Travels in France

Just A Fiddlin' Around This Town

2012-02-05T01:35:00.000-08:00

Well, it may be February 4th already, but hell, I'm going to write about January.
Only yesterday did the last of the Christmas lights come down from the trees in town. They were spectacular. I've attached a few photos. The lights paired with the colorful, half-timbered houses made Dinan really magical to walk through at night. And seeing as nightfall comes so early in December and January, I saw the lights quite often.

January is the month of store sales, closed cafés, and Kings Cake. Many restaurants, cafés, and stores close during January and February because there is so little business after the holidays. Most stores prefer to stay open, however, to put all of their old merchandise on sale for the month of January. I believe it is the law in France that January and July are the only months when stores are allowed to advertise sales.
France is a very Catholic country, and Epiphany is taken very seriously. Once January 6th rolls around, every store and Boulangerie in the country brings out the butter, puff pastry and almond paste to make "galette des rois," or Kings Cake. To Americans like me, King's Cake looks more like a pie than a cake. It's a delicious, flat and golden circle of puff pastry traditionally filled with frangipane and one "fêve" (bean) that, should it happen to be in your slice, designates you king for the rest of the day. The "bean" of today is most commonly a ceramic figurine that can be anything from a biblical figure to a Disney character. Each cake comes ready with it's own paper crown. I've been "king" 5 times! I think it's a sign... probably that I've been eating too much pastry. But during the month of January, a kings cake showed up at every event I went to. The holiday is of course beloved of children, so every school has a day where they serve kings cake. Though they might say otherwise, adults clearly enjoy the holiday just as much. Cake showed up at my music lesson, at dances, at meetings, everywhere. It's a reason to invite people to tea, to get together with friends, and have dessert more than once a day. For those who dislike frangipane, the cake also comes in applesauce and pear/chocolate versions, but if you ask me, the frangipane is really the best.

Galette des Rois

Fiddle workshop with Jean-Luc Revault. The fiddles are laying in the center so that we could dance with our hands free.

Fiddle workshop with Olivier Pont

Olivier showing off a renaissance instrument

I made a new friend, an English lady who happened to know some Irish and American fiddle tunes.

The fiddling pictures up above are from la fête du violon at the school of music in Dinan. It consisted of a weekend of workshops on traditional and renaissance fiddle playing, followed the next week by a concert and dance. I took the traditional music track, taught by Jean-luc Revault and Olivier Pont, maker of stringed instruments dating to the renaissance and beyond. Olivier's wife, Nelly Poidevin, plays the stand-up bass and is an archetière, or maker of historical bows. Jean-luc is the teacher of my weekly fiddle class, so I was already acquainted with his teaching style. It was a pleasure to get to know Olivier, though.

Jean-luc Revault

Last Thursday I went to Folk Night at a bar/hotel called the Cheval Blanc in the town of Plancoët. It's a monthly gathering, catering mostly to an Anglaphone audience, but the music is anything from old French songs to Irish balads to German folk pop. The owner, Micheàl, is a really sweet Irishman. Folk Night itself is run by a lovely man named Peter, who is an excellent singer and musician, and brings out the best of everyone who participates in the open mic.

Me playing "Your Cheetin' Heart" with Peter in Plancoët

Me singing "Old Time Drunkard"

That same weekend was the fête du violon at a museum just outside of Rennes. No workshops this time, but There were a bunch of great fiddlers leading dances under a tent outside, and an interesting display of old violins that came frome someone's personal collection. At the end of the day, I performed a bunch of tunes with the rest of the people from my class in Dinan. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was a lot of fun.

Jean-luc playing a fiddle made out of a cookie tin

Dancin' to the fiddle.

Well, that's it for this month's post. Believe it or not, I'll be on vacation at the end of next week. French schools go much later than American ones, but they have more vacations spread throughout the year. I'm taking full advantage of the break to head down south to Nîce, a city on the Mediterranean to catch a few more degrees an possibly even some rays of sunshine. I'll post pictures at the end of February.

Until then, warm wishes to you all from France!

Breton/Belgian holidays

2012-01-02T09:00:00.000-08:00

Happy 2012! My excuses for such a late post.
I returned home to my little apartment in Dinan last night at 9:30 after 14 hours of sitting on trains. As comfortable as European trains are, I'd rather not set foot in another one for a long time. The trip wasn't supposed to take so long; after staying up all night for New Years-something I haven't done since high school-I was pleased to catch some zzzs on the train from Liège to Paris (2hrs) Sunday morning. The experience was so nice that, after crossing Paris by metro, I did likewise on the train from Paris to Rennes (2.5hrs), and arrived at 2pm excited about the hour-long bus ride ahead of me. I had forgotten, however, that this was Sunday, and a national holiday to boot. The next bus to Dinan wasn't until 6pm, and though I would have relished a nice long walk, my bags were heavy and I was anxious to get home. I returned to the train station and saw that there was a train towards Dinan at 5pm. It seemed well-worth it to cut an hour off of my wait, so I bought the ticket and read in a café until 5:00.
There is no direct train to Dinan from Rennes. Travelers have to change trains at Dol de Bretagne, a small and rather uninteresting town north-east of Dinan. And this is where I took the sleeping-thing too far. I missed Dol and woke up an hour later on my way to Caen. Miserable, I gobbled a few chocolates to keep from panicking. Rodrigo (Coraline's boyfriend) had given them to me as a going-away present.
I hopped off at the next stop, and burst into tears when the stern woman working ticket office told me that I wouldn't get home until 9:30pm. I thanked her and walked out into the rain to hide my embarrassment. Outside, a Tbus was waiting, empty except for it's driver. Feeling I had nothing to lose, I tapped on the door and asked if there was any chance the bus was heading in the direction of Dinan. The driver shook his head and said "Mont Saint-Michel?" He was English. The were, indeed, no more buses to Dinan, and though the driver seemed sorry for me, he didn't hesitate to give me a lecture on European ways of life and how, though it may be a shock for young Americans like me, buses don't run 24 hours a day in France. I didn't bother to explain that where I come from, there is no public transportation, but set out into the downpour to find an open bar. I found one and sat, sipping my beer and dripping pools of water on the floor until the next train.
It is nice to be back, though the holidays in Belgium were great fun. Before leaving for Belgium, I played fiddle with a group of Breton musicians at the Christmas market in town, a great way to celebrate Christmas.

In France and in Belgium Christmas Eve is the big day. Presents are opened at midnight, after a big dinner and (traditionally) Christmas Mass. Our evening was a bit more calm. Corinne (my host mother) had chopped the top off of the holly bush next to the house, dragged it into the back yard, where it was visible from the big double doors in the kitchen, and declared it a xmas tree. She had to attach long lines to nearby trees to keep it from falling over in the wind. This holly bush had no berries, so Corinne also pruned the female holly and stuck branches of it into the "Christmas tree" to give it some color. The weight of these extra branches made the beaded strands circling the tree look a bit strained, but no matter. I prepared the stuffing and pumpkin casserole for the next day's meal, and then we had racklette for dinner; a wonderful meal consisting of lots of melted cheese and sizzling charcuterie on bread. Extremely healthy. Corinne had the beginnings of a migraine from having worked hard the week before, so after that we watched a movie and went to bed.

Corinne decorating the door with laurel leaves.

The next morning, Coraline and I got to work cooking Christmas lunch. She had picked out some great recipes, that I never would have thought of making myself--things like a cold apple and cucumber soup for starters. Anyway, by lunchtime everything was ready and family members started arriving. My host uncle and his family were there, as well as "Mamie," my host grandmother, her sister, my host brother, and his wife.

My host uncle, Eric, my host cousins, Marine and Olivier, Coraline and myself with the capon.

The next day, Coraline and I explored the beautiful city of Gent. The Christmas market was still open, and the whole city was lit up.

I've never seen so many Bicycles. Belgium is very flat, especially on the Flemish side, and everyone rides a bike.

Train station in Gent

Hot chocolate at Leonidas

Christmas market in Gent

Vin chaud, or hot spiced wine.

Coraline has been hired as an extra in a film called "Populaire," set in the 1950s in New York (though apparently all the screening was done in Liège and Brussels) so while she was was doing that I happily spent my time sleeping and reading. Jean-Pierre has taken up the drums as a hobby, and on Wednesday took me out to a Pink Floyd concert performed excellently by a German band.
I celebrated New Years with friends of Coraline. They are a great group. Our host, Noemie, prepared a fancy spread, with racklette as the main course. We spent the rest of the night dancing, talking, and trying not to fall asleep.

