A month ago, USCers invaded Normandy.

At the outset, the weather was not in our favour. Thick fog and rain threatened to jeopardize the operation. It was a long journey to the landing beaches, and everyone was tired due to the early departure. We attempted to sleep, but were inhibited by our tour guide Mirek’s hour-long lecture on the history of Normandy.

As awesome as Mirek is, his tour guide “method” can be quite fatiguing. He tends to talk well beyond people’s attention spans.

Anyway, our first stop was the Caen Memorial, probably one of the most interesting museums I’ve ever visited and certainly the best on World War II. The exhibits do a great job of tracing the events that led to the war, the operations during the war itself, and the aftermath. The museum has a rather chilling atmosphere — the section on the Holocaust is particularly poignant and haunting. Unfortunately, we barely had an hour to visit the exhibits, which was not nearly enough.

We then watched two films about the Normandy invasion. The first was a side-by-side comparison of German and Allied footage, showing the preparations for the invasion and the battles themselves. It was incredibly captivating, especially with a dramatic, Williamsesque musical score. The film culminated with the two sides coming together in a flyover shot of Omaha Beach, cutting between the invasion and footage of the beach today.

The second film was a very informative account of the invasion, the strategic movements of each army and the battles. More sweet music too.

Afterwards, we headed to Omaha Beach and the American Cemetery for ourselves.

The beach was beautiful and tranquil, and it was impossibly difficult to imagine the death and violence that had taken place there 65 years earlier. Similarly, it was difficult for the painful reality of the endless rows of crosses to really sink in. All in all, a very emotional place.

I made it my mission to find at least one soldier from New Hampshire, which I thought would take forever. As soon as I made this vow, however, the very first cross I saw was for someone from NH. Quelle coincidence.

After our visit, we drove through some lovely Norman countryside on our way into Brittany and Saint-Malo. I was happy to return to this area, as it was (and is) one of my favourite parts of France. A few of us ate dinner at a nice creperie, where I had a “galette complete” for my main course and a delicious crepe with apple cider-flavored ice cream for dessert. Breton food, mmm mmm.

That night, we walked out to the Grand Bé, a small island accessible at low tide that overlooks the city . Although the tide was coming in and the footpath to the island wasn’t far from water’s edge, we ignored the warning signs and enjoyed the view and the darkness on the island. We made sure not to spend too much time there, heading back to our hotel after stopping for a little bit in a nice rustic bar.

The next morning was rainy and grey, making for a somewhat less enjoyable tour of the city walls. I managed to score major brownie points when Mirek asked what the 7 Celtic nations are and I gave them all. I have no life.

I was thrilled about our next stop — Dinan — as it’s one of my favourite little towns in France. The wonderfully preserved architecture, especially on the “Rue du Petit Fort,” my favourite street in France, is so fairy tale-esque. I hyped it by referring to it as “The Beauty and the Beast Street,” and I don’t think my friends were disappointed.

For lunch, we hit up yet another creperie. Whilst eating, the sky finally cleared up and gave to way to some beautiful spring weather. We spent the rest of our time in Dinan visiting a little park / zoo with deer and some colorful but aggressive birds.

The group returned to Saint-Malo for the afternoon, which turned out to be wonderfully relaxing. We spent most of the day on the beach and on the rocks, taking in the sun (and dipping our feet in the frigid water). The Emerald Coast was gorgeous.

Our group dinner that night was amazing. I regretted not ordering the impressive seafood platter for my appetizer, but I did get my first taste of foie gras instead. Pretty good, but maybe a little overrated. That much fat definitely isn’t necessary. My main course, however, was a delicious melange of fish, scallops, and mashed potatoes (both regular and purple!) Made me miss New England food. We also had some good Breton Cola to go with it.

The highlight of dinner, however, was Sylvie’s “bonanza” (or was it “extravaganza”?) dessert. It was a surprise to all of us, but it didn’t disappoint. The dish was essentially a sampler with raspberry sorbet, chocolate mousse, fig ice cream, and creme brulee. Wonderfully delicious.

The following day we headed to Mont Saint-Michel. Sadly, my favourite thing about the place — the impressive view as you approach — was ruined by some heavy morning fog. It was Palm Sunday, so we had to tour the abbey before the hordes of tourists and pilgrims arrived. I would have rather spent more time exploring the village and surrounding areas than the abbey itself, which I find rather underwhelming.

I did end up having some time to eat lunch in a nice little park under the sun. By the time we left, the fog had cleared and we got a great view of the Mont:

All in all, a nice weekend trip and definitely more relaxing than our trip to Provence. I love the Norman and Breton countryside, but I’m hesitant about applying to those regions for my teaching assistantship in 2010-2011; the constant rain and greyness puts me off a bit.

Photos:

Normandy

Saint-Malo

Dinan

Only 15 days late with this one, but I was on vacation! More on the context later.

Our third day of Spring Break found Madeline and myself in Tirano, a small town in the Italian Alps near the Swiss border. We were staying in a small, family-run hotel. Our room had a double bed and a single, so we rock-paper-scissored for the double. I lost. After a minimal breakfast of bread and nutella, we headed for the train to Switzerland around 8:30.

The Bernina Express soon crossed the Swiss border, ascending into the Alps and offering spectacular views of the Italo-Swiss countryside. Since it was Easter Sunday, our train was full of emphatic Italian vacationers who were awed by the beautiful views, such as this one of the Lago di Poschiavo in Miralago. The water was incredibly still, creating this amazing mirror image of the Alps.

As the train continued to ascend the Alps, attaining an altitude over 6,500 feet in the Bernina Pass, the landscape began to look other-worldly. Or at least much like Antarctica. The train-goers took to shifting from one side of the train to the other to take in the landscape. I particularly liked the contrast of the red train against the white snow (we were in the caboose, so that’s looking towards the front of our train).

The train ride ended in St. Moritz, which was still a bit snowy and icy, but not too cold for a short respite. Church bells signaled the Easter services, but unfortunately we had a tight train schedule and couldn’t attend any. Besides, we had entered the German part of Switzerland (or, more appropriately, the crossroads between the German, Italian, and Romansch parts) so we wouldn’t have understood anything.

