“There’s something happening everyday, but I’m too tired and lazy to write it all down.” ― Anne Frank

More like too busy! I shall do my best to briefly (I know, you can laugh and scroll down to check if I succeeded) rehash my life so far with the help of my daily Facebook updates. I’m hoping from now on, I’ll have a lot less updating and a lot more focus/discussion to my posts. But since “Life is happening faster than I can write about it” (-myself, in previous blog) I can’t make any promises.

Classes and Excursions summary: I’ve included a zillion pictures so that if you’d rather just skim, you’ll still get an idea of my September highlights.

At first I kind of forgot I was here for school… but not to worry, classes whipped me into shape fast enough! And soon it was brought to my attention just how much you forget so quickly. There is not much, more frustrating that knowing you have learned something (perhaps more than once) yet you just cannot remember. All of the grammar and vocabulary we are going over is always on the tip of my tongue! It gets better every day, but it would be great if I could just remember what I’ve already learned.

By the end of week 1, my brain was in pain. The reward, however, was tickets to the Puy du Fou light show! This was basically a huge outdoor history of France show after dark. I mean huge. Props included actual buildings, enough space for jousting and battles and a fountain show.  Oh and horses doing tricks and fireworks and group dances.  I guess it is famous and very popular in France, I had no idea how lucky I was to have tickets. I also had no idea what it was going to be. We just got on the bus and then walked a bit and sat where they told us to (in huge bleachers things where several thousand people did the wave for what felt like several thousand times). I knew it was a light show, but I didn’t know it was a story too! Basically from the moment it started, my mouth fell open and stayed that way for the next, oh, hour or so. The costumes, sound, animals and lights were phenomenal. I didn’t quite follow all the French, but I got the gist. I know enough history to follow the portrayed events. And well, it’s not hard to tell when it is the sad part, happy part, romantic, suspenseful, etc. So basically, it was beyond enjoyable and I was thoroughly impressed by all of the volunteers that coordinated the event.
More information, if this link works in the States: https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puy_du_Fou 

On Saturday the 6^th of September, Angers’ annual festival “Accroche-Coeur” was in full swing. My friends and I wandered around town and went shopping a bit. In the evening we got to watch some acrobatics but had to climb through some bushes to be able to see!

Catching your breath was not on the schedule for September. Sunday was as full as the rest of the weekend. There was a lot of bus riding but a good deal of walking as well.  We visited the famous for its beauty and lack of accessibility, Chateau Mont Saint Michelle.

From there we went to the little town of Saint Malo, where we were looked up and down and overheard “Elles sont tourists” (They are tourists) behind out backs. I wonder how often that happened in German speaking countries and I had no idea! Anyhow, I enjoyed time on the beach in the sun and wading in the Atlantic Ocean for, I believe, my first time ever!

The start of the week included the restarting of dancing! Ballet class in Angers, France! Having that opportunity improved my life here a great deal. For September, the only class I can make it too is not advanced but it is better than nothing and it felt SO GOOD to dance. It had been far too long and I had gotten way out of shape. In class,  I met some local French girls that I can’t wait to get to know! Plus, since the names of ballet steps are in French, it is interesting to hear them pronounced by a local speaker and to hear how the rest of class is taught using the same language! A wonderful learning opportunity!

Another day that stood out to me was of course September 11^th. It was interesting experiencing such a significant day for America while in a different country. I got to read an article about it in the local French newspaper and shortly after that, we discussed country specific “holidays” in my class.
On a lighter note, later that day I also learned how to spell animal noises in French! That was amusing, especially hearing the teacher demonstrate them.  The final reason that day stands out is that dinner that night was a success!  It was the first time in a few days we all ate together, and I learned my French seems to improve a bit after a little wine.  My housemates and I successfully learned about our host parent’s kids/grand kids (ah-hem, there is one, named Pierre who is 24 and single) AND we planned a movie night. Go us! I look forward to that and will forever be amused by my host mom’s attempt at pronouncing “Gene Kelly” without a French accent. To be fair, she was amused by my inability to distinguish between the word for dessert and for desert in French.