Dancing in bars and Turkey-less Thanksgiving

2011-11-28T11:34:00.000-08:00

After spending all week teaching about Thanksgiving, I spent my Turkey Thursday the way I do every week, working and then going to music class. My feasting would come later.
Friday evening I hitched a ride with Thérèse, one of the women from my traditional music workshop, to a town near Dinan called la Hisse. We headed to Le Shetland, a restaurant/bar that had agreed to let us host a monthly traditional jam session there. I had no part in the organization of the jam, but was delighted to come along. Most jam sessions in little towns like this one are inaccessible to anyone without a car because the buses stop running early in the evening. Going to a jam session therefore usually means figuring out how to stay the night.
I was impressed at the number of people who showed up to this first jam session, though like folk musicians in the US, they all seemed to know each other some how or other. Groups from different parts of the region played pieces from their repertoire, and in the end everyone joined in to play together. Those who weren't playing danced. In Brittany, many of the traditional dances take the form of a circle, with the dances holding hands (or pinkies!) and stepping in time. This makes them easy to join, as you just connect to the end of the line and then try to copy the steps of the people next to you, although a few of the dances are quite complicated.
It was had a blast. I felt quite at home with these people who so warmly welcomed me into their midst simply because I share the same love of music, dance, and tradition as they do. Much like the folk music scene at home, come to think of it. I got home quite late that night (or early, depending on your perspective), still humming Breton tunes.
The next morning, I slept in and then wandered over to the apartment of the other teaching assistants to start cooking a late Thanksgiving lunch. We chose to have it there because they have an oven, a larger fridge, and the right amount of silverware. Kiara and I had already made pies a couple of days before, so all we had left to do was cook our root vegetables, stuff our chicken, and toss a salad. We left out the cranberries, as they are hard to find in France.
The meal turned out wonderfully. I have to say, I much prefer chicken to turkey. It just has so much more flavor. No one had tried pumpkin pie before. Even though it's texture was a bit lumpy (we used a potato masher instead of a blender), the flavor was right and everyone seemed to enjoy it. We were 8 total: myself, Kiara and Zac (the Australians), two young French teachers, two Germans, and my Polish neighbor, Carolina. It was a very international Thanksgiving! I was very grateful to have such great friends to celebrate the holiday with. As per tradition, we all ate too much and then ambled over to see Enzo Enzo in concert. She's best known for her rendition of "Juste quelqu'un de bien," but has written a lot of her own music as well.
Sunday, Zac and Kiara and I took the train to Combourg, a small town known for it's castle. Combourg turned out to be even more deserted than Dinan is on a Sunday and the castle was closed, but we had a nice walk before returning home. You can see the photos below.

Combourg from afar

The castle peeking over the rooftops

There it is!

Church in Combourg

Poisonous mushroom

Brittany looks a lot like Oregon sometimes

Sending warm thoughts your way!

How to travel on a Sunday

2011-11-09T05:39:00.000-08:00

After scouring maps and bus and train schedules, I concluded that it was impossible to go anywhere on a Sunday in France without expecting to stay overnight. Buses stop running, stores close, and trains cut their schedules in half at least. I set my travel books aside with a sigh and stared out the window; I had to do something. I had a free day in France and felt it was my duty to use it wisely. Outside, the sky was a solid grey and it was windy, but no rain.
I called up Kiara, the Australian teaching assistant. She had come to the same conclusion. "Do you want to go for a walk?" I said. At 12:30 we met up at the top of Rue Jerzuel, the steep, windy, and very picturesque street that leads down from Dinan's high ramparts to the port below, and then headed north along the river. The road soon turned into a park-like path hugging the banks. Every few minutes, signs would appear pointing towards villages and sights west of the river, a few of which we explored before returning to our path. By 2:30 we reached the La Vicomté-sur-Rance, a lovely port town with a damn keeping the southern part of the river full of water while the northern side empties out at low tide.
It was a strange sight. The muddy contours of the river bottom were exposed to view, filling the air with the smell of wet clay. By the banks, fishing nets hung high and dry, waiting for the water and fish to return. We crossed the bridge over the damn and stopped for hot chocolate in a café next to the port. Warm and rested, we figured we should start heading back; the cold air was great for walking, but with such thick clouds nighttime was sure to come early.
We were not, however, in any hurry. Feeling adventurous, we naively decided to find a different route back. There was no quiet path on the eastern side of the river because of high rocky cliffs, but a map in town showed a couple of main roads heading south. We inevitably got lost. After wandering past little communities with amusing names (La Ville des Petits-pois, or "pea town") and reading street signs with no mention of Dinan, we decided it was time to either ask for directions or retrace our steps. As it was Sunday, not many people were out and about, but I spied and old man coming out of his house with a little white dog in one arm. He was understandably surprised to hear that we had come so far by foot, but explained that he was headed to the forest to feed his cat and would be happy to drop us off on the main road to Dinan afterwards. He seemed harmless, so we hopped into his car. It turns out he is a retired school-teacher. He bought a piece of land in the Forêt de Coëtquen and built a cottage for himself as a getaway from the hustle and bustle of his village. His cat was a big old thing who is apparently too independent to live in the city, but unhealthy enough that Monsieur felt obliged to come and feed him every day. Monsieur was clearly worried for the old cat's health. He set out at least a dozen bowls full of warm milk, several different kinds of wet food, dry food, water, medecine, etc. and waited around until he was satisfied that the cat had sufficiently eaten. The whole process took about an hour.
When the cat was fed we hopped back into the car, eager to be on our way. It was getting late and the weather felt colder now that we had stopped walking. Monsieur turned the key in the transmission. Nothing happened. The battery was dead. He had accidentally left the heat on for the little white dog in the front seat, thus draining the battery. Monsieur was embarrassed and at a loss for what to do, but we cheerfully offered to get out and push, which we did, up and down the driveway without success. Just when Kiara and I thought we had better start walking, Monsieur said, "You know what, I've got another battery we can try." Battery #2 was bigger than the first. We barely managed to jam it in there and reattach the cables, but when he turned the key in the transmission the car rumbled to life.
It was 5pm by the time he dropped us off at the cross-roads he had mentioned. It was a busy road without sidewalks that lead into Lanvallay, the city immediately across the river from Dinan. It took us at least 2 more hours to walk back to Dinan. We were tired and hungry, and the twinkling lights of our city seemed so far. Night had fallen by the time I stumbled up the steps to my apartment. There was dinner to make and classes to prepare for. To my delight, the heat had been turned on in the apartment complex. I never slept so well.

Port of La Vicomté-sur-Rance

The river Rance at low tide.

The "barrage", or damn

Kiara photographing the locks

"Careful, don't drive into the river!"

Kiara pointing to cliffs on eastern side of the river.

Inserting battery #2

Happy Halloween!

2011-10-31T04:47:00.000-07:00

Getting wifi in my apartment was a boon and a very bad thing. I've been spending far too much time online and too little sketching and such. In an attempt to break the habit, I kicked myself out of my apartment yesterday afternoon to take what turned out to be a grueling 25-mile bike ride between here and Plancoët. A colleague Madeleine's (my contact person) lent me the bike to help with the long distances between some of my schools here. The ride was only grueling because I deviated from the main roads a lot and ended up on dirt paths leading goodness knows where through forest and fields, up and down hills without the possibility of changing gears. Entering these tree-covered paths felt a little bit like going down the rabbit hole to Wonderland. I was eager to take them to leave the main roads, though, which are narrow compared to American standards and have no bike lanes. It was scary to have cars zipping by, inches away. I rode through Corseul on my way to Plancoët and stopped to see the Temple of Mars, Roman ruins that look rather neglected between farmers' fields. The height of the main ruins is impressive, considering how old they are. Even more interesting, however, was a little stone oven to the left of the road nearby. It looked in fine condition and probably isn't Roman, but I was so thrilled to be able to poke my head in and see how it was made.
On the way back I stopped for a cup of coffee at a bar called "l'Irlandais" (the Irishman), which was empty except for it's very French owners, a Moroccan, and a French guy complaining that he had no work or money. But they were nice. I then got completely and utterly lost by taking too many side roads, and thankfully ran into a group of children who were more than happy to tell me where to go.

Well, today is Halloween. It isn't a traditional French holiday, and has only really become popular in schools and in stores in the past 5-10 years. Here, it's recognized as a commercial holiday, though the schools enjoy it because it's a chance to teach about other cultures. The store around the corner has been showing off it's cheaply-made Halloween costumes for at least a month. That being said, there's apparently a big Halloween party being held in Rennes tonight, where university students will likely dress up and drink lots of beer. I don't plan on celebrating, but maybe I'll go out and buy a chocolate bar.

