Nice
Monaco
Marseille
Ile d’If
Cassis
Arles
Avignon
(with my lovely travel companions)
27 April 2009
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
Nice
Monaco
Marseille
Ile d’If
Cassis
Arles
Avignon
12 April 2009
Un peu de psychanalyse
My anxiety about eventually leaving Paris is mounting. I have less than two months left, and even those two months will blow quickly by considering the next 10 days will be dedicated to travel and the two weeks after that will be busy with the bountiful papers and presentations I have due. By that point, it will be mid-May, exams will be approaching and my year will be winding down – so soon!
It appears that this anxiety has been manifesting itself in my dreams. Elaborate and convoluted, my dreams rarely make much sense, but they do often shed light on my present psychological state. Lately I’ve been having a reoccurring dream (each time the scenery and the events are a bit different, but the scenario ends up being pretty similar) where I find myself back in the U.S. about to start my senior year; except, instead of being at Smith, I’m back in high school. I didn’t hate high school enough for this to be an out-and-out nightmare, but it’s a disorienting and worrisome experience.
Anyway, it’s not really my high school: some teachers and students from Rockford do surface, but there are also people from my present there with me. It’s also not clear that I am in a high school. The atmosphere is either loosely defined or reminiscent of a combination of campuses, including that of Université Paris Diderot. But I do know I am in high school because of that magical dream sensation that tells you where you are and what’s going on without ever really telling you.
Although these dreams aren’t nightmarish, they quickly become disconcerting and frustrating. Even though I am the same age as those around me, I do feel like I am too old to be in high school. Likewise, I quickly tire of the patronizing manner in which the members of the administration treat us (in the most recent dream, I stood up during a beginning of the year assembly – taking place in a room that looked a lot like Amphi 11 in the Halles aux farines of Diderot – and expressed my disgust with the infantile treatment we were receiving and the unnecessary information that was being conveyed to us). Lastly, I seem to have already studied all of the material that is to be presented in my classes. In bringing this up to the teachers, I am either ignored or mildly scolded for having read or studied or done too much.
Now, what could this all mean? I think it’s certainly a reflection on the fact that I view returning to Smith next year as a step backward from the independence and personal progress that I have made while here in Paris. Additionally, it may be reflecting a frustration at the prospect of facing the maternalistic bureaucracy of the college. The dream may also be commenting on the fact that I will be studying a number of texts that I have studied before in the classes that I have chosen for next year. My subconscious potentially views this repetition as a reflection on my education: I have already studied all there is to study (not even remotely true) so why should I return to Smith?
The dream generally seems to convey the sentiment that I will be out-of-place and out-of-sorts when I eventually return home. This is something that I’ve been ruminating on for some time. I don’t know if it will show itself to be true or not, and I won’t be able to find out until I have made it back.
In the meantime, I will keep dreaming – and analyzing what comes out.
It appears that this anxiety has been manifesting itself in my dreams. Elaborate and convoluted, my dreams rarely make much sense, but they do often shed light on my present psychological state. Lately I’ve been having a reoccurring dream (each time the scenery and the events are a bit different, but the scenario ends up being pretty similar) where I find myself back in the U.S. about to start my senior year; except, instead of being at Smith, I’m back in high school. I didn’t hate high school enough for this to be an out-and-out nightmare, but it’s a disorienting and worrisome experience.
Anyway, it’s not really my high school: some teachers and students from Rockford do surface, but there are also people from my present there with me. It’s also not clear that I am in a high school. The atmosphere is either loosely defined or reminiscent of a combination of campuses, including that of Université Paris Diderot. But I do know I am in high school because of that magical dream sensation that tells you where you are and what’s going on without ever really telling you.
Although these dreams aren’t nightmarish, they quickly become disconcerting and frustrating. Even though I am the same age as those around me, I do feel like I am too old to be in high school. Likewise, I quickly tire of the patronizing manner in which the members of the administration treat us (in the most recent dream, I stood up during a beginning of the year assembly – taking place in a room that looked a lot like Amphi 11 in the Halles aux farines of Diderot – and expressed my disgust with the infantile treatment we were receiving and the unnecessary information that was being conveyed to us). Lastly, I seem to have already studied all of the material that is to be presented in my classes. In bringing this up to the teachers, I am either ignored or mildly scolded for having read or studied or done too much.
Now, what could this all mean? I think it’s certainly a reflection on the fact that I view returning to Smith next year as a step backward from the independence and personal progress that I have made while here in Paris. Additionally, it may be reflecting a frustration at the prospect of facing the maternalistic bureaucracy of the college. The dream may also be commenting on the fact that I will be studying a number of texts that I have studied before in the classes that I have chosen for next year. My subconscious potentially views this repetition as a reflection on my education: I have already studied all there is to study (not even remotely true) so why should I return to Smith?
