What a laugh!

Last night's topic of discussion at dinner was the military, and all of a sudden my host father starts singing this song.

And I, the American, didn't even know the song. Well, anyways, here it is.

Velo!

I GOT ONE!

After a fair amount of fussing with flat tires and cranky bike shop owners, she's in action! And fast as ever! I picked it up last Friday used for 80 euros, more money than I was comfortable handing over all at once, but WELL WORTH IT. Take yesterday evening for instance: I was winding down from a stressful morning and a stressful assignment I had just submitted, had a few hours to kill, so I went and played in traffic for an hour or two. I'm surprised by how comfortable I feel navigating the busiest intersections in the middle of rush hour, though I suppose you could say I've been working towards this moment for some time. So far I've tackled La Place de l'Opera and La Place de la Madeleine, and have passed through Place de la Concorde ever so briefly. My greatest triumph will be Place de Charles de Gaulle, or l'Arc de Triomphe, but I'm not ready yet. 

Don't worry, Mom, yesterday I picked up a mountable light for riding at night, as well as one of those funny reflective ankle bands to keep your pant leg out of the gears. Also, I wrapped the handlebars, which were bare steel before and quite uncomfortable in cold weather. Hopefully my friend Cody will get his own velo soon, and then I'll have a riding partner. Until then, no one is fast enough to catch me. Better not speak too soon, I'll surely be proved wrong. 

In Paris

So I'm back after a weekend in the countryside and seaside of the North where my host family has a vacation home. The town is called Le Touquet, situated just North of Berck and two hours from Lille. This week is the week of Toussaint, or All Saints Day, a national holiday in France celebrated for an entire week. As holidays go, it's quite different from the States, as the government staggers the vacation days to avoid overflowing the transit systems. A few members of the family have stayed at the vacation house all week, and after my weekend visit, I can say with confidence that I envy them.

After our arrival, we stopped at the house to turn on the heating, then jumped back in the car to have dinner with family friends. It was really good. They say that the salt air in the North stimulates the appetite. 

The next day I awoke, ate breakfast, and picked apples from the pommier in the back yard after Ombeline announced the opening of the (apple) hunting season. She outfitted us both with boots for the wet grass and I found a ladder in the shed. 

View of the house in the morning light.

It's not terribly big, but after Paris it felt enormous. After filling two big baskets, we put on our sneakers and went to the town market, absolutely overflowing with seafood. Before going home, we went for a short walk on the beach, which was beautiful, though I have no photos to prove it. We went home, I went for a run, got lost, came back, and we had lunch. The French serve their shrimp with the heads still attached, antennae, eyes and all. This is a video from the market Ombeline insisted I took.

They have quite a collection of bikes at the house, one for each child, and then one or two extra. The girls and I rode to the equestrian center to check out the horseys. I rode one of the most beautiful antique Peugot road bikes I have seen, painted a sort of bright, sparkly teal. Then we went home and watched a movie. Dinner was quiet.

The next morning Bruno and his fiance Evguenia arrived, and we all went to church. It was a grey day, and on the way out of the service I took this limited view of the Hotel de Ville, which is really nice.

We had company for drinks and lunch afterwards. I think there were nine of us. We talked about Russia, alcoholism, and the French. Then, in spite of the cold, rain, wind, and grey skies, we all hopped in the family van (7 children warrants ownership of a real van) and hit the beach for a promenade. It wasn't a long walk, but a fun one all the same. 

"Behold!"

Mme Vandame (in the orange pants) was the toughest of us all! Of course, she's originally from the North.

Everyone was soaked, so we went home, changed clothes, and sat by the fire drinking tea for the next hour. Then, sadly, M Vandame (above) and I took the train back to Paris.

As for this weekend, I'll be in Paris, as far as I know, riding my bike (refer to post above).

Marseille

South of France.
Marseille.
Port
Point of entry of the black plague.
Immigration.
Rats.
Water.