Visit to Saint-Malo

2011-10-23T08:17:00.000-07:00

I slept in this morning. Nothing happens on Sundays here, anyway. Even the boulangerie nearby is closed. Yesterday I accompanied the other teaching assistants here on a trip to Saint-Malo, the nearest large city to Dinan. Saint-Malo is a short train or bus ride from Dinan. It sits on the edge of the ocean, cornered on the left by the mouth of the river Rance as it meets the sea. It's the ultimate port town; soft, smooth beaches outside of stone ramparts encircling the tightly knit houses and streets that make up the old town. Though it's not obvious at first glance, much of the towers and ramparts around Saint-Malo are new. The city was all but obliterated during WWII, and they spent many years rebuilding it all.
It was a cold but sunny morning when we made the walk from the train station to the port. The gates to the old town are impressive, with the towers of the Hotel de Ville on one side and walls on the other. There, we met the gang of American assistants from Saint-Brieuc, who suggested we visit one of the rocky islands around the city, made accessible by foot at low tide. It was indeed low tide, so we scampered across the sand and over the rocks to the doors of the Fort National, which was closed, of course (the tourist season officially ends on September 30th in Brittany), but from there we had a very impressive view of the city. The American assistants then left us to explore the city while we attempted to reach the second island, le Grand Bé, where Chateaubriand's tomb lies. Unfortunately, the tide was already lapping up over the path to the island by the time we'd negotiated our way over the sharp rocks to the other beach, so we entered the city walls instead. It's very clear by the number of souvenirs shops and ice cream and sweets stands that Saint-Malo is accustomed to a healthy population of tourists, at least in the old town, but this didn't make the visit any less interesting. We stepped inside the Cathédrale Saint-Vincent, which is curiously asymmetric but has stunning stained-glass windows.
At noon, we returned to the train station to pick up the Italian assistant, Michéle and a Spanish assistant, Nuria, and then went to have a picnic on the beach. It would have been quite pleasant if it weren't for the chilling wind. We stayed, huddled in our coats, long enough to finish our sandwiches and then opted for a brisk walk in town followed by hot chocolate at a café in the sun. It was a good day. Nuria and Michèle accompanied us back to Dinan to spend the night. We played "I spy" on the train home, and made dinner together at the assistant's apartment in the Lycée. Michèle is a good cook. We ate, laughed, and drank wine. It's amazing how being strangers in a strange land can bring a diverse group of individuals so close together. Visiting a new city was fun, but the real point of the outing was just to be together, to enjoy each other's presence.

Internet

2011-10-19T12:51:00.000-07:00

It’s amazing how easy it is to take wifi for granted. Luckily, I have a neighbor in the apartment complex who is eager to share the cost of hooking up a router with me, but for now I'm still having to go to the apartment of the other teaching assistants, across town, in order to do email in peace.

Now where was I... After arriving in Brittany, the assistant teachers gathered together in their separate départements (mine is Côte d’Armor) on october 3^rd for an orientation at which we filled out lots of necessary papers and were given some tips on teaching. It wasn’t quite enough to prepare me for my very first day of class, but I think mine was an extreme case; most assistants don’t start teaching by themselves right away.

I teach in 4 different schools, for a total of 12 hours a week. I teach English in an elementary and middle school in Dinan, and at an elementary school in Lanvallay, the town across the river from Dinan. As ridiculous as it sounds, I’m also teaching Spanish at another elementary school in Dinan, because Lidia can’t yet. There are only 2 students, and although they know almost as much Spanish as I do, I’m getting by all right for now. It helps to have Internet. It’s actually quite fun to dredge my memory for vocabulary I learned in high school.

It seems like school just got started, yet our first vacation is almost here. Toussaints, or “All Saints” vacation lasts from October 22^nd to November 2^nd. I’m still not sure what I’ll do during my week of freedom, but I know the Australian assistants are planning on visiting Bordeaux. I may look into visiting a farm nearby, I’m not sure. It all depends on when I get paid…

I’ve taken a few pictures of the city. Here you can see the port of Dinan, nestled close to the river Rance. Most of the city is actually up on the hill behind, but there are many nice restaurants and old houses along the river. In the second photo, you can see the bridge I cross to get to Lanvallay. The third photo is of one of the towers on the ramparts, which are still intact.

Hello Brittany!

2011-10-16T13:05:00.000-07:00

I flew into France on September 25th and found myself once more in the city of Paris, where I studied 3 years ago. This time, I would not be staying long.
I've been accepted into the Teaching Assistant Program in France, in which young people like myself are temporarily employed by the French government to teach their native language to French public school students. I will be teaching English to primary and secondary school students in a small town in Brittany, northwestern France. My contract is from October 1st to April 30th, though my visa allows a little leeway on either end. To find out more about the program, follow this link: http://www.frenchculture.org/spip.php?rubrique424&tout=ok

It was a blissfully uneventful series of flights that took me from Portland to Seattle, Seattle to Reykjavik, and finally Reykjavik to Paris with Icelandair. I met other teaching assistants in Reykjavik, heading to other parts of France. One of the girls was on her second round of assistant teaching in France.
Once in Paris, I headed straight for Aloha Hostel, located in the 15th Arrondissement. It was the closest hostel I could find to the Montparnasse train station, where I would be taking the train the next day to Rennes, and finally to Dinan. It was a fine hostel, despite the silly name. I picked up a deliciously greasy kebab from a restaurant nearby, found a bank, took out some money, and went so sleep at around 7pm.
The next day, I met with my good friend Nayla for coffee before rushing off to the train station. My contact person in Brittany, Madeleine Reux, came to meet me at the train station in Rennes. She is the head of languages for the primary school district of Dinan, where she trains teachers to teach English. She is a kind and very funny person, who I've gotten to really like. I ended up staying with her for the next week, as it turned out that the hostel in Dinan, which I had contacted before leaving, had decided to close early.
To make a long story short, I eventually found an apartment with the Foyer des Jeunes Travailleurs, an organization that provides housing for young people, and have now settled in. I have made friends with the 4 other assistants assigned to Dinan; 2 Spaniards and 2 Australians, but one of Spaniards, Lidia, has broken her foot and will not be able to join us for awhile. I went to visit her in Rennes last weekend. We communicated a lot by email before I left because she is also the only other assistant working in primary schools, like me. The other three work in the high school, where they are also housed.
My first week of classes was a bit rough; I realized how little experience I have actually teaching little kids after my first class with rambunctious 7-year-olds. I left crying after class #2, when I completely lost control of the class. It's not that they are intentionally badly-behaved; they are really sweet kids one-on-one, I just hadn't learned how to handle a class by myself. This week was better, though it's still scary.
Dinan is a lovely town. Surrounded by medieval ramparts, the town center is full of half-timbered buildings, cobblestone streets, and two churches. There's an open-air market on Thursdays, where I do most of my shopping for the week. Cider and buckwheat crepes are the traditional specialties here.

More to come soon, I promise!

fotos de Barthelona

2009-05-30T15:54:00.000-07:00

Barthelona

2009-05-30T04:08:00.000-07:00

Classes finished on May 15th. Last Thursday I finally picked up my stuff from the printmaking studio, made some last prints, and said a tearful goodbye to everyone there. Now I only have packing and picture-taking to think about during my last week in Paris.
Summer has arrived. Outside the sky is blue and the sun is shining brighter than ever. The coats and sweaters I've accumulated during my stay are now completely useless, and while walking around I look longingly at the sundresses displayed in shop windows.
I woke up late this morning. I've been exhausted ever since I got back from Barcelona late Wednesday night. It wasn't so much the trip that tired me out, but the flight. So many hours were spent getting to and waiting at the airport, all for a flight that lasted only and hour and a half. Barcelona, on the other hand, was fabulous.
I went with my friends Kathy, Peggah and Colman, who all go to Sarah Lawrence college. Kathy and Peggah are in the Paris program, and Colman is here for a visit. Kathy, the red head, is a lot like me in many ways. Those three turned out to be a great group to travel with; we all have similar interests, are relaxed, and so the 4 days we spent together were amazingly stress-free. We got a room for 4 in an excellent hostel a little ways from the center of town, far from the clubs and noisy streets of las Ramblas. We saw a lot of the sights: la Segrada Familia, the Picasso museum, the Cathedral, Gaudi's park, and many of the buildings he designed. Compared to Paris, Barcelona seemed extremely laid back, happy, and cheap. I've been told that Barcelona is an expensive city, but it's nothing compared to Paris. It was so nice to find good food for under 10 euros!
Speaking spanish again was difficult after 4 years of French. My vocabulary has been reduced to almost nothing, and I'm limited to speaking mostly in the present. However, unlike here in Paris, people really seemed to appreciate the fact that I was trying, and were so friendly and helpful. I also never once felt uncomfortable walking the streets, even though I was told by several people that Barcelona was dangerous. I suppose it's the same as any big city; you just have to be reasonably careful.
I should go soon; I have to go tutor in half and hour. Down below my window I hear the sound of suitcase wheels on concrete sidewalk. It's an almost constant sound here in Paris; people are always coming and going, leaving and arriving. When I first got to Paris the sound surprised me because I resembled that of my mother's wheelbarrow on the gravel driveway, but now I hardly notice anymore. In 8 days that'll be me dragging my own heavy luggage around the city and up and down metro steps. I will leave no trace behind. Paris will go on being a beautiful city full of strangers, artists and lovers and people like me who don't quite know why they're there.
Love to you all!!

