München

My train back to Paris arrived early Monday morning under a welcomed dawn. The Nachtzug (night train) was a long, fitful ride, almost ten hours from Munich to Paris. Traveling by train just isn't the same after you've ridden the French TGV (train de grande vitesse) line. We Parisians are the toughest to impress.

It was clear upon my arrival at the Hauptbahnhof that Oktoberfest was fully underway. Men in lederhosen and women in the German dirndl could easily be seen in every direction. It's the same as Americans dressing up in farming garb or ranch hand duds. German 'Trachten' or 'traditional clothing' celebrates the time before industrialization came to Germany when Bavaria was an agrarian region, before Germany was great. I find it ironic. Anyways, Germans dressed this way teemed through the station, along with American, French, Polish, and Russian people. Many of them were drunk, so an appropriately sized police force was present. As I waited for my friend Nell and her Middlebury chums, I saw this note taped to the wall.


I was eager to see as much as possible in the waning daylight. This is St. Paul's, marking the direction to and from Oktoberfest
from our apartment, which proved to be quite useful to some in our party.


Well, I had better not delay it any further. Here's a photo of the beer at the Hofbräu tent. At 10:15am.


Now imagine drinking this quantity in a single day. One of the guys in our group did just that. One alone left me reeling.

Nell had a beer of her own.


Having already had quite enough of Oktoberfest and being less sober than I would usually prefer before noon, I went off on my own tourism adventure. This is the Frauenkirche, a fine example of Gothic architecture constructed between the 15th and 16th centuries. It houses a funny bust of my good friend, Pope Benedict XVI, who originates from Bavaria.



Then I learned about mining at the Deutsches Museum, where I was nearly refused the student ticket price. Whatcha doin' there, bud?


And then, of course, there was Otto von Bismarck of the First German Empire.


I was heartened and still saddened to see empty Jägermeister flasks everywhere. In France we joke about 'Veloskills', our term for drunken bike riding. However in German the term would be something like, 'Fahrradfähigkeiten'.


Here is the Neue Rathaus, completed in 1910, at Marienplatz in the center of the Old City. The sun came out just in time for ...


The Chancellor of Germany, Angela Merkel! By chance, there was a CSU rally that Friday afternoon. Other speakers included President Minister of Bavaria Günther Beckstein and CSU Chairman Erwin Huber.


Again, the measures taken by Oktoberfest goers.


At the Städtische Galerie im Lenbachhaus und Kunstbau München, there were lots of great paintings to be seen, particularly from the pre WWI German expressionist group, The Blue Rider artists. Here Wassily Kandinsky teaches lesson of the day to the students of his 'Phalanx' school. Photo by Gabrielle Müller.


There I also bore witness to the worst exhibition space design of all time.


Oktoberfest, I will not miss you.

How dull, no multimedia?

But I do have good news. Tomorrow I'm leaving for Munich, Germany, where I will be until late night. You can expect lots of good pictures and even more stories - it's Oktoberfest! Tchuess!

Goodies

MP3s!

So today I was hunting for books for my literature class with a few friends in the 2e arrondissement, and one in my party took us into a Zara store. Zara is French clothing for men and women with similarities to the American store Banana Republic. We were only in the store for a matter of minutes, but in that time they managed to play two of the most popular songs by the hit new artist Yelle. They're good, I won't lie, though I've grown tired of them after nearly three weeks of continuous play (and singing).



This is Yelle. Here are the songs I speak of:

http://www.sendspace.com/file/ewa8zc
http://www.sendspace.com/file/2lxyr8

Check it out! More updates soon!

Tantalizing

Look at this. Does it make you hungry or does it make you . . .

I need to hire a private blogger

Because there aren't enough hours in the day to blog! Here's a video to hold your attention while I sleep.

This is the group. This is Tektonique.


Compare with this. Unfortunately it's a German vid, but the idea remains the same.

BIG DEAL!

Monday I signed up for the Paris Marathon, April 5th of 2009. WOWIE.

De Tours a Paris

You can tell when I'm using my personal computer because of the lack of proper accenting.

A lot has happened since my last post. Courses at the Insistut de Touraine were completed, and we all bid a fond farewell to the city of Tours and the Loire River. It really is a nice place, though it is better suited for a slower paced lifestyle than that sought by my colleagues.