We continued on to Chur and then Zurich, passing by more idyllic Swiss countryside as we descended through the Alps.

Once in the lower elevations, the countryside was much greener and spring-like (and still spectacular). I spotted these bikers somewhere along the train ride between Zurich and Luzern, our 4th and final train ride of the day.

After arriving in Luzern (Lucerne) around 4:30, we headed to our hostel near Lake Lucerne. We passed through this beautiful park, which was full of some rather “hippieish” loungers (much to Madeline’s delight) and plenty of swans. We then checked into our room (which we shared with two New Zealanders) and decided to explore the town for the evening.

The weather in Luzern was pleasantly warm and generally spring-like, evidenced by these lovely Swiss flowers.

Luzern’s old town was particularly picturesque, with the wooden Kapellbrücke and gilded ornaments on the buildings. For some reason, the bridge seemed to be full of Asian tourists. They sure do get around.

Since we hadn’t done anything remotely “Eastersque” on Easter, we searched desperately for some Swiss Easter chocolate. Although we found a few chocolatiers in Luzern, everything was out of our price range.

We spent much of the evening wandering around the town looking for a cheap place to eat dinner, but everything was either closed or too expensive. Still, it was a pretty walk.

We eventually returned to the train station, where we discovered a sort of shopping centre which included a large “CoOp” supermarket, much to our economic delight. We got some pasta salad, grapes, delicious Swiss bread, and even some chocolate easter bunnies that were about to be thrown out. We returned to the lakeside park to enjoy our Easter feast while the sun went down over the Alps.

Afterwards, it was back to the hostel for a restful night before the next day of our adventure.

I’m behind with my blogging with usual, but I need to scribble out a couple updates before vacation.

A couple weekends ago, Madeline and I took an overnight train to Carcassonne to kick off our exploration of southwestern France. We were in a compartment with 6 couchettes on the train; fortunately, we had the top couchettes so we could store our stuff easily and have a bit more privacy. Unfortunately, I barely slept a wink on the voyage. It simply wasn’t comfortable, and I had actually slept a full 8 hours the night before, so I wasn’t tired enough to fall asleep easily.

We got up around 5:30am and, after collecting our things, tried to open the door of the sleeping compartment so we could get off the train. For some reason, however, we could not open the door. We tried pushing and pulling the handle, pressing every doohickey we saw, but it wouldn’t budge. We spent a good 5 minutes trying to open it, even knocking with the hopes that someone in the corridor would hear us, but in vain. We started to panic a little. Only after all this did we actually try sliding the door open. We spent the next few minutes laughing at our own stupidity. But hey, we were tired!

At any rate, we quickly headed from the train station in Carcassonne across the dark, empty streets of the modern city towards the Medieval Cité. We found a riverside park that offered a view of the castle and ramparts and watched the sunrise whilst eating breakfast. Our breakfast consisted of “Hit Minis” (Choco Flavor), a jam-packed package of cookies sold in SNCF vending machines. It’s a great value and one of our primary sources of sustenance while traveling.

Anyway, the sunrise:

The streets of the Cité were practically empty in the early morning. We got to explore the city and ramparts without the hordes of tourists that must come there in the warmer months. We killed a couple hours just walking around before the castle itself opened. I was particularly enthralled by the orange- and blue-grey-capped Medieval towers, as well as the view of the distant Pyrenees.

From Carcassonne, we headed to the Mediterranean. The train ride was wonderfully scenic — for one portion, the train was on a strip of land surrounded on both sides by water. Even more impressive was the view of the snow-capped Pyrenees in the distance, juxtaposed against the warm, sunny Mediterranean landscape.

Our destination was Collioure, a small seaside town near the Spanish border whose colorful architecture apparently inspired Picasso and other painters. Despite large groups of Spanish high school students on field trips, the town had a fairly sleepy, relaxed feel to it. The bright blue Mediterranean water, vibrantly colored houses, warm Mediterranean sunshine, and a respite on a sandy beach all combined to make the afternoon extremely enjoyable. Our hotel room even had a balcony overlooking the harbor.

Oddly enough, at dinnertime, the town seemed to shut down almost completely. We couldn’t find a single restaurant that was open, aside from a take-out pizza place. It turned out to be a good thing, because the pizza was delicious.

We had to get up early the next morning to catch our train into the Pyrenees. I snapped this shot of the harbor from our hotel room before we headed out. We got to see our second sunrise of the weekend as the sun came up over the sea and brought even more color to Collioure.

We headed to Perpignan to catch a connecting train — which, unfortunately, was delayed due to a mechanical problem. This was an issue, because we had another connection to make — the “Petit Train Jaune,” a scenic train that runs through the Eastern Pyrenees. Despite my worrying, it turned out that the Petit Train Jaune waited for all the passengers from Perpignan arrived before departing.

Our initial train was replaced by a bus service, on which we were accompanied by a class of ~3rd graders. The French kids made for an amusing ride, with their little games and so forth. One of them was distraught about the delay and started crying because he wanted to see the bridges and tunnels of the Petit Train Jaune. They were going for a picnic in the mountains.

Once on the little yellow train, the views were fantastic. We were in a car with an old German couple. We opened all the windows to let in the air and kept moving from side to side to take pictures. We started in a deep valley/gorge, cut out by the River Tet and dotted with hillside villages and Medieval ruins. We gradually ascended through pine forests and onto a high plateau with vast fields and uncanny views of the snowy Pyrenees.

We definitely weren’t in Paris anymore. Several of the train stations along our route were covered with Catalan graffiti, insisting that the region belonged to Catalunya and not France. That said, I think I only heard Catalan spoken once during our trip. More obvious were the delightful southern French accents.

After our scenic train journey, we headed towards Toulouse. Unfortunately, we only had about an hour to explore the city, but I was left with a very good impression. Warm, full of life and activity. Neat, pinkish and orangey architecture. Seems like it would be a nice place to live. I’d like to go back someday.

From Toulouse, we continued on to Tarbes, the location of our couchsurfing host. Our host, Franck, was a very nice guy. He even made us dinner – lentil soup with fish and orange slices. Pretty good, and filling! He told us more about the Pyrenees than I could possibly recount here. He even showed me one of his Occitan textbooks. I wish I had the time to learn it (side note — many of the street signs in Toulouse were in Occitan as well).

