Pour vraiment découvrir une ville, il faut qu’on marche beaucoup.
Walking. Walking. More walking. And even more walking. But that’s what exploring a city (or any location, for that matter) entails: walking, walking, and more walking. I’ve walked so much I’ve literally worn holes in my shoes. But it’s fabulous nonetheless. I have probably walked more in the past several days than I have in my entire life. And it’s been pretty amazing.
I suppose the vocab word of this entry is a bit of a cop-out, being so similar to the last one. (And for those of you with knowledge of French grammatical structures, I guess my sentence is a cop-out too, since the subjunctive forms looks the same as the indicative. But every verb I wanted to use was a simple –ER verb, so there went that. Oh well.) But it still holds true: even since the last entry I have learned a lot, discovered a lot, explored a lot. And it’s been both eye-opening and fun.
I also have to apologize for the sheer length of this entry—very huge, I know. But I wasn’t able to get a last one out before our Tours program ended and our travels across the Benelux area (sans Luxemburg) have been very busy and characterized by spotty internet access. Hopefully it’s not too boring! In retrospect I guess the vocab word of the entry should be “être occupé(e)”, or “to be busy”. Because we really have been busy. Very, very busy. I should also apologize for the lack of pictures, since its late right now and it takes forever for the pictures to load, and I have to wake up in approximately 4 and a half hours to catch a plane.
I feel as if I need at least one paragraph describing the sheer awesomeness of the Loire. I’ve always liked rivers and other large bodies of water but I’ve never really lived within walking distance of one before and I’ve discovered that it’s rather phenomenal. Just a river, maybe, but I can see why people love rivers so much. There’s something soothing about the sound of running water, and the calm, placid blue-green of drifting currents. One can take solace underneath a tree by its banks, in the shade, for any number of hours—attempting to do homework, talking with friends, picking flowers, throwing sticks in the river to see how fast the current is going, gushing over how cute the baby ducks are, or just watching the river. And the clouds. I have been by the Loire in several different weather conditions, at several different times in the day, and in various situations. It’s beautiful regardless. I even like the way it smells, almost like the sea. It makes you feel less touristy (a feeling I suppose most exchange students encounter rather frequently) to have a place like a river to sit beside, and several hours in which you can do nothing. Albeit a productive sort of nothing.
Now that I have exposed my inner hippie with a paragraph replete with “rainbow comments”, as described by my sister, I suppose I ought to get to the meat of what studying abroad really entails. Which is a lot of walking, haha. Though you quickly discover that walking is rather pleasant. And necessary to work off the calories from the various delicious things you have eaten/imbibed, including but not limited to flan, crepes, viennoises, macarons, pistachio croissants, quiches, balisto bars, nutella, ice cream, and beignets.
Wednesday brought a spectacle organized by the Institut, which essentially consisted of a talent show at La Guingette, in which various students performed various things (songs, dances, even tae kwon do). It was enjoyable and also quite amusing to people watch, gauging the reactions of the French locals, the teachers that were there, and other whatnot. Thursday consisted mostly of school and an amazing cheese and wine class that our program director had organized for us, in which we were introduced to the fabulous world of fancy cheese and fine wine courtesy of a former sommelier, the “wine waiter” at very fancy restaurants. We learned all sorts of things (such as three different words to describe a state of inebriation, how to judge if a red wine is young, and the history of cheeses from different regions), and even better, we got to taste what we had learned. C’est genial! And so delicious. I don’t even like wine very much but these selections were quite good. They must have been rather expensive, haha. I unfortunately had to leave early (though I really only missed the Roquefort and the camembert, the least tasty and apparently most smelly of the cheeses), but everything I had was delicious.
Friday marked the beginning of a very hectic (but very enjoyable) weekend. After taking an oral comprehension exam which made us all rethink why on Earth we were studying French, a few of us packed up and began a voyage to the wonderful world of Versailles, via rental car. It was quite an adventure, of course, considering that our method of transport was a tiny (but surprisingly comfortable) stick shift Renault model that was adorably named Twingo, none of us were well-acquainted with the French roads, and two among us are certainly not the poster children for navigational competence. (Thank goodness for Charissa and Jennifer.) We discovered that French roads are well-paved, well-signed (beaucoup de panneaux), and apparently quite lucrative, given the enormous fee we had to pay at a toll. Wow. We got to Versailles without any major incidents (although it did take us a little bit to figure out how to get out of Tours), but did have to call our hostel three times to ask for directions. All the transactions were in French, which was scary but probably a good experience. When we finally checked into our hostel (a very nice if very empty place), we quickly went by foot to Versailles. Where we walked. And walked. And walked.
