Chez Monet

Friday I ventured again outside the périphérique with my friend Rachel to see the beautiful house and garden of Claude Monet in the charming Normand town of Giverny. This post is mostly an excuse to show off some stunning photographs, which still do not at all capture the vibrancy of the real thing, but I will try to recount my lovely day in words as well.

After just a 45 minute train ride, we were transported into the quaint and spirited region of Normandy. A pleasant (although hot under the beating sun) five-kilometer walk brought us into the delightfully pretty town of Giverny, home to Claude Monet from 1883 to his death in 1926. The tiny village swarmed with tourists, and we had to wait nearly two hours to enter the Fondation Claude Monet, the artist’s former home and gardens. The wait, however, was well worth it, and pleasant company helped to pass the time.

Once inside the gardens, we were overwhelmed by the colors and smells of rows and rows of beautiful and diverse blossoms. The flowers were each so stunning and lively; the colors were so vivid and striking. As the sun continued to beat down, we took shelter in the Japanese garden portion of the grounds. Bamboo shaded pacific paths besides trickling streams. Tranquility reigned in this iconic garden where Monet’s water lilies were found.

The colors of Monet’s house, especially the dining room and kitchen, were almost as vibrant as the gardens, although the crowd in the house made it a bit difficult to take it all in peacefully. Throwing a final envious look over the full and flowering garden, we stopped by the bookshop for some postcards and headed out.

We visited Monet’s grave in a calm, little cemetery. Then we found a pleasant little field in which to enjoy our picnic before embarking on the heat- and sun-filled walk back to the train station and our ultimate ride back home to Paris.

In all, it was a lovely day and an unforgettable sight and experience. What a wonderful start to my amazing last weekend here in Paris.

Quatre villes charmantes

It is now officially April (and, in fact has been for some time – I’ve been a bit behind on my blogging) and Paris is full of signs of spring: brilliantly green leaves have popped up as if overnight on the trees lining the city’s Haussmannian boulevards, Parisians are flocking to green spaces to pass lazy afternoons on the grass (I should know; I spend a lovely afternoon among the groups of young people lounging about the Place des Vosges) and night doesn’t fall until well after 8 p.m. This lovely transition from the chill and dampness of winter makes it even more difficult to concentrate on the massive amount of work that keeps piling up. It’s equally hard to image ever leaving this beautifully blossoming city, although I will be doing so all too soon (My flight delivers me back to the other side of the Atlantic on May 30).

I believe this all explains why I haven’t recorded my thoughts here in a while, but I decided to use a quick minute, just days before I leave for spring break in the south of France, to catch up on my amazing experiences. In the last few weeks, I’ve visited four enchanting cities beyond Paris:

Amiens Less than an hour and a half from Paris by train, Amiens, I’ve decided, would be an excellent place to live. One could experience the charm and tranquility of quaint small-town life yet remain a mere train-ride from the excitement of Paris. Amiens certainly had a lot to offer in the realm of charm. The plentiful canals of the Saint-Leu district earn the town’s nickname as the “Little Venice of the North.” The Victorian houses (including Jules Verne’s) of the Henriville area create a cozy, old-world feel. And like every other French city, the centre-ville is a shopper-friendly pedestrian area with all the stores one would expect. Amien’s centerpiece, an enormous 13th-century cathedral twice the size of Notre-Dame de Paris, caps the town’s charm with a detailed and awe-inspiring beauty; it may be the most beautiful cathedral I’ve ever seen. I can’t forget to mention the excellent galettes my mom and I ate at a crêperie along the river: my mom’s contained ratatouille and chicken and mine, goat’s cheese, tomato and honey.

Boulogne-sur-mer A rainy and cold first day in a deserted Boulogne-sur-mer left me disappointed with my travel decision, but a sunny and pleasant second day more than made up for the unfavorable conditions of the first. The old fortified, hilltop town of Boulogne-sur-mer provides a haven of history and tranquility amongst the activity of this modern port. Throughout our visit, we walked the circumference of the historic town’s walls, which gave excellent views onto the city and English Channel beyond. We also visited the city’s musée des beaux arts, housed in a former castle, and the more modern basilica. Our walk to the beach was a bit miserable the first day due to the gale-force winds and occasional moments of drizzle. When we returned to the beach the second day, however, the wind was gone and with the sun shining, it was a perfect afternoon for walking the beach and collecting shells. A number of the town’s inhabitants had the same idea and the pier and harbor were busy with families out for a Sunday afternoon stroll. We joined the families to order hamburgers and fries from stands along the channel and enjoyed a lunch in the sun before boarding our train back to Paris.

Bruxelles Just last weekend, my friend Rebecca and I caught the train to Belgium for a weekend of unabashed tourism. We started out in Brussels, which is a mere hour and a half from Paris by the lightning-fast Thalys train. With the help of an irreverently hip free map from our hostel and the advice of our friend who spent a semester in Belgium, we wandered the city, hitting the major sites of the centre-ville like Manneken Pis (an adorably tiny statue of a little boy peeing), the Grand Place and the Royal Palace. We also took the time to enjoy the Musée des beaux arts where we admired the fantastical images of Bosch and the overwhelming tableaus of Rubens. We even indulged our love for Tintin at the Comic Museum. Of course, we also ate waffles and chocolate and enjoyed a beer before dinner. I very much enjoyed the intricate and whimsical architecture of the city which made it so very different from Paris. The numerous open plazas also promoted a sociability and openness that made such a huge European capital seem friendly and welcoming.

