Finding the Gaul within

Patrimoine. Loosely translated, it means "cultural inheritance" or "heritage". But here in France, and in Europe more broadly, patrimoine holds a significant weight that is difficult to describe. Evidence of this are the annual "Journées de Patrimoine", held this weekend, which open the doors of every site that could possibly be linked to the development of culture to the public, free of charge (for the most part). Thus, the last 48 hours have been chock full of historical and cultural enrichment, and thanks to all the walking I've done, I really feel like I know Lyon a lot better. To give you an idea, here's a quick recap of how I spent my weekend:

• Standing on the stage of a 19th century theater considered to be one of the most beautiful in France
• Hiking up the ruins of a 2000 year old Roman amphitheater - where productions are still staged to this day
• Getting a private guided tour of the Basilica that graces every postcard of the city
• Listening to a cello concert in the cloister of nearly 400-year-old hospital
• Riding an escalator past the orchestra pit at the Opera House
• Wandering through the hallways of a former military storehouse - now turned into the uber-modern School of Fine Arts
• Learning about the architecture of a wheat reserve built in 1728
• Walking along the top of a sixteenth century fort built under the orders of Louis XII
• Climbing the gorgeous staircase of the City Hall annex, which housed a middle school in the 1600s

And to think I only explored 2 arrondissements!

Mi ha rotto il cazzo, and other stories from the first week of class

When they tell you that French universities are disorganized, they are not exaggerating. It's three days into the first week of classes, and schedules, room numbers, and even course descriptions are changing left and right. I finally received my carte d'étudiant on Tuesday, bringing to an end the week-long quest that was gathering all the necessary documentation. And I thought the hard part was over.

As French students really don't have a choice when it comes to the courses they take (they pick a major and a minor, and every class for every semester is already pre-determined), it's pretty tough for foreign students to 1) find out the schedule of classes since French students don't need to work out their schedule and have to go to whatever classes are given to them - no matter when they find out when they take place 2) know what the subject matter of a course will be - they're pretty much all titled modern or contemporary Literature/History/Geography/Philosophy since, once again, it doesn't really matter to French students what the class is about, since they have to take it regardless 3) know how many credits each class is worth, because to french students, as long as they complete the required courses for their major, they will have the right number of credits.

That said, it is unsurprising that my adventures this week included: skipping a class in order to finally get my carte d'étudiant - only to discover that my student ID number (indicated on the card) wasn't working to give me internet access, sitting through a class about the theory of genre without understanding a word the professor said through her thick accent - and later realizing it was worth only a pointless 2 credits, and walking in on a Translation "Cours Magistraux" (lecture) -- only to realize it was being conducted in German.

This evening, my spirits got picked up by two lovely Italian girls, Veronica and Valentina, whom I met while unsuccessfully trying to decipher the schedules outside the Sécretariat. Valentina invited me to her birthday dinner this evening, where we had a delicious (albeit expensive) meal of lyonnais specialties in a typical "bouchon" - a brasserie à la lyonnaise. The two are heading back to the University of Bologna to take their exams, so I hope we still hang out after they come back. 

Annecy, and the craziest parade the world has ever seen

Orientation ended last Thursday night with a "soirée pub" organized by the OIP equivalent of Lyon 3. It was spectacularly awkward, especially with a history professor shuffling his way into our dancing circle after a few beers. With the day off on Friday, I decided to visit the Musée des Beaux Arts (free with a student ID card) which is housed in a gorgeous 17th century abbey. On Saturday, it was raining non-stop, but that didn't stop me and two of my friends from taking a day trip to the lovely little city of Annecy. It is the capital of the Haute-Savoie department (Savoy was once an independent entity and included parts of Switzerland and Italy) and rests on the banks of a beautiful lake. As a result, the old town has two canals running through it, leading some to dub it the "Venice of France". Annecy is a short 2 hour train ride from Lyon, and only 20 miles away from Geneva.

Luckily, the weather cleared up today just in time for the Grand Défilé of the Biennale de la Danse, Lyon's twice annual dance festival. The parade is the centerpiece of the festival, which continues until the end of the month. Each act was as breathtaking as the last, featuring innovative modern dance unlike anything I've seen before. According to the festival's website, it is the largest choreographed parade in Europe, and featured over 4,500 dancers. The costumes were absolutely incredible. Here are a couple shots from the day. As always, you can find more on my Photobucket site.

                
                

My poor feet.