The next morning, our luck with great weather ran out. Tarbes was drizzly and overcast. Still, we decided to continue to our destination of La Mongie, a ski resort town in the high Pyrenees where we could take a lift to the Pic du Midi, which offers an amazing panoramic view of the area. We were hoping it would be above the clouds.

No such luck. As our bus ascended the mountain valley, the rain turned to snow — a lot of it.

The road was virtually blocked by cars that were stuck in the snow. People were pushing their cars out of the trouble spots and putting on snow chains. Our bus driver did the same, then somehow managed to plow past all the stuck cars and make it to La Mongie on time — I guess the timetables account for mountain blizzards.

We soon realized that the the Pic du Midi was completely obscured in the clouds and there was no point in paying the money to make the ascent. Instead, we opted to have a relaxed lunch in a café in the ski resort village while the snow fell outside. I had a great sandwich (with huge chunks of cheese) and a blueberry / chantilly waffle. Mmmm.

We returned down the valley (the road had been plowed) and made our way to Lourdes. This part of the Pyrenees was quite distinct from the areas we had seen the day before — much greener, wetter, lots of stone buildings rather than the Mediterranean stucco. But Lourdes was a separate animal altogether, with its plethora of sanctuaries and unfortunate kitschy tourist shops selling Christian paraphernalia.

Our real interest in the area was the Grottos of Betharram — we had to take a taxi to get there, but our driver was extremely friendly and even offered to show us a sanctuary (free-of-charge) in the area after our visit to the grottos.

The caves were just awesome. Lots of cool lighting effects, a little boat ride over a lake in the cave, followed by an awesome train ride that took us out of the grottos. The train ride was almost roller coaster-esque, reminding me a lot of Big Thunder Mountain.

That night, we arrived in Bayonne — in Basque Country. Although we had booked a dirt-cheap hotel in the city, when we got there (around 8pm) we found that the hotel was locked and the reception wasn’t answering the phone. Such is the case with many hotels in province, apparently. We had to scramble to find an open hotel in the city, and stumbled upon a Best Western. Although much more expensive than the other hotel, it was a place to sleep, at least.

Our second problem was finding a place to eat. The city was pretty dead, aside from a handful of bars and fancy restaurants beyond our budget. We were suddenly desperate for fast food, and after Madeline consulted Google on her laptop, we discovered that there was a “Quick” on the outskirts of the city. After the stressful evening, I consumed many a calorie.

Despite losing an hour due to the time change, I got up early the next morning to take a few photos of Bayonne. I was really attracted to the traditional Basque half-timbered architecture, with its emphasis on red, white, blue, and green. The city looked particularly nice with the morning mist over the river that runs through it.

We had to hurry to the train station to catch a train to Saint-Jean-de-Luz on the Atlantic coast, but our haste paid off. We stopped at a boulangerie in Saint-Jean to get breakfast, which we proceded to eat on the beach. It was strange being on the opposite side of the Atlantic, but there was something oddly familiar about it. The smell, the air… something just reminded us of home.

The weather was beautiful and we walked along the coast for a while, getting a great view of the city with the Pyrenees in the distance:

In town, we stopped at the Eglise Saint-Jean-Baptiste, the location of Louis XIV’s marriage. Very cool interior with dark wood balconies on the sides of the church.

The streets, lined with traditional Basque architecture, were very charming. I think I only heard the language spoken once or so, but it was just cool to have traveled through so many linguistic and cultural regions in a matter of days. Not to mention climate zones. Going from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic in 2 days was amazing. I thoroughly enjoyed the Southwest of France, and it has moved to the top of my list for potential places to settle in for my teaching assistantship in 2010-2011.

Finally, les photos:

Carcassonne

Collioure

Pyrenees – Part I

Pyrenees – Part II

Basque Country

Spring Break is almost upon us, and I’m already wishing I had more time in Paris. In reality, I have less than 6 weeks left in the city itself, and I feel like there’s so much I still haven’t seen.

I know we’re here to study first, but I hate spending my days reading and writing papers in my room while the city moves around me. March was a very busy month and I had little time to explore. My days consisted of waking up, going to class, coming home, taking a nap, eating dinner, doing homework, and going to bed. I still don’t have much free time, but now that midterms are over (at least) and the weather is decidedly spring-like, I’m going to try to experience Paris to the fullest.

That said, I have been able to take advantage of some of Paris’ goings-on. A couple weeks ago, I enjoyed a “concert blitz” wherein I attended four separate shows: les Petits Chanteurs à la Croix de Bois, Isabelle Boulay, the ballet “Le Parc,” and Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.

The first of the four concerts, les Petits Chanteurs, was arguably the best. The “PCCB” is essentially the French equivalent of the Vienna Boys’ Choir — I discovered their music after “Les Choristes” spawned my interest in French children’s choirs. At any rate, I found out that they were performing in a church near my neighborhood (in fact, their school is located two metro stops away), so Madeline and I both decided to attend and were blown away by the quality of the performance.

In addition to a beautiful rendition of “Ave Maria,” and an awesome performance of Handel’s “Hallelujah,” my favourite piece was probably this lullaby by Mozart. I managed to find an older performance of it by the PCCB on youtube, but it’s not as good as the performance we saw:

The performance we saw was flawless. That countermelody is an extremely demanding part, and it was performed with a pitch-perfect, clear, almost superhuman sound. I wish I was that talented at that age.

It was just a really nice experience overall. The music was excellent, and I’m pretty sure we were the only non-French people there. It just felt so…French.

The second concert was Isabelle Boulay — a favourite Canadian singer of mine — at the Olympia. Unfortunately, I forgot that you need to tip ushers in France, so I couldn’t offer anything to the usher when I took my seat. They must make a killing, though.

I was probably one of a handful of people under age 35 in the audience, but I didn’t mind. I’m used to having musical tastes that don’t align with those of my age group. However, the opening act was a young Canadian singer named Stéphanie Lapointe, who was one of the winners of Quebec’s version of American Idol. She sang some pretty nice songs, including a French version of “Bang Bang” by Nancy Sinatra.

