Friday morning, October 15, our group plus our art history professor, Laurent, our program director Viviane, and a group of about six other students from other universities in the U.S. who are taking classes at the prestigious Sorbonne, departed for the Loire Valley at 7h15. Aside from having to wake up at 5h30, I had been looking forward to the weekend trip. We drove about three hours to Blois, a small town situated by the Beauce and Sologne rivers. We arrived at the château for our first visit and Laurent jumped right in explaining the significance of the château in French architecture and history. It is remarkable, as the building encompasses elements of two types of gothic architecture, as well as two other later periods of French and European architecture.
The part of the château that pertains to the early gothic period, employed during the 13th century, is the largest of its kind still conserved in France today. It is a relatively small part of the château compared to the other components, as it is just the <<salle des États>> (State room) that still stands. It is also not particularly intricate compared to the other parts of the complex.
The second oldest section of the château was constructed from 1498 to 1503 in the <<gothique flamboyant>> (flamboyant gothic) style. It is a mix of red brick and white stone with large arches composing the first level, simple wall and windows composing the second level, and dormer windows composing the third level. Louis XII resided in the château during this time. Louis chose the porcupine as his emblem, symbolizing a strong defensive when provoked. The exterior walls of this section of the château have stone carvings of porcupines, namely above doorways.
The third oldest section is the <<Renaissance>> section of the château, and my personal favorite. In the middle of the section of beautiful white stone wall is the staircase tower. In France during the Middle Ages, the staircase was a sign of aristocracy and social status. The physical ascent towards heaven represented the role of religion in architecture as well as elevation in social status. Therefore, staircases were oftentimes the focal point of houses and châteaux. Most were <<en vis>> (spiral) and much attention was paid to their construction and decoration. The outside of this particular staircase tower was elaborately decorated with busts of the king at that time, François le premièr. He chose the lizard as his symbol, so there are quite a few to be found covering this part of the castle.
The final addition to the château started in 1635 and was finished in 1638, made for the duke Gaston d'Orléans, the brother of Louis XIII. Heavily influenced by Greek architecture, the exterior includes three levels of columns--doric, ionic, and corinthian. The most impressive aspect of this part is the foyer of the front entrance. The staircase is, once again, the focal point. Called a "suspended" staircase, the first part heads straight back, then the stairs continue at a sharp left without support from a middle tower. The ceiling of the entrance produces an effect of elevation towards the sky with multiple levels--the first a flat ceiling with an irregular octagon cut out that opens up to the second and third levels of the ceiling, a dome with another dome at the very top of it. The décor is nothing short of breathtaking and the staircase is considered one of the greatest masterpieces of French architecture.
We were given an hour and a half to roam around the charming little town of Blois and grab lunch before moving on to our second destination, the vineyard in a town called Vouvray. We had about an hour and a half of traveling to do and broke up by stopping across the river from the Château d'Amboise, where Leonardo da Vinci is buried! Unfortunately we didn't get to do a visit, but the view of the castle from across the water was beautiful, with a multiple-arch bridge in front spanning across the river. I thought to myself, as I marveled at the spectacular chateau on that overcast, brisk day, bundled up in a thick scarf and jacket, "This is what I think of when I think of France."
We hopped back on the bus and continued driving until we reached the vineyard at about 3 pm. We were greeted by Pierre, one of the employees of the Moncontour vineyard, who gave us some basic facts about the vineyard. We were given a tour of the grounds by Pierre and the proprietor, Monsieur Feray, and were fortunate enough to see the château where M. Feray resides today with his three huge Doberman dogs. I felt like I was in a movie! The château has the most incredible view of the town of Vouvray, a beautiful garden, ivy growing up the side of the eastern wall, forest to the west of the house, and acres and acres of vineyards surrounding it. What a life!