I must treat my feet really nicely over the next 24 hours - because they've been incredibly good to me today. After trekking (tramway-riding) for about 30 minutes to the Lyon 2 campus in the suburb of Bron, I found out that they've never had a Lyon 3 exchange student take cinema courses with them. It made me upset because, had I known that Lyon 2 had a film program, I would certainly have decided to do my exchange there. Anyhow, Lyon 3 people seem cooler somehow than Lyon 2. Lyon 2 has an air of superiority about it that I'm not too keen on. But their campus on the quais (banks) of the Rhône are, admittedly, more glamorous than the converted tobacco factory that houses Lyon 3.

Unfortunately for me, one ride on the TCL (Lyon's public transportation system) costs 1.60 euros. This was unfortunate because I only had .60 at the time. I was smack dab in the middle of nowheres-ville suburbia without tram fare nor any forseeable way of getting some. I decided to walk along the tram tracks until reaching some sort of commercial establishment, which turned out to be a Chinese buffet restaurant. After learning that there was, in fact, no cash register at said Chinese restaurant, I was directed to a large store just beyond it, which turned out to be the French version of Costco. And only after waiting in line for 30 minutes did I finally get enough change to get on the tram.

Tonight, the International Relations office at Lyon 3 organized a "soirée pub" for us in Vieux Lyon. There were no actual French people there - which, for me, defeated the purpose of going out - but at least drinks were free. Something to keep in mind for the future: European clubs don't start playing the good music until about 1am.

But after over 2 hours of dancing, my feet are definitely killing me, and they are well deserving of a rest.

J'ai trop mangé hier...

...but today's a new day. After a veritable luncheon feast for a classmate's birthday, and an eating out celebration on the Rue Marroniers for dinner, cutting back today would have been an option. But not having a real meal for the whole day - not an option. I've been sitting in my room for over three hours now, wandering downstairs only once at around 8pm to see if dinner preparations were under way -- only to find the kitchen door slightly closed (which has never happened before). Unsure about whether this meant I could enter or not, I decided to work my way back to my bedroom, hoping desperately that I would run into one of the kids. I did hear their voices coming from the television room, which made me think that the parents were preparing something that they didn't want the kids mucking up. Well, about an hour and a half later, I believe I have been mistaken. They either a) forgot about me b) thought I was eating out for dinner again tonight c) had a casual refrigerator-grab free-for-all like they did at lunch at a point in time I was not aware of. None of this, however, solves my hunger problem. Merde.

"T'es une française maintenant..."

Well, according to my host father, Antoine. It was basically his way of congratulating me for getting over my jet lag. There was a very French moment during our repas this evening wherein my host brother, Ferréol, and Antoine were having an intense discussion about something I couldn't catch on to. Then, all of a sudden, Antoine turned to me and asked "Et Catherine, quelle est ta opinion?/What's your opinion?" Despite knowing that the French highly value strong opinions and furious debate, I could come up with nothing and stumbled over the sentence I've probably used most often during my stay here in Lyon: "I didn't understand very well...."

Turns out they were talking about Ramadan, since one of Ferréol's classmates is observing it, and Ferréol attends a Catholic school. This led to an elaborate discussion about how a complete understanding of France is impossible without the concept of laicité...

I also made the discovery on the way home today that I live perpendicular to the street where Antoine de Saint-Éxupery was born. The street is now named after the famed aviator/writer. At the risk of exposing how cliché my francophilie is, I must admit that Le Petit Prince is one of my favorite books of all time. That I'm living around the corner from the man who gave us this little guy:

must be a sign of good things to come.

in high company

So I definitely got a great deal living with the Pellets - apparently Anne (my host mother) is running for the presidency of MoDem of the region of Lyon. And here I was, unsure of the status of this "famille normale" was, and my host mom is off becoming the next Ségolène Royal. 

Also, I felt badly for being unable to communicate to my host dad, Antoine, that it wasn't a problem that his kids were arguing at the table tonight. My favorite (and only) host brother, Ferréol, was causing trouble with the youngest sister, Appolline. It really doesn't bother me at all, but I guess my silent reaction made Antoine feel like he should apologize, but that's just the way kids are. Anyway, the little one is pretty annoying. 

this is where i live

Just added some photos from my walk around the hood with my host bro Ferréol (he's 14 and is awesome). Click on the Photobucket link to find these and my shots from Ireland. We live in one of those buildings - he tried to point out my room, but I just smiled and nodded, not knowing what he meant...which seems to be happening more often than it should!

oh mon dieu, what have i done

After the fairytale that was my arrival yesterday, things have become hectic very quickly. We (incoming international students) had an organizational meeting at the Manufacture du Tabac building this morning and I was overwhelmingly adept at not talking to anyone. I have yet to submit my paperwork for my student ID card, my carte de séjour, to open my bank account, buy a new SIM card for my phone, ask my host parents for some documentation that I am living with them, talk to my parents...