Je Deviens Bordelaise

Update: I am still in Bordeaux.

I had an urge to blog tonight, but it doesn't feel as though there is much else to report! Life here is slow and easy, and on days where group activities aren't planned, I simply wander around the city with friends, go for a run in the Parc Bordais, or sit and read a book somewhere. And while I love and appreciate the leisure time, I can't help but look forward to Paris, where I expect to return to the busy lifestyle which I so prefer. I don't quite understand myself, but as my college self has become stronger and stronger, I dislike free time more and more. It isn't that I don't like to have fun (I think), but activities without a purpose, some foreseeable goal, make me feel like I'm wasting time. It does me well to remind myself that while I'm here, free time serves its purpose - a different kind of education meant to help me integrate myself into a new culture. But, since I've had all of this free time, I've had plenty of time to make some observations. In accordance with that, here is an entry entirely devoted to Les Observations Bordelaise!

Food: Oh. Oh, my. What a feat French cuisine is. I've never looked forward to meal time as much as I do here. The French, as most European countries, do not eat a heavy breakfast. Every morning, I'm treated to some toast with delicious confiture aux framboises-rhubarbe (rasberry-rhubarb jam) and a large cup of café au lait. Lunch is generally a baguette and camembert cheese, although once and a while my friends and I will splurge and go to an artisan boulangerie pâtisserie and buy some quiche with goat cheese and spinach and une tarte aux pommes (kind of like a small apple pie). Everything is always delicious, even when buying food from the local corner market. Dinners in Bordeaux are courtesy of my host family, which, let me tell you, is lucky for me. Catherine, my host mother, is an amazing cook, and never ceases to amaze me with her incredible dishes. Each dinner starts with an "entrée", which is either a salad, soup, or maybe some cantaloupe (my arch-nemesis has returned in several meals), and après ça, we are served the "plat", or the main course. Every night, I've been given an amazing meal full of a variety of vegetables, delicious meats, cheese, and spices, and I've seen everything to stuffed tomatoes to omelettes to a mild (yet delicious) shrimp and mushroom curry. Seriously, I've never been so well fed in my life, but the food is light enough that it doesn't make me feel overly-full, even after several helpings and several courses. We end dinner with fruit and cheese for dessert - the french are very proud of their produce (as they should be, as nearly everything is local or from a nearby European country).

Drink: I seldom drank wine in the United States, save for a Thanksgiving dinner here or there. It was never something I actively sought out because it was too bitter, or it burned my mouth, and I tended to drink it as quickly as possible so that I could avoid the taste. I expected to have my mind changed immediately upon arriving in Bordeaux, but to my surprise, my host family doesn't drink much wine with dinner. Instead, they opt for water, which normally I'd be ecstatic over, expect that French water is desalinated (they use ocean water), which leaves it tasting dry and smelling like minerals. I'm slowly getting used to it, but it's another one of those things

that I drink quickly to avoid the taste - yes, I am an immature child. Last week, though, I was given the chance to grow up a little bit, and show off my sophisticated side. My program took a trip to L'École du Vin (Wine School) and were taught the basics of appreciating french wine. We learned the difference in attributes between white and red wines, sauvignons and chardonnays, and what is best paired with them. Something I found interesting: in France, and specifically in Bordeaux, each region is known for specializing in one specific type of wine, which the French know well enough to select wines not only based on the type they are looking for, but where it is made to achieve the best quality of wine possible. We got to taste several wines made in Bordeaux, and were taught to look for clarity and to be able to see the age of the wine based on its color, and thus, when the wine is at its prime. From the tasting, I deduced that my favorite type of wine is Sauvignon Blanc, I really dislike sweet wines, and I can tolerate red wine. Look out, everyone, I'm getting cultured! Or maybe the word I'm looking for is "drunk". Sorry, Mom and Dad.

La dégustation était vraiment plaisant au goût!