We took a tour of the vineyard's museum that contains history of the land and the history of the business. Then, finally, it was time to try some wine! We tried four or five different white wines, all of them delicious. The last one we tried was absolutely the best, and it went for 21 euros a bottle. I decided to indulge in two bottles of champagne that only cost me 14 euros total, definitely worth it. We headed to our hotel for the night after our dégustation (wine tasting.) Had a great dinner sitting with three girls on the trip that I haven't spent much time with. We had great conversation that continued for about two hours after we had finished eating. Weekend trips on study abroad always provide an opportunity to get to know everyone in the group, which is wonderful. I'm glad to have made better friends with those girls after this weekend.
After having a classic French breakfast at the hotel the next morning, we departed for Loches at about 8h30. Loches is, you guessed it, another château! It was SO cool to visit a château that is stereotypical in the sense that it used to be surrounded by a moat, had a drawbridge, and was defended with cannons poking through the fortified walls as well as skilled archers who stationed themselves along the top rim of the castle during battle. Check that one off the bucket list! The castle was constructed from 1013 to 1035 and was converted into a prison by Louis XI in the fifteenth century. It houses a torture chamber as well as rooms used for entertaining guests and grand celebrations. Very impressive!
We were given another hour and a half to walk around the town of Loches and check out the open-air market. You could find anything and everything there--bakers, vendors selling saucisson (French sausage) made from duck, pheasant, or pig, chevre, camembert, roquefort, brie, and every other cheese imaginable, champignons (mushrooms,) fresh fruits and vegetables, herbs, and honey. Walking through the narrow winding streets you are hit by some of the most mouth-watering scents. Jackie, Courtney, Sophie, Cathy and I decided to skip out on a traditional sit-down lunch at a café and to buy some local products from the vendors for lunch. Two baguettes, two saucissons (one covered in herbes de provence and one smoked), and two different cheeses (tomme à l'ancienne and entre deux, which literally means "between two," meaning its not quite strong and not quite subtle, either), and we were set. We found a nice park bench in a sunny spot outside the market, cut up our various ingredients, and savored some regional specialities. What an afternoon! Afterwards we sought out on a quest for a chocolate shop and were happy to find one not too far away where I bought six pieces of gourmet chocolate for 4.50 euros. That lunch proved to be the best one I've had in France so far, because it was SO quintessentially French!
After a nice little nap on the bus on our way to the last château of the trip, we arrived at Chenonceau. I immediately understood, while visiting the grounds of this particular castle, why UNESCO named the Loire Valley a world heritage site for its biologic diversity and its rich history and culture thanks to all the parks, small towns, and châteaux.
The castle is famous for being a gift from the king of France, Henri II to his mistress, Diane de Poitiers. All over the château one can find the emblem of a big capital H and the half-circle moon shape added to one of the legs of the H to form a D right on top--how romantic. Walt Disney is rumored to have modeled the emblematic castle after this particular castle and others of its kind. It sits elegantly atop the Cher river and has a HUGE garden to the right side. The rooms inside are luxuriously still furnished as they were centuries ago during the time of France's great monarchies. The view of the river and the garden as well as the peaceful pathways through the forest surrounding the castle add to its invaluable charm.
We left Chenonceau at 4 pm on Saturday the 16th and arrived back in Paris at 8. Only four hours by car and you discover an entirely new part of French culture, one that is enjoyed at a much slower and peaceful pace, that I found, allowed me to savor every last thing we saw, tasted, and smelled. The weekend was a great getaway from the city.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
City livin'
As a girl who's lived in Suburbia all her life, getting used to city life has been a challenge for me. Not only am I used to seeing some grass everyday, but I'm an outdoor enthusiast and plan weekend and day trips camping, hiking, biking, and kayaking.
Paris is a place I've wanted to visit ever since 7th grade when I chose to take French over Spanish and German as my language elective. I immediately realized that I wanted to learn the language, become fluent, and be able to spend a few months of my life living in the city.
