Panoramas de la mer

Accompanying text describing my wonderful spring break adventures in the South of France will hopefully soon follow, but since I actually have homework to do, pictures will have to do for now. Here’s a couple from each of the beautiful places we visited:

Nice

Monaco

Marseille
Ile d’If
Cassis
Arles
Avignon

(with my lovely travel companions)

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…

Ce que je veux faire avant de rentrer

As promised, here's my semi-translated first draft of my list of things that I want to do before leaving Paris. It's random and it's so much, but I think I can do it!

• See at least one play
• Finish my "City Walks of Paris"
• Find all the landmarks from the film Charade
• Watch at least one more French movie at a theater
• Read along one of the quais of Ile Saint-Louis
• Drink with friends on the quais of the Seine/Pont des arts/along Canal St.-Martin
• Watch at least one film from the Nouvelle Vague at the film library
• Actually send people postcards !
• Watch a French film at Reid Hall
• See the French production of The Lion King
• Go to the Comédie Française
• Eat a macaroon
• Go to the flea markets

• See the following expositions before their respective end dates:
  « Notorious » (le 22 février)
  « Rapa Nui, L'Ile de Pâques » (le 1er mars)
  « Instants d'architecture » à la Maison du Danemark (le 8 mars)
  « Gainsbourg 2008 » à la Cité de la Musique (le 15 mars)
  « Le petit dessein » au Louvre (le 13 avril)
  « 80 + 80, photo_graphisme » (le 25 avril)
  « Le Petit Nicolas» (le 7 mai)
  

• Visit the following:
  Musée de Picasso
  Maison de Victor Hugo
  Musée Rodin
  L'Orangerie
  Musée d’art moderne de la ville de Paris (again)
  Musée de Cluny
  Musée de la vie romantique
  Espace Krajcberg
  

• Outside of Paris:
  Giverny
  A weekend trip with my mom
  The South of France
  Bois de Boulogne
  Bois de Vincennes
  Take a day trip to one other French city outside of Paris
  Brussels
  

• Look at the gare Saint-Lazare
• Look at the gare de l'Est
• Go in Notre-Dame
• Find Guy de Maupassant's tomb at the Cemetery Montparnasse
• Return to see the auditorium of the Opera

• Explore:
  Parc Montsouris
  Cemetery Montmartre
  

This list is a "work in progress," and I'll be returning to add things or cross things out as I do them!

Trois mois et demi?!

This evening our lovely directrice Marie-Madeleine hosted an apéro where she discussed with us the impending end of our time in Paris – a mere three and a half months away! – and how we should go about making the best of this time so that we leave here sans regret. It’s the kind of thing that I take to heart, so the meeting evoked in me both a deep sadness and a thorough determination to finish the year strong.

Marie-Madeleine asked the group why we came to France and set out about making sure that we have – or at least will have before we leave – accomplished those goals. Although I remained silent at the meeting, I have decided to return to my JYA application essay to verify my true espoirs [hopes] and begin going about making them happen.

In the next few weeks to come, I will be making, as Marie-Madeleine suggested, a list of all the things I want to accomplish between now and May. It will be excessive. It will be random. But, I can do it and I should. For all its wonders and all its faults, I’ve loved Paris so much up until this point, and I just want to make absolutely certain that I have done and discovered all that I can and all that I have dreamed of while here.

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Pour ceux qui lisent le français et qui s’y intéressent, voilà mon « essai d’application » (ignorez les fautes de grammaire, svp) :

Depuis que j’ai visité Paris pendant une semaine il y a deux ans, j’ai été sûre que j’y retournerais. Au cours de ma visite, j’ai découvert qu’à Paris, les choses historiques (des musées, l’architecture classique, son histoire riche) et les choses vivantes et modernes (la mode, les jeunes, la politique, l’art moderne) se mélangent ; ce mélange me plaît beaucoup. J’ai besoin de retourner à cette ville pour explorer davantage ce mélange qui fait le cœur de Paris. En même temps, j’améliorai mon français, j’approfondirai ma compréhension de la littérature et je gagnerai une assurance.