I'm back from Marseille. After only three nights in the city, I was read to go back to Paris. This should be not be taken as a discredit to Marseille, but instead a sign of my love for Paris. In Marseille I was shocked to find myself the ethnic minority in an abundance of African and Middle Eastern peoples. The French we heard spoken was quite different, I would say degraded from its pure origins. The notion of leaving the protective sphere of Paris, international in a Western sense, had not occurred to me. With the city's reputation as one of the oldest port cities of the Occident, I expected an immigrant population, but I could not have prepared for experiencing it. The shock I experienced reflects on my upbringing in the States and the distinct social and ethnic boundaries there.

I don't want to give the wrong impression, so let me say that my visit to Marseille was incredible. What made it incredible was not its citizens, its architecture, or its culture. What made it incredible was the sea and the strong sea breeze. My years in Annapolis have honed my penchant for salt air, and my nose perked up immediately when I stepped into the open space of the Vieux Port. It was refreshing.

Friday morning Abhinay and I reunited with a few friends from our study abroad program. I had my coiffure done and then we climbed to the Eglise de Notre-Dame de la Garde, a beautiful church overlooking everything. The clear sky granted us the greatest view. That afternoon, we warily experimented with the public transit and visited a nature preserve of some sort with access to 'Les Calanques'. The term is new to me, so I'll let the photos speak for themselves. 

Can you imagine how overjoyed I was to find myself standing before this inlet in weather just warm enough for a swim? Looking back, it was like a dream. Here's where I made my entry.

Proof.

To seal the lid on one of the best personal experiences of my life, I ended the day with a steak and a few glasses of wine. Then I slept a blissful sleep.

The next day, after a good run around the city and up to Notre-Dame de la Garde a second time, we visited a very old prison, the Chateau d'If. Then we embarked on a self-guided walking tour of the old quarter. Some refer to this as wandering.

Ended the night with moules frites, or mussels with french fries. Abhinay somehow convinced me to eat out two nights in a row. Then again, eight euro for dinner in Marseille doesn't seem so steep when tea in Paris is four.

Anyways, enough complaining. I believe I will be staying in Paris this weekend. My host family has invited me to their house in Le Touquet (dans le Norrrd, as my host father puts it, very menacing) and I really would like to go, especially with all the time I've spent away from them, but a weekend here would be nice. Still undecided. As for travels further abroad, my plans have been temporarily put on hold due to visa restrictions. With my incomplete French visa, I may not leave the country, that is, until my revised American birth certificate arrives. I find these details boring. Chances are you do, too. 

These photos are not serious. Insert your own captions.

Before I go

Last weekend was wild! Thursday night we celebrated the birthday of a friend in the Bastille, then Friday I visited the chateau Fontainebleau with Abhinay, my friend Lauren, and a friend of hers from USC. Saturday and Sunday I journeyed with 30 some American students to the French coast of Normandie and Bretagne. It was free! Though we only stayed one night, we packed the two days full of adventures, strung together by many bus rides. Here are some pictures.

Abhinay and Lauren standing on the cobblestone entryway to the chateau. Here in 1814, Napoleon Bonaparte made his final procession before being exiled.


Borrowed from facebook. That sure was a big canal (le grand canal)!


Modern art on exhibition. The French consensus (don't quote me) is a general distaste for this type of contrasting display. They want their chateaux traditionally furnished and adorned.


The Cathedrale Notre-Dame de Bayeux was nice.


Then we went to Normandy beach to see the memorial. Sam and Damla on the beach. None of us had a very emotional visit. It was my second time visiting, and I consciously chose not to visit the cemetery, wanting to keep my weekend as cheerful as possible. Instead, I found myself upset for not bringing my swimsuit, it was hot!


La Point du Hoc, a cliff at the midpoint of the beaches stormed during the D-day invasion and a key strategic location for German artillery emplacements which they considered impenetrable due to the sheer rock walls protecting it. It posed a great threat to the Allied forces invading on Omaha and Utah beaches, and was considered essential to the success of the invasion. After a heavy allied bombardment, a force of 225 Army Rangers scaled the cliffs with special climbing equipment and took the Germans by surprise, though suffering heavy casualties. By the time reinforcements arrived, only 90 remained. I couldn't help but marvel in its beauty.