It goes without saying that European cities are very different from American cities--the organization, the architecture, the shops, vendors, and restaurants that can be found there. But I have only visited NYC once in my life for a few short hours, and only spent a few days in Philadelphia. So I'm not what one could consider a city slicker, by any means.
There are a handful of things that I've observed not only about Paris as a city, but of myself in a city like Paris.
1. No matter where you go in Paris, you're likely to smell urine.
--The biggest hotspots for this is, no surprises here: the metro. It's been disheartening seeing so many homeless people all over the city, especially in the metro. I lived in Salvador, Brazil for a month, where I literally felt guilty for having the monetary means to walk around with shoes on my feet and a shirt on my back on a daily basis. In comparison, Paris is not as profoundly plagued with homelessness as developing countries. But it is sad, nonetheless. There is a man who sits at the bottom of the steps at the Vaugirard metro stop (my connection to everywhere in Paris, essentially) EVERY DAY with a cup in his hand begging for money. One day I had just bought a metro ticket and had about 10 centimes left that I hadn't stored back in my purse yet. I thought to myself that he definitely needed the money more than I did, so I gave it to him.
I felt great--that day. Now every day when I pass him, I know what he's thinking...that I COULD spare him some change and that it would not lead to a life of poverty for me, forcing him to make some room on that bottom step for one more begger. But I selfishly walk past him, pretending to be in a hurry and not really able to stop for two seconds, open up my purse, and deposit a small contribution in his cup. Having coffee, taking the metro, and feeling guilty have all become part of my morning routine.
2. No matter where you're going, you're not alone.
--I've been shoved quite a few times getting onto the metro, once so much so that I wasn't even able to make it onto the train and once so that I just came pretty darn close to having to wait for the next one. Parisians can be terribly friendly, but also city life produces people who can also be quite cold. I feel, when taking the metro in particular, that I have to make a concerted effort to avoid making eye contact with the person sitting across from me. In the states, it's normal to walk past someone on the sidewalk and smile and say, "Hi." I do it ALL the time at home! But here, I find myself feeling awkward for even producing a smile at a stranger from time to time.
It's hard being in a large city for this reason. There are just SO many people (roughly 2 million, including the surrounding "région parisien".) Making friends with French people is proving to be a harder feat than I had originally expected. Living in a small town limits possibilities, yes, but you're more likely to be rich in friendships and personal contact than living in a city with 199, 999 other possible acquaintances and friends. It's sometimes a chore for me to just be able to enjoy a walk to class or a day of shopping because you're constantly forced to weave around people or wait for slow walkers (which I cannot stand) in front of you.
3. Public transportation is a MUST.
--Parking in Paris is terribly expensive. For this reason, a large number of people rely on the metro system, the bus system, or the Velibs (bikes) that you can take around the city. It's strange that there is an obvious stigma against public transportation in the States. People who take the bus every day to work, at least in Pittsburgh, are people who can't afford their own vehicles. The metro is used in New York, for sure, but in my home town, you usually don't want to have to rely on public transportation to get you from point A to point B.
The Velib system is THE BEST way to get around the city, in my opinion. The metro is very very efficient and its a reliable way to traverse the entire city of Paris, if necessary, in a shorter amount of time. But if you're looking to enjoy a scenic, more physically engaging means of transportation, the Velibs are a wonderful option. You can charge either one day, one week, or one year onto your metro card (Navigo) at one of the dozens of bike stations all over the city. They are literally everywhere! If they're not on the street you're on that minute, chances are if you round the corner, there will be a line of bikes at your disposal. You can take a bike for FREE anywhere in the city as long as you return it to another station within a half an hour. And a day pass is only one euro!
