And so, my friends, my European adventure has drawn to a close. The last week has been so hectic, I haven't even had a chance to write anything. Suffice it to say that I am ready to go home, both in the literal sense -- bags are packed and waiting outside my bedroom door -- and in the spiritual sense. Yesterday, on the train back to Lyon from Milan, I nearly burst into tears when writing goodbye letters to my host family. I don't think I fully realize yet how much this year abroad has changed me or will affect my future, but I know that a certain chapter in my life has now ended. What is beyond is uncertain and fully of possibility, and I am both terrified and excited at the prospect.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
last saturday
Things I'm going to miss about Lyon: my host brother, Ferréol! Sure, he can be pretty vicious to his sisters, but I'm also told that's just how siblings act? Anyway, he is probably the coolest member of this family, if I'm going to play favorites. Not to mention that he's super nice, while at the same time being one of those popular kids at school (you can just tell that kind of thing, you know?). This morning when we crossed paths in the kitchen, he said that he really liked me without my glasses, and that I looked pretty without them! And it's not that I have a crush on him or anything, or that he does on me -- he's just not shy about saying things like that and it doesn't make anything awkward. He says what he thinks, and gives great compliments!
Things I'm excited to get back to in America: reliable plumbing! And, as an extension of that, a higher level of general hygiene. Here in the house, it's not unlikely that the faucet tap will stop running hot water, or that the toilet wont flush down your paper. I've already written about the ghastly state of public toilets here in France (and I don't mean ones in parks that are gross pretty much everywhere in the world, but places like school and movie theaters!). So one of the first things I'm going to do when I get home is take a long, hot bath in my very own tub -- and be sure that I won't clog up the drain!
Things I'm excited to get back to in America: reliable plumbing! And, as an extension of that, a higher level of general hygiene. Here in the house, it's not unlikely that the faucet tap will stop running hot water, or that the toilet wont flush down your paper. I've already written about the ghastly state of public toilets here in France (and I don't mean ones in parks that are gross pretty much everywhere in the world, but places like school and movie theaters!). So one of the first things I'm going to do when I get home is take a long, hot bath in my very own tub -- and be sure that I won't clog up the drain!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
ponchos: so hot right now
I had an incredibly lazy day yesterday, meaning too lazy to even post about my two fabulous days at Roland Garros. This also means that I was too lazy to upload the photos to my computer, meaning I can't share with you my awesome shots of James Blake serving up a storm on the terre battue under the setting Parisian sun. Hopefully, my wordy description is enough for you to conjure up the image for yourself.
While the doors to the complex open at 11am, I didn't think it would be necessary to arrive early on Monday since a)it's a work day b)it was the second day of the tournament. But I had forgotten that a)French people don't really have issues with skipping work b)tickets for this thing are pretty hard to come by, even for the second day of the tournament. So I ended up waiting in line for about an hour to get inside the gates, and by that time, matches had already started. I was like a giddy little girl running around from court to court, even under the blazing 90 degree sun. The epoustouflant weather on Monday was the complete opposite of what we got on Tuesday: rain and a two hour delay. But by the afternoon, the skies cleared enough to get all the tennis in for the day, in spite of the crazy wind.
Now, this might be a product of my intense homesickness and growing American patriotism, but the US Open is simply a far better tournament than Roland Garros. For one thing, the lines to get a seat on the annex courts were longer than those for center court, which remained practically empty for the whole day -- even with Nadal and Federer playing back to back! Secondly, since when do the number 1 and number 2 ranked players in the world play on the same day so early on in the tournament, let alone back to back! I kept thinking to myself that if I was a center court ticket holder for the day after and didn't get to see either of these two fine players, I would feel pretty shafted.
While the doors to the complex open at 11am, I didn't think it would be necessary to arrive early on Monday since a)it's a work day b)it was the second day of the tournament. But I had forgotten that a)French people don't really have issues with skipping work b)tickets for this thing are pretty hard to come by, even for the second day of the tournament. So I ended up waiting in line for about an hour to get inside the gates, and by that time, matches had already started. I was like a giddy little girl running around from court to court, even under the blazing 90 degree sun. The epoustouflant weather on Monday was the complete opposite of what we got on Tuesday: rain and a two hour delay. But by the afternoon, the skies cleared enough to get all the tennis in for the day, in spite of the crazy wind.
Now, this might be a product of my intense homesickness and growing American patriotism, but the US Open is simply a far better tournament than Roland Garros. For one thing, the lines to get a seat on the annex courts were longer than those for center court, which remained practically empty for the whole day -- even with Nadal and Federer playing back to back! Secondly, since when do the number 1 and number 2 ranked players in the world play on the same day so early on in the tournament, let alone back to back! I kept thinking to myself that if I was a center court ticket holder for the day after and didn't get to see either of these two fine players, I would feel pretty shafted.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
willie nelson and lyon do not make a good match
Just wanted to blog quickly about the concert at Grrnd Zero that I went to tonight -- It'll probably be my last, and I will be sad to leave it. Both the intimate Gerland venue and the impressive Gorge de Loup space have given me many tender memories of French hipsters and their lack of taste in music.
Tonight, this horrendous country-esque band was the headliner, and you could tell that people in the room didn't quite know how to react. This might have been the first time ever that any country act has performed in France, as far as I could tell. Not to mention that, like most country music, it was horrendous. Strangely, the internet claims they are from Brooklyn by way of Athens, Georgia, but I honestly don't understand how that is possible.
Thankfully, the night started off will with Portland experiment/noise duo AU, which I found easier to swallow than most noise groups. There was even one song requiring audience participation during which we were all encouraged to scream. The French hipsters didn't quite know what to do with that either.
Tonight, this horrendous country-esque band was the headliner, and you could tell that people in the room didn't quite know how to react. This might have been the first time ever that any country act has performed in France, as far as I could tell. Not to mention that, like most country music, it was horrendous. Strangely, the internet claims they are from Brooklyn by way of Athens, Georgia, but I honestly don't understand how that is possible.
Thankfully, the night started off will with Portland experiment/noise duo AU, which I found easier to swallow than most noise groups. There was even one song requiring audience participation during which we were all encouraged to scream. The French hipsters didn't quite know what to do with that either.
Friday, May 22, 2009
en conclusion...
Just got finished with my final exam at Lyon 3. In true French university fashion, the people at Relations Internationales were not expecting me and my classmate this morning, and it took nearly half an hour for them to find our exams and get us underway. I am so happy to be done with the school system here and will very much be looking forward to going back to real school in the fall.From the beginning, I always said that I wasn't coming to Europe for the classroom education. In many ways, it's disheartening to see how badly higher education operates and is organized in a country with so many wonderful cultural and historical resources. As much as I want to stay objective, it seems impossible to me for anyone to make a case for the French system over the American system.
In other news, I finally visited the Institut Lumière yesterday. It is housed in the villa once inhabited by Louis and Auguste Lumière, the brothers who invented the first motion picture camera. Turns out that Thomas Edison had a better marketing strategy and his machine, the kinetoscope, ended up being the market standard, but Lumière remains an important name in film history. The museum is surprisingly well-curated with interesting and informative exhibitions on the history of motion pictures and the famille Lumière.
The photo above is from the most beautiful room in the villa, the Salon d'Hiver. All of the Art Nouveau interiors of the house were gorgeous!
Sunday, May 17, 2009
i went to cannes, and all i got was this lousy sunburn...
...and a freaking life-defining weekend! It is not possible to put into words how phenomenal my weekend at the Cannes film festival was. The glitz and glamor, the red carpet premieres, the film professionals scurrying from screening to screening -- it all came to life right before my eyes. I was on a high for practically the entire weekend, keeping my spirits up even after a damp day on Friday and running out of battery right in the middle of the Montée des Marches!
Putting aside the fact that Giovanni Ribisi waved to me, and that I saw living legend Jerry Lewis on the red carpet, and that Martin Scorcese was mere feet away from me, one of the biggest highlights was exchanging a few words with Mark Duplass and Joshua Leonard, the main actors in Lynn Shelton's "Humpday". I had seen a screening of the movie, which is part of the Quinzaine des Réalisateurs (Director's Fortnight) section of the festival, the previous evening -- and when they appeared in front of me at the Taking Woodstock gala screening on Saturday night asking a guard for directions to the entrance, I couldn't let the opportunity slip by. I complemented them on the film, and Duplass (best known as one of the key players in the mumblecore movement) thanked me before rushing off to the screening.
As I said many times over the course of the weekend, I want the next time I go to Cannes to be for real. Up until last summer, I had been working up towards this year abroad in France. And now that this chapter in my life is coming to a close, I am ready to start working towards my next goal: being a professional in the film industry, and making it to the Cannes Film Festival as a participant, not just an observer.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
a lifetime's worth of dreams come true
With all the fake studying I've been doing for my non-exams this week, it has only truly hit me in the last 24 hours that I will be spending my weekend at the Cannes Film Festival. I cannot remember the last time I was this excited about anything. Even before coming to France, embarking on a year abroad that I have been planning for five full years, there was a fair bit of anxiety and fear accompanying my anticipation. But this is truly an all-around win-win situation, and it is times like these that assure me that working in the film industry, as cheesy as it might sound, is what I am meant to do.
As I took a last look at the program for the weekend, I got a little ahead of myself thinking I had found a loophole in the strict accreditation system that prevents non-industry insiders from attending the so-called 'day after' screenings of in-competition films (I hadn't). I am, however, going to try for some tickets to screenings in the Director's Fortnight and keep my fingers crossed that the weather will hold up for public admission screenings on the beach at night. Could anything be more magical?
And regardless of weather I rub elbows with Hollywood elite or even catch a glimpse of the famous steps of the Palais this weekend, one of my life dreams is about to come true. How can I be expected to sleep on a night like this?!?
As I took a last look at the program for the weekend, I got a little ahead of myself thinking I had found a loophole in the strict accreditation system that prevents non-industry insiders from attending the so-called 'day after' screenings of in-competition films (I hadn't). I am, however, going to try for some tickets to screenings in the Director's Fortnight and keep my fingers crossed that the weather will hold up for public admission screenings on the beach at night. Could anything be more magical?
And regardless of weather I rub elbows with Hollywood elite or even catch a glimpse of the famous steps of the Palais this weekend, one of my life dreams is about to come true. How can I be expected to sleep on a night like this?!?
Saturday, May 9, 2009
crumbutt
I'm feeling pretty crappy after getting my third rejection email for a summer internship. This one stings even worse because I even interviewed for it -- so even though I was qualified enough to merit a one-on-one talk with the boss, I'm not good enough at talking to people to make them want to share office space with me for 3 months. Super.
To make myself feel better, I'm buying train tickets to Milan. This is a long-awaited trip, and what's more, my Aquilana friend will be there too. My exclusive sources (aka other exchange students) tell me that there's not much to see in the city of Milan, as it is the business/fashion capital of the country and everything exciting happens behind closed doors. As a result, I'm going to dedicate my only full day in Italy to a day trip to Lake Como (assuming the weather cooperates) and go fishing for dashing Hollywood royals (aka George Clooney). I figure chances are good the lake's most famous resident will be in residence, seeing as I'll be there only 3 weeks after the Cannes film festival, and George will probably need a rest after all of that craziness.
Speaking of crazy, I myself am going to the Cannes film festival in exactly one week! It's hard to get excited about it because I have 3 exams between me and my train to Nice, but it is truly one of my dreams come true to go. According to those who have attended before, it is virtually impossible to see anyone important without accreditation (which I don't have). But being in that atmosphere will still be incredibly exciting, and spending 4 days in the south of France is really nothing to complain about.