The dream generally seems to convey the sentiment that I will be out-of-place and out-of-sorts when I eventually return home. This is something that I’ve been ruminating on for some time. I don’t know if it will show itself to be true or not, and I won’t be able to find out until I have made it back.
In the meantime, I will keep dreaming – and analyzing what comes out.
11 April 2009
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.
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.
31 March 2009
Les bonnes promeneuses
I’m happy to report that I had, for the most part, a great time with my mom while she was here in Paris with me for a little over a week. In addition to exploring nearly all of Paris on foot, we took a weekend vacation by train to Amiens and Boulogne-sur-mer – an excellent experience that I hope to write more about later.
It was a bit surreal to have someone so assuredly part of my American life here in my Parisian life (almost as surreal as the wonderful afternoon I shared today with a friend from high school that I have hardly talked to in two years who was visiting Paris on her spring break from studies in Scotland).
It was, however, incredibly rewarding to share Paris with such an eager and excited visitor, even if I am a bit of a lacking tour guide.
We did so much in our short time together that it’s almost impossible to recount it all. I guess I should have kept a journal like my mom. Since I’m a very visual person, I have plotted the majority of our Parisian walking adventures below.
Friday, March 20: Jardin du Luxembourg, L'Ile-de-St.-Louis, Le Marais
It was a bit surreal to have someone so assuredly part of my American life here in my Parisian life (almost as surreal as the wonderful afternoon I shared today with a friend from high school that I have hardly talked to in two years who was visiting Paris on her spring break from studies in Scotland).
It was, however, incredibly rewarding to share Paris with such an eager and excited visitor, even if I am a bit of a lacking tour guide.
We did so much in our short time together that it’s almost impossible to recount it all. I guess I should have kept a journal like my mom. Since I’m a very visual person, I have plotted the majority of our Parisian walking adventures below.
Friday, March 20: Jardin du Luxembourg, L'Ile-de-St.-Louis, Le Marais
Saturday, March 21: Promenade plantée, Canal Saint-Martin, Parc des buttes-Chaumont
Monday, March 23: Jardin des Tuileries, Rue de Rivoli
Tuesday, March 24: Galléries Lafayette, Place de Vendôme, Trocadéro, La tour Eiffel, Montparnasse
Thursday, March 26: Le 6e arrondissement
All maps copyright of Google and Tele Atlas.
17 March 2009
16 March 2009
Profitez bien!
I am beginning to realize just how much I love living in a big city like Paris (particularly at a moment in my life when I have a fair amount of time on my hands). At any given moment, there are more possibilities of how to spend your time that you could imagine. Originally, this was a bit overwhelming for me. With so many interesting propositions I could hardly decide what to do. Often, I would do nothing or very little due to sheer overstimulation. But now, I am beginning to learn how to balance the millions of options and seize each moment. My schoolwork may be suffering a bit, but at least I am profiting from Paris.
My weekend started early when on Thursday night, I went to Le Roi Lion [The Lion King] with my friend Jamie. Arriving early to faire le queue [wait in line], we got discounted student tickets – a great price and great seats in the second row of the first balcony. I absolutely adored the production. The costumes and puppetry were truly amazing, and the songs were of course great. I really enjoyed listening attentively for the changes and adaptations in the French lyrics. In all, it was a pretty awe-inspiring performance, and I loved every minute of it.
Friday, I met up with my friend Rebecca and her friend’s friend to check out the free exhibit honoring Le Petit Nicolas at the Hôtel de Ville. Studying the original Sempé drawings and reading the accompanying texts was as entertaining as le petit Nicolas himself. It made me want to read more of the stories. We capped the afternoon off, enjoying the wonderful weather, by strolling around the Marais. We ended up at the Place des Vosges and decided to stop in the Victor Hugo house since we had never been. After dinner, I met up with another group from the Smith program to watch a new copy of Woody Allen’s Manhattan at one of my favorite tiny Latin Quarter theaters. We stopped at a cozy bar for drinks and conversation afterward.
I was determined to get some homework done Saturday so I hopped the RER down to Parc Montsouris where I grabbed a bench to do some reading. The weather was not as nice as I hoped, but the scent of nearly blooming flowers made up for it. Unfortunately, my solitude was interrupted by a well-meaning-enough old Frenchman who wanted to strike up a conversation with me (I have to admit that this sort of attention will not be missed when I return to the States).