The next day we visited Mont Saint-Michel. Been there done that. Actually, this is my freaking out pose.


I just had to get Guy de Maupassant's opinion on the matter of St. Michel and the devil.


Then we spent the afternoon at St. Malo. Supposedly the city is usually quite depressing, what with its grey stone ramparts surrounding the older arrondissements, but it was sunny and delightful the day we visited.



I have a few more pictures to add but not the time to do it. Late this afternoon I leave for Marseille and the Cote d'Azur, where I will be until Sunday afternoon. I'll be sure not to forget my swimsuit, though rain is predicted. A plus!

Filler I neglected to post last week

- Sorry, dug this one out of the archives. Due to an internal error and the fact that I keep falling asleep as I type, this post is going up a week late -

I have some media to present. Nothing phenomenal, just a few pictures to fill in the blank spaces in time.

The week I returned from Germany the the 'kids' were all alone in the apartment, their parents away on vacation in Venice until the end of the week. I was quite surprised by my host siblings' contributive efforts to the upkeep of the home. Fun was had, of course, but in the form of several crepe parties, playing music loudly, and entertaining friends. The place was a bit messy, but a vigorous evening of cleaning before the parents' return restored the place to order. That last night of independence a dinner party was thrown by my host brother, Bruno (23) and his lovely fiancee Evguenia. They met at the boulangerie where he works. When I came home that evening they were preparing dinner and wearing matching aprons.


Last Friday a treasure hunt was held at the Louvre by my study abroad program. It was alright, they arranged for French students interested in meeting Americans to be there. This fellow Valery here came toting a really nice bag and an umbrella, which he carried in the crook of his arm (not over the arm). The photo's deceiving, but he really carried the bag in the crook of his arm.


And his shoes squeaked.

I saw this in the toilettes of the Paris IV Championnet site. It's French for 'All Cops are Pigs', though it translates to 'All Cops are Oxen'. Written on the wall of a stall in the same bathroom was, 'Down with Democracy', complete with an arrow pointing to the toilet.

Bienvenue a la Jungle

Welcome to the jungle, amen. Sorry for not posting since my return from Munich, honestly I needed a few days to catch up on sleep afterwards. Those efforts, however, were of little avail, as by the end of the week I was sick again, and had no choice but to spend my Saturday afternoon, evening, and night in bed. I'm back to full strength again, I think, though it's difficult to gauge with the odd weather we've been having in Paris. It's been colder than usual, though yesterday afternoon the temperature rose to 68 degrees fahrenheit.

And there's been a lot happening, too, though this sort of news is certainly not universally exciting. I've entered the hideous concrete jungle that is History at the Sorbonne. Wow, ugly and inefficient are just about the worst compliments possible.

So far I appreciate the French University system - the same way you appreciate a child's help in the kitchen. The effort is sweet, but in practice, much less efficient. And then there's the food, the goods, to worry about. Classes are just now underway (as of Sept. 29/Oct. 6), and though they're already under full steam, the unescapable administrative corrections have proven to be tedious. For example, this morning in the Travaux Dirige for my XVIII c. French history course, there were more than 40 students crammed in a classroom that would seat 20 comfortably. I still don't know whether I was the only one convinced they would die of asphyxiation or hyperthermia during one and a half hours of class.

Also, I had my first class at the Goethe Institute yesterday! There are five in my class, and I've never met a more grammatically demanding professor in my life! It's odd to feel relieved speaking French after class.

Anyways, my laptop is running low on batteries, so I'll conclude. Paris IV is hideous, this I will prove with photos in a future posting.

This weekend I'll be in Normandy, but I will make a strong effort to post before I depart.

Here's a picture of Paris III, which I toured today, surely prettier than Paris IV.