Isabelle herself was great to see in person. She seems to have a unique way of adopting a certain character to fit with the theme of the concert, which was her “music box.” It was also really nice to hear her Canadian accent. Made me feel a little more at home. And the music was so much better live than recorded.

Anyway, if you have no idea who I’m talking about, here’s one of her more recent songs:

Oh, North America…

The third performance was a modern ballet, “Le Parc,” at the Opéra Garnier, paid for by USC. Despite its extravagant beauty, the opera is not the most comfortable place to watch a show. We were in the very back row of the top balcony, and the tiny, barely padded wooden seats provided no back support or leg room.

That said, it was an interesting experience. The ballet combined modern and traditional danse, some contemporary composition (mostly atmospheric) and music from Mozart. Ballet isn’t entirely my truc, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

The final concert was in Sainte-Chapelle — which, amazingly enough, my Parisian host parents had never even heard of before I mentioned I was going to a concert there. It was nice to see the amazing stained glass again. The first half of the concert is consisted of a series of “hit” classical pieces, like Ave Maria, Bach’s Air on a G String, Pachelbel’s Canon (unfortunately not very well performed; one of the violins was out of tune, too), etc.

The Four Seasons came next. I was glad to finally see it performed in person, although I was disappointed by the small size of the string ensemble (3 violins, 1 viola, 1 cello). The cello was underplaying the whole time and it really could’ve used more bass. There’s such a remarkable level of energy and power in Vivaldi’s music.

My favourite movement (Summer, Presto):

In addition to my studies of art history and avant guard literature, all this cultural exposure has really revived my strong creative urges. I feel like writing poetry, making music, drawing — Paris is just the city of inspiration. The warm weather we’re having now just makes me feel even more inclined to lounge in a park somewhere and create art, although I haven’t had the chance yet.

Some other things I’ve been up to:

• Saw Watchmen opening day (2 days before the US release date!) Really enjoyed it… the cinematography, music, “alternate universe” setting, everything. It’s such a fascinating mix of the cheesy and the profound, the cliché and the unconventional. I can see why it’s considered the greatest graphic novel of all time, and I really want to read the book now.
• Went up the Tour Montparnasse for a view of the city at night. Overpriced, but great view.
• Had dinner at a fondue restaurant in the Latin Quarter. Absolutely delicious, especially the dessert, which consisted of the best raspberry sorbet and chocolate ice cream I’ve ever tasted.
• Met up with my childhood best friend Brandon, who is studying in Geneva and was in Paris for Spring Break. I gave him and his friends a tour of the Catacombs and the Bois de Vincennes. It was only the second time I’ve seen him in the past 9 years.
• Visit to the Parc des Buttes Chaumont, my new favourite park in Paris. It’s such a hidden gem. I’m definitely going back when the flowers and trees are all in bloom.
• Lots of museum visits. I know the Orsay like the back of my hand now, although I’ve still only scratched the surface of the Louvre. The Picasso Museum was also really interesting, as was our recent visit to the Gustave Moreau museum. I forsee myself writing my next art history paper on one of his paintings

Photos:

Comme d’habitude

La vie en rose

Pardon the recent barrage of blog posts, but I’m finally getting caught up.

The last weekend in February, we USCers took a weekend trip together to Provence. Being the first part of France I saw in 2004 and also revisited in 2007, Provence has a very special place in my heart. I was really looking forward to going back. And everyone was excited for a little southern sunshine and warmth. Heck, I even left my winter coat at home and just brought my sweatshirt.

Shortly after the TGV departed from the Gare de Lyon, a woman and her young son (maybe 5?) sat across from us. The woman was confused because the seats she had reserved were already taken by other people in our group. After examining her ticket, she realized that she had accidentally booked the wrong day. “Maman a fait une bêtise,” she repeatedly told her son, whilst clearly distraught. She told her son to sit still while she went to find the conductor and explain the situation to him (the train had already started moving).

Her son, who happened to be named Grégory, became visibly distressed when his mom left. His eyes welled up with tears as he wistfully let out a “Maman…” — fortunately, he didn’t break down crying. When Maman reappeared, his face lit up and he exclaimed, “Maman!” They spent much of the ride reading little French stories and colouring, briefly interrupted when Grégory announced “Je vais vomir,” and was rushed to the bathroom (fortunately for us). His mother had warned him that he might throw up after she spotted him licking the window.

At any rate, Grégory’s antics aside, it was nice watching the French countryside go by from the train. The rolling hills, pastures, forests, picturesque villages, mountains… There’s also a point when you can tell that you’ve definitely passed from the North into the South. They’re like two different worlds. We arrived in a sunny but windy Avignon. We would later discover that the city’s name derives from a Gaulish phrase meaning “City of the violent wind.”

Upon arrival, we had some free time for lunch, so I led some of my friends to my favourite place in Avignon, the Rocher des Doms, a cave-like rock formation in a beautiful park. The underside of the rock contains a fountain, while the top provides an excellent view of the area. We got some sandwiches and ate at a picnic table sheltered from the Mistral.

After lunch, we had a guided tour of the Palais des Papes with Mirek, our friendly and enthusiastic tour guide.  I never found the interior of the palace to be particularly interesting, and since I hadn’t slept much the night before, I found myself struggling to stay awake. Later on, the group split up and some of us checked out a local wine store before heading to the Pont d’Avignon, which, unfortunately, had already closed.

I’ve been to Avignon three times and still haven’t danced on that bloody bridge.

Anyway, it was nice to sit near the bridge and enjoy the sunset. Funny, because the last time I was in Avignon, there was a spectacular sunset — which I was unable to enjoy while desperately searching for my couchsurfing host.

We hesitated on where to eat dinner, but eventually settled on a pretty mediocre place… My pizza was filling, at any rate. I just hate paying so much money for a meal and then not really liking my food. But Europe is overpriced in every aspect, I guess. As for our hotel in Avignon, I was pleasantly surprised by how nice it was. Right across from the Palais des Papes, it had a wonderful old atmosphere and some of the rooms had spacious four-post beds (not mine).