When tiny droplets of rain began to fall from the already cloudy skies, I caught the tram to the Parc des expositions to explore the Salon du livre, a huge book and publishing exposition that lasted through the weekend. A number of authors and publishing companies were present for signings and conversations, but I mostly just reveled in the atmosphere of what seemed to me like a giant bookstore.
Saturday night was consecrated to Hitchcock. After seeing the poster Friday afternoon, I was quickly determined to attend a double feature of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho and Gus Van Sant’s 1998 shot-by-shot remake. My friend and Hitchcock-classmate Zoë came along (although she ended up missing the first film do to miscommunication), and we had quite a night of Hitchcock, including the lengthy discussion/question-and-answer session that followed the two films.
After an already eventful weekend, I was determined to make it to the Comédie Française on Sunday. I’ve been meaning to check it out for sometime, and it was the last week for Cyrano de Bergerac. I absolutely could not miss such a classic of French cultural history. Although I arrived over an hour early to wait in line for the discounted tickets, I merely missed out on my opportunity after waiting for half an hour in the wrong line. I luckily got a ticket. Unfortunately, my seat was in the second balcony, all the way to the left, making it possible to see only half of the stage. But with some creative standing/leaning/moving about, I could see more than was expected and, of course, I could hear it all. The performance was in turns hilarious and moving – altogether a thoroughly entertaining experience.
After taking the bus home, I finally retired myself for the evening to try to catch up on my work. But I can’t say I regret pushing it aside to take advantage of the many cultural experiences this city has to offer.
My weekend started early when on Thursday night, I went to Le Roi Lion [The Lion King] with my friend Jamie. Arriving early to faire le queue [wait in line], we got discounted student tickets – a great price and great seats in the second row of the first balcony. I absolutely adored the production. The costumes and puppetry were truly amazing, and the songs were of course great. I really enjoyed listening attentively for the changes and adaptations in the French lyrics. In all, it was a pretty awe-inspiring performance, and I loved every minute of it.
Friday, I met up with my friend Rebecca and her friend’s friend to check out the free exhibit honoring Le Petit Nicolas at the Hôtel de Ville. Studying the original Sempé drawings and reading the accompanying texts was as entertaining as le petit Nicolas himself. It made me want to read more of the stories. We capped the afternoon off, enjoying the wonderful weather, by strolling around the Marais. We ended up at the Place des Vosges and decided to stop in the Victor Hugo house since we had never been. After dinner, I met up with another group from the Smith program to watch a new copy of Woody Allen’s Manhattan at one of my favorite tiny Latin Quarter theaters. We stopped at a cozy bar for drinks and conversation afterward.
I was determined to get some homework done Saturday so I hopped the RER down to Parc Montsouris where I grabbed a bench to do some reading. The weather was not as nice as I hoped, but the scent of nearly blooming flowers made up for it. Unfortunately, my solitude was interrupted by a well-meaning-enough old Frenchman who wanted to strike up a conversation with me (I have to admit that this sort of attention will not be missed when I return to the States).
When tiny droplets of rain began to fall from the already cloudy skies, I caught the tram to the Parc des expositions to explore the Salon du livre, a huge book and publishing exposition that lasted through the weekend. A number of authors and publishing companies were present for signings and conversations, but I mostly just reveled in the atmosphere of what seemed to me like a giant bookstore.
Saturday night was consecrated to Hitchcock. After seeing the poster Friday afternoon, I was quickly determined to attend a double feature of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho and Gus Van Sant’s 1998 shot-by-shot remake. My friend and Hitchcock-classmate Zoë came along (although she ended up missing the first film do to miscommunication), and we had quite a night of Hitchcock, including the lengthy discussion/question-and-answer session that followed the two films.
After an already eventful weekend, I was determined to make it to the Comédie Française on Sunday. I’ve been meaning to check it out for sometime, and it was the last week for Cyrano de Bergerac. I absolutely could not miss such a classic of French cultural history. Although I arrived over an hour early to wait in line for the discounted tickets, I merely missed out on my opportunity after waiting for half an hour in the wrong line. I luckily got a ticket. Unfortunately, my seat was in the second balcony, all the way to the left, making it possible to see only half of the stage. But with some creative standing/leaning/moving about, I could see more than was expected and, of course, I could hear it all. The performance was in turns hilarious and moving – altogether a thoroughly entertaining experience.
After taking the bus home, I finally retired myself for the evening to try to catch up on my work. But I can’t say I regret pushing it aside to take advantage of the many cultural experiences this city has to offer.
09 March 2009
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…
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…
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