For those of you who don’t realize, Versailles is huge. Gargantuan huge. Monstrous huge. HUGE huge. But rather amazingly huge. I have never before seen stables that resemble parliament buildings before, haha. But it’s absolutely gorgeous as well, although gorgeous in a very showy, ostentatious way, not the way I’d ever decorate my house. It’s sort of like the Louvre—a place it would probably take two weeks to adequately explore, and filled with so much amazingly interesting sensory-overload-inducing stuff that it is liable to make one dizzy. The history of the place was quite interesting as well, with all the statues and throne rooms and chandeliers and royal chambers. It was rather odd to note that only a few rooms had huge crowds of people; hardly anyone took the time to linger in king’s chambers or Marie Antoinette’s bedroom. And I hadn’t realized that the grounds of Versailles were quite so large as well—we walked and walked and walked through hedge pathways in off and on rain, saw several fountains, and trekked all the way to Marie Antoinette’s shepherdess cottage only to find out that it was closed, as was every food stand we came across. We must have walked several miles, but it was certainly worth it—Versailles was absolutely amazing. And we better earned our deliciously scrumptious dinner.
On Saturday Mark, Charissa, and Jennifer went to the gardens of Giverny to see Monet’s house and the inspiration for several of his paintings, while I went into Paris to meet with my friend Chris and his family during their family vacation. It was quite fun, and I feel like I grew more in that one day traveling for the most part alone than I did during the three previous days I had spent in Paris. Even before I met up with my friends for lunch I discovered several important things:
· The advice given in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy about always bringing a towel is actually a really great idea. Especially when the hostel you’re staying in doesn’t furnish them. Additionally, remembering to take your umbrella out of your backpack when you decide to gallivant around Paris in questionably bipolar weather is likewise a splendid idea. And hand sanitizer is a must as well.
· It’s a good idea to bring a jacket. Just in case the friend who’s borrowed your cardigan (*cough Mark cough*) forgets to bring it, haha. I was definitely besieged with a case of “the best laid plans…” this past weekend when I decided that I would wear a rather cute sleeveless dress to go to Paris. The goal: to look as French as possible, since the last time I went to Paris I probably looked excruciatingly touristy. I wanted to blend in and perhaps be mistaken as a native, at least before I opened my mouth, haha. However, the day I went to Paris also happened to be one of the coldest days of my stay thus far, and said outfit was not the brightest idea in the whole wide world. It also made me a little more noticeable (probably not a good thing in the big city), since I’m sure people were probably thinking I was crazy for not dressing weather-appropriately.
· The Carousel under the Louvre, a giant subterranean shopping mall, is warm and has bathrooms. They are expensive bathrooms, but depending upon the amount of stress you are facing can be worth it. The warmth was much appreciated as well.
· Paris is full of creepy people. And scammers. And street hawkers. I don’t know if I missed all of this the first time because we were visiting during off-day in May rather than a Saturday in summer or because I traveled in a group rather than by myself, but I don’t think I’ve been accosted more often in my entire life. Starting from right when I got off the train at the Musée D’Orsay.
· The Rue de Rivoli is a long, long street. I know it because I walked up and down its length several times while trying to find my friends and became quite well acquainted the various bumps and unfortunately placed air vents along the sidewalk.
· To call US-based cell phones, even if they’re in Europe, one adds the prefix of +1 rather than just 1. Knowing this, along with exactly how a person can put a plus sign using a rather strangely constructed keypad, is quite useful, especially after you’ve spent a good chunk of time trying to unsuccessfully call a friend.
· Brochures for Alsace/Strasbourg make good improvised umbrellas.
· It is not a good idea to walk over the air vents on the Rue de Rivoli sidewalks if you are wearing a dress.
· It is much cheaper to take the train from Versailles to Paris than from Tours to Paris. And it’s a double-decker train!!! I didn’t even know they made those.
· Most tourists seem to be Anglophones. I was so proud of myself when I formulated questions in French, only to be disappointed when the American/British/Canadian tourists stared blankly back at me like I was crazy.