La Vie Quotidienne: "Everyday Life". I've spent so much time over the past week and a half sitting and eating. Really. There's the occasional jog or yoga session, but in general, we just go to Le Jardin Public, Le Parc Bordelais, or Le Palais Galienne and spend our two and a half hour lunch break between class and atelier (which is basically class but they call it an "activity" based around food, literature, film, or politics) lazing around and

enjoying each others company. The weather is generally perfect for that kind of thing, sunny and warm but not too hot (although one day we experienced hurricane winds and paid the price for deciding it was a nice day to be outside. There were giant pine needles flying into our faces at a pace of 20 mph, which is really quite painful). There is quite a lot of walking and biking in Bordeaux (my host mother says that using a car to get anywhere is "forbidden"), although you'll rarely see a jogger, and people here "really care about the environment" and never waste a single morcel of food, although recycling bins are few and far between. It is a city of contradictions, having one ideology but doing another... but no place can be perfect, I suppose. They're miles ahead of the US in terms of having the right mindset about transportation and the environment, but they seem to have implemented those ideas incorrectly. I fear piping up about my feelings on subjects like recylcing, though. No one wants to be the idealistic American who tries to shove their views on a generous host city. In either case, I can feel my French improving during every day conversation, and there have been moments of fluency amongst my incoherent babble. In general, I am not quite (read: not at all) ready to survive on my own. I depend upon my host families and teachers to speak simply to me, and I depend upon simple phrases to respond... but reading and understanding has become much easier, so I must be getting somewhere! In conclusion, the everyday life is one of leisure - something that is, sadly, foreign to me. It's been the biggest part of the "culture shock" (but I mean, really, how much culture shock could an American have in Western Europe?) thus far, and I'm loving learning how to relax like the Bordelaise!

Lastly, to all of my friends starting school at Vassar right around now, I get a little bit homesick when I hear about your adventures together. I won't be starting classes in Paris until September 13, and half of my classes (at Paris III) don't begin until September 27th! It's strange to admit, but I am jealous that you're using your time learning some valuable things. Have a wonderful semester, everyone!

À la Plage

More tourism to report. Quelle surprise. Saturday morning, bright and early, my group headed out from Bordeaux on a charter bus. After about an hour, we arrived at Les Dunes du Pilat, the largest sand dunes in Europe! I'm notreally sure what the appeal of sand dunes are - a giant pile of sand that is nearly impossible to climb up seems more like an obstacle than an attraction to me. I suppose they were impressive, though, so I put on my game face and trekked up the 40-story-equivalent dune (Side note: we did, in fact, brave the hill barefoot and opted out of using the staircase pictured to the right). I felt like a wimp when I promptly sat down atthe top and pretended as though I was too entranced by the beauty to talk, to cover up the fact that I was actually quite winded. The lie probably went unnoticed though, because the view from the top of the dunes was really, really incredible. Being from Oregon, I am used to frigid beaches with waves crashing against giant rock formations, the fog rolling in early and waters so cold that sticking a toe in is quite enough. Very beautiful in its own way, but nothing like the sight at Pilat. The dunes are completely surrounded by dense, lush deciduous forest, and the water is as blue as you'd see in a touristic postcard, if not more so. There is no shortage of sailors, fisherman, boaters of all kinds, and a large sandbar separates the shallow waters from the open ocean. After a brief repose, I decided I couldn't be out of the water any longer. It's difficult to describe the challenge that "going down to the water" presents without making me seem like a fussy child who complains about being in beautiful places, BUT it was quite the daunting task to make it all the way down to the beach, because inevitably, going down meant coming back up the outrageously large dune. But, this being my first opportunity to touch the Atlantic Ocean, it had to be worth the trek. The water could not have been more perfect. It wasn't at all cold, the ocean was calm, and there were many perfect seashells to collect (though I didn't get greedy - I've learned that lesson). And although it literally took me 30 minutes to walk back up the dunes, I've got no regrets, because it occurred to me that this may be the one time in my life that I visit that particular spot. Better to be exhausted and carry a unique experience than to be well-rested and without. However, walking at a 30-degree angle uphill in sand is still not my favorite sensation. Duly noted: dunes, not for me.

After the bus had been loaded (a few minutes late, as the hike back was long, and most of my counterparts had decided against the descent to the ocean), we set off for our second beachside location, this one in the nearby town of Arcachon. It's the equivalent of Newport or Cannon Beach in Oregon - very pretty, but very much a tourist town and very crowded on a nice summer weekend day. Being completely exhausted from the dunes, we were uninterested

by all of the adorable beach shops, and instead promptly staked out a spot on the sand and ate our picnic lunch. We've all gotten very good at making the same baguette-camembert-saucisson sandwiches every day, and while it may be monotonous, it's a fail-proof and inexpensive meal. Also perfect for the beach, as Hannah is modeling on the right. The day was really quite great. We spent several hours playing in the water, walking along the beach, napping, lazing, reading French magazines, forming some semblance of a vacation although we technically started our semesters a week ago. Being in France is like entering some kind of time vortex: everything is perfect, except for the fact that they do not recycle (and that, my friends, is a major deduction), and you think that all of the fun and lazy days we are having would make time fly! In contrast, it's been the longest week of my life. I'm beginning to doubt whether I'll ever leave, as each day seems longer and fuller than the last. I'm starting to understand why the French seem to live so much better than Americans (in terms of food, connectivity, clothing, remaining local and sustainable) - they have time for everything! Time, what I normally feel is my biggest constraint, has no meaning in this culture. They eat late, they stay out late, and they wake up early the next morning to do it all over. They've got all the time in the world to finish things that Americans can't...