En étudiant une année à Paris, j’améliorai énormément mon français. Pour faire mes études françaises, c’est important que mes capacités de parler égalent mes talents de lire et d’écrire. Cependant, je manque de confiance en mes paroles. Dans ce milieu francophone où il faut que je parle français, je ne peux pas rester timide. Peu à peu, j’aurai confiance en tous mes mérites de la langue française.

J’ai choisi d’abord d’apprendre français parce que j’aimais bien cette belle langue historique. La langue rend tangible ce que c’est que d’être français. Comme son cinéma, son théâtre et sa littérature, la langue est passionnée et sincère. Elle a aussi une simplicité complexe. C’est un paradoxe, mais il y a une profondeur de cette langue franche. Tous ces traits paradoxaux de la langue et de la francophonie m’intéressent beaucoup. Paris elle-même émet cette passion et les paradoxes. Elle est ancienne, mais elle est moderne. Elle est grande, mais elle donne l’impression d’être une communauté.

Ces paradoxes ainsi que l’histoire riche et littéraire de Paris m’attirent. Il est probable que Paris est le centre littéraire de France (et il est possible qu’elle se trouve au centre de toute la littérature d’Europe). Dans un cours français concernant la littérature de Paris que j’ai pris pendant ma première année, j’étudiais cette tradition littéraire de Paris qui est la ville de Zola, d’Hugo, de Flaubert et de Modiano. Paris a fasciné profondément tant d’auteurs (les Français et les expatriés des pays étrangers) que j’ai lus ou que je voudrais lire.

Comme une étudiante de la littérature comparée, je voudrais étudier en détail pourquoi Paris attire tant d’auteurs influents. Je voudrais découvrir ce dont ils s’inspirent dans cette belle ville. Pour achever ma concentration sur la littérature française, il faut que j’étudie académiquement les auteurs français, mais je souhaite aussi vivre la littérature française. Je flânerai dans les rues et je mangerai aux cafés où ces auteurs passaient leurs temps et dont ils s’inspirent. En étudiant à Paris, je comprendrai plus profondément ces romans, ces auteurs et cette histoire que j’adore.

Étudier une année à Paris exécutera certainement mes études, mais j’espère aussi devenir plus indépendante et plus assurée. Une année dans un pays étranger sans ma famille et sans mes amis sera difficile, mais comme je m’adapte, j’apprendrai ce que je peux faire moi-même. Il faut que je sois indépendante et persistante dans mes études et ma vie quotidienne à Paris.

Ce contact avec une nouvelle culture me forcera à essayer des choses que je ne fais pas d’habitude. Habiter au milieu d’une autre culture me contraindra aussi à voir le monde sous un angle différent. Grâce à ces adaptations culturelles, je gagnerai à Paris une confiance en moi que je manque maintenant. Cette expérience m’aidera à surmonter mes peurs et mes manques d’assurance pour que je puisse faire face à mon avenir en confiance.

Je comprends que Paris ne sera pas, peut-être, exactement comme mes rêves, mais je suis excitée de découvrir Paris et d’apprendre tout concernant sa langue, sa littérature, son histoire et sa culture.

La troisième ville : Vienne

I just watched The Third Man – an excellent film noir set in 1949 Vienna – this afternoon and was, thus, inspired to complete my travel triptych with my tales from Wien.

Of our three destinations, Vienna was the city that reminded me the most of Paris. Its late-19th-century buildings are of a similar architecture as those of Paris. Its Habsburg palaces blatantly recall the style and opulence of Versailles. And of the three cities, it was the place where I felt the guiltiest for not being able to speak the language. Although the Austrians didn’t seem as fervently zealous in their protection of German as the French are of their language, English was less common than in Amsterdam (where it was ubiquitous) and less appreciated than in Prague (where I detected mild amusement from those with which I spoke in English). I guess the city served as a good transition back to Paris.