Sophie, Courtney, and I, after enjoying a nice morning of sleeping in, met up in Montparnasse at 2:30 and biked to the Mosque of Paris this past Saturday (Oct 9.) It took us a little over half an hour (we got a little lost) but it was a lovely day outside, 75 degrees to be exact! We felt very Parisian, enjoying our leisurely bike ride around the city on a lazy Saturday afternoon. We got there at a busy time for the mosque, with the waiters running around serving tea, hookah, kebabs, brik, Middle-Eastern pastries and fare to customers out on the blue-and-white-tiled terrace. There are about 25 little tables outside where you can sit and smoke hookah, treat yourself to baklava and other delicious Middle-Eastern desserts, and drink THE BEST thé à la menthe there is! The trees provided cool shade on the particularly warm day and also emanated a comforting and invigorating jasmine scent every time the wind blew. It was wonderful to say the least. We each got two glasses of tea and sat and enjoyed the atmosphere, with a perfectly cloudless blue sky and a beautiful bleach-white building behind us with dark woven-metal lamps and decorations, and bright blue and green tiles to accent. It put me right back in La Marsa and Sidi Bou Saïd in Tunisia, where I spent the winter session of my freshman year, and for that reason, I decided from then on I would spend as much time at the mosque as possible. (There is also a hammam, a Middle Eastern/Turkish bath house! Maybe I'll be checking that out at some point.)
4. To live in a city, you've gotta be pretty good at multi-tasking. And if you know me, that doesn't exactly fit my character description. When I try to do too many things at once, I end up losing something, messing something up, and becoming terribly frustrated. Case in point: I've lost TWO important cards since I've been here. (Not debit or credit, Mom and Dad, I promise.) And I lost BOTH of them the same way!
Every Wednesday from 5-7 I have art history, and this particular class period is specifically set aside for museum and site visits within Paris. A few weeks ago, we went to see Notre Dame for class. As we lined up to enter the church, I fumbled around in my over-sized messenger bag for my art history card, that grants all of us Delaware students FREE access to any national museum or art site in the city! (Pretty awesome right? Makes you feel like a VIP when you walk up in line and with the flash of your card, you're in sans problèmes! So as I fumbled around, I found my card and was waiting to present it, but didn't even have to, seeing as we were in a large group. I stuck the card in my back pocket and forgot about it.
Fast forward two hours. I arrive back home at the apartment and my card is nowhere to be found. Realized then and there that putting a card in your back pocket probably isn't the safest place to keep it.
Fast forward again two weeks or so later, same class period, same sort of deal. This time we were visiting the Hôtel de Cluny in the Latin Quarter. I mindlessly stuck my metro pass (VERY IMPORTANT) in my back pocket after using it. In the church we visited after the Hôtel, I reminded myself to check for the card in my back right pocket to avoid another catastophic loss of an important piece of plastic. Check: where I had left it, safe and sound snuggled in my jeans.
I reached the metro station and went to grab my Navigo pass where I had ASSURED it was located just about an hour before, and it was gone. My body temperature instantly rose 10 degrees as I patted myself down, looking like a fool in the line to swipe your card or metro ticket, people breezing past me with their cards in hand and ready to go. "Jeez, Anne," I thought to myself. "AGAIN?"
Yep, it had happened again. I placed myself aside the line, out of the way, to dig in my bag frantically for my card. But I knew it was gone. I immediately became furious with myself. How could I have made the same mistake again? I had recharged my Navigo pass at the beginning of October for the whole month for 60 euros and now I'd have to buy a new one. Just a pain! The timing, however, could have been worse--I only have to buy a week pass for the rest of October, seeing as I'll only be in Paris for six more days, then it's off to Vienna, Prague, and Berlin for fall break!
I remembered that I had put my metro card into my bag at some point after leaving the church that day. This is when my lack of multi-tasking ability came into play. I dug around in my bag during a nice walk through the Luxembourg Gardens on my way back home after class to find my almond croissant I had bought earlier in the day and had been saving for a snack. I guess I had pulled my card out of my bag while pulling out the croissant, or had accidentally stuck the card inside the plastic bag that contained the pastry, then threw it out after eating it. Either way, I'm a moron. I apparently can't handle too many things on my plate at once, and should just avoid trying to do so in every way possible.