To make myself feel better, I'm buying train tickets to Milan. This is a long-awaited trip, and what's more, my Aquilana friend will be there too. My exclusive sources (aka other exchange students) tell me that there's not much to see in the city of Milan, as it is the business/fashion capital of the country and everything exciting happens behind closed doors. As a result, I'm going to dedicate my only full day in Italy to a day trip to Lake Como (assuming the weather cooperates) and go fishing for dashing Hollywood royals (aka George Clooney). I figure chances are good the lake's most famous resident will be in residence, seeing as I'll be there only 3 weeks after the Cannes film festival, and George will probably need a rest after all of that craziness.
Speaking of crazy, I myself am going to the Cannes film festival in exactly one week! It's hard to get excited about it because I have 3 exams between me and my train to Nice, but it is truly one of my dreams come true to go. According to those who have attended before, it is virtually impossible to see anyone important without accreditation (which I don't have). But being in that atmosphere will still be incredibly exciting, and spending 4 days in the south of France is really nothing to complain about.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
learning in moderation
Things I am excited to return to in America: Classes that are about more than just dictation. Straight from my professors mouth, "Exams are an opportunity for you to memorize the course." Seriously? Not a single original thought in 9 months in the French university system! I cannot wait to get back to an education where thinking for yourself is encouraged, even if it means stepping outside of an outline in three parts. I look forward to interesting debates with my peers and with my professors where you can disagree and not necessarily be wrong. I've said it many times before, but it's worth saying again - I will never take my education for granted after this experience.
Things I will miss about Lyon: Guys who know how to dress. Case in point - the guy sitting next to me in the library today. It's not about being flashy or trendy, but being classic. A nice pair of jeans, coupled with a gray pullover sweater and smart glasses, and you are made. While I do miss going outside in my sweats every once in awhile, it's a small price to pay for a more style-conscious male population. And I don't want to make it sound like every French man knows clothes (there are certainly those who dress in ways too horrible to describe), the proportion of well-dressed, well-coiffed men is certainly higher in France than it will ever be back home.
Things I will miss about Lyon: Guys who know how to dress. Case in point - the guy sitting next to me in the library today. It's not about being flashy or trendy, but being classic. A nice pair of jeans, coupled with a gray pullover sweater and smart glasses, and you are made. While I do miss going outside in my sweats every once in awhile, it's a small price to pay for a more style-conscious male population. And I don't want to make it sound like every French man knows clothes (there are certainly those who dress in ways too horrible to describe), the proportion of well-dressed, well-coiffed men is certainly higher in France than it will ever be back home.
Monday, May 4, 2009
leggo of my balisto!
A really strange thing happened to me on the way home from class today. As I was walking through Guillotière, Lyon's version of the 10th arrondissement/the South Bronx, a South Asian girl who was about 8 years old started walking next to me. I could tell she was trying to talk to me, but I was listening to my iPod and knew she was probably begging, so I kept walking. But after half a block, I took out my headphones, and she asked for something I couldn't understand in broken French. The only word I could understand was "chocolat", referring to the delicious Balisto bar I had in hand.
Balisto and I have formed a very close bond in the 3 months we've known each other. We were introduced on my Lufthansa flight to Berlin back in February, and we've been inseparable ever since. Now, while I dearly love the green and white wrapper varieties, the orange has a special place in my heart.
I've had a hard time finding it here in France, but when I passed by Schlecker today to pick up a new bottle of hair conditioner, I saw it on the bottom shelf of the candy isle. I don't need to tell you how excited I was.
Now, back to my story. Needless to say, I wasn't very enthused by the idea of giving this little girl any part of my Balisto bar. It was the hour for goûter, and all I wanted was to enjoy the chocolate-covered cereal bar in peace. As I raised my headphone to my ear, the girl shook my arm, and when I still didn't stop, planted her feet directly in my path, forcing me to circle around her. Finally, she let me go, but it was certainly one of the more bizarre experiences I've had here in Lyon. That'll teach me to eat Balisto's in plain sight.
Balisto and I have formed a very close bond in the 3 months we've known each other. We were introduced on my Lufthansa flight to Berlin back in February, and we've been inseparable ever since. Now, while I dearly love the green and white wrapper varieties, the orange has a special place in my heart.
I've had a hard time finding it here in France, but when I passed by Schlecker today to pick up a new bottle of hair conditioner, I saw it on the bottom shelf of the candy isle. I don't need to tell you how excited I was.Now, back to my story. Needless to say, I wasn't very enthused by the idea of giving this little girl any part of my Balisto bar. It was the hour for goûter, and all I wanted was to enjoy the chocolate-covered cereal bar in peace. As I raised my headphone to my ear, the girl shook my arm, and when I still didn't stop, planted her feet directly in my path, forcing me to circle around her. Finally, she let me go, but it was certainly one of the more bizarre experiences I've had here in Lyon. That'll teach me to eat Balisto's in plain sight.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
lazy sunday
It's been quite awhile since my last post, and I'm not going to try and recap what (little) has happened since then. I did spend last weekend in rain-soaked Paris with a friend of mine whom I met in L'Aquila last summer, but since then it's been pretty smooth/boring sailing.
I have started a homeward-bound countdown, and as of today, I only have 33 days left here in Lyon. While I know that I will miss it here when I leave, it's hard to appreciate every moment when all I can think about is how happy I will be to get home.
In order to remedy this, I'm going to start a list of things that I will miss about Lyon. But I don't want to create some sort of false, preemptive nostalgia, so I'll accompany it with a list of things I'm looking forward to about going home.
Things I will miss about Lyon:
The Quai Saint-Antoine market. Sure, America has finally caught on to the whole farmer's market/buy local/organic produce movement, but we will never do it quite as well as the French. This is the most beautiful, bustling, colorful market I have ever seen in my life, and it is right around the corner from my building. On Sunday mornings, the delicious smell of roasted chickens floats through the air above the Saône. Grocers hawking their wares shout "Allez! Allez!" into the crowded walkway between the two ailes of food stalls.
Things I'm excited to return to in America:
Television! As my cinema teacher has repeatedly told us, French television is horrendous. From the beginning, the television system in this country never made it possible to create entertaining shows. And, like many other things in France, television completely lacks structure (there is no such thing as seasons! how is that possible?). So, I am very excited to get back to February sweeps, mid-season replacements, and prime time television when I touch down stateside.
I have started a homeward-bound countdown, and as of today, I only have 33 days left here in Lyon. While I know that I will miss it here when I leave, it's hard to appreciate every moment when all I can think about is how happy I will be to get home.
In order to remedy this, I'm going to start a list of things that I will miss about Lyon. But I don't want to create some sort of false, preemptive nostalgia, so I'll accompany it with a list of things I'm looking forward to about going home.
Things I will miss about Lyon:
The Quai Saint-Antoine market. Sure, America has finally caught on to the whole farmer's market/buy local/organic produce movement, but we will never do it quite as well as the French. This is the most beautiful, bustling, colorful market I have ever seen in my life, and it is right around the corner from my building. On Sunday mornings, the delicious smell of roasted chickens floats through the air above the Saône. Grocers hawking their wares shout "Allez! Allez!" into the crowded walkway between the two ailes of food stalls.
Things I'm excited to return to in America:
Television! As my cinema teacher has repeatedly told us, French television is horrendous. From the beginning, the television system in this country never made it possible to create entertaining shows. And, like many other things in France, television completely lacks structure (there is no such thing as seasons! how is that possible?). So, I am very excited to get back to February sweeps, mid-season replacements, and prime time television when I touch down stateside.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
home (almost) alone
It's been a strange last couple of days on the host family front. After coming back from Morocco last week, I've only seen my host parents a handful of times. Last night, no one was around at dinner time, so I made myself some pasta (because I don't know how to cook anything else). The kids came trickling in and I let them share what I made. Tonight, the same thing happened - but I made a kick-ass omelet for myself which the kids could not quite replicate. Apparently my host parents are in Paris until Saturday - which is funny, because I am going to Paris on Saturday. This isn't unusual (they are often there for business) except that they usually tell me when they are going and my eldest host sister is usually around to prepare dinner. Last night she was at dance practice, and tonight she's nowhere to be found. Hm.
On another topic, tomorrow I will be having a little shindig with two of my friends from to belatedly and collectively celebrate our birthdays, which all happened more or less over the Easter break. This will probably be the last time that the whole group of my friends are gathered together, which really makes things feel like they are drawing to a close. I have six more weeks left in Lyon - and to be honest, I am totally ready to head home. Sure, there are things that I will miss about being here. But spending time with my parents over spring break really made me realize how anxious I am to get back home. I want to bring my camera with me as often as possible in these last few weeks and take more pictures of Lyon. I have hundreds of pictures from all the fabulous places I've traveled to, but hardly any of the city that I have called home for the last 9 months. After what has happened in L'Aquila, I realize that my everyday surroundings are not something I should be taking for granted.
On another topic, tomorrow I will be having a little shindig with two of my friends from to belatedly and collectively celebrate our birthdays, which all happened more or less over the Easter break. This will probably be the last time that the whole group of my friends are gathered together, which really makes things feel like they are drawing to a close. I have six more weeks left in Lyon - and to be honest, I am totally ready to head home. Sure, there are things that I will miss about being here. But spending time with my parents over spring break really made me realize how anxious I am to get back home. I want to bring my camera with me as often as possible in these last few weeks and take more pictures of Lyon. I have hundreds of pictures from all the fabulous places I've traveled to, but hardly any of the city that I have called home for the last 9 months. After what has happened in L'Aquila, I realize that my everyday surroundings are not something I should be taking for granted.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
ouar-za-zate? why, morocco, of course!
During the course of my 10 day stay in Morocco, I became obsessed with the word OUARZAZATE (pronouced "where - zah - sat") and set it to a rap that became the soundtrack to my tour of that beautiful country. It truly is one of the most magnificent I've ever seen. We went from the seaside promenade in Casablanca to the Savoy-like ski resort of Ifrane, from the labyrinth that is Fez's ancient medina to the broad avenues of Marrakesh that recall South Beach (even though it is nowhere near any beach).
The highlight, though, was certainly my journey via dromedary (like a camel, but with only one hump) to the Mergouza sand dunes in the Moroccan Sahara. The desert is a vibrant golden orange color which seems unreal.
Since I couldn't possibly narrate every single moment of my trip, I'll let the pictures do the talking. They'll be up on Photobucket asap.
The highlight, though, was certainly my journey via dromedary (like a camel, but with only one hump) to the Mergouza sand dunes in the Moroccan Sahara. The desert is a vibrant golden orange color which seems unreal.
Since I couldn't possibly narrate every single moment of my trip, I'll let the pictures do the talking. They'll be up on Photobucket asap.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
vacation has rarely felt this good
It almost seems strange to me to be leaving on a 2-week vacation when I've been spending the entire school year bouncing around Europe. But I am very much looking forward to a few relaxing days in Paris on my own. My parents arrive on Tuesday, and I've convinced them to day-trip with me to Mont-Saint-Michel on Thursday before our early flight out to Casablanca on Friday.
Since I won't have my computer on me, I'll be old-schooling it on this leg of the trip -- but I'll be back in two weeks with lots of anecdotes and photos, I'm sure!
Since I won't have my computer on me, I'll be old-schooling it on this leg of the trip -- but I'll be back in two weeks with lots of anecdotes and photos, I'm sure!