We pulled into the bus station in Vienna around noon and proceed to the U-Bahn – Vienna’s equivalent of the Metro – where we successfully purchased our 72-hour passes and boarded the train in the direction of our accommodations. Thanks to a detailed map of the area that we had sketched out, using Google Maps, the night before, we avoided conflict and made it easily to the Elisabeth Guesthouse. When we arrived there was no on in sight and no response upon ringing the bell. We were searching for their phone number amongst my paperwork and standing confused in the hallway for a number of minutes when an endearing old Austrian man emerged from a nearby doorway. He eventually led us to our room which was more like a bitty apartment complete with kitchen and entryway.

We took the U-Bahn into town where we visited the impressive and very tall St. Stephen’s Cathedral. After that, we anticipated our standby tourism strategy of walking about the city looking at various pretty things. Unfortunately, the weather, which – coinciding with our departure from Prague – had recently turned frigid, foiled this tactic. We quickly grew very cold. We ducked into a nearby church to warm up, and Peterskirche [St. Peter’s Church] turned out to be a delightfully ornate Baroque art piece.

Fighting off the cold, we continued on to get a look at the Hofburg Palace, pride of the Habsburgs, and carried on to the MuseumsQuartier, an overly conceptual mall/museum complex where it seemed a number of things were closed. This was the moment when we began to realize that the Austrians must celebrate some sort of Boxing-Day-like holiday for which life shuts down on the day after Christmas. We began to fear the fermeture [closure] of all eating establishments, and dinner plans became a concern. Luckily, we had blown our remaining crowns on snacks at our nonstop convenience store in Prague so at least we wouldn’t go hungry. Nevertheless, we decided to walk the length of a major thoroughfare in search of something warm to eat. The only place open was MacDo [McDonald’s], and although we were reluctant – we passed one up before ultimately deciding to give in at the next – it turned out to be worth it, if only for the intriguing cross-cultural exchange that took place as I tried to order from the entertained (and entertaining) German-speaking cashier.

We called it a night and decide we would need to make more concrete plans for the next day in order to avoid growing bitter and cold on the streets of Vienna.

Saturday we hit up a grocery store, realizing the severity of our lack of food. We then hopped on the U-Bahn for the Belvedere. To get there we had to switch to the S-Bahn – Vienna’s equivalent of the RER – and thanks to some incompetency in reading signs we passed by the Prater theme park which allowed us to see the Ferris wheel featured in a dramatic scene between Joseph Cotten and Orson Welles in The Third Man.

We eventually headed back in the right direction and arrived at the Belvedere. Originally the summer palace of Prince Eugene of Savoy, it now hosts an impressive art collection. It understandably had an impressive selection of Klimts; although I don’t think I had heard of him before this trip, I grew to love the work of Gustav Klimt, pride of the modern Vienna art scene. The grand staircase and impressive rooms of both the Upper and Lower Belvedere buildings were also a treat. Plus, the French garden connecting them made me feel at home.

We ended up passing our day amongst the art and stopped off to look at the beautifully lit Karlskirche [St. Charles’s Church] before heading home for the night.

On our last day in Vienna, we stopped by the Secessionist Building whose art nouveau exterior was eye-catching and the Opera which was a bit of a rip-off of Paris’s Opera Garnier.

We spent most of the day in the Albertina, yet another palace-cum-gallery, where a recently donated personal collection featured works by painters from Monet to Picasso and everyone in between (and even some after like Francis Bacon and Mark Rothko). A random smattering of contemporary Austrian art with poorly written – or poorly translated – accompanying text also held our attention. The Habsburg staterooms were equally thrilling, presenting the allure of a fully reconstructed timepiece with prints from Dürer and others decorating the walls. This mixture of luxury and art was particularly appealing to me. It’s like getting two attractions for the price of one!

After I bought some chocolates as a souvenir for my host mom, we began our search around the St. Stephen’s Cathedral for some “Viennese treats” to cap off our stay. Apparently I am spoiled from living in Paris where cafés line the streets and dot each corner, but it was harder than expected to find a suitable establishment. We did eventually locate this immense eatery where I had the milkshake I had been looking for all week and some tiramisu – don’t judge…it’s required to indulge while on vacation – and Ben got a classic apple strudel. Before saying goodbye to Vienna we took the U-Bahn out to Schönbrunn Palace, the Habsburg’s summer retreat, to snap some photos and stare.