Ahh, the French

2009-03-12T14:38:00.000-07:00

Romantic sculpture in the Jardin de Luxembourg

Wine cups "to go," safely sealed for you lunchbox. Red, white, or rosé.

I thought it was about time that I gave a taste of French culture.

The French are so funny. They love to argue loudly about current issues over a café at a Brasserie, or over the dinner table. They discuss things with such fervor that to a foreigner it often sounds like a full out argument. I think they disagree with each other on purpose, just to draw out the conversation.
The people are for the most part very thin here. Especially in Paris, where looks and fashion are everything. Even the elderly ladies take their looks seriously; it has happened more than once that I've caught a very fashionably dressed older lady checking herself out in a store window. Scarves are very big here; even before it had gotten very cold, people whipped out their winter wear and sported their stylish neck protection, rain or shine. Many people firmly believe that if you go out without a scarf you are sure to fall ill.
The French are proud of their own culture. As one would expect, cheese, wine, and good bread all hold a very high importance. The US is often criticised for its' negative impact on French culture and the younger generations, however it's a love-hate relationship. The French LOVE American movies, food, music, etc. I've never passed by a McDonalds or a Starbucks in Paris that wasn't full of people. They are crazy about exact change(I've gotten glared at countless times for paying with a 20 euro bill), proper manners, good looks, and they enjoy silence on the metro. They pretend not to look at each other, but in reality they silently and secretly judge everyone around them. The French can also make a miniature café last for hours, as they sit and talk the day away.

At the beginning of the year we were given a long talk on "les bonnes manières," or good manners in France, during which we were instructed to do things like be on time and don't ask indescrete questions. From experience, however, I've found the French to be no more time obsessed than Americans, and although discretion is important to them, people have said things to me here that I never would have heard at home. Weight, for example, is not a taboo subject of conversation. It's not unusual for people to remark on the status of one's weight(whether you has lost or gained weight recently), and every time I eat lunch at the art studios I get lots of comments on what I'm eating for lunch. It seems as though all Parisian women are on a constant diet.

That having been said, I think I'll leave now to go get my pain au chocolat and enjoy every bite.

Wwoof, wwoof! (continued)

2009-02-28T15:18:00.001-08:00

Belmont was cold. I haven't been so cold in a long time, especially at night. When we arrived there were small patches of not yet melted snow on the ground, although with the sun out the temperature was actually quite pleasant. Once the sun set, however, the air got colder and colder, and crawling into bed at night felt like crawling under sheets of ice. It reminded me much of my childhood. The house was heated by a wood stove in the kitchen, and although the kitchen was nice and warm, the rest of the house remained pretty chilly most of the time. It was so cold that I didn't want to take off my clothes, so I just went to bed every night in the shirt and sweater I had worn that day.
The Martinals lived a pretty simple life. Many conveniencies that most people would consider necessary, they had no problem going without. The bathroom had no door on it. A wall hid the shower and toilet from sight, and turning on the light warned the rest of the house that the bathroom was occupied, but this didn't stop Jessica and I from the constant terror that someone would walk in on one of us. It was also awkward to know that there was nothing much muffling the noise of your tinkle ( or whatever else you happened to be doing), as the bathroom was not far from the kitchen and the entryway. Then there was the toilet, which was missing its' seat. I've gotten used to squatting here at the Cité Universitaire because of the dubious cleanliness of the bathrooms, but something about the closeness of the wall to the toilet at the Martinals made relieving one's needs even more difficult.
Aside from the bathroom, the house was more or less normal except for the kitchen, which didn't have hot water or a fridge. As the days passed, I got more used to the family's way of life. We would wake up in the morning, eat a breakfast of tea, oatmeal and dried fruit, and then set about doing the tasks the farmer found for us. Meals were simple and healthy, and mostly consised of things that the Martinals either produced themselves, bartered for, or bought at the bio store in town. We ate goat cheese every day for lunch and dinner, no matter what else we were eating.
The area around Belmont was absolutely stunning. From the hill in front of the house you had an amazing view of the whole valley and mountains behind. Jessica and I took several long walks up into the mountains, down into a larger village called Artemare, and up on the hill where a 14th-century castle looked down on the farms below. The night before we left, Jean-Yves invited an old historian to dinner to tell us about the history the castle and the rest of the area. He stayed for at least three hours telling story after story about old ways of life, community festivals and traditions, counts, barons, and revolutions that changed the people and the countryside.
We had a great time. I'd love to go back.

Wwoof, wwoof!

2009-02-27T08:51:00.000-08:00

Jessica trying in vain to get into the castle

Train station in Virieu Le Grand

The 14th century castle that both Jessica and I were in love with

We hoped we might find eligible bachelors here... but were sadly disappointed.

The goats on the hill pasture

Jean-Yves himself

Lucie, an agriculture student who came to join us at the farm a few days later for a school project.

The lookout spot on top of the hill (near the castle)

beautiful view of Belmont and surrounding area

The dome for the greenhouse

The beginnings of the dome

Christine, Jean-Yves' girlfriend, making a special sunday treat

cocoa powder, oatmeal, tea and malt syrup: what else would one eat for breakfast?

Jessica holding a baby goat

My, has it been a long time!
I just got back from a week spent on a farm in Belmont, a tiny village in the department of Ain, situated in the south-eastern part of France near Lyon. I went through a program called "wwoof," short for World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms. If you turn "wwoof" into a verb you get and action, wwoofing, and that is what I did all last week. I heard about the organization from a friend after having expressed my interest in visiting some farms in France. The idea of the program is to allow travelers stay on organic farms all over the world, where they work for a few hours every day in return for food and housing, and where both farmer and visiter learn something from the cultural exchange. Sounds great, right? I signed up, paid the 15 euro access fee online, and instantly had in front of me all the addresses of French farms participating in the program. All I had to do was choose a farm and contact them to see if I could come.
The past two weeks were Sarah Lawrence's February break. It's also the main ski break for most schools in France. It seemed like the perfect time to try out this thing called wwoofing. I talked about my plans quite a bit with other people in my program, and even got some of them interested in going. In the end, though, my friend Jessica and I were the only ones who ended up going. The first farm I contacted (I emailed several) was the only one that got back to me saying they were accepting wwoofers. It seemed like the perfect place, though, so my friend and I bought our tickets and left early Friday before last.
We got of the train in Virieu Le Grand, a small two-track station in the middle of the country, and were soon greeted by a girl in a very large sweater and hippie pants. This was Lucie, the farmer's eldest daughter. It was she who had replied to all my emails earlier in the week. We hopped into the car where her dad, Jean-Yves Martinal, was waiting and drove up to their goat farm nestled in the tiny midieval village of Belmont. Lucie was I think 18, and it was her idea to participate in Wwoofing. She was inspired after spending a summer wwoofing in Bulgaria, and they had only been signed up since January.
Jean-Yves seemed a little like the gruff and silent type, and our conversation in the car was awkward. It wasn't until later that I found out that he could become quite philosophical and talkative when sitting at the kitchen table. His two other children, Estelle (16) and Albin (15) also helped out with the farm. Jean-Yves cared for around 20 or so goats. since it's spring, many of them had just had kids and the spunky baby goats greeted us from their enclosure as we walked into the barn. Along with goat cheese, the farmer also produced and sold apple juice, beer and chicken eggs. The apple juice was delicious, and we drank it at every meal.
We did quite a variety of little jobs while we were there. Having no precise working hours, we really just did whatever Jean-Yves needed or thought we were capable of doing that day. We gathered and cleaned eggs for the market, fed the goats before milking in the evening, helped out with lunch and dinner, glued labels onto bottles, and took the goats out to graze on sunny days. Some of the more interesting things we did were sort grain and grind it into flour, and create a dome-like structure out of young hazel shoots for a green house the farmer was constructing. I even made pasta on Sunday with their home-ground flour and a pasta machine.