The next morning, we left for the Pont du Gard. The weather was gorgeous — sunshine, no wind, and temperatures in the 60s (which felt like the 70s at times!) I was particularly excited about going to the Pont du Gard because I hadn’t had a chance to see it again in 2007, but I remembered how beautiful the area was. My memory did not disappoint me.

A 2,000-year old Roman aqueduct surrounded by lush rolling hills and beautiful, blue-green water… what more can you ask for? I didn’t even need my sweater with all that sunshine. We had a brief tour of the acqueduct, including passage through the top level, where I hit my head on the low ceiling. Ow. Afterwards, I attempted to navigate through some of the hiking trails in the adjacent hills, but decided to be safe and descend back towards the river.

On the river bank, I simply lounged, reflected, and enjoyed the warmth. For a moment, I was able to feel the wonder and happiness of my first trip to France again.

I would have liked to spend the entire day there and have a picnic, but we had to continue on to Arles. Another place we visited back in 2004, it was interesting to see a lot of the sites again — the Roman amphitheatre, the theatre ruins, the obelisk. There was an interesting event going on around the obelisk — some kind of art exhibit where people were serving super-cheap crepes and beverages, which were to be eaten on comfortable chairs and couches arranged on the plaza. We also discovered the “Espace Van Gogh,” which contained a very attractive flower garden.

We all agreed that we had been given too much time in Arles. There isn’t really that much to do, and our tour of the amphitheatre was rather short as well. But it was simply a prelude to the real highlight of the day — one of my other favourite places from my first trip to France — Les Baux de Provence.

Despite its touristy atmosphere, Les Baux really is a beauty. The Medieval cobblestone streets, the castle ruins… but most of all, the breathtaking view of the southern French countryside. As you look out over it all from the top of the castle, there’s something in the southern air blowing across your face that moves you, I think. At the risk of sounding cucul, I’d even say that you can feel thousands of years of history in that wind.

While I enjoyed watching the southern light turn to dusk, I think we all felt a little rushed at Les Baux. It would have been nice to spend more time there, but we had to head to Aix for our hotel and dinner.

And boy did dinner deliver.

Graciously paid for by USC, my meal consisted of a tomato stuffed with mozarella cheese, an amazing leg of lamb with mashed potatoes, and a deathly delicious chocolate moelleux. It was arguably one of the most delicious and satisfying meals of my life.

Our hotel in Aix was also really nice. I guess our USC tuition does have its benefits.

The next morning, we had a walking tour of Aix (under some drizzle, unfortunately) which culminated at Cézanne’s studio outside the city. We returned to the town to hit up the great market and to try some cookies at La Cure Gourmande, which happen to be ridiculously good (fortunately, I’ve discovered a store in Bercy Village). I think Aix is a more attractive place in the spring and summer when the tree-lined Cours Mirabeau is in its full glory, but it’s a nice town nonetheless. There’s something truly authentic and truly Provençal about the city. Its lack of famous landmarks has actually spared it from the encroachment of tourism.

We took the train from Aix to Marseille, in order to take the TGV back to Paris. It was nice to see the Mediterranean, albeit briefly, from the train. We had some downtime at Marseille-St-Charles, so I went outside the station for the requisite view of Notre-Dame-de-la-Garde:

Marseille may be a ghetto, but it brought back good memories from 2007. I wonder how my couchsurfing hosts and their plethora of pets are doing these days.

Finally, the photographs:

Avignon

Pont du Gard & Arles

Les Baux

Aix & Marseille

Je viens du Sud, et par tous les chemins j’y reviens…

This is my 6th 12 of 12 so far (half way through a year!)

Getting ready in the morning. I still haven’t really normalized my sleep schedule… I’m still staying up late, sleeping for around 6 hours or so, and taking naps in the afternoon. It makes me feel tired a lot, which is not good. At any rate, I’ve recently been in a hurry most mornings to get ready. The heated towel rack you can see in the mirror makes things a bit easier. Why don’t we have these in the US?

Since I was in a rush to get to my 9am class, I had to grab half a baguette to eat in class for breakfast. After talking about Paris in the year 1900, I hit the faubourg for some 2009 lunch. There’s a tiny little sandwich shop run by Indians that I usually go to; the prices aren’t bad and neither is the food.

I ended up getting a barbecue chicken panini… I know, so American, right? I think I’m just suffering through BBQ Chicken Pizza withdrawl. The delicious Fanta Citron Frappé, however, is uniquely European. I don’t drink soda very often, but I can make an exception for this and root beer. I ate lunch at ACCENT before discussing my French avant-garde literature project with my professor. Resuming a subject studied in my awesome games-centric writing class freshman year, I’m going to work on surrealist games.

On my way out of ACCENT, I spotted this cute little guy. I miss Angel.

After my requisite afternoon map, I headed to the Petit Palais to take a photo of the Monet painting that I’ll be writing a paper on for my art history course. I love having a metro entrance right outside my house. Good ol’ Charonne. (Actually, I wish it was on a more “central” line — I almost always have to change twice to get to the Left Bank. Fortunately I’m close to Nation and République, two major hubs.)

Got off at Concorde on line 8. I liked the contrast between the gold on the obelisk and the grey skies. Generally, the weather has actually been pretty nice for the past couple of weeks.

Aux Champs-Elysées…

Pont Alexandre III near the Petit Palais, with Les Invalides in the background. The two palais and the bridge were all constructed for the Paris World’s Fair in 1900 — which we had discussed earlier that day in class. I’m always amazed at how shiny those gold statues are, even on cloudy days.

My Monet painting – Soleil couchant sur la Seine à Lavacourt. It was hard to pick a painting to write about, but when we went to the Petit Palais, this one just struck me. The luminosity and the colours are amazing and impossible to capture with a camera. I’m still not quite sure how I’m going to analyze it, though. My professor suggested to look at it like a musical composition… gee, that helps.

Inside the Petit Palais. Joli, n’est-ce pas ?

There’s an interesting garden in the middle of the Petit Palais with palm trees and other exotic plants. These blossoming trees caught my eye. Spring is definitely arriving in Paris — the high temperature is going to near 60 degrees F this weekend.