Bruges The real Venice of the north, Bruges is an enclosed, canal filled town that feels more like a Disney attraction than an actual municipality. Each street, each storefront, each corner is as picturesque as the next, and even on the chilly, cloud-filled day of our visit, its charm shined through. Rebecca and I followed our guidebook’s walking tour which led us past a number of delightful canals, adorable facades and historic buildings to its end at the serene Béguinage, a daffodil-filled courtyard surrounded by cute Bruges houses. Along the way, we snacked on a cornet of fries and sampled some more chocolate. The highlight of the visit (besides the sheer beauty of it all) was emerging from dinner to join the crowd on the Markt plaza for a free outdoor Belgian rock concert.

L’Opéra, le tourisme et du champagne

Salut, les punks!

I feel like I haven’t written anything here in forever. That can be interpreted as a good thing, as in I’ve been doing too many amazing things to take the time to record them here, or it could more accurately be a reflection on my recent spurts of laziness and utter lack of gumption in all aspects of my life. I have, however, done some pretty sweet things in the last few weeks. I’ve been returning diligently to check items off on my “to-do list” as they are accomplished, but I’ll try to expand on a few of my more interesting conquests.

This last weekend was pretty eventful. Earlier in the week, I stumbled upon a ticket to the opera – Smith’s theater class was going and M. Bloom offered me one of the extra places to which I literally responded, “Pourquoi pas?!” So Friday I had the privilege of getting dressed up and joining my amies at the enorme Opera Bastille. An excellent example of romanticism, Werther was full of lost love, torment, angst and agony and, ultimately, suicide. What fun! Despite the subject matter, the music, scenery and general experience was pleasant and fun. It was a truly great and unforgettable experience; my thanks go out again to the generosity of this Smith program.

Unfortunately, I had to pull myself out of bed early on Saturday morning to get myself to the lovely Gare de l’est where the Smith crew reconvened for a daytrip to Reims (pronounced like the French word for prince without the “P”). I indulged in the Smith-provided breakfast of a croissant, which I chose over the pain au chocolat, and the short train ride and the Champagne countryside passed quickly by.

Once in Reims, we partook of a tour of the Corot exhibit at the Musée de Beaux Arts, which was burdened by an utterly banal tour guide. Next, we received our audio guides for the tour of our choosing. Yes, these clunky devices made us the visual definition of overeager tourist, but the buildings we saw on the Art Deco walk were pretty cool. It was a great way to explore the city.

Before heading back to Paris at the completion of our brief séjour, we visited Mumm’s champagne facility, where a tour and tasting were enjoyed by all. Returning to Paris, we were greeted by the city’s typical overcast skies and biting droplets of rain, an unfortunate contrast to the warming sun we had enjoyed earlier in Reims.

In addition to my busy weekend, I’ve been going often to the cinéma (35 Rhums, Le code a changé and Harvey Milk were all wonderful), profiting from the increasingly frequent spring-like days and visiting interesting exhibits (this one made me fall in love with Serge Gainsbourg). Plus, I somehow found myself on a tour of the UNESCO building…I’m still not quite sure how that one happened.

Well, we are well into March now and the time is passing absolutely trop [too] quickly. My weeks, and particularly weekends, to come are quickly filling, but it’s all for the better. My mom will soon be visiting, and we will be traveling to Amiens and Boulogne-Sur-Mer. A high-school friend will be stopping in from Scotland. I will, hopefully, be participating in a weekend trip to Belgium. And Spring Break will bring me to the Côte d’Azur and Provence. Also, I guess I still have that school thing to do…

L’air en dehors de Paris

I’m at the point now where writing this in French would probably be plus facile [easier] and certainly more natural. For the sake of my Anglophone readers, however, I will do my best with my limited English vocabulary and warped, French-tinged syntax.

I was about to compose this blog as a list of all the milliers [thousands] of wonderful things that I did this weekend, but I realized that I have been listing a lot recently.

So I’ll skip the myriad ways I have been profiting from Paris and focus on my après-midi [afternoon] which was spent 88 kilometers from the city. Two friends and I decided to benefit from our semi-vacances [vacation] by visiting the charming town of Chartres and its famed cathedral.

For me, the train ride from Gare Montparnasse southwest through the banlieues [suburbs] and subsequent quaint towns and fields was as rewarding as the visit of Chartres itself. To leave the hubbub of Paris for the open skies – même si [even if] they were sad and cloud-filled on this sunless day – always fills me with such happiness. I love remembering that there is a France outside of Paris, even if Parisians themselves have trouble with this concept. The massive, open expanses of fields and the beautiful tree-lined creeks only add to this child-like joy.

After passing our hour-long ride in a silence that was a mixture of awe, paresse [laziness] and repose [rest], we had arrived at our destination. Already, the town’s massive cathedral was hard to miss. We headed straight there and marveled at its ancient façade. We marveled too at the expansive vista of the town of Chartres visible from behind the architectural wonder. I wouldn’t say that the view of the town was particularly beautiful, but it was undeniably pleasant to stand at such a precipice and take in the fresh air of la campagne [the country]. It’s a bit hard to understand and probably irrational, but for some reason, each breath seems different away from Paris.

When we finally entered the cathedral, we were not disappointed. Its vibrant stained glass was beautiful, and its sheer échelle [scale] was breathtaking.

After leisurely taking in the magic of the cathedral, we strolled about the tiny streets of Chartres and eventually found a local brasserie where we warmed up with some boissons chauds [hot drinks]. It was so pleasant to observe the regulars prennent leur bière [drink their beers] at the counter and the mothers bring their children in for an afterschool treat.

Before hopping on our train, we grabbed some pâtisseries to hold us over until dinner. Waving good-bye to Chartres and its lovely cathedral, we sped back to Paris.