Americans in Paris

2009-01-19T05:48:00.000-08:00

New Years went by in a sparkle of lights and perhaps a little too much champagne. I stood with some at the base of the Eiffel Tower until midnight, when the lights on the tower began to flash and fireworks went up all around.
Reading week has just ended in my program, and after turning in the big paper I’ve been working on all week I feel free as a little bird to once again go out and explore this wonderful city… For a little while; second semester starts Today. Most French universities prefer to make their students work and worry during the Christmas break and then put them through exams as soon as they get back. Then the second semester starts before the first one really seems to end.
To celebrate, Friday night I went to a jazz club with a couple of friends from Sarah Lawrence called the Caveau de la Huchette. It was great. A swing band from Milan played, and the dance flour was crowded with dancing couples. Some of them were excellent dancers and fun to watch. There weren’t many people our age, but we went out there anyway and had loads of fun. I have no idea how they all got home, since the metro stops running at 1am, and the party was still going strong when we left.
Come to think of it, almost my whole weekend was devoted to doing American things in Paris. Friday was Jazz/swing, Saturday I went out to see Rocky Horror at this tiny cinema with a French friend, and then on Sunday I went to another small movie theater with my friend Peggah, this time to see the Marx Brother’s film, “A night at the Opera.” It was great! After the film on Sunday we went to an exhibition of American photography from the 50s 60s and 70s, which was also very good.
The Rocky Horror film was probably the most interesting experience of the weekend. I had no idea the French were so into it. They went all out doing call-outs, dancing, actors on stage in front of the screen, rice-throwing during the marriages, water-tossing during the rain, etc. The group who puts it on does it every Friday and Saturday, all year round. The weirdest thing was that it was mostly all done in English. There were subtitles for the film, of course, but the actors spoke a lot of their lines in English, and the audience shouted “slut” and “asshole” whenever the main characters in the film introduced themselves. It was very funny, even though I’m not a huge fan of Rocky myself.
Right now Paris is grey and dreary. It warmed up though; last week’s snow (a rarity in Paris) finally melted and today the rain has been pouring down, cleaning the air and the sidewalks. Last weekend my program took us to the south of France, where the palm trees and sunny afternoons reminded me of Oakland. We still had to wear jackets, but compared to frigid Paris it felt like summer. In my last post I put up a few pictures.
Oh, and I almost forgot! The other night I chopped a few inches off of my hair, and now it's amazingly curly. I still might go get it trimmed by a professional later, but for now it'll do. See the photo below.
Bisous!

New Year's and a trip to the South of France

2009-01-14T01:18:00.001-08:00

Nîce and its hilltop cemetary

This mannekin does not like her hat

I want to live here. View of one of Nîce's ports

Walking along the docks

Nîce

The Orangerie de Renoir, right outside his house in Cagnes-sur-mer, where he lived from 1907 until his death in 1919

View of a hilltop town from Renoir's house.

Sitting on the rocky beach of the Mediterranean in Nîce

Nîce's main market

Snowy Paris: view of the International House from my window.

The glowing Eiffle Tower, right before the clock struck midnight.

The Eiffle Tower, in all of its sparkling glory.

Man balancing a ball on top of his head while climbing a lamp pole at the base of the Sacre Coeur.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-28T05:40:00.000-08:00

A puppet show for children in Liège

The Grandparents

Dinner chez Eric and Marianne, my host Aunt and Uncle

Coraline, Marianne (my host-aunt) and myself, preparing the fuit salad

Christmas Eve table, complete with Racklette

Carolin(From Panama), Nicolas, Me, and Coraline

Jean-Pierre and Corinne(my host parents), Coraline, Carolin, et Moi.

Hello my dear friends and family, Monday, December 29, 2008

Merry Christmas! I’m back in Liège, Belgium with my host family for the holidays. Since September 6th I’ve been studying in Paris, which makes almost 4 months since I left home. I can’t believe the first semester here has almost come to an end. We have one more week of school after Christmas break, and then it’s the beginning of a new semester. New students will arrive to take part in the program, a second orientation for them will take place, and we’ll all choose our new classes for the spring.
Christmas here went by calmly. Christmas Eve we had Racklette, a feast of cheese and meat that you cook yourself on a little machine in the middle of the table. I've come to love the dish, ever since my stay in Belgium in 2005/6. The cheese is placed on little individual metal spatula-like things, which are then inserted into the machine and heated until the cheese is melted and bubbly. The meat is usually cooked on the grill on top of the machine. Once cooked, the meat and cheese are eaten on top of potatoes or bread, with other things like pickles and salad on the side. The dish is usually associated with ski, since it's fun to do but takes a long time to eat. Dinner was followed by a bûche de Noel, an icecream cake in the shape of a log.
My host brother, Nicolas, and his Panamanian wife came over for the evening, and after dinner we all opened presents until late at night. In Belgium, (and possibly in other parts of Europe as well) the presents are opened at night because the early morning stockings are replaced by a holiday that happens earlier in the year, called Saint Nicolas Day (December 6th). Christmas Eve we were 6 all together: my host parents, my host sister Coraline who is one year older than me and on her 3rd year of University, Nicolas (a year younger than me and in his first year of University), and his wife, Carolin. I've attached a couple photos from that night
Christmas day we all went over to my host uncle's house for a big lunch/dinner with the whole family. We ate deer and chestnuts, among other things, and then after dinner my host family and I went to go visit the great grandmother, who lives in an assisted living center. I hadn't, of course, seen her since I was last in Belgium, and she had no idea I was coming to visit. She recognized me right away however, and wanted to know all about what I was up to. She's 96 years old and has the most incredible memory. If her body weren't weak and bent over, I would never have thought she was older than 70!
Now that Christmas is over I'm finally starting to concentrate more on my homework. I really have not gotten very far. I've been spending most of my time reading comic books, walking around town, eating, and doing activities with Carolin, Nicolas' wife (who doesn't have any exams to do in January). I told myself I would finish this giant book on food and globalization while I was here, but so far I'm not even a third of the way through. I'm really going to have to bust my butt when I get back to Paris. My train leaves Tuesday at 7:49 in the morning, and it's not at all too soon, with all the work I have to do. It'll be sad to have to say goodbye to sleeping in, getting cooked for, watching movies, and having a constant supply of chocolate on hand though. That's one amazing thing about Belgium: it's the only country I've visited where the people are as crazy about chocolate as I am or more so. I'll have to bring some back to keep me going while I'm studying back in Paris.
Well, I should get back to work. Today I spent my morning downtown at la Batte, the big Sunday market in Liège. It was a beautiful morning. Since yesterday the clouds have left and the sun has come out, although with it came the cold. There's ice on the streets even at midday, with the sun shining like nothing else. I was pretty chilled by the time I got back to the house, but I think I can say I got my dose of vitamin D today.
Happy New Year and happy holidays to you all!
Love,