Monday, March 30, 2009
mouillée in marseille
It seems like every time I travel to the South of France, the weather takes a turn for the worst. After a week of beautiful, clear skies in Lyon, it rained clear through the weekend, which I spent in Aix-en-Provence and Marseille.
As promised, Aix was very charming and had beautiful architecture. It is very much the typical Provençal community you imagine when you think of the South of France. Even through the gray mist, I was captivated by the old hôtels particuliers that line Cours Mirabeau and the city's famous fountains.
I had heard a lot of bad reviews from friends of mine who had already been to Marseille. It's the country's second largest city and biggest port, and has been point of entry to continental Europe for immigrants across the globe for millenia. While certainly more working class than most other French cities, I found Marseille quite beautiful, especially set on the backdrop of the Mediterranean. We also had a particularly pleasant dining experience at the first ever Corsican restaurant I have ever been to, which was run by some very friendly and boisterous gentlemen. And during the last few hours of our stay, the sun finally decided to come out and gave us a pretty beautiful sunset:
All in all, a good weekend in Provence. I look forward to heading back south next month, where I'll be staying in Nice during the Cannes film festival!
As promised, Aix was very charming and had beautiful architecture. It is very much the typical Provençal community you imagine when you think of the South of France. Even through the gray mist, I was captivated by the old hôtels particuliers that line Cours Mirabeau and the city's famous fountains.
I had heard a lot of bad reviews from friends of mine who had already been to Marseille. It's the country's second largest city and biggest port, and has been point of entry to continental Europe for immigrants across the globe for millenia. While certainly more working class than most other French cities, I found Marseille quite beautiful, especially set on the backdrop of the Mediterranean. We also had a particularly pleasant dining experience at the first ever Corsican restaurant I have ever been to, which was run by some very friendly and boisterous gentlemen. And during the last few hours of our stay, the sun finally decided to come out and gave us a pretty beautiful sunset:
All in all, a good weekend in Provence. I look forward to heading back south next month, where I'll be staying in Nice during the Cannes film festival!
Friday, March 27, 2009
that sartre sure knew his stuff
I don't know if this comes through in my writing, but my adoration of France has been waning of late. Seven months away from home had started to take its toll. And then I went to see "Les Mains Sales" by Jean-Paul Sartre.
It was at the Théâtre de la Croix Rousse, where I saw the very underwhelming "Nouveau Testament" last semester. This piece redeemed the theater in my eyes. In the context of the immediate post-war period, the clandestine factions of the French Communist Party are at odds over how to proceed. A young bourgeois intellectual with lofty ideals has just joined the cause and looks for a way to contribute. His enthusiasm earns him the mission of killing one of the party's highest ranking members, whom the others judge a traitor for compromising their ideals.
In the great tradition of French theater, the play is long, and not much happens. Long, complex philosophical and political debates swirl around the stage. And yet, there is a palpable tension. The suspense emerges in this period of inaction, from the uncertainty of how the characters will finally act should they ever make up their minds about how or why to do so.
With a wordy and psychological play such as this, only a strong cast would be able to pull it off. The actors were all wonderful for the most part. Though the performance did not go completely without fault, it was good enough to bring the most gripping aspects of this play to life an an effective way. This theater-going experience has definitely inspired me to read more Sartre. Perhaps a summer project?
It was at the Théâtre de la Croix Rousse, where I saw the very underwhelming "Nouveau Testament" last semester. This piece redeemed the theater in my eyes. In the context of the immediate post-war period, the clandestine factions of the French Communist Party are at odds over how to proceed. A young bourgeois intellectual with lofty ideals has just joined the cause and looks for a way to contribute. His enthusiasm earns him the mission of killing one of the party's highest ranking members, whom the others judge a traitor for compromising their ideals.
In the great tradition of French theater, the play is long, and not much happens. Long, complex philosophical and political debates swirl around the stage. And yet, there is a palpable tension. The suspense emerges in this period of inaction, from the uncertainty of how the characters will finally act should they ever make up their minds about how or why to do so.
With a wordy and psychological play such as this, only a strong cast would be able to pull it off. The actors were all wonderful for the most part. Though the performance did not go completely without fault, it was good enough to bring the most gripping aspects of this play to life an an effective way. This theater-going experience has definitely inspired me to read more Sartre. Perhaps a summer project?
Thursday, March 26, 2009
up in smoke
5:40 pm. Today. On the T1 tram line from Part Dieu.
The tram had just let off its passengers at Liberté, the stop right before Rue de l'Université. The conductor announced that the following stop was blocked. Most of the passengers exited the tram, including myself. I walked up Rue de Marseille towards the University. Turning the corner onto Rue de l'University, I see a column of dark black smoke. An ambulance with sirens on arrives on the scene. The people on the sidewalk watching did not seem to be in a panic, so I figured a pipe line must have broken or a manhole uncovered. A tram stood passenger-less at the intersection.
I approached the source of the smoke column. About 30 people were watching from each side of the sidewalk. Cars blocked my view, and I only realized what it was when I was at the entrance to the University. Metal barricades blocked the street bearing a sheet with the words "Education is a weapon, not merchandise." A pile of wood topped with chairs and tables from university classrooms was in flames.
Five minutes later, a fire truck pulled up. The firemen calmly put the flames out as the students behind the university gates chanted something I couldn't understand. As soon as the truck pulled away, I noticed that the police had redirected traffic so that Rue de l'Université was empty except for the charred remains of the bonfire. Then, a group of policemen armed like a SWAT team -- complete with helmets, tear gas, and bullet proof vests -- gathered in the middle of the road.
Then I went to class. If there was ever a day I wish I had had my camera on me, it was today. When I told this story to my host dad, he was not as impressed as I would have liked him to be. But apparently it's not all that shocking -- it happens about once every two years, he told me. I have to admit though, I was pretty scared when I saw those SWAT team guys get out of their cars. I don't know what I would have done if there had been a full on confrontation between them and the students. I don't even know what ended up happening because I went inside. Definitely an experience I'll never forget.
The tram had just let off its passengers at Liberté, the stop right before Rue de l'Université. The conductor announced that the following stop was blocked. Most of the passengers exited the tram, including myself. I walked up Rue de Marseille towards the University. Turning the corner onto Rue de l'University, I see a column of dark black smoke. An ambulance with sirens on arrives on the scene. The people on the sidewalk watching did not seem to be in a panic, so I figured a pipe line must have broken or a manhole uncovered. A tram stood passenger-less at the intersection.
I approached the source of the smoke column. About 30 people were watching from each side of the sidewalk. Cars blocked my view, and I only realized what it was when I was at the entrance to the University. Metal barricades blocked the street bearing a sheet with the words "Education is a weapon, not merchandise." A pile of wood topped with chairs and tables from university classrooms was in flames.
Five minutes later, a fire truck pulled up. The firemen calmly put the flames out as the students behind the university gates chanted something I couldn't understand. As soon as the truck pulled away, I noticed that the police had redirected traffic so that Rue de l'Université was empty except for the charred remains of the bonfire. Then, a group of policemen armed like a SWAT team -- complete with helmets, tear gas, and bullet proof vests -- gathered in the middle of the road.
Then I went to class. If there was ever a day I wish I had had my camera on me, it was today. When I told this story to my host dad, he was not as impressed as I would have liked him to be. But apparently it's not all that shocking -- it happens about once every two years, he told me. I have to admit though, I was pretty scared when I saw those SWAT team guys get out of their cars. I don't know what I would have done if there had been a full on confrontation between them and the students. I don't even know what ended up happening because I went inside. Definitely an experience I'll never forget.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
le déjeuner du 25 mars
I had the loveliest lunch at my adviser Valerie's house yesterday. The relative calm of her apartment was a welcome change from the chaos chez Pellet. While I am beyond grateful for living here, it's nice to get some perspective on other French families. Her three children are not too far in age from my host siblings: her youngest must be around 5 and her oldest around 13. After showing me their Wii (which I sucked at), we sat down to a delicious lunch of grilled chicked with cream sauce and roasted fennel topped with goat cheese. It was followed by a beautiful cheese plate (served with wheat baguette!) and then a homemade chocolate cake made the classic French way.
The lunch did not go completely without hiccups -- the youngest broke a glass and some tears were almost spilled over the last piece of a cheese I don't know the name of -- but it was nothing like the shouting match dinners I'm accustomed to. Valerie seemed embarrassed at the behavior of her children, but I reassured her that it was much better than what I am used to. She seemed to reinforce traditional table etiquette much more than my host parents. Everyone was required to stay at the table until the end of the meal and could not serve the next course until everyone had finished the previous one.
I am definitely going to miss the structure of French meal time, and it will be a little strange returning to the Chinese-take-out-from-a-box model that will probably be the norm when I'm home this summer.
The lunch did not go completely without hiccups -- the youngest broke a glass and some tears were almost spilled over the last piece of a cheese I don't know the name of -- but it was nothing like the shouting match dinners I'm accustomed to. Valerie seemed embarrassed at the behavior of her children, but I reassured her that it was much better than what I am used to. She seemed to reinforce traditional table etiquette much more than my host parents. Everyone was required to stay at the table until the end of the meal and could not serve the next course until everyone had finished the previous one.
I am definitely going to miss the structure of French meal time, and it will be a little strange returning to the Chinese-take-out-from-a-box model that will probably be the norm when I'm home this summer.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
saturday night pierogis
Yesterday night, I was treated to a lovely surprise Ukranian dinner for a friend of mine (who is Ukranian-Canadian...try saying that ten times fast). It was hosted by a trio of her friends in the quartier of Brotteaux in the 6th arrondissement. I had never really been in that neighborhood before, but it is absolutely gorgeous. Someone told me that the buildings there date back to the 19th century (while those in my neighborhood are 18th century), and therefore resemble the Hausmann-Parisian style.
One of her friends is a Swede named Amy, who is in her third and final year of studies here in Lyon. Basically, she has lived the life I have always dreamed of -- traveling around France after graduating from high school, and then just staying here for four years. She works in a café in Vieux Lyon and speaks French beautifully.
If I had the courage, I would just pick up my life and move to France after graduation next year. Work in a café maybe, travel around, and eventually find my way back to school for a master's degree. But I know I'll never be gutsy enough to leave the warm comfort of an assured American future, which is one of the reasons why I decided to come here to begin with. On top of that, there are all the deficiencies of the French university system that I just don't think I'd be able to put myself through again. However, it's still not totally out of the question that I would move back to France one day -- because I get the feeling that this one year isn't going to be enough.
One of her friends is a Swede named Amy, who is in her third and final year of studies here in Lyon. Basically, she has lived the life I have always dreamed of -- traveling around France after graduating from high school, and then just staying here for four years. She works in a café in Vieux Lyon and speaks French beautifully.
If I had the courage, I would just pick up my life and move to France after graduation next year. Work in a café maybe, travel around, and eventually find my way back to school for a master's degree. But I know I'll never be gutsy enough to leave the warm comfort of an assured American future, which is one of the reasons why I decided to come here to begin with. On top of that, there are all the deficiencies of the French university system that I just don't think I'd be able to put myself through again. However, it's still not totally out of the question that I would move back to France one day -- because I get the feeling that this one year isn't going to be enough.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
What's blue and yellow with ice all over?
STOCKHOLM! I'm still recovering from my whirlwind weekend in the Swedish capital, where I spent 3 days visiting my best friend from home. The city definitely lived up to its reputation as one of the most beautiful capitals in Europe -- and I'm not just talking about the architecture! A lot of people thought I was nuts to go up to Scandinavia before May, and while it was pretty cold (hovering around the freezing mark), the sun decided to show up on my last day, which made for some pretty fantastic photos.