The next day, despite frustrations with the S-Bahn which decided to cancel a train making us wait on the cold quai [platform] for a good hour and ten minutes, we made it to the Vienna Airport and happily boarded our plane back to Paris.

Le Pouvoir de Prague

The second leg of our amazing Christmas-break trip was the stunningly gothic and utterly cinematic Prague.

A 14-hour overnight bus ride transported us across a large swatch of southern Germany, where we encountered some pretty great Germany customs agents. Sample interchange:

German border patrol agent (as he goes to open a bag): Is this your bag?
Czech man resembling every stereotypical Euro-trash movie villain ever (indignantly): May I ask you why you would like to search it?
German border patrol (deadpan): It is my job.

Managing to get a surprising amount of sleep on the crowded bus, we pulled into Prague a little after noon. After some major snafus in trying to locate our hostel, we eventually took the long way around and arrived at the Hostel Elf. Thankfully, there were no spinning elves in sight, but the place was pretty funky. The hallway walls and doors had been elaborately spray painted and the lobby’s leather couches were perpetually filled with characters whom Ben dubbed “degenerate hippies.” In all, our accommodations were pretty nice. The facilities had clearly been recently redone. Plus, there was a kitchen and free Internet at our disposal.

By the time we ventured out it was late afternoon and, with suitable maps in hand, we set out for town. I had to find a bank to change my Euros to Czech crowns, and we were, of course, in search of the ever-elusive dinner. I exchanged my money, and we headed into the Old Town section of Prague. There, we encountered a number of old-school Gothic buildings. They were each so striking, as historic artifacts of a time past and in their dissimilarity to the Haussmannian constructions that I have grown so used to in Paris.

We stumbled upon a Christmas market in Old Town Square. Still quite commercialized, it struck my as utterly tradition in comparison to the phony chalets erected on the Champs-Élysées. We strolled through the tiny, old streets of the medieval section of town until we reached the river where the beautiful Vltava and the vista of the illuminated Charles Bridge and Prague Castle gave us a wonderful first impression. We ended up finding dinner at a restaurant which could have been mistaken for a basement, or wine cellar, but where we were pleased to find English translations on the menu.

As much as I loved the exoticism of words peppered with V’s and upside-down circumflexes which resembled excited arrows bearing down on unsuspecting letters (sample word: Pražský hrad), I had no luck with the Czech language.

The next day was Christmas Eve and rather than take the time to relax while museums and most attractions were close, we decided to explore the city by foot. We walked – I should say hiked – for over five hours straight. But we did cover the whole city, including its parks and outskirts. Although Google exaggerates a bit because it cannot find the exact paths we used to maneuver through parks, this is a vague approximation of our trek.

From our hostel we headed off to the point on our map intriguingly labeled “Prague Metronome.” At said spot, we found, high atop a hill, a giant, working metronome. Curious, we climb up the massive set of stairs for a closer look. While the metronome, a modern sculptor’s 1991 creation as a replacement to a giant Stalin statue, was cool, it was the view from the hill that was breathtaking. All of Prague unfolded clearly before us with its colored rooftops and cluttered quartiers.

As the day unfurled, we visited the Prague Castle where we took a look inside St. Vitus’s Cathedral – you have to give props to the Bohemians for giving love to some of the lesser known saints – whose flying buttresses could challenge Notre-Dames’, and bought some postcards at a bookshop where Franz Kafka lived and wrote. The views from the castle were equally pretty, but crowded with tourists – we had the lookout from the metronome all to ourselves. Another perfect example of the tourist crowd-think mentality.

We fought the crowds down to the Charles Bridge, sight of a number of music videos and a climatic Mission: Impossible scene. It’s also old and historic and stuff. Afterwards, we made our way back up the hill. The road we were on became increasingly steeper until it terminated in another set of unbelievably long stairs. Although we were exhausted when we got there, Petrin Hill was a lovely – and deserted – park. I snapped photos of the scaled-down Eiffel-Tower copycat and the labyrinth, which was unfortunately closed. After a lengthy and disheartening search, we finally stumbled upon the Ukrainian, pagoda-like church that we had been looking for all along. Wet, cold and sore from all the walking, we decided to head home as night fell. We detoured past St. Wenceslaus’s – another one for you – Square and settled in for a cozy evening at the Hostel Elf.