A slight change of gears here. After supper, I watched the season premiere of South Park outline. It involved a hilarious storyline about Mickey Mouse’s abusive management of the Jonas Brothers and his avaricious campaign to sell sex to girls. In arguably the best scene of the episode, Mickey beats one of the Jonas Brothers into a bloody pulp whilst dropping the F-bomb. I freaking love this show.

Once again, I’ve neglected my blog. Allow me to recount the past month — specifically, my travels to Alsace and Provence.

A few weeks ago, Madeline and I went off to Strasbourg for the weekend. Having already been to Alsace (and falling in love with the colourful, fairy tale architecture), I was mostly eager to show the region to someone else. Tour guide is my dream job.

After an hour train delay due to a fire somewhere along the eastern route out of Paris, we TGV’ed it to Strasbourg in 2 and a half hours or so. Upon arrival, we enjoyed a walk through the ridiculously picturesque Petite France quarter before arriving at the cathedral — still one of my favourite cathedrals in Europe (certainly #1 in terms of the exterior). The Strasbourg cathedral is the tallest in France, and dominates the city (it’s hard to get lost with such a visible landmark).

There’s something a little creepy about this cathedral, though. The red sandstone and Gothic design give it a rather… Satanic appearance, ironically enough. But the sheer size of it makes it one of the most impressive buildings I’ve ever seen.

We even hiked the spiral staircase inside to the viewing platform, which offered a great view of the city as well as the distant, snow-covered Vosges.

Our couchsurfing hosts had a large apartment in a residential neighborhood near the university (which was on strike — one of two protest marches we saw in Strasbourg). When we arrived, they greeted us by playing small instruments and then giving us toy dart guns for a battle. I was a bit worried we had stumbled upon some total crazies.

They turned out to be pretty friendly guys. At any rate, we got a nice big room with two beds. They even put us in touch with another couchsurfer in the city to have dinner at a traditional Alsacian restaurant — I was eager to try the regional specialty, tarte flambée, for the second time.

The guy who took us to dinner (and his own couchsurfing guest) seemed nice enough at first, but the evening quickly deteriorated. He explained to us the menu options: either everyone at the table could pay for an all-you-can-eat tarte flambée serving with a pint of beer, or everyone would have to order individual tartes. Since Madeline and I didn’t want to pay for the beer, which we wouldn’t have drunk anyway, we hesitated a bit. It was clear that our host wanted the all-you-can-eat dinner with the beer.

After talking about it for a few minutes, we asked the guy if it would be all right if we ordered individual dishes, and he essentially flipped a switch. He was visibly upset and complaining that we had spent “30 minutes” discussing our choice. His reaction was completely irrational and reeked of social ineptness. He rather rudely suggested that we get separate tables, but at that point we happily complied. We didn’t want to eat dinner with him. He was still upset because he had to wait longer to be reseated, but that’s what he gets for being an asshole.

At any rate, that was my only remotely negative couchsurfing experience to date. Good thing he wasn’t our actual host. And the dinner made up for that awkward moment – the tarte was delicious, and dessert (a dame blanche sundae) was out of this world.

The next morning, we awoke to a Strasbourg covered in a beautiful dusting of snow.

We hopped on a train towards Sélestat, with the ultimate goal of the Chateau du Haut-Koenigsbourg — a mountaintop Medieval castle, restored by the Germans at the turn of the century, with incredible views of the Rhine Valley below. During the warmer months, a shuttle runs from the Sélestat train station to the castle, but we had to get a taxi. It was a bit pricy (and I was afraid of dying a few times while zooming up snow-covered mountain roads), but Madeline and I agreed that it was definitely worth it.

It was the only place in Alsace on our itinerary that I hadn’t already seen, but it was easily my favourite part of the entire trip. The castle was covered in snow, and it was snowing gently outside — everything was so quiet, peaceful, idyllic. The feeling was absolutely wonderful. The views of the Vosges and the Rhine Valley were also more impressive than I’d imagined. We topped off the visit with a stop at the castle restaurant for a light lunch, where I had the best Quiche Lorraine of my life.

The chateau:

After our castle excursion, we took the train a bit further to Colmar, probably the best example of colourful charm among the Alsacian cities. During the train ride, it was fun to watch the countryside go by — the countryside that I traversed during my epic 16-mile, 10-hour walk back in April ‘07. And Colmar really is a beautiful little place.

At any rate, after returning to Strasbourg, we realized that there wasn’t much else left to do there. In fact, we ended up going to the movies twice during our visit: first, to see “LOL,” a French movie with Sophie Marceau (<3) that was essentially incomprehensible without subtitles. Way too many young people and too much slang. It was a corny chick flick, actually, but there was a pretty funny segment poking fun at the British. The second film we saw was Revolutionary Road (“Les noces rebelles” in French), which was incredibly depressing.

To lighten things up a bit, during our last day in Strasbourg we decided to take the train to Germany and spend the whole time making fun of the German words we saw on signs and stuff. We couldn’t make it to a big city or anything — just a quirky little town called Offenburg. On our return trip, our train was invaded by a horde of ridiculously costumed Germans going to a festival or something (including some drunk teenagers with an open bottle of champagne). We agreed that Germans are incredibly weird.

One of the highlights of our brief Germany excursion was a large building that we passed on the train. It seemed to be a big factory or something, and the company’s name was posted along the wall facing the train. As the train passed by the building — which seemed to go on forever — we laughed at the interminably long German word we were seeing. It was something ridiculous, like:

APPENHEIMERSPLATZENBERGHAUSERSCHNITZELDEUTSCHEVONBAHNSCHWEIZ….etc. etc.

That’s just an approximation.

Here are my photos from Alsace (and Germany):

Strasbourg – Part I

Strasbourg – Part II

Chateau du Haut-Koenigsbourg

Colmar

Offenburg

I’m a little behind with this one because I spent the weekend in Alsace, but that’s a story for another day.

My petit déjeuner. My host mother very kindly sets a place at the counter for me every morning with bread, jam, butter, yogurt, juice, and sometimes sweeter treats like poundcake, cookies, or Nutella. I can’t believe how much sugar the French consume for breakfast. Anyway, my breakfast was fairly simple on the 12th, but fortunately the baguette was quite fresh. I passed on the fromage frais.