Rebecca

2008-12-09T13:08:00.000-08:00

classes and other things

2008-12-09T12:03:00.000-08:00

So another month has gone by. It's been getting very cold lately, and finally feels like winter. It snowed for the second time today. Thick, wet snowflakes that melt as soon as they touch the ground. It didn't snow for very long, but it was pretty while it lasted.
I should really write more often; it would make my blog posts a lot shorter and a lot easier to write. A lot has happened this month, but where do I start? I'll start with Thanksgiving, since that was the last big event.
Turkey day took place at an American restaurant in Paris, chosen by our program. Instead of starting the feast around 4pm, which would be traditional in the US, the program Europeanized the sacred meal and made the reservations for 7:30. The food, however, was very traditional: salad with corn, unripened tomatoes and a sweet vinaigrette, soggy green beans, dry turkey breast, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and pumpkin pie for dessert. It wasn't the meal I had hoped for, but the the party was fun anyway. There was live, cheesy American music performed by a French couple, and lots of wine to go around. Because it was an American holiday, the leaders of our program decided we should speak English instead of French, and so for the first time I got to hear the chief of the program, Monique Middleton, speak English in her thick French accent. There was an after party held by some of the students later, but I didn't think I could take any more wine...
Speaking of wine, mid-november was the festival of the Beaujolais Nouveau, the very first tasting of this year's wine. Light and fruity, this wine was the occaision for many a restaurant to put on large tastings. Our program took us to a tiny restaurant called the "Verre Volé" in the 10th district, that had been temporarily turned into a wine bar. It was jam-packed with people, but was well worth the trip because the wine and the hors-d'oeuvres served with it were amazing!
School's been going well. I really spend most of my time in art studios, and spend very little time doing homework for my academic classes. All academic classes in the Sarah Lawrence program have student-teacher conferences every other week where one can ask questions about the class and do an extra project on the side. In French class, my project has been to read Tintin books, and then write a two-page analysis on each. It's really just an excuse to reread Tintin's adventures and get credit for it, but the professor doesn't seem to care so long as I'm practicing my French.
Multicultural France class has been loads of fun lately. As part of the class each student has been giving a 20 oral presentation on the subject they are studying alongside the class's theme of immigration. My subject was food and globalization, and since I couldn't stand the idea of just standing and talking at the class in my bad French for 20 min., I went out and bought exotic salad ingredients and put together the salad during my presentation. The professor, a fantastic Congolese man and a well-known figure in France, listened patiently as I talked, and then excitedly tossed the salad for me as soon as it was ready. He wasn't shocked, as most Fench teachers would be that I brought food into the classroom, but on the contrary dug-into the salad as soon as he could and proceded to serve the rest of the class. I think he was glad to have something to keep him awake while we talked. At the end of class he suggested we bring wine to the next presentation! And we did...but that's another story.
Christmas break starts on December 20th an goes until January 4th. I can't wait. I'll be spending x-mas with my host family in Liege, Belgium, from when I spent my senior year there in high school. I am very excited to see them and the city after 2 1/2 years. Then, on December 30th I'm heading back to Paris to see the new-year's celebrations and finish my end-of-semester homework.
Sending warm wishes from Paris!
Love,

Rebecca

pics

2008-11-28T02:29:00.000-08:00

It's cold outside

2008-11-13T08:47:00.000-08:00

I’m sitting, looking out my window at Mexico. It really is an unfortunate looking building. My room is situated right in front of it, and from my window I can only see one side of the building, giving me the impression that the Fondation de Mexico is nothing more than an ugly tower instead of the long apartment building that it is. For weeks I thought the poor Mexicans were limited to this mini version of a sky-scraper, until one day I happened to walk by it and look up to see a whole lot of building that I had never known existed.
Beside Mexico, the trees are yellow-brown, as most have already lost their leaves. The weather has finally turned cold for what seems like for good. Out on the streets, Paris is on strike once again. Every other week, at least one group of workers from a variety of jobs in Paris decides that it is time to demonstrate their rights to good pay and benefits, for France is always in a state of revolution. The most noticeable strikes are those of the transportation workers, who simply stop running the metro, RER, bus, or tram, making these modes of transportation extremely unreliable at times. Boulevard Montparnasse, the large street off of which Reid Hall is situated, is a popular spot for demonstration. Today was the second time I’ve seen people parading down it, chanting, singing, and setting off fireworks that make a loud Boom! I don’t know what it was all about this time, but a couple weeks ago it was the hospital workers who were on strike. They even had a bunch of speakers that played dance music out into the streets.
The last couple of weeks have been very busy. All of a sudden I find myself with homework to do, which hasn’t been the case in quite awhile. I spent all of Tuesday researching the topic for a class presentation on immigration’s influence on French cuisine. Since class was cancelled, (it was Armistice Day) I had no reason to leave my room, so I just studied all day until around 5 o-clock, when I started going crazy and left the building to get some fresh air. I took the metro to the Luxembourg gardens and then walked to Notre Dame. The 6pm mass had just started when I got there, so I went in and sat down. It was beautiful. The heavy chords of organ music blended with the angelic voice of a young boy who sang between the bits of the mass that were chanted by the priest. The church was peaceful, and the people all seemed to be in good spirits. I think I’ll go back again soon.
Speaking of churches, I finally went to see the Sacré Coeur, that pretty white church on top of a hill in Paris that is always pictured on postcards. I had visited the last time I came to Paris, back in 2006, but I hadn’t been back since. It was lovely, as always, but even more stunning was the view from the hill. I was amazed at how far Paris stretched into the distance, and was excited to be able to point out several monuments from where I was. The area around Sacré Coeur (Montmartre) is very touristy. It used to be the home of most of Paris’ artists, although now it is much too expensive for most artists to live there, let alone get a studio there. I took a few pictures.
At the big commercial shopping center, Galerie Lafayette, they’ve already put up lights and decorations for Christmas. It’s very pretty. It reminded me how close Thanksgiving is, and how I won’t be spending it with family this year. Our program was thoughtful enough to make plans for us to eat at a special restaurant the night of Thanksgiving, although it just won’t be the same… Halloween wasn't really the same either. There was a Halloween dance down in the basement of the Fondation, and some shops put up decorations, but other than that the French don't really celebrate the holliday. On November 1st, however, they all go and visit their ancestors and loved ones that lie in the graveyard, and put flowers on their graves. The graveyards suddenly become bright with color and busy with visitors.
Oh, and I almost forgot about the elections! Everyone in France is very happy with the results, as you can imagine. If France could have voted in our election, they would have, and they probably would have had a higher voter turn out than we did too. The night of the elections I went to a Jazz club and then stayed up until 3 in the morning watching the news reports on a laptop computer with my Sarah Lawrence friends. For the entire week afterwards, people in both of my art classes congratulated me on Obama’s election, and burst out with the occasional “Yes we can!”. I was very touched. I don’t want to imagine how I would have been treated as an American if McCain had won. Obama’s face covered at least 10 pages in Le Monde that Wednesday, as well as in every other newspaper that came out that day. The excitement still hasn’t really died down, either. Today I read an article about a black man running for some position in French government, and above his picture was the phrase, “yes we can!”
I miss you and love you all. Happy November from Paris!

Se sont les vacances

2008-10-27T06:00:00.000-07:00

My, how I miss you all.
This week is fall break for the Sarah Lawrence Program. For me, it means little more than not having to go to French class and my Multicultural France Seminar. The art studios are still open, so I still have to go put in my hours as usual. It will be nice though, to focus only on art for once.
Even though I have oogles of free time, I still find it hard to make myself get out of my room and explore the city. There's just so much to see and visit that I don't really know where to start. It's so easy to get into a pattern of just going to the same places every week: The Cité, Reid Hall, the art studios, and back to the Cité again.
This weekend, I did managed to get out and about a little though. Saturday I went to the Louvre with my SLC buddies and Katie from Mills. It was a nice, light visit of the Louvre since we were only there for a couple of hours, and it was very enjoyable because none of us had any expectations to see the whole thing. As students we all have year-long passes to the Louvre, so we can go there whenever we want, however many times we want. It's amazing how much less stressfull the Louvre becomes when it's free! This time we sort of wandered into the ancient Egyptian collection. We gawked at painted sarcophogi, ancient tools and jewelry, and took pictures of statues that reminded us of people we knew. Here's one that resembles someone in our program... but I won't say who.

On our way out we stopped at Starbucks and watched French students enjoying their large, over-expensive cups of sweetened coffee drinks. However much I detest Starbucks as a corporation, I have to admit that there's something wonderful about being able to order a huge, iced and creamy cup of caffinated sugar, or even just a large coffee for that matter. Here coffee is served strong, condensed into little mini cups that look like they're made for a child's tea set. It's generally very good and very strong, but it's a bit like taking shots. Nowhere can I find a nice big milky version that I can sip for hours on a cold morning.
Sunday I finally made a call that I've been meaning to make since I arrived. I called up my friend Zara, a woman from Niger that I met back when I was an exchange student in Belgium, visiting Paris. She was a friend of my host mother's, who lived in Africa for several years. Zara married a French man and moved to Paris, and has been living here ever since with her husband and now three beautiful children. When I called her up she proposed an outing for the afternoon, and an hour later we were on the metro, on our way to l'arc de la défense, an area of Paris that I had never seen before. Below are a few pictures...
.....or there WOULD be, if the internet would only work!!!!!
While I'm at it, here are a few more photos from Paris.
The first is of the Luxembourg gardens, in front of the palace of the Senate. The next one is of the back of the old Paris opera house, Opera Garnier.

