (goodbye veganism?).

5. Dessert is not an option. It is expected, welcomed, celebrated, even after lunch. French desserts are absolutely to die for, and my personal favorite part of the cuisine. Pictured here is a crème brulée and a fondant au chocolat.

It was quite the effort to get us to put down the forks and take a picture...

6. Have a café! When eating out, I haven't had a meal shorter than an hour and a half. It's all about taking your time, enjoying the company around you, and finishing off with some caffeine to ward off the after-lunch sleepy effects. While it's easy and convenient to grab a sandwich on the go, sit down lunches, when used sparingly (they're usually 11-20 Euro), are a welcome break from the chaos.

Show and Tell

I feel really silly about writing my last gloomy post, and the snarky post before that, in light of the past few days that I have had. Paris, I have to hand it to you, you're one hell of a town. I'll do all of you a favor and spare you more of my brain vomit and cut down on the text. Picture books were always my favorite kind of books anyway.

St. Chapelle

Centre Pompidou - Children's Exhibit

Centre Pompidou - Electric Art

Jean Cocteau's desk - loving the leopard.

Visiting Jean Cocteau's House in Milly-La-Forêt

"Le Cyclop" from the outside - really cool modern art sculpture/museum made to represent the excesses of society

The Monster of the Forest...

Inside, the machinery works throughout the entire structure to move the eye of the cyclops and create several spectacles.

A room, turned entirely on it's side.

"L'invitation de suicider" - A tiny bit morbid.

Mosaics from the monster

Le Cyclop from the Outside

Boar's Head at Barbizon - where artists like Van Gogh came to play.

Begin series of Grève pictures - strikes over the retirement age being raised two years. Note that the following photos were taken over three separate days, as the manifestations have continued for several weeks.

Drummers for the cause.

La femme de la liberté - puppet run by theatre workers on strike.

"In France, there is a weapon of mass destruction" - with a picture of Nicolas Sarkozy's face.

American Photographer Larry Clark's photography exhibition on American youth

I heart Paris condom. Classy.

View from the Jardin de Trocadéro during the day.

And the same at night.

Paris, je t'adore. Hard to believe my time here is half way gone...

L'Automne

Fall has arrived, vacation time is over. Finding raindrops in my hair from time to time, looking up at a cloudy gray sky - it forces me to see a new Paris, rather than an idealized panoramic view from the top of the Eiffel Tower. Paris is quaint, almost doll-like, but it is not perfect. It is in these moments of finding flaws that I realize I came here for a reason - but what was that reason again? I am a drifter, chasing after one thing before realizing I was supposed to be finding another... so I search my brain for some knowledge of that unattainable goal.

I have failed to find any sort of routine here, which maybe is a good thing. Yesterday, my host Dad said to me "Bienvenue chez nous!" ("welcome to our home!") and I didn't know what to say, because I've been in their home for over a month. He explained to me that since they feel like we haven't established a routine, each day is new and exciting, like they're welcoming me into their home every day. He was trying to be nice, trying to say it as some sort of compliment - but I couldn't help but feel a little bit sad. My host parents call me "their eldest daughter" and while I love their family and feel like I have the perfect fit here, the perfect amount of home and privacy, where is my routine? In a certain sense, routine equals comfortability in my book, so not having one means I haven't quite settled in yet. There is still a semblance of decorum, politeness that goes along with living here (not just in my apartment, but in the city in general), because I just don't know this place well enough to call it home. Everything is too big, too undiscovered, and I'm a little lost puppy, hoping someone will think I'm cute enough to help out. I want so badly to walk with a confidence that I'm going in the right direction, to know how long it takes to get from place to place, or to know that when I get to my destination, I haven't mistaken my conversion from military time! It really is the little things.

A part of what kills me about being an outsider in this metropolitan city is timidity. I feel bad subjecting native speakers to my imperfect French, so I'd rather not say anything at all. If ever there was a "goal" of coming to France, it would be speaking French, right? Not soaking in culture, incredible art, food, etc... In any case, my "passive language skills" are working hard. I am reading and understanding this language, keeping my distance from the real challenge - conversing with fluency. Half the battle, I know, is confidence. I have had a few conversations with French students in my class, as I am the only international student, but every time they say something to me, I warn them: "Hey, I'm American, so sorry if I don't speak French that well". If I just started talking, they'd probably notice a few misconjugated verbs here or there, but by doubting myself from the beginning, I've already shot myself in the foot. By telling others that I don't speak French well, how can I ever expect to believe it myself? The truth of the matter is, I've been studying this language long enough and I work hard enough that I have the tools to make it here. I can hold my own in conversation, but I have to give myself that chance.