This is the few from the esplanade of Stockholm's City Hall, where the Nobel Prize banquet is held every year. I'll add the rest of my (nearly 300) photos to my Photobucket site.
Swedes are also pretty hip, and are behind some of the most well known brands on the planet. On the island of Sodermalm, the trendiest of the city's 14 islands, we found a Weekday (a boutique of the company that created Cheap Monday jeans) as well as the Stockholm branch of the London-based vintage store Beyond Retro and many cozy cafés.
Stockholm's Old Town, Gamla Stan, is gorgeous, with small, winding cobblestone streets leading to the former Royal Palace. One of the things I loved about the city is that each building is different from the one next to it, creating a really beautiful setting for island hopping.
I am also really grateful for having been able to spend time with some real live Swedes. My friend's host family was super friendly and welcoming -- and fed me really well!
Now that the trip is over, I'm really starting to come to grips with how little time I have left here in Europe. Talking to my dad last night, he pointed out that this is probably my last major trip alone. We're preparing for our 10 day tour of Morocco next month during the Easter break, and I am so excited!
This is the few from the esplanade of Stockholm's City Hall, where the Nobel Prize banquet is held every year. I'll add the rest of my (nearly 300) photos to my Photobucket site.Swedes are also pretty hip, and are behind some of the most well known brands on the planet. On the island of Sodermalm, the trendiest of the city's 14 islands, we found a Weekday (a boutique of the company that created Cheap Monday jeans) as well as the Stockholm branch of the London-based vintage store Beyond Retro and many cozy cafés.
Stockholm's Old Town, Gamla Stan, is gorgeous, with small, winding cobblestone streets leading to the former Royal Palace. One of the things I loved about the city is that each building is different from the one next to it, creating a really beautiful setting for island hopping.
I am also really grateful for having been able to spend time with some real live Swedes. My friend's host family was super friendly and welcoming -- and fed me really well!
Now that the trip is over, I'm really starting to come to grips with how little time I have left here in Europe. Talking to my dad last night, he pointed out that this is probably my last major trip alone. We're preparing for our 10 day tour of Morocco next month during the Easter break, and I am so excited!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
le nid familial
I had an interesting and revealing discussion with my eldest host sister last weekend. She is 16 and in the middle of preparing for the first round of the baccalauréat, the super important concours that signal the end of primary education and, for a select and special few, entry to the grandes écoles. When I was her age, I was already living on my own at boarding school and couldn't wait to go to college and finally be an "adult". In France, it's relatively uncommon for students to move away for university unless they've been selected to attend one of the grandes écoles, most of which are in Paris.
My host sister, who is very responsible and independent, surprised me when she said she wanted not only to stay in Lyon for university, but even live at home with her parents and siblings. While it's true that this is more common in France than back home in the States, it was nevertheless shocking to me that she didn't even want to leave le nid familial after finishing high school. She was even talking about moving into the small studio below the apartment so she could have her own space, but still be close to her family.
I wonder if this is typical of most French families, or if my host family is just particularly tight knit? Come to think of it, all of the French friends I have at school have come from other parts of the country to study here -- I don't know any real Lyonnais! While it's essentially implicit that an American university student wouldn't live at home with their parents, is that another result of our self-made/American dream/independence schema, or is that just something that I assume based on the culture I was brought up in?
My host sister, who is very responsible and independent, surprised me when she said she wanted not only to stay in Lyon for university, but even live at home with her parents and siblings. While it's true that this is more common in France than back home in the States, it was nevertheless shocking to me that she didn't even want to leave le nid familial after finishing high school. She was even talking about moving into the small studio below the apartment so she could have her own space, but still be close to her family.
I wonder if this is typical of most French families, or if my host family is just particularly tight knit? Come to think of it, all of the French friends I have at school have come from other parts of the country to study here -- I don't know any real Lyonnais! While it's essentially implicit that an American university student wouldn't live at home with their parents, is that another result of our self-made/American dream/independence schema, or is that just something that I assume based on the culture I was brought up in?
Friday, March 6, 2009
the american dream
Talking to my French classmates, I've gathered that the American Dream has become a rather stereotyped idea in this country. Of course, the same goes in America -- but it's especially interesting to talk to French people about it because that dream just does not exist here. I might be sounding ridiculous because, of course, it is the American dream. But, until coming here, I didn't realize how much that type of American mindset actually affects my outlook on the world. It is only when talking to my European friends about the choices and independence that Americans have that I become conscious of how patriotic I must sound.
I'm not making much sense here, but when reading this description from the NYT's Roger Cohen, a light bulb went off in my head:
I'm not making much sense here, but when reading this description from the NYT's Roger Cohen, a light bulb went off in my head:
Nobody in their right mind would give up the manifold sensual, aesthetic and gastronomic pleasures offered by French savoir-vivre for the unrelenting battlefield of American ambition were it not for one thing: possibility.What they say is true -- once you go abroad, you become exponentially more patriotic. I've had to defend myself against preconceptions of Americans as an ignorant, stupid people who only care about themselves. Generalizations like this get me pretty riled up, and I find myself being more gung-ho America! than I've ever been in my life. But it's because I really believe in Cohen's American possibility, and I think my fervor for it lately is evidence of that.You know possibility when you breathe it. For an immigrant, it lies in the ease of American identity and the boundlessness of American horizons after the narrower confines of European nationhood and the stifling attentions of the European nanny state, which has often made it more attractive not to work than to work. High French unemployment was never much of a mystery.
Americans, at least in their imaginations, have always lived at the new frontier; French frontiers have not shifted much in centuries.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
aux armes, citoyens!
Or, rather, étudiants. For the last month or so, the French university system has been thrown into chaos, with many professors and students going on strike to protest certain reforms to the status of enseignant-chercheurs (research professors). I'm not 100% clear on what the proposed changes are or why this has provoked so many strong reactions. Nor have I really been affected by the strike because my fac, Lyon 3, is one of the more conservative ones, and hardly any of the professors are participating.
As the general grève seems to have had little effect, the angry students and teachers have taken on a different strategy. Almost daily, there are manifestations in Lyon's public squares, especially Place des Terreaux outside city hall. And today, when I was walking by the Lyon 2 campus, the buildings were actually blockaded -- tables and chairs from classrooms had been piled up against every entrance, and there were banners bearing angry slogans hanging out of many classroom windows. I regret not having my camera on me, because it really is a site to see. As my study abroad adviser from home wrote to me, I am really quite lucky to be experiencing this from afar. Apparently, several American universities are scrambling to put together programs for their students currently in France so that they can gain credit for the semester.
On a completely different note, I continued my Lyonnais theater tour with "Le jeu de l'amour et du hasard", a classic 18th century comedy by Marivaux. The theater was up on the hill of Fourvière in a very cute neighborhood that I've never explored before. And the theater itself was very pleasant, with a bustling bar in the lobby and affiches from former productions hanging on the walls. I say all this to put off my thoughts on the production itself, which I found horrendous. While the story itself was quite funny and entertaining, there was far too much over-acting and strange "artistic" choices to make it enjoyable.
As the general grève seems to have had little effect, the angry students and teachers have taken on a different strategy. Almost daily, there are manifestations in Lyon's public squares, especially Place des Terreaux outside city hall. And today, when I was walking by the Lyon 2 campus, the buildings were actually blockaded -- tables and chairs from classrooms had been piled up against every entrance, and there were banners bearing angry slogans hanging out of many classroom windows. I regret not having my camera on me, because it really is a site to see. As my study abroad adviser from home wrote to me, I am really quite lucky to be experiencing this from afar. Apparently, several American universities are scrambling to put together programs for their students currently in France so that they can gain credit for the semester.
On a completely different note, I continued my Lyonnais theater tour with "Le jeu de l'amour et du hasard", a classic 18th century comedy by Marivaux. The theater was up on the hill of Fourvière in a very cute neighborhood that I've never explored before. And the theater itself was very pleasant, with a bustling bar in the lobby and affiches from former productions hanging on the walls. I say all this to put off my thoughts on the production itself, which I found horrendous. While the story itself was quite funny and entertaining, there was far too much over-acting and strange "artistic" choices to make it enjoyable.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
a perfect day for human-watching
Yesterday, I took advantage of the incredible 60 degree, sunshine-filled day by picnicking at the Parc de la Tête d'Or with two friends. For once, the weather reports were right on the money, and there was not a single cloud in the sky as we feasted on tomatoes, pain, chèvre, and bugnes - an Easter-season lyonnais specialty resembling funnel cake. I had a ball perusing the market on Quai Saint Antoine because I don't really get the chance to do food shopping on my own -- my host family graciously provides all the food I ever need. Here's a picture of our delicious oozy cheese:
The mission of the day (as it is every day, let's be honest) was to get in some good people-watching -- or, as one of my Japanese friends has taken to calling it, "human-watching". I think I'm going to adopt her terminology. There was no shortage of adorable French children kicking around soccer balls bigger than their heads, and we were treated to a casual rugby match a few meters from where we had set up camp. We then spent the whole afternoon promenading on the Berges du Rhône, where it seemed like all of Lyon had decided to show up. A fanfare that I've seen a few times around the city even came out to perform a few songs (including Britney's 'Toxic' -- imagine that one on a tuba).
This morning, however, the weather took a turn for the worse, and it seems like the rest of the week is going to be cloudy and drizzly. But I was still able to pull myself out of bed for the enormous marché aux puces in Villeurbanne, a banlieue of Lyon with a somewhat seedy reputation. I had never been that far outside of the city center before, and it was quite impressionant to see such a large gathering of the Maghreb community in one place. The delicious smell of kebabs wafted through the rows of designer knockoffs and kitchen appliances. There was a fair amount of bric-a-brac too - we even saw one man selling a motorcycle! I'd like to go back on my own sometime and really take my time to browse.
The mission of the day (as it is every day, let's be honest) was to get in some good people-watching -- or, as one of my Japanese friends has taken to calling it, "human-watching". I think I'm going to adopt her terminology. There was no shortage of adorable French children kicking around soccer balls bigger than their heads, and we were treated to a casual rugby match a few meters from where we had set up camp. We then spent the whole afternoon promenading on the Berges du Rhône, where it seemed like all of Lyon had decided to show up. A fanfare that I've seen a few times around the city even came out to perform a few songs (including Britney's 'Toxic' -- imagine that one on a tuba).
This morning, however, the weather took a turn for the worse, and it seems like the rest of the week is going to be cloudy and drizzly. But I was still able to pull myself out of bed for the enormous marché aux puces in Villeurbanne, a banlieue of Lyon with a somewhat seedy reputation. I had never been that far outside of the city center before, and it was quite impressionant to see such a large gathering of the Maghreb community in one place. The delicious smell of kebabs wafted through the rows of designer knockoffs and kitchen appliances. There was a fair amount of bric-a-brac too - we even saw one man selling a motorcycle! I'd like to go back on my own sometime and really take my time to browse.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
en retard is an understatement
Over the last few days, I've had several conversations about how France is behind, or "en retard", in relation to the rest of the world. It's true from the most banal of situations (the host of a talk show asking Jennifer Aniston about the possibility of a 'Friends' movie) to some that are pretty difficult to swallow from the perspective of an American student (paper registration at the university, professors absences being announced via bulletin board). There's also things like recycling (they only recycle glass, as far as I can tell), whole grain bread (impossible to find), and hybrid cars (here, almost everything still runs on diesel!). Perhaps it is linked to the sense of urgency there is here to preserve a formerly-dominant culture that is becoming less and less relevant, resulting in a reluctancy to adopt anything new (my European Union professor's words, not mine). And perhaps this is why we -- or at least I -- had always thought of France as having a sort of timeless style. The truth is, they just never changed their style.