At any rate, after finally landing in Paris, I went to the Musee D’Orsay. Or rather, stood outside and admired the building and the gargantuan line in front. I was planning to use the two or so hours before I was going to meet my friends to see the impressionist paintings, but then realized that the lines looked enormous so made up my mind to go elsewhere. I skipped on over (or rather did the cold person “I’m freezing and so will walk briskly” walk) across the river to the Louvre, hung out in the Carousel a little bit, noticed the huge lines (Tourist Tip #1: Saturdays in the summer are SUPER crowded for museum visits), and decided to take a brief adventure to the Paris Opera House, which was fun. Upon my return I waited/walked/had a little adventure along the rue de Rivoli in off-and-on rain, and then finally managed to get in touch with Chris and his family.
We had a lovely lunch at a café close to the Louvre, and then walked from the Louvre to the Opera House and Galeries Lafayette, enjoying delicious French pastries on the way. I had never really walked around outside that area of Paris before (map-less Kali much preferred to use the metro, haha), so that was really neat, and we had the opportunity to talk a great deal and share our first impressions of French life and much of what it entails, including but not limited to style, food, plumbing, and the fact that you can take your dog nearly everywhere, it seems. My friends were quite the adventures, participating on a tour that took them literally across ten countries. It seemed quite hectic but very much enjoyable, although I would probably be frazzled all the time if I were on a trip like that. It was a very enjoyable day, though, meeting friends in Paris. J
After my friends departed to rejoin their tour group, I wandered through the Galeries Lafayette to evade the rain and also around Montmartre to see some of the sights I missed the first time I went to Paris, such as the Moulin Rouge. Following the advice of someone who actually knew where to go, I got off at the Pigalle stop, one stop before the Abbesses stop for Sacre Coeur. Though these two stops on the metro are actually in close proximity of one another, their characters are entirely different. The Abbesses stop: Sacre Coeur, artsy, artisanal, full of cafés, street vendors, and musicians. The Pigalle stop: Sex shop, sex shop, sex museum, random Monoprix (the French equivalent of Target, pretty much), sex shop, sex shop, sex movie theatre, random pharmacy, yet another sex shop. It was quite interesting, to say the least. And I got to see the Moulin Rouge! Something tells me that it is not quite the bohemian place it once was, however, if the lowest price for a show is 90 euro. I also, after much searching and asking questions (mostly of people who looked at me like I was crazy), finally found the Lapin Agile, a landmark with some personal connection, haha. (If it were open, I would have been very tempted to ask for an e-shaped pie…) I met a Canadian tourist and spoke more French with him than I think I had with any actual French person that day, and walked back around Sacre Coeur, successfully evaded a scam, at a crêpe with honey, and rode on the famous (two-story!) carousel at the bottom of the hill. A very fun day. Apparently there were protests going on and the streets were blockaded and somehow I completely missed it, haha.
It was only in getting back to Tours that I learned (the hard way) an important lesson: the last TGV train from Paris leaves at 7:30. I think I may have gotten around to Montparnasse around this time or maybe five or ten minutes later, but had absolutely no idea what to do, and so went on quite an adventure attempting to buy tickets from the machines and standing in three different lines. I finally got in the right line and found out I had missed the last TGV by under thirty minutes, and then had to take the 10:50 train from Paris-Austerlitz to Tours, and got back at 1:00 in the morning. So traveling tip #2: Be aware of the train schedules. Especially given that when the sun goes down, a relatively chilly day becomes absolutely frigid. A 20ish minute walk from the train station home a little after 1:00 in the morning (I learned that they close the train station at that time in Tours…also good to know?) is not exactly fun. But an edifying experience, I should hope?
The rest of the week went by in a big blur…working on our final projects. Going to the Fête de la Musique. Going on the last excursion to Chaumont. The final dinner/night with my host family. Packing. And then our crazy-but-oh-so-awesome adventures gallivanting around Europe!
Before details on the Eurotripping experiences, a few things to describe about our last week. The Fête de la Musique is an incredibly awesome but very crowded giant festival of music (hence the name) that pretty much occurs all over France, in many towns and cities, on the same day, the day of the summer solstice. And the day after this giant music festival, there are the soldes—pretty much the equivalent of our Black Friday, when everyone goes out and buys things. At this time of the year new prices are set, and old merchandise is sold at 50-70% off the original price. Tourist trip #3: If you are a shopaholic, then make sure you’re in France in time for the soldes. But the music festival was amazing! In the space of a few blocks walking from my host family’s house to Place Plum’ I encountered reggae, hip hop/DJ mixing, hard rock, and Celtic…later on there were a host of other genres as well, little groups on every street corner, each with a different style. Techno, electronic, traditional, punk, gospel, swing, rock, pop, latin—you name it and it was probably there. It was amazing! So fantastic.