Maybe Paris isn't living up to my expectations. I know this isn't true, because this city is more beautiful than I ever could have imagined, but did I have certain aspirations for my time abroad? Of course. I thought I'd be rubbing shoulders with all the cool French kids, speaking little to no English, seeing an immediate and tangible change in the way that I live my life. None of this has happened, of course, but in a way that is also relieving. I spend more time alone than I thought I would, but it's given me a lot of time to sort out the mess my brain has become. I think a lot about my future, and how this experience now will integrate itself into my life at home. In some strange way, this seems like a hiatus from real life, some sort of surreal "character-building" trip that I'll always love, cherish, and remember, but something that is intended to help me integrate myself back into my "other" life more fully, with a better understanding of myself, having already sorted out all of the kinks and ready to hit the ground running.

I really don't know what any of this means. All of my doubts coming out, I suppose. I'm at about the half-way point with my program and it's about now that all of my "real" work (i.e. exposés, dossiers, and papers) kick into high gear. This is the point where things are supposed to start exponentially improving, and I'm scared to be left in the dust. What if I get back to the US and my French is just as bad as it ever was. My greatest fear is this: that someone will ask me, "so what exactly did you do in Paris?" and I'll have nothing life-changing to respond with. I wish that I could find the answer to "What do I want?" or even "What do I want to do today?", but even that becomes impossible. And even more frustrating, is to know that I am being ridiculous and I am having an amazing time, but I feel the need to analyze, to pick apart my life here, to determine whether I am making the most of it or not. I wish my brain would stop working so hard.

Chuckling in Paris

Observations from an Outsider: Volume I

As in any culture, France has a very specific set of tendencies that can be hard to wrap your head around. Not following them leads to embarrassingly admitting you're american, confusing, or possibly even death.

I. The five food groups in France are bread, cheese, wine, cigarettes and coffee. This is not an exaggeration, you will see more of these items in a day then there are pigeons in Paris (and there are many, many disgusting and decrepit one-legged or two-toed pigeons here), and you'll be hard-pressed to find a Parisian who hasn't had all of these things by the end of the day. As an ex-vegan American, anti-caffeine, not inclined to be a smoker, and not of legal drinking age, what's a girl to do? Give up and play along, I guess. No matter how much I will it to be, there are no food carts with good burritos (why is it that I have endlessly been craving burritos? what is wrong with me?? Although I have eaten a couple falafels that were out of this world) or japanese food to make my palette feel at home, and the food here, as carb-ridden as it may be, is delicious and mild (no spices whatsoever! I'm a lucky girl). Everything is preservative free and local, so my ideals and my stomach are on the same page. Bon appetit!

a. I'm quite worried about caffeine dependancy becoming an issue. Coffee is a requirement with breakfast, and when I wake up I'm a squinty-eyed monster, walking zombie-like to the table and rummaging around for my café before perking up. French coffee is also much stronger than in the US, so I'm not sure what I'll do when I go back to watered down "french roast" in my giant plastic mug...

b. If bread and cheese doesn't doom my waistband, the desserts will. Oh my God, the desserts! My host dad's love to bake, so every night it's something different - almond cake, fig tart (pictured), homemade yogurt and fruit, brownies (which they call, "the American dessert")! It's like I'm Charlie and I'm living in the Chocolate Factory. Side note - the french word for "yumm" is "miam".

II. For every American hairstyle or trend, there is a French way to do it that it is infinitely more glamorous, harder to create, and more expensive. Take, for example, the messy bun. In the states, maybe it's a look for someone on the go, trying to stay comfortable, wearing ugg boots and sweatpants - in France, it is the height of fashion. Every Parisian girl you see has long, textured hair that has clearly taken years to achieve that "messy but put together" perfection, that they throw into a bun with a thousand clips, accessories, and just the right amount of hair left carelessly hanging down. That, and they pull it together with a blazer, chic tunic, skinny jeans, and stilettos - and they're ready to go to the supermarket. I refuse to be bothered - I hate brushing my hair let alone styling it, so perhaps I'm a lost cause. That, and last week was fashion week so I guess the wounds are still fresh from all of the models running around Paris.