I don't know about you, but I never really associated France as being a country that was particularly "far behind". Disorganized, yes; fashionably late, always. But I never realized that not showing up on time for a dinner party also had repercussions in wider social development. And what's even more interesting is that it took other French people alerting me to this connection for me to understand it. You see, the French are completely aware of the fact that they are a bit slow on the pick-up when it comes to newness, and are not ashamed in the slightest. I respect this a lot, considering I'm the kind of person who would totally bow to the pressure of what is shiny and cool and new and trendy. Just one of the many things France has to teach me.
I don't know about you, but I never really associated France as being a country that was particularly "far behind". Disorganized, yes; fashionably late, always. But I never realized that not showing up on time for a dinner party also had repercussions in wider social development. And what's even more interesting is that it took other French people alerting me to this connection for me to understand it. You see, the French are completely aware of the fact that they are a bit slow on the pick-up when it comes to newness, and are not ashamed in the slightest. I respect this a lot, considering I'm the kind of person who would totally bow to the pressure of what is shiny and cool and new and trendy. Just one of the many things France has to teach me.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
I'm pretty sure that was Darth Vader that just walked by
So I think I've figured out the reason why Halloween has never really caught on here in France. It's because children here spend weeks thinking up the ultimate costume for Mardi Gras instead. Which, if you think about it, makes more sense than our holiday. Fat Tuesday festivities -- and all the masked revelry that accompanies it -- have been a tradition far longer than trick-or-treating. But apart from the masked toddlers I saw walking the streets of Lyon today, there doesn't really seem to be anything else to the celebration. And definitely no free candy (I definitely would have known about that).
Last night, I went to a concert that my French friend describes as plus branché que branché. It was a special invitation-only sneak preview concert of tonight's show at Grrnd Zero, the hipster venue of choice in this fair city. My friend is friends with the club's manager's girlfriend, so I was invited to tag along. We were there super early, so I tried to make friendly with one of the performing bands, Wavves, who actually hail from the good old US of A. Eventually, Lyon's hipster elite trickled in, filling the room with their enormous glasses and puffing on their cigarettes. Never have I been in such a tightly enclosed space with so much noise and smoke. Needless to say, my clothes smell horrible. And while it was certainly entertaining to watch hipsters bop their heads to non-rhythmic music, I couldn't stand it past 11:30pm and headed home.
Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to post last weekend from the small town of Bully, where I spent a few nights on the invitation of a friend from school. Her pseudo-boyfriend is woofing at a vineyard there, just short of an hour northwest of the city. I am not sure where that term came from, but it basically means he toils the fields all day in exchange for food and lodging.
I'm not sure it's worth it.
True, I'm probably the sissiest city girl you'll get, and the house has been inhabited by weather-beaten farm hands for the last three years, but would it hurt to mop every once in awhile? Aside from the claustrophobic and smelly bathroom, I really enjoyed seeing the countryside. The rolling hills and hamlets criss-crossed by cobblestone roads were exactly what I pictured. However, I am an idiot and forgot my camera. Hopefully I'll make it out there one more time before the end of the semester so I can show you what I mean.
Last night, I went to a concert that my French friend describes as plus branché que branché. It was a special invitation-only sneak preview concert of tonight's show at Grrnd Zero, the hipster venue of choice in this fair city. My friend is friends with the club's manager's girlfriend, so I was invited to tag along. We were there super early, so I tried to make friendly with one of the performing bands, Wavves, who actually hail from the good old US of A. Eventually, Lyon's hipster elite trickled in, filling the room with their enormous glasses and puffing on their cigarettes. Never have I been in such a tightly enclosed space with so much noise and smoke. Needless to say, my clothes smell horrible. And while it was certainly entertaining to watch hipsters bop their heads to non-rhythmic music, I couldn't stand it past 11:30pm and headed home.
Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to post last weekend from the small town of Bully, where I spent a few nights on the invitation of a friend from school. Her pseudo-boyfriend is woofing at a vineyard there, just short of an hour northwest of the city. I am not sure where that term came from, but it basically means he toils the fields all day in exchange for food and lodging.
I'm not sure it's worth it.
True, I'm probably the sissiest city girl you'll get, and the house has been inhabited by weather-beaten farm hands for the last three years, but would it hurt to mop every once in awhile? Aside from the claustrophobic and smelly bathroom, I really enjoyed seeing the countryside. The rolling hills and hamlets criss-crossed by cobblestone roads were exactly what I pictured. However, I am an idiot and forgot my camera. Hopefully I'll make it out there one more time before the end of the semester so I can show you what I mean.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
finally, the french word for hipster
It certainly is nice to be back home. Berlin is fantastic and has a great vibe, but I don't think I could have lasted another day with my French travel buddy. Plus, it was super cold! It snowed for 2 days straight, which was awesome -- until it started to melt. But before it turned into goopy slush, Berlin looked like this:
When recapping my trip with my host family, Antoine (my host dad) described Berlin as very branché. Literally, it means "well-connected", but apparently it applies to very trendy, well-accessorized people too. Berlin certainly has plenty of those, which I appreciate a lot after coming from an incredibly homogenized city like Lyon. Had I been traveling with someone else (I'll try to stop complaining about her, but it's hard), I would have liked to hang out in more local cafés/restaurants/bars, but I guess I'll have to leave that until next time...
When recapping my trip with my host family, Antoine (my host dad) described Berlin as very branché. Literally, it means "well-connected", but apparently it applies to very trendy, well-accessorized people too. Berlin certainly has plenty of those, which I appreciate a lot after coming from an incredibly homogenized city like Lyon. Had I been traveling with someone else (I'll try to stop complaining about her, but it's hard), I would have liked to hang out in more local cafés/restaurants/bars, but I guess I'll have to leave that until next time...
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
loosen up, bitte.
So, as I was saying, the French girl I'm travelling with is really getting on my nerves. While it's probably inevitable to not get annoyed by someone after spending an entire week with him/her, I've also made the unfortunate discovery on this trip that my friend is mean. Case in point: a middle aged German man was staying in our hostel for the first half of my stay here, and she just would not stop making fun of him. Every time we went back to the room, she would complain about how he smelled and would request that we go down to the lobby rather than stay in the room with him. He never did anything to us, and it kind of offended me that she was being so cruel to a person she didn't even know.
Other than her company, though, this trip has been pretty great. I would have liked to spend more time at the Festival (she said she wasn't just here for the festival and wanted to see the city too -- except that by the day the festival ended, we had already seen pretty much everything there is to see here). I had to settle on one movie a day, and since Sunday (the last day of the festival), we've basically just been looking for places to eat outside. This is pretty torturous for me, because she only eats muffins. Seriously. I don't understand how she is not vitamin deficient as she eats no fruits or vegetables or meat. And she is quite picky about her muffin/coffee breaks, asking that we find a little café off the main drag - and then appearing weirded out about the back alley-ness of the ones we do find. And then says that maybe we should just go to Starbucks.
Maybe I should be the one that's loosening up, but I will certainly be glad to get back to Lyon and have some good quality alone time.
Other than her company, though, this trip has been pretty great. I would have liked to spend more time at the Festival (she said she wasn't just here for the festival and wanted to see the city too -- except that by the day the festival ended, we had already seen pretty much everything there is to see here). I had to settle on one movie a day, and since Sunday (the last day of the festival), we've basically just been looking for places to eat outside. This is pretty torturous for me, because she only eats muffins. Seriously. I don't understand how she is not vitamin deficient as she eats no fruits or vegetables or meat. And she is quite picky about her muffin/coffee breaks, asking that we find a little café off the main drag - and then appearing weirded out about the back alley-ness of the ones we do find. And then says that maybe we should just go to Starbucks.
Maybe I should be the one that's loosening up, but I will certainly be glad to get back to Lyon and have some good quality alone time.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
is it sacreligious to say the french have no style?
I'm probably just being bitter, but the French girl I'm travelling with here in Berlin is really getting on my nerves. She just doesn't travel in the same way that I do -- that being, trying to really immerse myself into the culture and enjoying the best things the city has to offer (hear that tone of bitterness? I'm sorry, I really can't help myself). Anyway, she hasn't eaten any German food since we've been here, and pretty much only eats muffins and pastries. I'll go on a more detailed rant, but I'll leave you on a lighter note with some photos of this great city.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
at least we've got a good average
I have to make this brief, because I'm posting from my hostel where everyone else seems to be asleep. Things are getting a little tense between me and the French girl I'm traveling with, but thankfully I have the movies to lift my spirits. We've seen a fair number of actors so far, which I'll list and hopefully provide a few photos for tomorrow. Berlin isn't gorgeous in the typical sense, but I feel a strong attraction to it, and I'm looking forward to discovering the various neighborhoods starting tomorrow. The two films I've seen thus far have been pretty average - nothing spectacularly mind-blowing - but I'm seeing two competition films on Sunday which will hopefully deliver the goods. Tschuss for now!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
is that an asian girl? or, here comes the sun.
This fascination French boys have for Japanese girls is really starting to get on my nerves. Last night, I brought 2 of my japanese friends to a concert (which was good only for people-watching purposes, so I wont even bother to comment further). The first band resembled your everyday high school garage punk trio. Very cute in a 16-year-old-playing-their-first-gig kind of way, they almost upstaged the main act, a band from New York featuring a frontman who spoke in English with a terrible French accent (even though he is from NEW YORK). While it definitely takes balls to diss your entire audience, it's also pretty obnoxious.
While this incredibly un-PC guy was playing his set, the boys from the first bad (or as my friend dubbed them, the jailbait) came over to my friends and gave them a copy of their CD for free. When it became clear that the girls didn't understand completely what he was saying, he switched to English -- because, of course, that would work with girls from Japan where people speak Japanese. Anyway, I almost died laughing watching the kid put his moves on my friends while his wingman (aka the drummer of the band), a Ben Gibbard look-alike shaming true punks everywhere by wearing a Ramones t-shirt, just stood by awkwardly.
My friend (also American) and myself headed off to another party after the concert, but the girls decided to stay on for the after party at a nearby club. We wished them good luck with their new boy toys. But, as my friend pointed out, it didn't seem like they actually knew they were getting hit on. As they say, ignorance is bliss.
The sun finally came out today after a straight week of rain. I hope the weather in Berlin will be better.
While this incredibly un-PC guy was playing his set, the boys from the first bad (or as my friend dubbed them, the jailbait) came over to my friends and gave them a copy of their CD for free. When it became clear that the girls didn't understand completely what he was saying, he switched to English -- because, of course, that would work with girls from Japan where people speak Japanese. Anyway, I almost died laughing watching the kid put his moves on my friends while his wingman (aka the drummer of the band), a Ben Gibbard look-alike shaming true punks everywhere by wearing a Ramones t-shirt, just stood by awkwardly.
My friend (also American) and myself headed off to another party after the concert, but the girls decided to stay on for the after party at a nearby club. We wished them good luck with their new boy toys. But, as my friend pointed out, it didn't seem like they actually knew they were getting hit on. As they say, ignorance is bliss.