So these are the things I've been struggling with as an American girl of the suburbs living in the big city of Paris for a semester. I've wanted to live in a city all my life, and its turning out to require a lot more coordination and attention than I expected, and obviously more than I possess. But it's a work in progress. Still about three full months left! Let's see if I can become as sophisticated and graceful as the Parisians by Christmas time...hahaha
Paris is a place I've wanted to visit ever since 7th grade when I chose to take French over Spanish and German as my language elective. I immediately realized that I wanted to learn the language, become fluent, and be able to spend a few months of my life living in the city.
It goes without saying that European cities are very different from American cities--the organization, the architecture, the shops, vendors, and restaurants that can be found there. But I have only visited NYC once in my life for a few short hours, and only spent a few days in Philadelphia. So I'm not what one could consider a city slicker, by any means.
There are a handful of things that I've observed not only about Paris as a city, but of myself in a city like Paris.
1. No matter where you go in Paris, you're likely to smell urine.
--The biggest hotspots for this is, no surprises here: the metro. It's been disheartening seeing so many homeless people all over the city, especially in the metro. I lived in Salvador, Brazil for a month, where I literally felt guilty for having the monetary means to walk around with shoes on my feet and a shirt on my back on a daily basis. In comparison, Paris is not as profoundly plagued with homelessness as developing countries. But it is sad, nonetheless. There is a man who sits at the bottom of the steps at the Vaugirard metro stop (my connection to everywhere in Paris, essentially) EVERY DAY with a cup in his hand begging for money. One day I had just bought a metro ticket and had about 10 centimes left that I hadn't stored back in my purse yet. I thought to myself that he definitely needed the money more than I did, so I gave it to him.
I felt great--that day. Now every day when I pass him, I know what he's thinking...that I COULD spare him some change and that it would not lead to a life of poverty for me, forcing him to make some room on that bottom step for one more begger. But I selfishly walk past him, pretending to be in a hurry and not really able to stop for two seconds, open up my purse, and deposit a small contribution in his cup. Having coffee, taking the metro, and feeling guilty have all become part of my morning routine.
2. No matter where you're going, you're not alone.
--I've been shoved quite a few times getting onto the metro, once so much so that I wasn't even able to make it onto the train and once so that I just came pretty darn close to having to wait for the next one. Parisians can be terribly friendly, but also city life produces people who can also be quite cold. I feel, when taking the metro in particular, that I have to make a concerted effort to avoid making eye contact with the person sitting across from me. In the states, it's normal to walk past someone on the sidewalk and smile and say, "Hi." I do it ALL the time at home! But here, I find myself feeling awkward for even producing a smile at a stranger from time to time.
It's hard being in a large city for this reason. There are just SO many people (roughly 2 million, including the surrounding "région parisien".) Making friends with French people is proving to be a harder feat than I had originally expected. Living in a small town limits possibilities, yes, but you're more likely to be rich in friendships and personal contact than living in a city with 199, 999 other possible acquaintances and friends. It's sometimes a chore for me to just be able to enjoy a walk to class or a day of shopping because you're constantly forced to weave around people or wait for slow walkers (which I cannot stand) in front of you.
3. Public transportation is a MUST.
--Parking in Paris is terribly expensive. For this reason, a large number of people rely on the metro system, the bus system, or the Velibs (bikes) that you can take around the city. It's strange that there is an obvious stigma against public transportation in the States. People who take the bus every day to work, at least in Pittsburgh, are people who can't afford their own vehicles. The metro is used in New York, for sure, but in my home town, you usually don't want to have to rely on public transportation to get you from point A to point B.