This is, of course, not the real reason that the French lifestyle seems to work so well. But I haven't quite wrapped my head around that subject yet, as there are many facets to French life that I love, and some that I don't. Perhaps that is something to blog about next. But the bottom line for this post is: good weekend. good beaches. good. Also, I've been watching a few French films with my housemate, Grace, as it's a good way to listen to French speaking for extended periods of time and improve my comprehension. I highly suggest Fauberg 36, a film about a renegade performance group in 1930's Paris. Really well done, and I think it would hold the same weight with English subtitles, as it's definitely flashy and entertaining, but tugs at the heartstrings enough to keep you engaged. Check it out here.

Au revoir, tout le monde!

Une Touriste

L'Eglise Saint-Pierre

I can't help it. I'm very much a typical American tourist, with my camera in hand, eyes always to the sky, hanging around all of the spots I can find in my guide book. But in a place like Bordeaux, I'll be shameless about it. There is so much to see here, and all of it is dripping with history, as the city was built in the 18th Century as a port city to the rest of Europe, and because the English and Germans depended upon Bordeaux to consistently produce the best wine in the world,it's remained relatively untouched by warandthe like. Therefore, everything is old, everythingis beautiful, everything has an incredible story - it's almost too perfect to be true.

On my first full day in Bordeaux, my host mother took Grace, Hannah, and I to La Basse Sous Marine (normally a military base), which is currently hosting an exhibit called "6 Milliards D'Autres" (6 Billion Others). The exhibit featured many large metal shipping boxes that had been turned into screening rooms (shown below) for videos of people from around the world speaking on different subjects. The questions they were asked, though, were designed to be challenging, thought provoking, and require the participants to give something of themselves when answering. The video pictured

below asked people to describe their first memory, and to define happiness. As maybe you

would expect, the disparity in responses between those living in the Developed World versus those who are not was astounding. One woman, from Los Angeles, described happiness as having a full understanding of herself, while a woman from Kenya responded "happiness is having water. If I have water, I am happy". I cannot blame the American woman for defining happiness around the self - as I would agree with such a definition -but I also can't deny how priviliged it sounds to get to say such a thing. We take for granted our access to the necessities and to material objects - no one I know in the Western World would define happiness as buying a new shirt or fancy telephone - but there are those in our world for whom such things would make them extremely happy. Maybe happiness is what we're searching for, what we want but don't always have... certainly we appreciate those things in life more. Perhaps not having so many "things" to occupy her time allows the Kenyan woman to know herself. Maybe she doesn't need to define happiness in spiritual terms because she is already in posession of a spiritual knowledge, and therefore, thinks of those things she needs but doesn't often have.

I know, I know. The above really doesn't have to do with France, or my time within France. But I wanted to share what I'm experiencing... but now it's your turn. You don't have to write, discuss, or even speak any of your answers, but think about some of those important questions that 6 Milliards D'autres are also experiencing, though they may be a world away. Think about: What is your greatest fear? What is happiness? Do you think you have a better life than your parents? What makes you cry? What is your experience with war (on a large or small scale) What is your favorite song (sing it)? What were your childhood dreams? Listening to others speak on these subjects and thinking about my own responses has grounded me in where I am and what I'm doing. I hope that they can do the same for you, wherever you may be.

Ok. Back to Bordeaux. Later on that day, some Vassar-Wesleyan students met up for a late lunch and to discover a little bit more of Bordeaux. It being really hot, and us being really lazy, we stayed pretty much in the downtown area, although a park we wanted to sit in featured some homeless men taking a bath in

one of the fountains (even the homeless stay clean in Europe!), so we took a little ally and ran into some 3rd Century ruins. No big deal or anything. As it turns out, Bordeaux Aquitaine was once a part of the Roman Empire, and built an ampitheatre called Le Palais Gallien, part of which is still standing today. It's those little things that you stumble upon that make an already great day even brighter. To be right next to a structure over 1000 years old...