We traveled to Paris on a bus (there were two for all of us) and were promptly deposited with our new and permanent host families. My family is great! Family Vandame is two parents and seven children. They are very traditional, Catholic, but at the same time, more relaxed than one would expect considering those factors. My chambre is enorme, there are a few pictures of my view below.


This one's for Melanie.


Cody and Abhinay inform the world of their brutally judgmental personalities.


We made crepes my last night in Tours. I cooked more than half of them.


The secret to French cuisine: BUTTA! I've decided that any time excessive butter is used in cooking, it becomes French cuisine. EXCESS.


I couldn't wait until dinner to eat one. It was just so buttery and good.


Here's the recipe, which I obtained secretly! Translation may be provided upon request.


Where we dined when the weather was nice.


My window in Paris. That is not a real bird.


THAT IS THE POPE, IN WHITE!


My friend Natalia in front of the Tour Eiffel after a great picnic (pique-nique) with friends.


My adorable host sister Ombeline and I in front of the apartment.

UPDATES

The moment you all have been waiting for - an update! Complete with images!

Tours has been wonderful, I'm with my new host family in Saint Cyr sur Loire just across the river from the downtown. My room is much more comfortable, though the cat Archymede invades it at night when he can. I take great precautions in sealing the door and windows at night to keep any feline bedfellows at bay. The family Morbieu is very warm and welcoming, and their strong family bond is quite clear. The meals are not quite as exquisite as they were at the Basri home, but they are much more relaxed. The Morbieus love word games, or <>, which are a challenge to comprehend, but quite a laugh if you manage to catch them. I've even made a few of my own, though they are more transparent. The father has taken to instructing me in the ways of the French, even a little history. I look forward to the nights when we linger in the kitchen, he lecturing, me asking questions. I've taken a great interest in his home region, the Pays Basque, in the Southwest corner of the country on the Atlantic coast, Spanish border, and the Pyrenees. It's true farming country with its own language, completely independent of the French tongue. Perhaps I'll manage a visit.
The other students and I go out quite often, which means we get together at night for a beer or glass of wine. The weekends are a different story, however, and some students have been hitting the boites de nuit, discotheques, and bars. Then there are others of us who prefer the more relaxed alternative, which is going to a late night store, picking up a bottle of Bordeaux (4 Euro), and heading down to the stone walkway under the Pont Wilson on the bank of the Loire. Of course, I partake in a bit of both, though I have yet to make it into a discotheque. I'm saving my dance abilities for Paris. All this has given the group time to get to know one another, and I'm confident the company in Paris will be good. Paris remains something of a mystery, as I have yet to receive my housing assignment or schedule of classes.
Already I'm a bit sad to be leaving Tours, which has really grown on me. This weekend we got the chance to visit a few of the treasures of the Loire Valley : its Châteaux. Saturday we visited Chenonceaux (on the river Cher) and then Villandry on Sunday. Rather than take the time to describe them, I'm going to upload a few photos and get out of here.

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My ride to and from Tours and school. Totally broken the day I arrived. We fixed it, but the brakes are still terrible. Keep your fingers crossed for me.


Gypsy barge.




A bike ride with some friends.


Chenonceaux. We rode under that thing in a boat.


Drew goes to Kenyon and looks great on a bike!


Villandry and a fraction of its gardens. We rode there on bikes, 50 kilometers round trip.


The garden was full of fruits and vegetables! I just couldn't resist.


This one makes me think of Melanie, or at least her photographic quirks. What do you think of it?


Enormous loaves of bread! To feed the legions of gardeners?


Small peppers growing inside on the windowsill.

Sorry for the delay in posts, I just haven't had good access to the internet with my laptop. You can expect more later this week and once I arrive in Paris (Thursday). The Pope will be there Saturday!

L'Atterrissage

I am writing from Tours, France, where I will be living for the next 12 days or so. It's a beautiful medium-sized (300,000) city in the heart of the country, just below the French corn belt. The city itself does not boast any great landmarks or features, but it is nonetheless a wonderfully relaxed and beautiful city where a five minute walk will take you from the quiet residential quarters to the happening town square. Our days have been action packed, though I think the constant distraction from being jet lagged has assisted my recovery greatly.

After a brief stay with a temporary host family, I have been united with my assigned family who live on the other side of the Loire river. My 10 minute walk to the Institut de Touraine is now a 10 minute bike ride, ou conduit à vélo, much to my satisfaction. Now I must report to a meeting, though I intend to make updates soon.