The sun finally came out today after a straight week of rain. I hope the weather in Berlin will be better.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
selling the school
This afternoon, I met with Delphine, a third-year English major who is one of thirty applicants competing for the one spot granted to a Lyon 3 student at Georgetown next year. She speaks English remarkably fluidly (note: I did not say remarkably well) and has already visited DC and the campus after spending last summer in Maryland. It's amazing to me how difficult it is to go to Georgetown from France when coming here, for me, was a piece of cake. I was the only person who applied to the program for the full year, and the paperwork and interviews were really all just formalities. Delphine seems genuinely interested in coming to Georgetown, so I hope it works out for her. She gets the results in 2 weeks.
As for me, I'm counting down the days to my trip to Berlin. Only 6 days left! I've purchased tickets for the gala screening of "An Education" which received positive reviews at Sundance (and a distribution deal from Sony Pictures Classics). I also have a busy week ahead of me, with a planning pow-wow for a weekend in Chamonix tomorrow night, the theater on Friday night, and a concert on Saturday night. I mean, I've got to make these last 4 months count!
As for me, I'm counting down the days to my trip to Berlin. Only 6 days left! I've purchased tickets for the gala screening of "An Education" which received positive reviews at Sundance (and a distribution deal from Sony Pictures Classics). I also have a busy week ahead of me, with a planning pow-wow for a weekend in Chamonix tomorrow night, the theater on Friday night, and a concert on Saturday night. I mean, I've got to make these last 4 months count!
Sunday, February 1, 2009
my face is tan, my butt is bruised
I am POOPED after my very first day of snowboarding at the small Savoie-Alps resort of Valmorel. Unfortunately, I couldn't bring my camera with me up to the slopes (it's too bulky, not to mention I would have fallen on it multiple times), but my friend who came with me took some pictures that I hope to post soon.
We had a 4:30am wake up call this morning, which is earlier than I ever hope to wake up ever again. Fortunately, adrenaline overpowered fatigue as I learned the basics with my instructor Sebastien during my morning lesson. He's only 21 and has been teaching snowboarding and skiing for 4 years! He also has really pretty eyelashes, but I digress...
The most traumatizing part was getting up the teleski - not a ski-lift, but the mini lift that you but between your legs to go up short distances. While I got it right the very first time, the next four times saw me face first in the snow. Strangely, both in skiing and in snowboarding, I have a lot of trouble turning left (à la Zoolander), so during my solo practice on the baby slope in the afternoon, there was a lot of turning right, falling, getting back up, and turning right again going on. All that physical activity was made a lot harder by the blazing sun, which provided a gorgeous view of the mountains (and also a lot of sweaty ski gear). We were so lucky to have such good weather.
I am proud to say that on my very last trip down the bunny hill, I made it all the way without falling. That put me in a good mood heading back to our bus (also helped by a delicious dark chocolate crêpe). Now, however, I am bruised all over and am doubtful that I will ever be able to get myself out of bed.
We had a 4:30am wake up call this morning, which is earlier than I ever hope to wake up ever again. Fortunately, adrenaline overpowered fatigue as I learned the basics with my instructor Sebastien during my morning lesson. He's only 21 and has been teaching snowboarding and skiing for 4 years! He also has really pretty eyelashes, but I digress...
The most traumatizing part was getting up the teleski - not a ski-lift, but the mini lift that you but between your legs to go up short distances. While I got it right the very first time, the next four times saw me face first in the snow. Strangely, both in skiing and in snowboarding, I have a lot of trouble turning left (à la Zoolander), so during my solo practice on the baby slope in the afternoon, there was a lot of turning right, falling, getting back up, and turning right again going on. All that physical activity was made a lot harder by the blazing sun, which provided a gorgeous view of the mountains (and also a lot of sweaty ski gear). We were so lucky to have such good weather.
I am proud to say that on my very last trip down the bunny hill, I made it all the way without falling. That put me in a good mood heading back to our bus (also helped by a delicious dark chocolate crêpe). Now, however, I am bruised all over and am doubtful that I will ever be able to get myself out of bed.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
joe, the hipster from kansas
Just got back from a concert at Sonic, one of several peniche-style venues here in Lyon. Traversed by two rivers, the lyonnais apparently have a thing for partying on boats. My main draw to the concert was François Virot, who I had seen previously as the drummer of Clara Clara (pictured below) at another concert venue near the Gare de Vaise called Grrrnd Zero.
The set was just so-so (I preferred Clara Clara), but the people watching was excellent. Especially when my friends and I were approached by a hipster couple (Anastasia and Joe) from Kansas. Anastasia was a little tipsy, and was really eager to tell us -- well, anything, really. Joe was wearing those big hipster glasses and a woolen v-neck sweater and talked with a lisp. Ah, what a lovely pair.
The set was just so-so (I preferred Clara Clara), but the people watching was excellent. Especially when my friends and I were approached by a hipster couple (Anastasia and Joe) from Kansas. Anastasia was a little tipsy, and was really eager to tell us -- well, anything, really. Joe was wearing those big hipster glasses and a woolen v-neck sweater and talked with a lisp. Ah, what a lovely pair.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
missing the but
Two nights ago, my host brother surprised me with an invitation to the Lyon - Marseille football match last night. Olympique Lyonnais is the best team in France, dominating the Ligue de France championships for the last 6 years running. They also play in the Champions League with teams like Manchester United, FC Barcelona, and AC Milan, but have yet to make it past the quarter finals.
Going to a match has been one of my year-long goals, so I was super excited to go. Thanks to a delay in the métro, we arrived at the game about 10 minutes late -- late enough to miss the one and only goal scored in the match. I was too tired to be upset about it, and the rest of the game was pretty fun to watch anyway. I'm a big sports fan, so being in a stadium with 30,000 other screaming fans was definitely an experience to remember.
My host brother and 12 year old host sister who came along argued pretty much throughout the entire match, which I was expecting because they don't get along all too well. It did get pretty annoying at a certain point though - with my host brother overreacting to my host sister's innocent questions and my host sister constantly complaining about not being able to see anything and asking to move further down, closer to the field. Once we had done that, though, she could see even less. Oh, to be young again.
Probably the most eventful thing to happen on my end was having a cigarette thrown into the hood of my coat. The man behind me was nice enough to alert me to the fact that I was on fire, picking the butt out of the folds of my hood. I was kind of in shock and obscenely embarrassed, and could think of nothing else to say aside from a meek 'Merci'. My host brother and sister reacted more appropriately though, verifying to make sure that my hood wasn't still burning -- which, of course, it was because of some left over ashes. They brushed them out, and I sat in my bleacher seat, cool as a clam. Yes, I was so exhausted I didn't even care I was in the process of catching on fire.
As for today, the big headline is the national grève, France's reaction to the economic crisis. Coming back from class today, I told my host mom that I had seen the huge crowd gathered in Place Bellecour, and she told me "But of course! The demonstration! We're really good at that!". Crossing over the Rhône, I kept wishing I had my camera to take photos - a long caravan of police vans were inching their way through a sea of people, many of whom carried banners and waved signs calling for a change in economic policy from President Sarkozy. Unfortunately, by the time I had recharged my battery and went back outside, the mass of angry protesters had dispersed. But I did get to snap this photo of a banner taped to Louis XIV:
Now just imagine a lot of people marching and chanting in this general area. If I was more technologically savvy, I would photo shop them in -- but I guess that would be cheating.
Going to a match has been one of my year-long goals, so I was super excited to go. Thanks to a delay in the métro, we arrived at the game about 10 minutes late -- late enough to miss the one and only goal scored in the match. I was too tired to be upset about it, and the rest of the game was pretty fun to watch anyway. I'm a big sports fan, so being in a stadium with 30,000 other screaming fans was definitely an experience to remember.
My host brother and 12 year old host sister who came along argued pretty much throughout the entire match, which I was expecting because they don't get along all too well. It did get pretty annoying at a certain point though - with my host brother overreacting to my host sister's innocent questions and my host sister constantly complaining about not being able to see anything and asking to move further down, closer to the field. Once we had done that, though, she could see even less. Oh, to be young again.
Probably the most eventful thing to happen on my end was having a cigarette thrown into the hood of my coat. The man behind me was nice enough to alert me to the fact that I was on fire, picking the butt out of the folds of my hood. I was kind of in shock and obscenely embarrassed, and could think of nothing else to say aside from a meek 'Merci'. My host brother and sister reacted more appropriately though, verifying to make sure that my hood wasn't still burning -- which, of course, it was because of some left over ashes. They brushed them out, and I sat in my bleacher seat, cool as a clam. Yes, I was so exhausted I didn't even care I was in the process of catching on fire.
As for today, the big headline is the national grève, France's reaction to the economic crisis. Coming back from class today, I told my host mom that I had seen the huge crowd gathered in Place Bellecour, and she told me "But of course! The demonstration! We're really good at that!". Crossing over the Rhône, I kept wishing I had my camera to take photos - a long caravan of police vans were inching their way through a sea of people, many of whom carried banners and waved signs calling for a change in economic policy from President Sarkozy. Unfortunately, by the time I had recharged my battery and went back outside, the mass of angry protesters had dispersed. But I did get to snap this photo of a banner taped to Louis XIV:
Now just imagine a lot of people marching and chanting in this general area. If I was more technologically savvy, I would photo shop them in -- but I guess that would be cheating.Tuesday, January 27, 2009
god, i hate mornings
Now I remember why I wrote so infrequently last semester - CLASSES! Time just disappears sitting in CMs (cours magistraux, the equivalent of lectures) all day long. Luckily, I've taken a much calmer approach to the whole registration process this semester. I'm done worrying about credits or fulfilling requirements from back home, because there's no way of knowing how it will all calculate out in the end.
Today, I had class starting at 8am until 6pm (with two 2-hour breaks, thank goodness). I haven't been this tired in awhile -- probably because I haven't been to school in awhile. All in all, my courses are actually shaping up to be pretty interesting this semester:
Civilisation and Culture (XIX century): The notion of sublime in literature and painting
Media Cultures: The history and role of the media in France
Cinema
Introduction to Aesthetics/Art History/Regard
The construction of the European community
Tomorrow I'm sitting in on my first Italian class. I hope I haven't completely forgotten everything!
Today, I had class starting at 8am until 6pm (with two 2-hour breaks, thank goodness). I haven't been this tired in awhile -- probably because I haven't been to school in awhile. All in all, my courses are actually shaping up to be pretty interesting this semester:
Civilisation and Culture (XIX century): The notion of sublime in literature and painting
Media Cultures: The history and role of the media in France
Cinema
Introduction to Aesthetics/Art History/Regard
The construction of the European community
Tomorrow I'm sitting in on my first Italian class. I hope I haven't completely forgotten everything!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
fydor's day at the opera
Finally started work on my Pass Culture (7 shows for 33 euros) with a matinee of Serge Prokofiev's operatic adaptation of "The Gambler" by Dostoyevsky.The production itself was much more coherent than the one I went to earlier this month at the Théâtre de la Croix Rousse. Unfortunately, it was really hard to follow the story since they didn't give out any kind of free program - and I can't think of any theater experience where it's more important to understand what is going on than an intellectual Russian opera!
All of the performers were very impressive, though. The orchestra played beautifully, and I was especially touched by the performance of the lead soprano. I'm hoping to catch another opera performance before leaving Lyon, and hopefully one in French this time around!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
my new boyfriend
Voici mon nouveau copain, Guillaume.Ha, I wish. I got a message last night from a friend about the première of M. Canet's new film "Espion(s)" at the Pathé Bellecour, at which said actor would be present. Super excited, I bought tickets right after getting out of class this morning and arrived at the theater an hour early. A benefit to living in France is that people are definitely not as celebrity crazy, and people were relatively calm during the screening.