Autumn

2008-10-16T08:40:00.000-07:00

It's fall in Paris. The leaves are changing colors in the parks and on tree-lined streets. Despite the best efforts of the street cleaners to keep the sidewalks free, the leaves keep falling. In the Garden of Luxembourg, the largest and most cared for park in Paris, the ground is littered with crumpled brown leaves and round, hard chestnuts from what seems to be Paris' favorite tree. Along big important streets they are carved into square shapes, for a tidy, formal, and very geometrical look. In the summer they are great for shade, and in the fall they provide street vendors with something roast and sell to tourists. Kids enjoy picking them up and throwing them around, and I like having something to kick absentmindedly as I walk to class.
The sky has been getting greyer, too, and there's been a lot of that light-but-constant rain that I saw so much of in Oregon.
For the past couple of weeks I've mostly been going to classes and hanging out with my Sarah Lawrence friends here at the Cité. There are 6 of us living at the Fondation Americaine, and it's starting to feel like a little family. We often get together in the evenings to cook dinner or drink tea in one of the little kitchens that are located on every floor. We've even had a couple of crêpe nights, (which in my opinion are really just a reason to eat a lot of nutella), and I'm starting to get pretty good at flipping crepes by tossing them in the air. None of them have gotten stuck to the cieling yet, but there's always a chance...
Oh, and I almost forgot about the cabbage! Thank you all for all of your wonderful suggestions. I finally finished off Mr. Cabbage in a stir-fry at the beginning of this week. He got put into soups, fry-ups, salads, and whatever else I could squeeze him into. I still can't believe how well it lasted. It's been almost a month since I bought the thing, but every time I went down to the fridge it was still firm and leafy-green. No wonder cabbage is what people eat during famines in cold, northern places. It lasts forever!
For classes, I finally ended up taking a print-making class, a painting class, a seminar at Reid Hall called "Multicultural France," and, of course, French. The painting class is in a little Atelier about 45 min. away from the Cité, with a model who comes in daily and 2 still-lifes set up for students to paint at any time. It's a crowded studio, with unfortunately many Americans as students, but the people are nice and I think I can do pretty much whatever I want there.
My print-making class is a ton of fun. The work is meticulous and takes a lot of patience but the ambiance in the studio is great. The students are mostly older, and very nice. I've made friends with a woman who is also a beginner like myself, and whose children both live in the US. The leaders of the studio are really the ones who give it it's character though. The head boss, Joelle, is an older lady who is very loud, opinionated, and has a rather dirty mouth. She doesn't think twice about swearing if she finds the coffee cups sitting dirty by the sink, or chewing out her poor assistant, Nicolas, for almost anything that isn't to her liking. She isn't really mean, though, she just doesn't worry about trying to be polite. This can sometimes put everyone a little on edge, but on the whole it's quite hilarious.
Besides classes, I have had a chance to do a few activities on my own. I've gone twice to this enormous flea market in the North of Paris, where they sell everything from antiques to the latest fashion knock-off. It's crowded, but fun. Last week I went with Katie(from Mills), who's taking a break from school to spend a year living and working in Paris! She's very courageous; I wouldn't have had the guts to go without a program.
The week before last the mother of the two boys I tutor in English invited me to dinner, which was very kind, and it ended up being a huge feast lasting until 11:30 or so at night.
Hmm... Well, I've got to go to class, but I love you all and will write again soon!

Cabbage soup

2008-09-25T14:39:00.000-07:00

Hello, mes chèrs amis!
Things have been going peachily. Today was an extra good day. This morning I went out to the bakery, bought myself a baguette, made myself a super-duper sandwich, and then left for Reid Hall where Sarah Lawrence classes are.
Today we had a class on art and architecture in Paris, which was really interesting, and then we had lunch, French class, and finally a visit to the Atelier de Gravure, in other words a print-making studio!!!
This studio, unlike most, is located pretty close to the Cité Universitaire, on a cute little street full of busy boulangeries, boucheries, fruit stands, and other shops. The studio itself is small, but packed with print-making machines and materials. The two leaders of the studio were really kind and unpretentious, and spent most of the time joking with the head of my Program, Monique. It seemed like a really fun environment. The artwork they showed us was amazing. I felt like signing up right then and there! I still have to work it out with my other classes, though. I'll sign up next week.
Classes start on Monday. Yay! I'm excited to have a more normal life; orientation has been a little exhausting.
I want to take Print-making, painting, French, and a seminar called "Multicultural France." It doesn't sound like much, but I think I'll basically be living in the art studios. I have to be there 8 hours a week for printmaking, and 6 hours for painting. It should be fun though.
This evening I made myself soup for the first time here. It was very satisfying, since lately I've just been too tired in the evening to do anything more than make tea. The tale of this soup started a few days ago, however:
Last Saturday, on my way back from tutoring I found a huge and very cheap supermarket, so I went inside. I've been trying to buy healthy foods, to combat my diet of white bread (baguettes) and chocolate croissants, and so I went straight to the veggie area. The amount of money I've been spending recently is scary, so I was looking for CHEAP veggies. I finally came upon these extra green, enourmous cabbages, and something in my head said "Why not? THIS looks healthy!"
So anyway, this giant green vegetable has been sitting all week, taking up the entire bottom shelf of the communal fridge in the basement, waiting for me to be inspired by its healthy leafy-ness. Tonight I finally had the courage to take it out, take off a few of the outer leaves, and turn them into a stew, along with a few other more tastey items. It was good, and there was enough left over to save for tomorrow night. The rest of the uncooked cabbage, however, is still lurking in the depths of the downstairs fridge...
If anyone has good cabbage recipes, please let me know!
Sending love from France!

Travels around Paris

2008-09-23T14:24:00.001-07:00

1. cruise on a tourist boat

2. Eiffel Tower and Sarah Lawrence students

3. Eiffel Tower wearing sunglasses

4. Center Les Halles, from a walk around Paris

5. Lauren and I, looking shady

Les jours du Patrimoine

2008-09-20T12:13:00.000-07:00

It's with great relief that I greet this weekend. The Sarah Lawrence Program is great, but I need a few days of me time to do my grocery shopping, some touristy traveling around Paris, read/reply to emails, send postcards, and write in this blog! Thank you for all the lovely comments by the way; I miss you all.
Well, this week seemed to go by pretty fast. We've started our French classes, which are pretty fun. My class has a very good professor, who has us do silly things like try to read out loud in French with a pencil in our mouths, in order to work the mouth muscles that us English-speakers don't usually use. It sounds ridiculous, but actually works!
On Tuesday I went with our group to sign up for a French bank account. It cost 1 euro for a student account. We barely fit into their little office, but after we each signed and dated about 15 papers that all looked the same, they smiled and told us that we'd receive our debit cards in a week.
On Thursday afternoon I got to visit my first atelier de peinture (painting studio). It was a long and complicated metro ride, and when we got there it sadly wasnt' what I had hoped. It was a smallish room opening onto a courtyard, with what looked like children's paintings covering the walls. We later learned that the Atelier had recently put on a show, displaying everyone's latest work. The two leaders of the Atelier, an artistic couple, talked to us about their theory of discovering the creative spirit in people, and finding different ways of letting the imagination go and just having fun. This was all fine and dandy, but as a technical artistic education it won't do. This wasn't the strict, serious studio art training that I had expected to find in France. Here, their classes are not set up the same way as in US colleges. There is no "class" that you go to twice a week where a professor walks around telling you what to do. Instead, Sarah Lawrence art students are required to spend a total of 6 hours at a studio a week in order to make it the equivilant of one US art class. Somehow, I can't see myself taking a 45 minute metro ride several times a week just to do art in an Atelier. Not unless it's something that requires special equipment, like a printmaking or sculpture class. Oh well, we'll be visiting more Ateliers this coming week, so maybe I'll find one that suits me.
Also on Thursday, I did my first tutoring job! Remember that woman who I asked for directions, and who came back a couple minutes later to ask if I would tutor her kids in English? Well, I finally did. On Thursday I tutored her eldest son who is in his first year of University, and yesterday (Sat.) I got to tutor them both. It was fun. The older kid is hard to tutor because he is so advanced, but he is very nice. The younger kid, who is 14, was kind of awkward but easier to tutor.
This weekend is what Parisians call "Les jours du Patrimoine," an annual event where buildings that are normally closed off to the public are opened, and free for people to visit. Even the Palais de l'Elysée, the French equivilant to the White House, was open. The only catch is that everyone and their uncle comes out for this event. The Parisians are very proud of their town, and very appreciative of nice architecture and a chance to visit it. The lines for more important buildings could be several kilometers long, and even after a five hour wait there was a chance that you would never make it inside before it closed. I went Saturday morning with another student from the Cité Universitaire, Cyril, to try our chances at visiting one of these buildings. After seeing the line at the Elysée, we walked around and found one that was much shorter outside of a building called the Hôtel de Beauvau. We had no idea what was inside, but after about an hour and a half wait we entered, to find that it was the seat of the Ministère de l'Intérieur. It turned out to be great. The building, which is used daily for business matters, was absolutely beautiful and richly decorated. A little further into our visit we were taken to a room up on the 3rd or 4th story, which happened to be the place where French resistants of the German occupation during the 2nd World War were held captive and questioned by the Gestapo! It was a tiny room, covered with writings and drawings carved into the walls by the prisoners. One of the quotes said, "It's between these grimy walls that fought the real heart of France." I felt very lucky to have been able to visit such an important place.
Today we are going to go on a touristy boat ride on the Seine. I'm very excited.
A plus tard!
Bisous!