Looking down the Boulevard Voltaire near the intersection with Rue de Charonne during my morning commute. It’s about a 15-minute walk to class. Since France is situated so far west within the Central European time zone, the sun rises at an absurdly late hour. This picture was taken around 8:30.

The ACCENT Center, where my classes are held. It’s situated at the end of a courtyard off the Rue du Fabourg-St. Antoine, near the Bastille. This area of the city is known for its long history of furniture makers; the illuminated sign advertises one such enterprise in our courtyard.

Inside the ACCENT Center, after my Grammar and Composition class. It’s a nice little place. The staff (a mix of French, Brits, and Americans) are all incredibly friendly, helpful, and have a great sense of humour. There are a few other American schools with students there, but I think USC might have the largest contingency.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t slept very well at all the night before. I had gotten myself stuck in a difficult sleeping pattern where I would take a long nap in the afternoon, wake up for dinner, then stay up late doing homework, before waking up early and going to class. By my second class (Paris Avant-Garde), I was literally struggling to keep my eyes open. My notes reflect that. Although I’m not sure I would have understood Mallarmé much better had I been awake.

In spite of my fatigue, I needed to buy a gift for my couchsurfing hosts for my upcoming trip to Strasbourg — specifically, Reese’s peanut butter cups (the wonders of PB haven’t quite been discovered by Europeans yet). My target was Thanksgiving, the American food store in the Marais. I could have walked, but I was tired and opted for the metro. It was only one stop from Bastille.

I got off at St-Paul, near the church of the same name. The sky above the church made for a nice shot here.

From Pop Tarts to root beer and clam chowder to maple syrup… Thanksgiving’s got it, although with understandably high import prices. I don’t mind paying 1,70 for a can of A&W every now and then, though (totally worth it). Besides, it’s in Le Marais, which is up there with Montmartre and the Quartier Latin in terms of “old Paris” charm.

After returning chez moi in the 11th, I enjoyed my root beer whilst watching the latest episode of Lost online. It’s still my favourite show on television and probably my favourite drama/mystery show ever, although this season seems to be presenting some unnecessary complications to the storyline. Still, I have faith in the writers and there’s no way I could stop watching… I have such an attachment to the characters after all these years. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for Heroes, which I haven’t been following for a while now.

After watching Lost, I accidentally fell asleep (into a rather deep sleep of a nap). I woke up when my host father knocked on my door, letting me know that they had called me down to dinner about three times already. Apparently they decided not to bother me. When I came down, they had already eaten their meals but they waited at the table while I ate mine. It was a delicious mélange of salad, tuna, tomatoes, eggs (which the French love), and some kind of beans. The French sure do know how to eat well. You can also see the Reese’s cups that I brought for my host parents to try.

Florence and Michel at the dinner table. Thankfully, they did enjoy the Reese’s cups.

Before going to bed, I always check around my room to make sure one of the cats isn’t hiding when I close the door. Somehow, Masha managed to escape my detection. After playing against the wall for a little while, she eventually decided to leave.

It’s hard to believe it’s almost the middle of February already. The Parisian time is flying by…

Le temps s’en va, le temps s’en va ma Dame,

Las ! le temps non, mais nous nous en allons

Speaking of which, I turned 21 last week. On my birthday, I awoke to a dusting of snow which, unfortunately, turned into water by the afternoon. A few friends and I attempted to visit some museums, but we soon discovered that pretty much every attraction in the city is closed on Mondays. We opted instead for the Montparnasse cemetery, where I was able to visit the grave of Camille Saint-Saens. Not a bad birthday present, actually.

I celebrated with a small dinner at a nearby bistrot, where I wisely asked what “andouillette” meant (pig intestines) before ordering it. Instead, I had a prime cut of beef and potatoes au gratin, as well as a ridiculously good cup of cheesecake.

While I’ve been trying overall to eat healthy here, the deliciousness of every single thing I’ve eaten makes me feel like I’m not faring well. Or maybe my taste buds are just having an ecstatic overreaction to the food here after the gastronomic assault of my previous study abroad experience (*cough*England*cough*). The bread, the pastries, the cheese, the chocolate (which somehow finds its way into almost EVERY product at the supermarket), the yogurt, the crepes, the Nutella… need I go on?

Apple pie with a fluffy custard filling. Mmm…

And I can’t fail to mention the delicious home-cooked meals that my host mother prepares. I seem to have settled in well with them, although at times I really do wish they had kids at home, just to have someone else to talk to. However, they do have two cats, Piccolo (ironically the larger of the two) and Masha. Masha, the female, seems to have taken quite the liking to me and frequently opens the door to my room so she can curl up next to me on my bed and purr.

At any rate, most of my interaction with my host parents occurs at dinner (which typically begins around 7:30 or 8:00 and lasts a good hour or so). We talk about pretty much everything, but particularly about differences between our home countries. It’s definitely good practice for my French skills — they speak at a normal, casual speed, so I’m forced to keep up. I can generally keep up pretty well, but I’m still amazed at the extent to which French people truncate their enunciations sometimes.

The other obstacles are unfamiliar vocabulary and expressions, but that’s a learning experience. I learned that rétrécir means “to shrink” (clothes) and that the French have no single word to express the concept of a “nut” (I thought it was noix, but that just means “walnut”).

My host parents actually don’t eat meat (just fish, which doesn’t really count in France), so we’ve eaten a ridiculous amount of salmon — not that I mind. My host mother made a sublime salmon quiche this week. The French are also big on desserts, so my host parents are always surprised when I refuse one after our multi-course meals.

All in all, I can’t complain much, because my host parents are pretty nice and intelligent people. Apparently they had a ditzy California girl last semester who couldn’t speak French at all, so they are very pleased with the change.

So, aside from eating delicious food, what exactly have I been up to the past couple of weeks?