The Velib system is THE BEST way to get around the city, in my opinion. The metro is very very efficient and its a reliable way to traverse the entire city of Paris, if necessary, in a shorter amount of time. But if you're looking to enjoy a scenic, more physically engaging means of transportation, the Velibs are a wonderful option. You can charge either one day, one week, or one year onto your metro card (Navigo) at one of the dozens of bike stations all over the city. They are literally everywhere! If they're not on the street you're on that minute, chances are if you round the corner, there will be a line of bikes at your disposal. You can take a bike for FREE anywhere in the city as long as you return it to another station within a half an hour. And a day pass is only one euro!
Sophie, Courtney, and I, after enjoying a nice morning of sleeping in, met up in Montparnasse at 2:30 and biked to the Mosque of Paris this past Saturday (Oct 9.) It took us a little over half an hour (we got a little lost) but it was a lovely day outside, 75 degrees to be exact! We felt very Parisian, enjoying our leisurely bike ride around the city on a lazy Saturday afternoon. We got there at a busy time for the mosque, with the waiters running around serving tea, hookah, kebabs, brik, Middle-Eastern pastries and fare to customers out on the blue-and-white-tiled terrace. There are about 25 little tables outside where you can sit and smoke hookah, treat yourself to baklava and other delicious Middle-Eastern desserts, and drink THE BEST thé à la menthe there is! The trees provided cool shade on the particularly warm day and also emanated a comforting and invigorating jasmine scent every time the wind blew. It was wonderful to say the least. We each got two glasses of tea and sat and enjoyed the atmosphere, with a perfectly cloudless blue sky and a beautiful bleach-white building behind us with dark woven-metal lamps and decorations, and bright blue and green tiles to accent. It put me right back in La Marsa and Sidi Bou Saïd in Tunisia, where I spent the winter session of my freshman year, and for that reason, I decided from then on I would spend as much time at the mosque as possible. (There is also a hammam, a Middle Eastern/Turkish bath house! Maybe I'll be checking that out at some point.)
4. To live in a city, you've gotta be pretty good at multi-tasking. And if you know me, that doesn't exactly fit my character description. When I try to do too many things at once, I end up losing something, messing something up, and becoming terribly frustrated. Case in point: I've lost TWO important cards since I've been here. (Not debit or credit, Mom and Dad, I promise.) And I lost BOTH of them the same way!
Every Wednesday from 5-7 I have art history, and this particular class period is specifically set aside for museum and site visits within Paris. A few weeks ago, we went to see Notre Dame for class. As we lined up to enter the church, I fumbled around in my over-sized messenger bag for my art history card, that grants all of us Delaware students FREE access to any national museum or art site in the city! (Pretty awesome right? Makes you feel like a VIP when you walk up in line and with the flash of your card, you're in sans problèmes! So as I fumbled around, I found my card and was waiting to present it, but didn't even have to, seeing as we were in a large group. I stuck the card in my back pocket and forgot about it.
Fast forward two hours. I arrive back home at the apartment and my card is nowhere to be found. Realized then and there that putting a card in your back pocket probably isn't the safest place to keep it.
Fast forward again two weeks or so later, same class period, same sort of deal. This time we were visiting the Hôtel de Cluny in the Latin Quarter. I mindlessly stuck my metro pass (VERY IMPORTANT) in my back pocket after using it. In the church we visited after the Hôtel, I reminded myself to check for the card in my back right pocket to avoid another catastophic loss of an important piece of plastic. Check: where I had left it, safe and sound snuggled in my jeans.
I reached the metro station and went to grab my Navigo pass where I had ASSURED it was located just about an hour before, and it was gone. My body temperature instantly rose 10 degrees as I patted myself down, looking like a fool in the line to swipe your card or metro ticket, people breezing past me with their cards in hand and ready to go. "Jeez, Anne," I thought to myself. "AGAIN?"
Yep, it had happened again. I placed myself aside the line, out of the way, to dig in my bag frantically for my card. But I knew it was gone. I immediately became furious with myself. How could I have made the same mistake again? I had recharged my Navigo pass at the beginning of October for the whole month for 60 euros and now I'd have to buy a new one. Just a pain! The timing, however, could have been worse--I only have to buy a week pass for the rest of October, seeing as I'll only be in Paris for six more days, then it's off to Vienna, Prague, and Berlin for fall break!