Our last day in Prague was Christmas. We took the opportunity to visit the modern section of the Prague National Gallery, which happened to be open – much to the chagrin of the very bored museum guards. The place was immense, and we easily wasted the day away there. We finished off our stay in Prague by taking a walk through the Jewish Quarter, which we had yet not visited, and stopping at a café to use up our remaining crowns on some Christmas treats. The café may have been a bit “frou-frou,” but I was extremely pleased by my pancakes with yogurt and forest fruit. I imagine that Ben was equally sated by his hot apple pie and vanilla sauce. Plus, the café was broadcasted VH1 Classic on its flat-screen TVs. What’s better than some Toto “Africa” to cap a great Prague experience?

Prague was a wonderful palimpsest of histories from the Bohemians to Kafka to the Communists on which the present of an up-and-coming modern European city is being written. Although it may have worn us down a bit, Praha’s stunning vistas and dramatic spirit were unforgettable.

We bid our adieus to the Hostel Elf early the next morning and made our way – much more successfully this time – to the bus station to head off for Vienna.

Amsterdam sans souci

With the songs of the same name by Guster and Peter Bjorn & John ringing in my ears, Ben and I set off for Amsterdam ridiculously early on the day after my last class before break.

The train plowed through Belgium quicker than the Germans (too soon? I don’t think so) and made stops at all of the Netherlands’ major cities – which are surprisingly close together even for the tiny speck of a country that is Holland – before finding its terminus and our destination at Amsterdam’s Central Station.

Once we had located our adorable, canal-side hotel, one member of our party took an epic nap while the other explored the nearby Museum Quarter and the adorable Prince William Canal, noting interesting restaurants and attractions along the way. For dinner, we tried out the nearby Pancake Corner where I ate a “pizza pancake,” and Ben tapped his England nostalgia for some fish and chips.

We ended our night at the Van Gogh Museum which is open in nocturne Friday nights, complete with DJ. The atmosphere was fun, and the art was great. The large collection of Van Goghs was laid out chronologically, and detailed texts – always translated in perfect English – gave context and insight into Van Gogh’s troubled psyche.

The next day was full of walking – a common theme of our vacation(s) – and colonialism. We walked “Farther Afield” as our guidebook put it to the Tropenmuseum. Formerly a testament to the colonial glory of the Netherlands (yes, the tiny country was a colonial power, controlling the massive Indonesia for hundreds of years), the “Tropical Museum” now hopes to offer ethnographic “stories” from across the world. It was a bit like the Musée Quai Branly but much more anthropological. And although the cartoon Indian with an accent fit for Apu clearly crossed the line of good taste and cultural sensitivity, the museum was well-done and held the attention of two self-proclaimed po-co enthusiasts. Plus, an exhibition on the influence of Vodou in Haiti was enlightening and surprising.

After learning that the National Maritime Museum was closed for renovation – along with half of Amsterdam – we strolled about the harbor and back to the Leidseplein, the bustling plaza located near our hotel. We chose a British sports bar for dinner. This helped to cement Ben’s theory that Amsterdam is really just an extension of the UK. He says that Amsterdam was the most like Great Britain of any city he’s been to (outside of GB, of course).

The omnipresence of English and Dutch’s tonal familiarity helped to add to this Anglophonic atmosphere, but for me, the most important factor was le style de vie of the Dutch. They seemed so laid back, so breezy, so…happy. After living in Paris for four months, it was a shock to see Europeans who looked and acted carefree. They smiled and laughed as they passed, leisurely riding their bicycles. They weren’t overly concerned with their outfits, and they weren’t threatened by the English language the way the French are. They were visibly happy, something so rare chez les Français. It was a welcome break from my French surroundings.