A few photos

2008-09-17T23:29:00.000-07:00

1. Market at Aix en Provence
2. View of the Mediterranean from the port of Cassis
3. Streets of Cassis
4. View of Marseille from a hilltop
5. Olive orchard near the place where Van Gogh spent most of his life
6. Roman Coliseum in Nîce
7. View of the countryside from les Beaux de Provence, a Medieval town on top of a scraggly rock
8. View of le Beaux de Provence

First week

2008-09-16T06:39:00.000-07:00

Bonjour tout le monde,

It's been so long that I don't even know where to start. After a busy week of orientation, I spent Friday through Monday in the South of France with Sarah Lawrence. It was an amazing trip; we saw many beautiful sights, visited many beautiful cities, and ate some pretty darn amazing food. The trip was exhausting though. Our leader was Madame Mole, an art history professor for the Sarah Lawrence program in Paris. She was from the south of France herself, and was energetic to the extreme. I don't think I saw her sleep a wink the entire trip. She tended to dress all in black, her white hair contrasting with her stark costume. She would walk fast, pointing out interesting architecture to those few who kept up with her, and although what she said was often interesting, I think people started tuning her out after the first two days.
Madam Mole planned the trip schedule, which often included visiting 3 cities in one day, and an art museum in each one. We visited Montpellier, Nimes, Aix-en-Provence, Cassis, Marseille, Villeneuve les Avignon, and Avignon. The schedule was often so packed that we had little or no free time to explore the cities ourselves, although there are quite a few that I would like to go back to. The only other thing that bothered me about the trip was how much it felt like we were a middle school group going on a field trip. We were constantly being told to stay out of the road and watch out for cars, not to touch the paintings in the musuems, to guard our purses, and other things of that sort. It felt as though they didn't trust us to act as the adults that we are, and I was not the only one who was frustrated and slightly insulted by this.
That having been said, it was a fantastic trip. I've uploaded a few photos of my room here and of several cities in the South. Enjoy!

Et ça commence...

2008-09-09T14:03:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone,
During the past couple of days I've been doing a lot of what the French call flâner: to take a walk with no precise destination. I get myself lost very easily this way, but people are very helpful in giving directions, and I also get to see a lot of Parisian street life. I've run into an open air market, discovered some useful shops, and had the chance to try out several bakeries.
I'm starting to get used to life here. Today I learned where the laundry room is, and how to do it. In order to use the machines one has to buy a special tab/coin at the cashier's office, and then take that to the laundry room and insert it into the machine. Also, for my dear friends at Mills who have complained about the prices for doing laundry in the dorms, I ask you not to feel so put out. Here it costs 2.50 euros for a load of wash, and 1.50 to dry. I think I may be hand washing and drying a lot of my stuff.
Today was also the beginning of the Sarah Lawrence program. I took the metro for the first time this morning since I arrived, which was fast but stressful because of the amount of people all rushing rushing rushing to get to wherever they were going. Despite my best efforts, I still managed to be late to the 9:00 meeting at Reid Hall. I haven't yet bought a map, and the street that Reid Hall is located on is very small. No one seems to know where it is. After leaving the metro I had to ask half a dozen people for help before I encountered a kind lady with a map. It turned out to be just a couple of streets away. One of the first people I asked for directions was a woman in her 40's. She didn't know the street even though she lived in the area, but after hurrying on her way she returned a couple of minutes later to where I was still standing bewildered, and proceeded to ask me if I would be willing to tutor her kids in English. Apparently, my accent isn't as good as I thought it was. She said she had a Canadian girl the year before, but she recently returned home, and now Madame needed to find a new tutor. By this time I really was late, and to be honest I have no idea what my schedule will be like this year or how much time classes will take. I don't even know if it's legal for me to take a job like that here. She gave me her contact information however, and I told her I'd call her by Wednesday.
Once I did get to Reid Hall, I was not the only student who showed up late. Thank goodness. The leaders of the program welcomed us, bombarded us with lots and lots of information, and finally let us go at around 5:00 so that we could eat and sleep before tomorrow's French placement exam. Before I do go to bed though, I'll give a few details of the program. I will be taking 4 classes each semester, all of which will be in French. 2 of those classes will be studio art classes for me, since it's my major, and I will take them at a French art institute(I still don't know where yet; classes don't start until the 1st of October). The other 2 classes will be Sarah Lawrence seminars, on some topic of my choosing, that will take place at Reid Hall, and that will count towards my French major. We choose our classes tomorrow. I'm very excited.
Well, it is once again past my bed time. I promise that I will upload some pictures soon for all of you to see.
Good night!

First day

2008-09-07T07:34:00.000-07:00

Saturday, September 6, 2008

I did it! I’m in Paris! After about 15 hours of flight, 4 different airports, and a trip on the Paris RER train system I arrived at 10am this morning, exhausted and a little bit dazed, in front of the American house (Fondation des Etats-Unis) on the campus of the Cité Internationale Universitaire of Paris. Here is my new address and phone number:

Rebecca Waterhouse
Fondation des Etats-Unis
15, boulevard Jourdan
75014 Paris FRANCE

Phone: 01-53-08-7330

My dear friend Chelsea drove me to the airport at 3AM (Thank you Chelse!!!) so that I could be there the recommended 3 hours before my flight. When we got there the airport was pretty much empty, and I waited with a couple of other travelers until 4:30 when the staff arrived to check us in. My first flight was from Oakland to Denver, then Denver to Washington, and from there to Paris.
The flights went pretty well, although I think I will avoid flying with United again. They’re cheap, but there’s a reason. Their service has gotten pretty terrible. They’ve cut back on things like food and drink and blankets. If you find one on your seat, lucky you. Otherwise you have to fend for youself. I spent 2 of my flights freezing to death. I felt a little sorry for the staff, too; on my last flight there were 4 flight attendants to 300 people. The French lady sitting next to me got very upset when she was forced to eat her airplane meal without any wine because they took so long to bring the drink wagon to us. She said “what kind of a place serves you food without wine?!” How very French!
My first flight was from Oakland to Denver, then
The Fondation building is very pretty on the outside; ivy-covered brick, with red curtains in all of the windows. Inside, the halls of the dormitory are pretty stark, but the rooms themselves aren’t bad. Upon entering the Fondation I was given keys to my room and mailbox, and a pamphlet of information about the building. I am on the 4th story, looking out onto a tree-covered campus and the Fondation of Mexico. Wireless internet is free here (although I have not yet managed to log into the system yet) and each room has a phone from which we can receive calls for free. To make calls, minutes can be bought at a relatively low price. Since it is the weekend I will have to wait, though, as their office is closed. There is a kitchen on every floor, and a common room in the basement that I have not yet visited.
I think that will be taking advantage of the kitchens; after getting settled I went to get something to eat at the Cafeteria in the main building on campus, and was a little disappointed. The main cafeteria seems to be closed until October and the café where I ate had little to choose from besides fried food and baguette sandwiches. It was cheap, but would get old very fast.
There are 40 different dormitory buildings on the campus of the Cité, admitting students of over 130 different nationalities. I don’t think I will have trouble staying active here. Already today I have seen a lot of students out biking, walking and running on the campus, and I think I saw two gyms marked on the map. After eating, I went for a walk around the campus and surrounding areas. I found a grocery store very close by, and got myself some shampoo and laundry soap. I walked a little farther and to my delight I discovered a boulangerie, where I promptly bought a chocolate croissant, which was perfectly crispy and wonderfully buttery. With that, I accomplished goal number 1 of this trip. I have sorely missed European pastry shops.
I have so much more to say, but for now this will have to do. I love you all and send hope to hear from you soon!
Later I'll post some pictures.

A blog of my own

2008-09-04T00:36:00.000-07:00

Well, I created the blog, but now I'm too tired to write. Until tomorrow then...