• A group walking tour of Le Marais, one of the better-preserved (17th Cent.) neighbourhoods of the city; I’m looking forward to picnicking again at the Place des Vosges when the weather gets nicer.
• A guided tour of the Opéra Garnier, whose interior is even more extravagantly beautiful than Versailles. We’ll be returning there to see a modern ballet called “Le Parc.”
• Exploration of the Père Lachaise cemetery, definitely a creepy place that’s easy to get lost in. I’ve only seen a fraction of it so far, but I was happy to see the graves of Bizet, Chopin, Edith Piaf, and Henri Salvador. …Maybe “happy” isn’t the right word to use.
• Further exploration of the Bois de Vincennes and the Chateau; I was last in the park on the day of the big transportation strike, and it seemed like a lot of people were off from work. They all brought their dogs to the park. I also discovered the Lac Daumesnil, which is pretty cool.
• Very brief exploration of the Quartier Latin. I really need to spend more time there. Left Bank > Right Bank.
• A trip to Fontainebleau on a cold, windy day. The interior of the chateau was beautiful, as were the grounds (albeit nippy). Almost got talked into buying a flight to Kiev by a middle-aged Ukrainian tourist with hilariously broken English.
• A trip to Versailles the next day. The “free on the first Sunday of the month” thing is kind of a joke, as we still had to dish out over 13 Euros to see the Hall of Mirrors and most of the best spots. Unlike Fontainebleau, there were also way too many tourists there. But it’s still Versailles.
• A visit to the Louvre with my Art History class. Still way too many tourists, even at 9:30 on a Wednesday morning, but I loved it. I usually find museums overwhelming and fatiguing, but the guided, selective visit was great. And best of all, I can go back whenever I want free of charge with my art student card.
• A group excursion to Chartres on a cold, snowy, windy day (NOT a good day to forget your gloves). I enjoyed our brief tour of the incredibly well-preserved cathedral (narrated by an ancient British man with a great dry humour) as well as our warm 4-course meal, but I wish we’d had a little more time to explore the town.
• My return to the Catacombs, which were as awesome as always. I’m amazed by the number of people (including my host parents) who’ve never been there. The atmosphere is just unparalleled… although I’d like to go back when there are hardly any tourists (and bring a flashlight ).

To check out my photos so far, here are my ablums:

Ce n’était qu’un reve

Sous les ponts de Paris

Fontainebleau

Versailles – Part I

Versailles – Part II

Chartres

C’était l’hiver

So, I’m in Paris.

My energy is somewhat sapped at the moment. I think it’s a combination of residual jetlag and a lack of caloric intake (always buy food BEFORE Sunday in Europe). I’m also the only USC student left in our temporary rooms in ACCENT’s residence hall. While everyone else joined their new host families tonight, my family can’t welcome me until tomorrow.

Apparently, it’s my host mother’s father’s 80th birthday today, and the entire family is having a huge party, going to the opera, etc. So they thought it would be a bit awkward for me to move in tonight.

My host parents, Monsieur et Madame Galataud, live in the 11th arrondissement, a short walk from the ACCENT Center (I think I’m the only one in the group who doesn’t have to take the Métro to get to class). I haven’t been able to see their house yet, as it’s accessed through a gated courtyard, but I did take this picture of the boulevard Voltaire, close to where I’ll be living:

Looks can be deceiving. While the boulevard Voltaire has a very bourgeois air to it, the rest of the 11th is much less glamourous. Granted, it’s not a ghetto by any means (at least I’m not living in the 19th), but tree-lined boulevards and historic monuments are few and far between. It’s the most densely inhabited arrondissement in Paris, and the population is fairly diverse.

I was hoping for one of the upscale western arrondissements – the 16th, 15th, or 7th, for example — which is where most of my fellow USC students were placed, it seems. On the other hand, I like to think that I live in a more “real” area of the city (and cheaper, too!) I won’t be eating at restaurants where tourists eat, or shopping at stores where tourists shop. I was fantasizing about taking regular walks in the Bois de Boulogne, but it looks like the Père Lachaise Cemetery is the closest thing I have to a park…

At any rate, it seems like my lodgings will be pretty darn nice. I will essentially have a floor of the house to myself, with my bedroom, a MARBLE bathroom, a TV room, and a balcony overlooking a garden. My host father is an accountant who works for a bank (I believe), and my host mother is an amateur pianist. I’m not exactly sure what she does during the day, because all I can picture is her playing the piano non-stop.

I just hope they’re the kind of people I was looking for. I stressed that I wanted an interactive family, but I’m afraid that having my own floor will isolate me a bit (the housing coordinator said something about waiting to be “invited” to the ground floor…). I’m also bummed that they don’t have any kids at home. They’d better be fun people!

Ahh, Paris…

Since I’ve only been here in the springtime (on a few very short visits), that Parisian “magic” is a bit masked by the clouds and rain. But, heck, it’s only in the 40s, which is positively tropical compared to New Hampshire right now. But there’s no doubt that this is an amazing city, with so much to see and do and such a diverse mix of people, and it’s definitely my favourite “ultra” city (above London and New York).

I’ve had no negative experiences with the Parisians so far. Even the beggers have been exceptionally polite. The rude thing is definitely exaggerated… I don’t know anyone in the program who’s had a bad encounter with someone.

We’ve had some very nice French meals provided by ACCENT, although I know I can’t continue eating pastries for breakfast and three course meals (with fried goat cheese) for dinner. But I am looking forward to some home-cooked food.

On Saturday we had a  short bus tour of  the major sites, which was a nice look at all the glamourous monuments. Afterwards, I took off on my own to explore Montmartre, certainly one of the most unique neighbourhoods in the city. While it’s close to some sketchy areas (Pigalle, and the 19th), the heart of Montmartre, with its cobblestone streets that wind up and down the hill, is just really lovely:

Later on, I went to visit Madeline out in Saint-Maurice, where we enjoyed a brief walk through the Bois de Vincennes at sunset. I’m sure it’ll be much nicer come springtime, though. Afterwards, we went out with her American housemate to find a place to eat. After getting a little lost, we settled on a nice Italian place in the 11th (where I got pizza with egg on it… not too shabby). We then walked along the Seine, taking in the beauty of the city of lights.

I have a lot to look forward to this semester. There’s so much to experience in this city. I think I just have to get over the anxiety about my host parents first. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.

To see my photos from Paris so far, check out these two albums:

Arrivée à Paris

Sous le ciel de Paris

Unfortunately I’ve neglected to blog about my travels during winter break, but I suppose that’ll have to wait for now…