Our third day in Amsterdam was filled with more museums. Having purchased a money-saving “museumkaart,” we had free access to all the state-run museums; tapping our frugal Dutch heritage, we profited. Although Amsterdam’s equivalent to the Louvre, the Rijksmuseum (“state museum”) was limited due to renovations, it offered a very manageable selection of the Dutch masters, including a sizeable Rembrandt collection and a number of Vermeers.

We tried to stop in at the Filmmuseum, but after a confusing exchange with the friendly cashier, eventually learned that they didn’t have an exposition showing.

The foam (fotografiemuseum Amsterdam) proved interesting, however, and we finished our night there before heading to the Pancake Bakery. Suggested by our guidebook, the intimate eatery offered over 50 varieties of traditional Dutch pancakes. Ben’s cinnamon-apple and my cheese pancakes were excellent, and the friendly service reminded me how different from Paris Amsterdam really was.

On our final day in the city, we finally embarked into the panic-attack inducing, tourist-filled areas of Amsterdam. Until this point, we’d mostly mingled amongst natives on the outskirts of town, but we decided we should see the city center before we departed. We dropped our bags off at Central Station and walked down Damrak. We found them alright; tourists swarmed the street like screaming teenagers at an ’N Sync concert circa 1999. Souvenir shops, fast food and tacky museums abounded. I found it hard to see the allure of this people-filled destination. I much preferred the quiet canals and local parks we had spent our first three days exploring. But the crowd-think mentality apparently rules among tourists. The good thing is this collective thinking makes them easy enough to avoid: simply hop on a side street or take the next road over and life will be nearly tourist-free.

After fighting off the crowds, we saw an intriguing contemporary art exhibit in the “New Church” – another Pont Neuf situation considering the church dates from the 15th century. Since Amsterdam’s contemporary art museum was closed for renovations – shocker – select pieces were on display within the church. The theme of spirituality united the exhibit, making the randomness of contemporary art more palatable. As always with the Dutch, the text accompanying the art was extensive and informative, this time presented in a take-home booklet.

We spent the afternoon in the amusing Amsterdam Historical Museum and passed by the “Old Church,” a 13th-century wonder located squarely in the Red Light District, just before closing.

We caught our bus to Prague later that night without a hitch.

We’d seen so much in Amsterdam that it felt like time to move on, but I was still sad to leave that laid-back Amsterdam style and those glorious canals behind.

La Douceur du foyer

Sometimes it seems that vacationing can be equally, if not more, stressful than la vie quotidienne.

That is certainly how I felt the day before my departure, when I made my last post, and the sentiment persisted a number of times throughout my near two weeks of travel across Northern and Central Europe and back to Paris.

But, in all, I would have to say that I greatly enjoyed the trip. We made sure to keep things low-key, resisting my typical tourist-on-overdrive style in favor of a more laidback and leisurely attitude. Amsterdam, Prague and Vienna were all great. Although my obsessive compulsiveness regrets that I did not see everything that there is to see in these lovely cities, I am happy with what we were able to do and see. I got a great feel for each of the three cities and their dynamics which were all so different – from each other and, especially, from Paris.

I will be updating more about the trip and each city, hopefully with pictures – that is if I have room to save all 400-plus of them on my nearly-full hard drive – within the next few weeks as things settle back down for me.

During my vacation, I thankfully managed to free my mind – for the most part – of all the stress and work that plagued me before the break. Unfortunately, I have returned to face it all again in Paris. The decision to forget my troubles during the break was reasonable and psychologically helpful, but it is now becoming a bit regrettable; now back and settled into my home-away-from-home that is Paris, I am overwhelmed with the responsibilities and tasks before me.

My to-do list is chocked full of the things that I need to catch up on. From the practical (grocery shopping) to the silly (reading my favorite Slate columns) to the serious (preparing for a 3-hour, open-note final exam which will take place a week from today), each bullet point adds to my stress. Thankfully, having just finished writing it all down, the tasks are beginning to seem more manageable.

And being back in my cozy room in this intimate 6th-arrondissement apartment gives me the comfort and confidence to get to work.

At least for now, this feels like home.