We've also had the chance to take more formal tours as well. While I'm normally opposed to exploring cities in an organized way (I hate following people around and being told what to look at), the tour guides I've had are extremely knowledgable, and there is a lot of history to be knowedgable about. Something I found interesting was that Bordeaux was founded as a port town, because the conditions were exactly right for making wine (built on the river, 40 km from the ocean, perfect climate). Because the wine in Bordeaux was and is the most desirable in all of Europe, England and Germany never attacked it (though there have been some brutal wars between the countries with much destruction), because they were afraid of disrupting the

wine flow. Thus, all of the monuments and buildings remain in their original 18th century

beauty. My favorite, I think, was La Fontaine des Girondins, symbolizing all that is needed to make a city work. Each of the statues in the fountain represent something different: Liberty, Equality, Fraternity,Republic, Education, and Military surrounded by Security (The half mermaid/half horse statues). All of these "good" symbols spray water on and eject the bad, represented by statues of a man with a mask (The Liar), A man hiding his face (Ignorance), and a man reaching out (Vices), all of which are things that any good society cannot have if they wish to function. How powerful it must be to share a history with your neighbors, to understand the meaning behind your city's philosophy, and an agreement between one another to use the symbols to create a better life...

What I love most about Bordeaux, though, is the mix between old and new. There are ancient buildings on busy streets with silent trams and a beautiful miroir d'eau (mirror of water, which is just about an inch of water that covers a large portion of the road that runs next to the river, which also happens to be right in front of the two government buildings. It is said to promote reflection on what their country is doing - politicians are forced to see themselves in the mirror). There is no feeling of an antiquated city dwelling in it's own history - the people are

very modern, and there are painted cows everywhere! Really. The city held a contest a few years ago to promote public art, and now you can find wildly decorated cows all over the city (a lot like the painted horses of Portland). To the right is one I found on stilts. They're also majorly bike friendly, I've seen many roller bladers (who are apparently very "cool" in Europe), and they are very concerned with making their city handicap accessible. Belowis a picture of a scale model of one section of Bordeaux, which was made specifically as a map for the blind, with braille to mark street names. So cool!

I hope that some of you find some of the stuff I'm seeing interesting. It's certainly been quite the ride so far. I feel very much as though I'm doing this trip for myself, for many reasons. At some points, though, I feel almost uncomfortable with how priviliged I must be to be in a place like this. I get to gallavant around Europe for almost five months with little supervision, little to do except have fun, see beautiful things, and soak up as much of it as I can. Although I'm still, in the back of my mind, concerned that I'm going on a semester-long vacation, I have to remind myself that once in a while, doing things for the sake of self-improvement and yes, fun, is okay. Maybe I won't change the world this semester. I'm alright with that.

Much to tell in later posts! Stay tuned!

Alors, Nous Commençons!

Believe it or not, my travels have begun. As has my blogging about it. Please excuse the outbursts of french words in my writing - I am finding that as my French improves, my English deteriorates.

After 24 hours of uninteresting travelling, I arrived safely in Bordeaux at approximately 11 AM on Saturday August 21. The 35 Vassar and Wesleyan students I was travelling with crowded into the lobby of the tiny airport, frantically trying to find our host families. After 20 years of speaking English, I was suddenly being asked questions in French which I a) couldn't hear because my ears hadn't popped from the previous three flights, and b) I probably wouldn't have understood anyway. Finally, though, I found my host Mom, Catherine (who is lovely), who took one look at the amount of luggage Grace (who is my cohabitant in Bordeaux, and also a Vassar student, and also lovely) and I were carrying, and told us it wouldn't fit in her car. Momentary panic attack. She tells us it's alright, someone else will take it for us. Note to Self: French cars are tiny. Pack light next time.

By the time we got to Catherine's House sur La Rue Croix de Seguey, I was ready to pass out. Or, you know, die. All of my fatigue vanished, though, when she pushed open the giant iron door and I saw the inside. If you live on the left side of the river in Bordeaux, that house was

more than likely built in the 18th Century, and is probably beautiful. Catherine's house is no exception. It's impossible to have a bad view of anything in Bordeaux (as seen in the picture to the right, taken from my balcony). After dropping off our things in our respective beautiful bedrooms, Grace and I were called down to Lunch. I was slightly apprehensive of the food situation as I just gave up veganism for the trip, and sitting on the table was a plate of cantaloupe with ham on top. Trying some ham would have been a great first step, a good challenge for my first day with French cuisine - but there is nothing in the food world that I hate more than cantaloupe. It has no place on my plate, nonetheless in my stomach! Unfortunately for me, it is very, very rude to turn down food in France, and if you do, they'll serve it to you anyway. So, I sucked it up and ate the three (Catherine insisted) vile pieces of ham-topped cantaloupe that were put in front of me. I was off to a rough start in le département de la nourriture. Luckily for me, every meal since has been absolutely wonderful. There's a never-ending supply of fresh fruits, vegetables, cheeses, and breads qui sont absolument délicieux! Even I can appreciate that the cantaloupe is better here than it is in the states, although it's still disgusting. Hooray for positive thinking!