I remembered that I had put my metro card into my bag at some point after leaving the church that day. This is when my lack of multi-tasking ability came into play. I dug around in my bag during a nice walk through the Luxembourg Gardens on my way back home after class to find my almond croissant I had bought earlier in the day and had been saving for a snack. I guess I had pulled my card out of my bag while pulling out the croissant, or had accidentally stuck the card inside the plastic bag that contained the pastry, then threw it out after eating it. Either way, I'm a moron. I apparently can't handle too many things on my plate at once, and should just avoid trying to do so in every way possible.
So these are the things I've been struggling with as an American girl of the suburbs living in the big city of Paris for a semester. I've wanted to live in a city all my life, and its turning out to require a lot more coordination and attention than I expected, and obviously more than I possess. But it's a work in progress. Still about three full months left! Let's see if I can become as sophisticated and graceful as the Parisians by Christmas time...hahaha
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Oh, the places you'll go
I've been realizing with every passing day that I DON'T blog that it is actually harder than one would think to update every day or every couple of days. I haven't included anything in here about our four-day long trip to Normandy and Brittany, but perhaps this afternoon I'll get around to that. It's gotten to the point that I feel SO far behind that catching up seems too daunting to even begin. Hopefully I'll cross that bridge eventually though.
For now, there are a few things I have been MEANING to jot down: thoughts, observations, reactions, things I don't want to forget. I can always come back to the summary of the weekend trip at a later date.
(This is my inner procrastinator really taking over, if you hadn't noticed.)
Anyway, one of the things I have noted here day in and day out is the French people's willingness to jump into political debates with anyone, at anytime, at any place. My host mother is the perfect example. Every night after dinner, since day one, September 8, Béatrix has loved to talk. She is an incredibly intelligent, open-minded, and cultivated woman. She lived in Russia for a number of years working for the French embassy in Moscow then returned to Paris to work for the international marketing sector of L'Oréal Paris. Pretty interesting life she's lead. She's traveled all over the world, has friends on every single continent, and is erudite. She's told me before that she spent most of her young life just reading books.
All of her experiences have culminated and made her what she is today: very opinionated, well-informed, and has something to say in regards to just about every topic. She's taught me things about Russia, about French culture, and about her life. And for this I am so grateful. There really are some things that a formal classroom atmosphere just cannot cater to. She has read a work by EVERY author I have ever mentioned, loves American cinema (Quentin Tarentino is one of her favorites, but she hasn't seen Inglourious Basterds--I immediately told her to rectify that situation as soon as possible), has grandparents who served in World War I, and she lived through part of WWII. To sum it all up, she's just about been everywhere and learned a lot in her lifetime. And what's great is, she's always open to learn more.
At first, sitting down after dinner for three hours listening to this woman talk was really exhausting. I understood about 90% of what she had to say, and the other 10% I just had to draw meaning from contextual implications and gestures she made. I got the jist of it, but when the clock turned 1 am a few nights in a row as she continued to share her stories, I became really uncomfortable. I hate being rude and didn't just want to say "It's really late, you need to stop talking/I need to go to bed." I was paying for it the next day, seeing as I had to buy myself a few extra espressos at Reid Hall's 40 centime beverage vending-machine.
As time passed, I began to notice something. Interrupting others in France is NOT RUDE! Americans, if interrupted, automatically take the offensive and assume the other person is the most ill-bred human alive. Not so in gay Paris. People won't hesitate to let you finish your comment if they disagree or have no interest in what you have to say. And they aren't afraid to let you know! I also found it uncomfortable in the beginning of the trip that from time to time I could hear heated arguments in the living room from my bedroom between Béatrix and her son, François-Henri. But now I know. It's just the French way of communicating.