The film wasn't great (I would even go so far as to say it wasn't good) but Guillaume was super sympa, as they say...answering every question fully and with an evident passion for his work.
He also spent quite a bit of time joking around, and was certainly the most entertaining of the panelists (which also included his leading lady and director). For example:
Q: Why did you decide to do this project among the many you are being offered?
A: Well, I had a great first meeting with the director. We got a along really well, smoked some weed...(he was kidding, obviously)
Q: What is it like kissing (your leading lady)?
A: I had no problem with it. And I invite you to come down here and try it.
Sigh. How dreamy.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
back to school with barack
Last night, the whole Pellet clan and myself gathered around the television at 6pm to watch the Obama inauguration. Looking into the sea of people, I imagined my friends from home somewhere among the crowd, cheering and soaking up the joy that was that incredible day. Franchement, I feel like I could have picked a better year to go abroad. This is probably the most momentous, historic occasion that I will ever live through, and I could have been in the middle of it all. These are the only times that I have regretted leaving Georgetown for a year.
But today, going back to school, it felt so nice to see my friends, to not be stressed or confused, and to be excited about classes starting up again. And I felt so proud to be American, more than I ever have in my life. Clearly, I'm not the most patriotic of people (I did decide to spend my first presidential election year abroad, after all), but this gave me a burst of joy inside that I never thought politics could produce.
But today, going back to school, it felt so nice to see my friends, to not be stressed or confused, and to be excited about classes starting up again. And I felt so proud to be American, more than I ever have in my life. Clearly, I'm not the most patriotic of people (I did decide to spend my first presidential election year abroad, after all), but this gave me a burst of joy inside that I never thought politics could produce.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
the land of fondue and watches
Just got back from a day trip to Genève. My purchases today reflected (almost to an embarrassing extent) some widely-held Swiss stereotypes:
A) A Swatch watch, which I adore and hope will inspire me to actually wear watches.
B) Fondue, a 16 euro lunch which was worth every centime.
C) Chocolate. Need I say more?
The city is very charming, with a teensy old town and a chic commercial district along the bank of its famous lake. It also has a very international feel, not only as a result of the United Nations base, but also because of its diverse, multi-lingual population. I also noticed lots of people getting onto local commuter buses with ski/snowboard gear, which gave me the itch to go to the mountains and give my new ski pants a whirl.
A) A Swatch watch, which I adore and hope will inspire me to actually wear watches.
B) Fondue, a 16 euro lunch which was worth every centime.
C) Chocolate. Need I say more?
The city is very charming, with a teensy old town and a chic commercial district along the bank of its famous lake. It also has a very international feel, not only as a result of the United Nations base, but also because of its diverse, multi-lingual population. I also noticed lots of people getting onto local commuter buses with ski/snowboard gear, which gave me the itch to go to the mountains and give my new ski pants a whirl.
Friday, January 16, 2009
can't sleep
Aside from the above (which isn't really news), the week has been a mix of extreme laziness and extreme busyness. Yesterday, I took a day trip to Burgundy (which I didn't realize was the English version of Bourgogne until about an hour before we left) where I ate mustard, spice bread, and admired very beautiful (and expensive) bottles of wine. Dijon was the main stop, a small but charming town that takes the owl (chouette in French) as it's mascot. One of my friends met a very friendly woman on the train who invited us to her place for lunch. See, French people are almost ridiculously nice!
Anyway, I woke up in alarm yesterday after realizing that I never told my host family I'd be out of town for dinner last night. Blogging is a way for me to put off going down to apologize, even though I know they won't be hard on me or anything. I just don't like doing things wrong, but I'm just going to have to take a deep breath, suck it up, and do it.
Anyway, I woke up in alarm yesterday after realizing that I never told my host family I'd be out of town for dinner last night. Blogging is a way for me to put off going down to apologize, even though I know they won't be hard on me or anything. I just don't like doing things wrong, but I'm just going to have to take a deep breath, suck it up, and do it.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
berlin, here i come!
Yesterday, my friend Agnès came over to the apartment to plan our trip to Berlin next month. We're skipping 3 days of classes to attend the Berlinale, one of the top 3 film festivals in the world. This is seriously a dream come true - and I'm so excited!
I hate to admit it, but I felt pretty popular yesterday. I saw 3 different friends, one who left this morning to return to the States, Agnès, and a Canadian friend who I went to the theater with. We went to the Théâtre de la Croix Rousse to see "Le Nouveau Testament", a play by Sacha Guitry that deals with adultery among the Parisian bourgeoisie in the 1930s. It was an interesting play, but the production could have been better. The stage was set up like an impossibly humongous living room with at least 20 couches, some of which were used as seats for the audience. There were also strange video screens used intermittently throughout the play as stand-ins for movie theater screens and windows into the thoughts of one of the main characters. But I wasn't too impressed by the overall production, to be frank.
Friday night was the big dinner with the Georgetown group. As predicted, none of them are people I see myself hanging out with on a regular basis. They are nice enough people, but they have gone out to bars for the last 3 nights in a row (I went out with them on Friday, but declined yesterday night because I was really tired coming back from the theater). 5 of them will be at Lyon 3, but who knows how things will develop over time.
I'm on my way to meet two of my Japanese friends to plan a little trip to Dijon for this week. With no exams or classes, I'm going to try and make a few other day trips too - possibly to Grenoble and Geneva.
I hate to admit it, but I felt pretty popular yesterday. I saw 3 different friends, one who left this morning to return to the States, Agnès, and a Canadian friend who I went to the theater with. We went to the Théâtre de la Croix Rousse to see "Le Nouveau Testament", a play by Sacha Guitry that deals with adultery among the Parisian bourgeoisie in the 1930s. It was an interesting play, but the production could have been better. The stage was set up like an impossibly humongous living room with at least 20 couches, some of which were used as seats for the audience. There were also strange video screens used intermittently throughout the play as stand-ins for movie theater screens and windows into the thoughts of one of the main characters. But I wasn't too impressed by the overall production, to be frank.
Friday night was the big dinner with the Georgetown group. As predicted, none of them are people I see myself hanging out with on a regular basis. They are nice enough people, but they have gone out to bars for the last 3 nights in a row (I went out with them on Friday, but declined yesterday night because I was really tired coming back from the theater). 5 of them will be at Lyon 3, but who knows how things will develop over time.
I'm on my way to meet two of my Japanese friends to plan a little trip to Dijon for this week. With no exams or classes, I'm going to try and make a few other day trips too - possibly to Grenoble and Geneva.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
an all-around successful day (except for the exam part)
I'm always kind of shocked at how much I get accomplished when I wake up early. Or, rather, when I'm forced to. I had my Art History exam bright and early at 8am today, which meant a 6:45 wake up call. Ugh. The exam probably could have gone better, but in any case, I don't think I failed, which is all that really matters for me to get credit on study abroad.
I then rushed to my visite medicale which is required to get a carte de séjour (a residence visa for people staying in France for more than 3 months). I already knew what to expect because most of my friends had theirs before winter break, and I got sent home after half an hour with a chest x-ray as a party favor.
After meeting up with a friend for lunch, we hit the shops on Rue de la République for the second official day of the soldes. I didn't find anything fabulous, but according to my host sister, the prices will continue to come down over the next few weeks (it's so great to have the inside scoop). One of the most popular brands here these days that isn't Converse or Abercrombie and Fitch is Zadig et Voltaire. I must admit, they have pretty hip and interesting clothes, especially for a French brand. Most others that I've gotten to know over the last few months (Etam, Kookai, Promod) are pretty dull.
The host parents weren't home tonight, so I had frozen pizza with the kids. I even got a lanyard from my youngest host sister, Apolline!
I then rushed to my visite medicale which is required to get a carte de séjour (a residence visa for people staying in France for more than 3 months). I already knew what to expect because most of my friends had theirs before winter break, and I got sent home after half an hour with a chest x-ray as a party favor.
After meeting up with a friend for lunch, we hit the shops on Rue de la République for the second official day of the soldes. I didn't find anything fabulous, but according to my host sister, the prices will continue to come down over the next few weeks (it's so great to have the inside scoop). One of the most popular brands here these days that isn't Converse or Abercrombie and Fitch is Zadig et Voltaire. I must admit, they have pretty hip and interesting clothes, especially for a French brand. Most others that I've gotten to know over the last few months (Etam, Kookai, Promod) are pretty dull.
The host parents weren't home tonight, so I had frozen pizza with the kids. I even got a lanyard from my youngest host sister, Apolline!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
I love my new coat!
I can hardly contain my excitement about the new coat I just bought. I wanted to add a picture, but I don't know how to grab it from the Lacoste website :(
More importantly, today is the beginning of the twice-a-year soldes season in France. Sales, which are regulated by the government, are definitely something to look forward to in this cold cold wintertime. Starting today, they'll last for the next four weeks, with clothes at even the most exclusive brands going on sale for up to 70 percent. I realize this sounds like a really girly thing to be posting about, but it actually is a pretty important period in the French cultural calendar, especially when you think about how serious the French are about fashion.
I've had my eye on this coat since trying it on at the Duty Free at Charles de Gaulle before our flight to Spain. I have an exam tomorrow, so I thought I'd go over to the Lacoste store first thing in the morning to see what the prices looked like. Leaving the apartment, the first store I passed was for baby clothing, and there were more people in there than I've seen all year. It looked almost like Black Friday in the states, but more refined -- people were searching anxiously for sizes, but it was as if they didn't want other people to be able to tell how desperate they were to find them.
Then, walking across Bellecour, almost every woman I passed heading in the opposite direction was carrying at least two or three shopping backs and wearing a contented smile. And this is at 10 in the morning! On a Wednesday! Don't these people have work?
Lacoste was just opening, and within 5 minutes, there were plenty of people buzzing around. It took me only 10 minutes to try on, decide, and swipe my (dad's) credit card. On the way back, glowing with the happiness that comes with a new purchase, I trotted back to the apartment, huge bright blue Lacoste shopping bag in hand. Lost in my thoughts, I only barely heard a woman say "Excusez-moi." I stopped. She asked me where the Lacoste store was, and I was happy to point her the way.
More importantly, today is the beginning of the twice-a-year soldes season in France. Sales, which are regulated by the government, are definitely something to look forward to in this cold cold wintertime. Starting today, they'll last for the next four weeks, with clothes at even the most exclusive brands going on sale for up to 70 percent. I realize this sounds like a really girly thing to be posting about, but it actually is a pretty important period in the French cultural calendar, especially when you think about how serious the French are about fashion.
I've had my eye on this coat since trying it on at the Duty Free at Charles de Gaulle before our flight to Spain. I have an exam tomorrow, so I thought I'd go over to the Lacoste store first thing in the morning to see what the prices looked like. Leaving the apartment, the first store I passed was for baby clothing, and there were more people in there than I've seen all year. It looked almost like Black Friday in the states, but more refined -- people were searching anxiously for sizes, but it was as if they didn't want other people to be able to tell how desperate they were to find them.
Then, walking across Bellecour, almost every woman I passed heading in the opposite direction was carrying at least two or three shopping backs and wearing a contented smile. And this is at 10 in the morning! On a Wednesday! Don't these people have work?
Lacoste was just opening, and within 5 minutes, there were plenty of people buzzing around. It took me only 10 minutes to try on, decide, and swipe my (dad's) credit card. On the way back, glowing with the happiness that comes with a new purchase, I trotted back to the apartment, huge bright blue Lacoste shopping bag in hand. Lost in my thoughts, I only barely heard a woman say "Excusez-moi." I stopped. She asked me where the Lacoste store was, and I was happy to point her the way.