III. Pedestrians do NOT have right of way. Ever. Many of the smaller Parisian side streets do not have traffic lights (which they call a "tricolore" meaning "three colors") or even stop signs,

so cars will just continue on the road, regardless of whether or not you happen to be in the middle of it. I have the street rules of Portland engrained in me, where stepping into a crosswalk makes traffic on both sides of the street come to a stop - so you can imagine how many times friends have had to grab my arm and pull me out of harm's way, aka a speeding car. French drivers are worse then New York City drivers, in all seriousness.

IV. Strikes are everywhere, all the time. Currently, the French government is trying to pass a bill that raises the retirement age from 60 to 62 - all hell is breaking loose. The French people do not work earlier than 9 in the morning, they do not work on Sundays (including stores), they do take three or weeks of vacation a year, so god forbid they work an extra two years! There's probably more to it, but to a girl who sees many middle to lower class families working their entire lives to make ends meet, I don't see what all the fuss is about. Nonetheless, every week or so there is a "grève", meaning strike, that shuts down the post office, all government related offices, and slows the metro down to the point where getting anywhere could take an hour or two. My host Dad, Samir, says it's because French people want to take a day off from work without getting fired. Way to go.

V. Running errands takes all day. Literally, as I'm going to sleep every night, I have to decide what the next day will be like. It's either a school work day, an errand day, or a "cultural" day. There are no in-betweens, as each of those options WILL take the whole day because of transportation, massive lines, getting lost, etc. The worst of it is errand running, though - everything here is compartmentalized. There are no large supermarkets with everything you could possibly need - one stop shopping does not exist. Instead, there is a separate place to get each of the following: bread (pictured left is one of those shops, called the "boulangerie"), cheese, meat, fish, fruits/vegetables (if you want them all fresh), then another place to get a new water bottle since you left yours in the states, and yet another to buy school supplies. Also take into account that none of these places are located in the same neighborhood - and you've got a full day's trek ahead of you. You're lucky I like being busy, Paris, otherwise we might have an issue.

VI. The University system. It is so bad. They tell me everyone in the room is a college student but I just can't believe that any of these people have made it past the ninth grade. I've actually taken to writing notes on all of the bizarre happenings I've observed in a French classroom:

• "We have been sitting in this room for twenty minutes with no professor. Should I keep waiting?"
• "Someone just told me I can't sit in a row of seats because she's 'saving all of them for her friends'. Saving seats?! Welcome back to Middle School?!"
• "Boy just walked out of class half an hour early without saying anything, Professor doesn't miss a beat".
• "Girl rolls cigarette two feet in front of professors face, pulls out a lighter, and leaves the classroom. Returns ten minutes later".
• "Second week of class, students again waiting for twenty minutes with no professor. Turns out he forgot what classroom we were in and was waiting in a different one".
• "Crazy French boy named Felix gets up, and writes 'Le CACA?' on the chalkboard, Professor says nothing. Felix, needing to be noticed, makes a paper airplane, throws it, and then asks for the class to take a break. The professor gives us a break".
• "Professor spends two hours trying to figure out how many people are in his class. Fails to give a bibliography or syllabus, and says 'see you next week!' No one is phased. I panic - no work, no readings, no idea what this class is about!"

I hope none of this is coming off as negative or as if I'm not loving making these observations. It really is quite a privilege to point out the bizarre in the tradition - if I was a part of this culture I wouldn't know any different. Once in a while I get frustrated that I don't fit neatly into the system, but I'm glad to hold my Americanisms close to my heart and take note of all of the tiny, but noticeable, differences.

I just realized how much blogging I have to catch up on.

Whoops.

Photo of the Day

I stole a picture from the internet for my blog a while back, while I was still in Bordeaux, so nervous to come to Paris, feeling inadequate and unprepared - plus my camera had just broken, so it was a moment of weakness. Yesterday, I had the opportunity to take that picture myself:

How good it feels to justify the image, to climb to the top of the Notre Dame and look out over Paris as someone who is exploring, learning, loving, and growing in the city.