Bonnes fêtes

I am a wreck and apparently I am supposed to leave for Amsterdam at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning. I haven’t packed, and I don’t feel particularly prepared. I also feel that I won’t be able to enjoy it in my current state. But I am working on it.

To clarify: I had to give up the New York Times internship. The rules of the Smith JYA Paris are non-negotiable, and I cannot leave the program before the end without losing all of my credits for the year.

I will get over. I know I will. It’s just hard to realize it now. Hopefully I can enjoy my petit tour of Europe despite my present situation.

Thank you to all those have been supportive during this difficult moment and Happy Holidays à tous!

M’éclater

I feel like two heavy weights have been lifted from my shoulders.

En premier temps [First of all] I completed my exam this morning without dying, passing out or crying (all of which were possibilities).

To celebrate its completion and the end of the school week, my friend Rebecca and I decided de flâner [to stroll aimlessly but observantly] around the Latin Quarter and Saint-Germain-des-Près areas. It’s cheap entertainment and I am a flâneuse at heart. Also, I wrote in my JYA admissions essay that one of the reasons I wanted to go to Paris was pour flâner ses rues. Donc, je réalise ce rêve [So, I’m living my dream].

En deuxième temps [secondly] I have also successfully finished making travel plans for Christmas Break.

As many of you know, my brother, Ben, will be coming to visit me for nearly three weeks at the end of December. During this time we will complete a whirlwind tour of some of Europe’s hotspots – and by hotspots I actually mean coldspots because I anticipate that these cities will all be nice and nippy – spending three nights each in Amsterdam, Prague and Vienna. Now that all the travel arrangements have been made, I’m no longer stressed and simply look forward to being a tourist and relaxing.

One final thing to celebrate: I am no longer an illegal alien! Since my temporary visa expired at the end of October, I had technically been living as a semi-illegal resident. Sure, it was a pretty posh life for a sans-papiers, but still a big gênant [annoying] since I couldn’t leave the country. Titre de séjour and chest x-ray in hand, I am now a legitimate Parisian resident.

Le Bord de la mer

I apologize for the tardiness of this weekend update, but despite vacations and frolicking, I am still a student and I had an essay to write. But now that I’ve caught up with my school work, I’ll take a moment to recount the week-end magnifique that was our excursion to Normandie.

Just like last time: I got up early on a Saturday morning to board the same charter bus with the same conducteur [driver] in order to escape the monotony of Paris in favor of the vast expanses of the French countryside. After a bit of a debacle featuring a late bus and late Smithies – one of whom had a hectic morning, in which she somehow missed her alarm to wake up at 8:15 a.m., 45 minutes after a bus was to leave, and, eventually, took a train to meet up with us later – we were on our way.

Our first stop was Arromanches, a cute little town on the Normandie shore. There, we watched a film which was a composite of journalistic footage of the disembarquement [D-Day landing at Normandy] and modern-day images of the beach and town. The footage was impressive, but the 360-degree format of the “cinéma circulaire” was unnecessarily dizzying.

Afterward, we lunched on the beach which was à la fois [both] beautiful and eerie. The beach featured the vestiges of un pont artificial [temporary bridge] used during the disembarquement as an ever-present reminder of the not-so-eloigned history of the seaside town.

I found the same mixture of unsettling remembrance and seaside revelry at Omaha Beach. The Cimetière américain [American Cemetery] with its vast expanse of over 9,000 white crosses (and Stars of David) marking those American soldiers who died during the invasion of Normandie was impressionnant [impressive, marking] and émouvant [moving]. Even as it made me hate war, it made me proud for the Etats-Unis.

But in the transition of mere moments, the sun was out and the beach called us. We walked down to where the grass met the sand and reveled at the immensity of the ocean, the softness of the sand and our contentedness to be at the beach.

After regretfully leaving the beach, we shifted historical time periods to visit the medieval Bayeux Tapestry depicting the Battle of Hastings.

Then, another two-hour bus trip brought us to our hotel where we ate dinner. A mere 15 minutes from Mont-Saint-Michel, the anticipation of the next day gripped us all.