Chaumont, the last château we visited, was equally fantastic. The castle itself was very interesting (it sort of melded the story of the original inhabitants and those that lived there in the 1920s), but what was really phenomenal was the collection of gardens—a set of 24 concept gardens that were true works of art. Most were commentaries about the future of the environment, which was also very neat, and most were absolutely gorgeous. I felt like I had died and gone to flower heaven, and used up the entirety of my camera’s memory card taking pictures, pretty much. So amazing! Lovely cottage gardens, a plant hospital, several “gardens of the future”, etc. Very very fun. That, and the fun times out a café with our USC group, made Wednesday quite lovely.
And then there was Thursday, the last full day in Tours. It was sad, a little bit, all of the goodbyes—saying goodbye to my host family, to all of the interesting people we’d met in our classes and elsewhere. So many friends made! Thank goodness for facebook and the like, for now we’ll be able to keep in touch. I like that my host family told me goodbye with “à bientôt” (essentially “see you soon!”), telling me to let them know whenever I’d be in France again.
Then there was Friday, spending the morning in Tours (a slightly hectic amalgam of last classes, croissants, mailing packages—and discovering that the post office does indeed open at 9:00 instead of 8:00—last minute packing, and final goodbyes) and then the start of an amazingly exhausting and exhaustingly amazing few days gallivanting across Europe. It was only Mark and I this time; Chance was going to join us, but stayed in Tours a few extra days at the invitation of his host family to help out with an art/crafts exhibition they were putting on. I think the two of us are now pretty much masters of train navigation, I do believe. On Friday we went on three trains to get to Bruges (seeing the interior of many stations), and finally arrived a little after 8:00. Belgian train stations seem to be much nicer than Parisian train stations—cleaner and with more escalators. We actually got to our hostel without too much difficulty, thanks to the efforts of a nice and talented bus driver, who rocketed around the narrow streets as if he were driving a tiny Smartcar rather than a huge piece of public transportation. After checking in, we explored Bruges a little bit by night, enjoyed some delicious moules frites (or mosselen friet in Flemish, I think) in white wine sauce, walked around a little more, and returned to our hostel.
It’s hard to pick a favorite city in Europe, but Bruges comes close. It’s so much more laid-back and calm than Paris or London, and it’s smaller, and the shops may close earlier, but there’s no lack of things to do. It’s absolutely brimming with attractions, but without the sensory overload that accompanies other major cities. Bruges (or Brugge in West Flemish, apparently the least understood dialect of Dutch) is an ancient port city, filled with canals and old buildings. After some early morning exploring (discovering that there are indeed magical boulangeries in Belgium), we went on a free walking tour of the city hosted by someone from the hostel (which was fun AND educational, my favorite combination), toured the famous belfry/treasure storage, walked around, shopped a little bit, walked some more, discovered a cool music festival, and walked again. And, of course, we indulged in some of the local cuisine: waffles and chocolate, of course. I think we walked around almost the entirety of the city, and met some really interesting fellow Americans from our hostel. The language situation in Bruges was a little odd—I definitely expected to speak more French, since it was in Belgium, but Bruges is in Flanders so all I heard was West Flemish, English, and the other languages of tourists (Spanish, German, etc).
Sunday morning we left Bruges for Amsterdam. In the Bruges railroad station I soon discovered why the Londoners were so adamant about the “mind the gap between the train and the platform” announcement every time a train pulled up to a station. I definitely became a poster child for what happens to people who a) forget this message or b) are incredibly clumsy, as was the case for me. I was trying to put my suitcase on the train, slipped a little bit, tried to get my bearings again, and completely missed the step, somehow wedging one leg in that much-forewarned-of gap between the train and the platform. It wasn’t fun at the time (I scraped up my knee and have a bruise that’s probably about the size of Texas) but it was probably pretty hilarious to watch and I’m grateful that there were no worse injuries. Aside from this minor spill, the rest of the train ride was pretty uneventful, and we got to Amsterdam a little before 4:00.
Amsterdam was much different than Bruges—it seemed, almost, like it had more tourists than Paris. So crowded! And very hot too, much to our surprise; we had expected it to be cooler, since Bruges itself was rather chilly, and Amsterdam was located northward of Bruges. But it was not so! At least our hostel was located at a fairly close distance from the train station. Some first impressions of Amsterdam:
· Why is it so hot?!