Later on during my first day, I started to unpack my things. It's very hot and very humid in Bordeaux, and the heat mixed with major jetlag was the exact formula for an accidental nap. I unintentionally fell asleep, even though I knew Catherine had planned a tour of Bordeaux for Grace and I later that day. I was already deep into my REM cycles by the time Catherine poked me on the shoulder and asked if I was ready for a walk. Being completely disoriented, I had completely forgotten who she was, why I was there, or that I was in France. In my state of sleep-deprivation, I believed her to be a stranger, whose bed I had mysteriously dozed off in. That being such a horrifying thought, I jumped out of the bed with a bewildered look (how could this have happened?!) and said "I'm Sorry!" probably forty times. Catherine doesn't speak English, and must have thought I was a fool. Talk about first impressions. But, I think we're on good terms now. She was a major du théâtre as well, so it gives us something to converse about, though I sound like a three-year-old with a speech impediment.

I have been in this lovely city for five days, now, and have gone on several tours. I think I'll put sightseeing into an entirely separate post, though, as this one will be too long otherwise. Having gotten my bearings a little, I'm very comfortable in this moderately sized city, where everything seems within reach. Our silly and wonderful Vassar-Wesleyan group travels as a gaggle of conspicuous Americans, although we occassionally parlons le français. We've discovered how wonderful it is to go into a supermarket and buy a 1,50 € bottle of champagne and sit in a park together to drink it. Everything is relaxed, and picturesque - although being in a place where sophistication is the norm definitely points out my Americanisms. I'm normally not a wine drinker, though I'm learning to appreciate it in Bordeaux (the self-proclaimed wine capital of the world, which is probably true), and while I normally prefer to keep myself moving and exploring the city, I'm starting to let myself sit and enjoy the company around me. I've still got a ways to go, though, as staying still for too long tends to make me a little jittery. Overall, though, for someone as paranoid and high-strung as I am, France has been an extremely calming experience. It's hard to believe that just as I begin to feel at home in this small city, I'll have to move to a much larger, much busier, much scarier place. But for now, tout va bien!

Unfortunately, I am currently experiencing the ramifications for not researching enough about the country I was planning on living in, because I now find myself without electricity. Which means that everything else I need to say will have to wait until next time. To all those I love, far and near, I hope all is well. Expect to hear from me soon! À Bientôt!

Tu Comprends?

Allons-y à Paris (Ahl-own-zee ah Par-ee)... = Let's Go to Paris...

The first time I created this blog, I titled it "Allons-y à Paris!". A seemingly innocent change to end with an ellipsis reveals a girl, sitting in her bedroom in Portland, Oregon, unsure of herself and feeling the impending doom of being alone, in a foreign country, unable to handle the pressures of another culture.

That was two weeks ago.

Now, I sit in a room 5269 miles from home, according to Google maps, finally beginning to write about a trip that I possibly was unprepared for, but that I find myself in the middle of all the same. I feel a little silly that it took me this long to get started here - for everyone else I know, blogging about their abroad experiences comes with the territory - but I find it really difficult to reflect upon (or perhaps admit to ) my feelings, experiences, thoughts. Out of all the things to worry about, how did blogging become one of them?! In any case, here I am: starting in on one fraction of this journey.

It is in my nature to worry. I have difficulty with transitions but become restless in one place when I think of all the grand adventures I could be having. I hate coming and I hate going, I suppose. It follows, then, that I worried endlessly before leaving my hometown, friends and family, and setting off for France. Is anyone going to understand my French? Will I like my host family? What if I'm the ugliest person in all of Europe?! I had reason to be nervous, I think... the only preparation I did for a five month excursion in Europe was to change the language on my computer from "English" to "Français", and even that was overwhelming for me. I had (have) no idea how to survive in a place where everything is in French. But, without a challenge, there is no reward...

Lastly, I'm a liar. I am not, as the title and description of this blog would suggest, in Paris. I am currently in South-West France, 40 km from l'Océan Atlantique in a city called Bordeaux.

More to come soon.

Love and Wine,

Akari