So now, when I'm getting tired or have other things to do after dinner (like BLOGGING, for instance), I'll just stand up, listen to Béatrix finish her last comment, put my plate in the sink, clear off the table and head into my room. And she hasn't kicked me out for being the rude American yet. I consider that situation, at this point in time, under control.
Another thing that goes hand-in-hand with French discourse is the politically-charged atmosphere you can find just about anywhere in Paris. I've heard political discussions between a group of about seven Africans on the métro arguing about Sarkozy's immigration policies, politically-charged comments from every one of my professors...its all-around you in Paris. The key is to not be turned off by Parisian's tendency to voice their opinions on every subject matter, but to appreciate that the French people really expect a lot from their government. I'll talk more about this point in another blog dedicated to everything I've learned so far in my political science class.
For now, there are a few things I have been MEANING to jot down: thoughts, observations, reactions, things I don't want to forget. I can always come back to the summary of the weekend trip at a later date.
(This is my inner procrastinator really taking over, if you hadn't noticed.)
Anyway, one of the things I have noted here day in and day out is the French people's willingness to jump into political debates with anyone, at anytime, at any place. My host mother is the perfect example. Every night after dinner, since day one, September 8, Béatrix has loved to talk. She is an incredibly intelligent, open-minded, and cultivated woman. She lived in Russia for a number of years working for the French embassy in Moscow then returned to Paris to work for the international marketing sector of L'Oréal Paris. Pretty interesting life she's lead. She's traveled all over the world, has friends on every single continent, and is erudite. She's told me before that she spent most of her young life just reading books.
All of her experiences have culminated and made her what she is today: very opinionated, well-informed, and has something to say in regards to just about every topic. She's taught me things about Russia, about French culture, and about her life. And for this I am so grateful. There really are some things that a formal classroom atmosphere just cannot cater to. She has read a work by EVERY author I have ever mentioned, loves American cinema (Quentin Tarentino is one of her favorites, but she hasn't seen Inglourious Basterds--I immediately told her to rectify that situation as soon as possible), has grandparents who served in World War I, and she lived through part of WWII. To sum it all up, she's just about been everywhere and learned a lot in her lifetime. And what's great is, she's always open to learn more.
At first, sitting down after dinner for three hours listening to this woman talk was really exhausting. I understood about 90% of what she had to say, and the other 10% I just had to draw meaning from contextual implications and gestures she made. I got the jist of it, but when the clock turned 1 am a few nights in a row as she continued to share her stories, I became really uncomfortable. I hate being rude and didn't just want to say "It's really late, you need to stop talking/I need to go to bed." I was paying for it the next day, seeing as I had to buy myself a few extra espressos at Reid Hall's 40 centime beverage vending-machine.
As time passed, I began to notice something. Interrupting others in France is NOT RUDE! Americans, if interrupted, automatically take the offensive and assume the other person is the most ill-bred human alive. Not so in gay Paris. People won't hesitate to let you finish your comment if they disagree or have no interest in what you have to say. And they aren't afraid to let you know! I also found it uncomfortable in the beginning of the trip that from time to time I could hear heated arguments in the living room from my bedroom between Béatrix and her son, François-Henri. But now I know. It's just the French way of communicating.
So now, when I'm getting tired or have other things to do after dinner (like BLOGGING, for instance), I'll just stand up, listen to Béatrix finish her last comment, put my plate in the sink, clear off the table and head into my room. And she hasn't kicked me out for being the rude American yet. I consider that situation, at this point in time, under control.
Another thing that goes hand-in-hand with French discourse is the politically-charged atmosphere you can find just about anywhere in Paris. I've heard political discussions between a group of about seven Africans on the métro arguing about Sarkozy's immigration policies, politically-charged comments from every one of my professors...its all-around you in Paris. The key is to not be turned off by Parisian's tendency to voice their opinions on every subject matter, but to appreciate that the French people really expect a lot from their government. I'll talk more about this point in another blog dedicated to everything I've learned so far in my political science class.
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