· So! Many! People!
· But really, there were lots of people, most of them speaking a wide variety of languages. Perhaps the sheer number of tourists was more noticeable because Amsterdam is much smaller, area-wise, than Paris; we literally walked around half the city (according to our lovely map), which I’m pretty sure would be impossible in Paris or London. In the latter cities, you could probably spend an hour walking around one arrondisement.
· So. Much. Smoke. Of various sorts.
· It was really intriguing how random neighborhoods just seemed to blend together. On one street, you’d be in a really classy area with lovely buildings and bicycles and canals, and in the next block you’d suddenly be in the Red Light District.
· Amsterdam is sort of like one giant city-sized amusement park. There was the heat, there were all sorts of attractions, you could buy frites and sugary treats at nearly every corner, we walked around all gross and sticky and sweaty half the time, and by the afternoon all of the tourists wore the same glazed-from-fatigue look that you see on the faces of people trudging around Carowinds in the early evening.
· Apparently pizza and waffles are very popular foods in Amsterdam.
But Amsterdam was fun! We went on a boat tour of the canals in the evening, ate take-away dinner by the canals, and walked around; in the morning we went off in search of the Anne Frank museum (which had incredibly long lines, preventing us from going), then went off in search of the botanical gardens (which were too expensive for the short length of time that we would be able to spend there), and then spent some time in a public park (in the shade, of course) and walked around the city. You discover so much, just by walking. It’s really quite fantastic. In the early afternoon we caught our train to Paris. (A note on trains for those preparing to travel Europe and have about as much experience as I did: getting the best deal on train tickets is complicated, and it’s easy to end up spending an unfortunately large sum of money on train tickets. Chunnel tickets and very large trains (e.g., Thalys trains) are probably best bought in advance—getting from Amsterdam to Paris cost a pretty penny—though trains from Belgium to the Netherlands actually aren’t that bad, and since you go on national rail lines, you can buy them the day of. Though in most cases it’s probably better to be very much prepared.)
It took us forever and a day to get to where we were staying, which was a peaceful little place outside of the city center, which we rather needed, since we were fatigued tourists. We had adventures in the Carrefour (giant French supermarket) and relaxed, and the next day (that’s today!) once more embarked on train adventures, meeting Chance at Paris-Nord and taking the Chunnel train back to England. I have developed a very near hatred of luggage, since by the this point I have fallen off a train, a bed, and an escalator as a result of my suitcase or Mark’s and my clumsiness, and am quite tired of lugging it up stairs, down stairs, up more stairs, down more stairs, etc etc. When we got to Greenwich (nice, peaceful Greenwich) we unloaded our bags and then went on some last-minute adventures around the city, going to the Tate Modern museum, walking around, and visiting the oh-so-touristy Platform 9 ¾ at King’s Cross Station. And now I’m finishing up this blog entry, and then bed time, since I have to get up at the ridiculous hour of 4:30 in the morning to get to the London Gatwick airport to catch our plane.
A few last minute things I’ve discovered during my sojourn:
I’m so, so, so glad I traveled with other people. Going on a cross-country adventure all by yourself must be far more stressful, less fun, and nerve-wracking. Especially when you have all the luggage of a month’s worth of studying abroad with you. I’ve discovered that I’m too short to reach the overhead luggage bins on airplanes and trains, and it’s very nice to have a taller friend help you out with that sort of thing. And we’ve all had moments where we’ve had reign in the others from accidentally walking in the wrong direction; it’s good to have someone to watch your back. And to help pick you up from the gap between the train and the platform, haha. We look out for each other.
And another thing I’ve discovered—you’ll never get to see everything. There’s too much in the world to see. It would take years to even become marginally acquainted with all of the amazing places I’ve visited; a few days here and there don’t nearly do the cities justice. We didn’t get to see the windmills in either Belgium or Holland, for example, and there’s a plethora of museums that have remained unvisited. I suppose my Amsterdam analogy is pretty correct…Life is like an amusement park. By the end of the day there’s always something you haven’t seen, a ride you haven’t been on. But at the same time you know you’ve had an amazing day, and wouldn’t trade it for anything, even if you are tired and exhausted and glad to go home, back to real life and your family.
It’s been quite an adventure. And it’s almost over; the amusement park is closing. Goodbye Europe, hello America. It’s been a long time.
A bientôt! J
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