Monday, January 5, 2009
all in the family
I just finished up the first dinner with the host family since the Christmas gift exchange extravaganza and the week away. I haven't really hung out with any of the kids since then, but things went really well tonight. I felt bad for not buying Ferréol something from the Barcelona football club because he asked me about seeing their stadium. I showed Sigolène my new purchases from the vacation (She was nice about it, but seemed a bit skeptical. We don't have the same style anyway).
One of my New Years Resolutions was to hang out more with my host family. I'm not sure I know how to do that though - they're so tight knit, and I would feel weird interrupting them while they all watch TV together at night and stuff. Plus, I do like my alone time. I'm not sure how to go about it - I do want to be pro-active and spend more time with them, but I guess I'm still kind of nervous around them and shy. It always takes a bit of courage for me to venture downstairs into the common living space.
In other news, I've failed miserably at studying for my exam and writing my paper. If I can crank out my second body paragraph tonight and do the third and the conclusion tomorrow, I should be okay (hopefully).
One of my New Years Resolutions was to hang out more with my host family. I'm not sure I know how to do that though - they're so tight knit, and I would feel weird interrupting them while they all watch TV together at night and stuff. Plus, I do like my alone time. I'm not sure how to go about it - I do want to be pro-active and spend more time with them, but I guess I'm still kind of nervous around them and shy. It always takes a bit of courage for me to venture downstairs into the common living space.
In other news, I've failed miserably at studying for my exam and writing my paper. If I can crank out my second body paragraph tonight and do the third and the conclusion tomorrow, I should be okay (hopefully).
i knew i couldn't be that stupid!!
I am SO relieved.
This morning, I dragged myself out of bed at 7:45am to go to the Prefecture and finally face up to the fact that I lost my temporary Titre de Séjour. And to try to reschedule the required medical exam, the date for which falls exactly on the day of my Art History exam. Stroke of luck that they let me back into the country after coming back from Spain, I thought to myself. Can't leave it up to chance anymore. (Truth is, no one would probably ever notice, seeing as border patrol doesn't really happen in Europe anymore. Something about the European Union...?)
Anyhow, I was given a ticket and waited in one of those bland civil service offices with a bunch of hyper-organized Asian kids. I non-enthusiastically flipped through my Art History review cards while waiting for my number to be called. About 20 minutes later, I approached Guichet H, pretty much your standard post manned by a fonctionnaire with short blond hair and glasses. She seemed like a suburban mom, aka she seemed like she would be friendly. Not so, my friend, not so.
Looking down her pinched nose at me, she got defensive, saying it wasn't her office that dealt with the medical visits. She pointed to the telephone number indicated on the letter, and after telling her I had already tried calling them several times before Christmas, she said I should go to their office. She got frustrated when I asked her where it might be located, saying "You have the address right here (dummy!)"
Taking a deep breath (and on the verge of tears), I told her what I really had come all that way to say. "Is the récipisée that document with my photo stamped on it that you get in the mail?"
"Yes."
"Well...I don't have it."
"You must have received it."
"The thing is...I lost it."
She looked at me in angry disbelief. "Well, you really should get yourself together."
Yup. That was it. No indication of what I should do to fix the situation. And, as tears welled in my eyes, I think it was clear enough that I was torn up about losing the bootleg copy of my temporary residence card. I was teetering between bawling in sorrow/pleading for her forgiveness and being supremely pissed off. There was no excuse for her to talk to me in that way or that tone. Isn't that what she is there for, to help me get my carte de séjour?
Still in a bit of shock, I asked her what I should do. Throwing her hands up in the air, she said in exasperation, "You'll have to go to the commissariat and report the loss of the document to them. Then you have to come back here with a photo so we can get you a new one. And you have to go to the doctor's office to reschedule your appointment. And you have to go today. You should hurry up and fix this."
Great. I stood up and left, in disbelief that anyone could be that mean. I needed to calm down, so I went to the Centre Commerciale and had a hot chocolate and a croissant, while trying to trap a WiFi signal long enough to figure out what the heck a commissariat was. Good news: the office was close to where I live. Bad news: turns out she wanted me to go to the police.
Whether this was all just some cruel joke because she wanted me locked up for stupidity was yet to be seen. I decided to head to the doctor's office first to see what I could do about my medical visit. Possibly the most non-descript building on the most non-descript street in the city, I was greeted by a "Bonjour" right as I walked through the automatic doors. A youngish Arabic woman sat at the acceuil, and asked me if I was there for my medical visit. I explained my problem, and she responded, "The problem is, the office is closed this week, and they wont be able to reschedule you until next week. What I recommend that you do is write a letter and send it by mail with some dates that would be better for you. Then they'll respond to you my mail as well." She smiled. "But I wouldn't worry about it. I think they give you 3 chances to come for the visit, so you should be fine."
She was so nice that I didn't want to bog her down with my stupidity. "A small problem," I said. "The visit is scheduled for this Thursday." I braced myself for the onslaught.
"No problem," she said. "Just send us the letter, and everything will work out."
So it's not that all French civil servants are supreme bitches. It's just that one. So watch out for her.
I decided to make one last sweep of my room to look for the récipissée. It would postpone my visit to the police station, which I was not enthusiastic about. And it would give me a chance to complain to my advisor back at home via email. I carefully went through each of the drawer of my desk. Reaching the final one, which I had looked through at least 15 times, I took out each individual receipt I have kept over the last 4 months and unfolded it. I came across the paper I took to be the code for my bank account -- but lo and behold, it was my récipissé!!
This morning, I dragged myself out of bed at 7:45am to go to the Prefecture and finally face up to the fact that I lost my temporary Titre de Séjour. And to try to reschedule the required medical exam, the date for which falls exactly on the day of my Art History exam. Stroke of luck that they let me back into the country after coming back from Spain, I thought to myself. Can't leave it up to chance anymore. (Truth is, no one would probably ever notice, seeing as border patrol doesn't really happen in Europe anymore. Something about the European Union...?)
Anyhow, I was given a ticket and waited in one of those bland civil service offices with a bunch of hyper-organized Asian kids. I non-enthusiastically flipped through my Art History review cards while waiting for my number to be called. About 20 minutes later, I approached Guichet H, pretty much your standard post manned by a fonctionnaire with short blond hair and glasses. She seemed like a suburban mom, aka she seemed like she would be friendly. Not so, my friend, not so.
Looking down her pinched nose at me, she got defensive, saying it wasn't her office that dealt with the medical visits. She pointed to the telephone number indicated on the letter, and after telling her I had already tried calling them several times before Christmas, she said I should go to their office. She got frustrated when I asked her where it might be located, saying "You have the address right here (dummy!)"
Taking a deep breath (and on the verge of tears), I told her what I really had come all that way to say. "Is the récipisée that document with my photo stamped on it that you get in the mail?"
"Yes."
"Well...I don't have it."
"You must have received it."
"The thing is...I lost it."
She looked at me in angry disbelief. "Well, you really should get yourself together."
Yup. That was it. No indication of what I should do to fix the situation. And, as tears welled in my eyes, I think it was clear enough that I was torn up about losing the bootleg copy of my temporary residence card. I was teetering between bawling in sorrow/pleading for her forgiveness and being supremely pissed off. There was no excuse for her to talk to me in that way or that tone. Isn't that what she is there for, to help me get my carte de séjour?
Still in a bit of shock, I asked her what I should do. Throwing her hands up in the air, she said in exasperation, "You'll have to go to the commissariat and report the loss of the document to them. Then you have to come back here with a photo so we can get you a new one. And you have to go to the doctor's office to reschedule your appointment. And you have to go today. You should hurry up and fix this."
Great. I stood up and left, in disbelief that anyone could be that mean. I needed to calm down, so I went to the Centre Commerciale and had a hot chocolate and a croissant, while trying to trap a WiFi signal long enough to figure out what the heck a commissariat was. Good news: the office was close to where I live. Bad news: turns out she wanted me to go to the police.
Whether this was all just some cruel joke because she wanted me locked up for stupidity was yet to be seen. I decided to head to the doctor's office first to see what I could do about my medical visit. Possibly the most non-descript building on the most non-descript street in the city, I was greeted by a "Bonjour" right as I walked through the automatic doors. A youngish Arabic woman sat at the acceuil, and asked me if I was there for my medical visit. I explained my problem, and she responded, "The problem is, the office is closed this week, and they wont be able to reschedule you until next week. What I recommend that you do is write a letter and send it by mail with some dates that would be better for you. Then they'll respond to you my mail as well." She smiled. "But I wouldn't worry about it. I think they give you 3 chances to come for the visit, so you should be fine."
She was so nice that I didn't want to bog her down with my stupidity. "A small problem," I said. "The visit is scheduled for this Thursday." I braced myself for the onslaught.
"No problem," she said. "Just send us the letter, and everything will work out."
So it's not that all French civil servants are supreme bitches. It's just that one. So watch out for her.
I decided to make one last sweep of my room to look for the récipissée. It would postpone my visit to the police station, which I was not enthusiastic about. And it would give me a chance to complain to my advisor back at home via email. I carefully went through each of the drawer of my desk. Reaching the final one, which I had looked through at least 15 times, I took out each individual receipt I have kept over the last 4 months and unfolded it. I came across the paper I took to be the code for my bank account -- but lo and behold, it was my récipissé!!
Needless to say, I danced around my room for a few minutes and then did this:
WAHOO!
WAHOO!
I couldn't be happier.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
and the laziness sets in
After dropping my parents off at the airport shuttle yesterday morning, I have left the Pellet apartment once, to go to the library for 2 hours, and then returned. I can't even say I've been working on the term paper I have due for Tuesday, nor on the ridiculous Art History exam I have on Thursday. Instead, I'm spent nearly 5 hours on Facebook yesterday doing nothing at all productive.
I guess my one excuse is that I'm sad my parents are gone - and that a lot of my friends are, too. Which makes me feel like doing nothing but sit around and wallow in my sadness. I honestly don't even care about the work I have to do. But so it goes...
I guess my one excuse is that I'm sad my parents are gone - and that a lot of my friends are, too. Which makes me feel like doing nothing but sit around and wallow in my sadness. I honestly don't even care about the work I have to do. But so it goes...
Saturday, January 3, 2009
new year, same sheets
I'm back in Lyon after a jolly 10 day répos with my parents. Paris is absolutely magical at Christmastime, and I can't wait to go back. Barcelona was great too -- especially since I found this amazing vintage party dress there just in time for New Years -- but it was admittedly awkward to be in one of the party capitals of the world completely sober with dear old mom and dad during a night meant for drunken revelry. Now that I'm back in Lyon and without my parents, I don't quite know what to do with myself. A trip to the movies might be just the trick -- after I figure out how to write a six-page paper on Rousseau, of course.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
all dressed up, and nowhere to go
happy new year from barcelona! one of my resolutions is to write on this blog more often, whether i feel like i have something to say or not. so i'm starting right now.
being here on this crazy day of drunkenness and chaos in one of the party capitals of the word with my parents is just as awkward as i thought. my mom panicked (and almost walked right into the empty circle where revelers were smashing champagne bottles) and my dad has been watching the fiesta from our hotel room window for the last half an hour.
being here on this crazy day of drunkenness and chaos in one of the party capitals of the word with my parents is just as awkward as i thought. my mom panicked (and almost walked right into the empty circle where revelers were smashing champagne bottles) and my dad has been watching the fiesta from our hotel room window for the last half an hour.
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