And the abbey on the mount was no let-down. Driving up to it, each glimpse of the immense stone monument rising from the bay was awe-inspiring. As we descended from the bus and started our climb through the village up to the abbey, I was overcome with the surreality of the moment, and the vistas from the top were even more breathtaking. Snapping countless photos that could not possibly capture the beauty of the structure or its views, we took a two-hour tour of the abbey with an amusing – and, as a group of Smith girls would note, attractive – guide. Unfortunately, I don’t think I retained much of what was learned as I was too struck by every architectural detail or glimpse of the sea.

I guess I shouldn’t have been, but I was surprised by how much of a tourist trap the whole village has become. Gift shops selling everything from postcards and overpriced trinkets to Mont-Saint-Michel cookies and cider lined the tiny, middle-age streets, and tourists of all nationalities filled the narrow walkways. But I understand the flock because Mont-Saint-Michel is an experience not to be missed.

Another two-hour bus ride passed quickly thanks to sleep, not doing homework and our re-enactments of Titanic and the Little Mermaid.

Our last glimpse of the sea before returning to the City of Light greeted us in Honfleur, an adorable and bustling town located just where the Seine meets la Manche [the English Channel]. Unfortunately, it started raining as we walked the town’s delightful streets. We also didn’t get to go to the art museum that I wanted to visit because it was near closing. We did, however, explore a beautiful church, all in wood, and enjoy a goûter [snack] of dessert crêpes and hot cidre – on Smith! – in an adorable restaurant called La Cidrerie. The restaurant’s Halloween decorations – a rarity in France where Halloween is little celebrated – were a welcoming touch.

With a last glimpse at the lit-up, little town and the sea, we boarded the bus back to Paris, where cold weather and dreary days have greeted us so far this week. At least I have Halloween to look forward to Friday and my Mont-Saint-Michel “Entre Terre et Ciel” poster hanging over my bed to remind me of it all.

Un conte de fées

The beauty of Paris is stunning and the bustle of city life can be such a thrill, but after a month here, la campagne nous manquait [we missed the countryside]. After waking up at 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning to board a bus full of Smithies, we found that countryside, and it was as marvelous as one could imagine.

The two-hour-plus bus ride to the Loire Valley was more like passing through a portal into a fairy-tale land, where castles and villages and beautiful vistas reign. The first glimpses of the countryside reminded me of the Etats-Unis [United States], but as castles and ancient bridges popped up here and there, I knew I was someplace special.

During our well-organized trip, I visited four châteaux (two of which we went inside for guided tours) and their jardins, the “castle” where Leonard Da Vinci lived toward the end of his life and a cave where they produce wine, all of which occurred during perfect autumnal weather.

Each castle was as beautiful as the next, but the magnifique Château de Chenonceau was my favorite. Our visit to the castle was truncated by a slightly late arrival (due to minor navigational errors), but our rushed visit gave us just enough time to take in the beauty of the structural marvel.

After picnicking, visiting Clos Lucé (Da Vinci’s house) and strolling the gardens of the Château de Chaumont, we visited the wine production cave for a wine tasting. The night was topped of with an excellent and exciting fondue dinner, complete with four different fondues, with the whole group – including our assistant director’s charming 9-year-old son François who accompanied us on the trip – packed into the basement of “La Souris Gourmande” [The gluttonous mouse] in Tours, France. I don’t know how I had room after so much excellent cheese, but the dessert was also exquisite: meringué glacé (which I chose over the chocolate tart, a popular selection among the crowd) which was a meringue with some sort of fruit cream.

Day two was a bit less hectic, but equally satisfying. We left the hotel around 9 a.m. for a visit of the Château de Blois, where my history knowledge was greatly enhanced by our American ex-pat tour guide who continually reminded us to vote. After lunch at one of the few open cafés – life shuts down in France on Sunday – in the charming town, we traveled to the Château de Chambord, a visually overwhelming gothic-style masterpiece. There, I elected to rent a vélo [bicycle] to tour the jardins and surrounding fôrets [forests]. The view was amazing and it was an unreal experience to be cruising along on a bicycle with this enormous castle looming over us.




We returned to the bus exhausted but satisfied, begrudgingly ready to return to the real world of Paris.