Friday the 14^th of September we toured the Troglodyte sites, their homes and farms (if interested, read the “In France” section: https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Habitat_troglodytique). It was interesting to learn about how these people used to live in caves and why while seeing first hand their bedrooms and farming equipment!

This tour was followed by a tour of a winery, where we had a classy tasting of three different local wines.

And finally, an underground dinner in a cave restaurant! Here we got another two bottles of wine (for 5 people) and bottomless bread! The meal consisted of local mushrooms. Les champignons. And more mushrooms. Mushy mushrooms, chopped up mushrooms, full size mushrooms, brown mushrooms, and other mushrooms.  Dad, and others that know the smell of sautéed mushrooms is enough to make me gag, I’d like you to know that I tasted some. Painfully. But I was under the influence of peer pressure, wine and my adventurous Europe spirit. I’m sorry to report that I didn’t enjoy it one bit and proceeded to consume only bread and the wonderful, mushroom free white beans provided.

Saturday my friends and I bought bread, cheese and fruit and we had a lovely, sunny picnic before exploring in town a bit.

Good thing that Saturday was not too hectic because on Sunday, we got up and the crack of dawn to get on the bus and visit THREE Chateaus in one day. For the sake of time, yours and mine, I won’t say much more than it was a long day with lots of busing, walking and picture taking. These grand, beautiful places actually exist a bus ride from where I’m studying as opposed to just on posters in French classrooms.  The guides kept us moving at a quick clip and I didn’t get to enjoy the peaceful gardens as much as I’d have liked. Luckily (because we were rushed), each chateau is approximately the same story every time; king’s quarters, queen’s quarters, lots of sitting/meeting rooms, grand halls, spiral staircases and a kitchen.  We just missed personal details in our speed walks through the excessive number of rooms.

Chateau d’Azay le Rideau

The 17^th was another eventful Monday following another eventful weekend. I acquired a French friend, French cold and French tickets to Ireland!!! I met a girl in my ballet class and we made plans to hang out! She offered to show my friends and me around Angers. I also picked up an obnoxious head cold that is probably due to lack of sleep and dehydration and finally, we purchased plane tickets to spend the break in Ireland! The week that followed was average, going to class,

practicing French, eating cheese and bread, the usual with the exception that our director Sue came over for a fancier than usual dinner on Tuesday night. We had looked forward to that evening and it lived up to our expectations!

Friday, we only had a half day of school, a surprisingly decent lunch at school, and a whole afternoon to rest and organize my stuff! To top off the week, after a small dinner…homemade CREPES! French family style with all the Nutella I could dream of.

I’m so darn lucky! On Saturday we had our final September excursion, which was a nippy boat ride in Le Golfe du Morbihan with great views to get to another town.

We visited old mysterious rock formations (Carnac) which were huge stones set up in long rows.

In the perfectly European town of Vannes, I had a tasty crepe that turned out to be difficult to order. I wanted Nutella and banana, which was not on the menu, asking for changes in the dish is a social no-no and we found ourselves negotiating with an unhappy waitress. Eventually, we came home to a yummy and healthy home cooked meal before finishing up the night in town with friends and meeting some locals. Not to mention, perhaps one of the best things about my day was getting a picture of my complete rubber duckie collection from home!

C’etait un bon weekend! Sunday was as perfect as I could have imagined!
1. Slept in, in my big warm bed and made arrangements for Ireland. I was about to burst with excitement because one of my favorite people in the whole world will be meeting us in Dublin!!!!! It’s been too long since I saw my WOU roommate!
2. Huge, delicious, 3.5 hour lunch with some other host parents and a sweet Japanese student, sitting in the sun getting slightly tipsy.
3. Long, leisurely walk through the French countryside looking at the trees and giant cows while learning new words and finding myself thinking in French.

I’m pretty sure I experienced a stereotypical Sunday in France (minus getting to hear the Organ in the cathedral this morning, that’ll have to be next week).

The next Monday was not quite as good. First of all, it was Monday, the weather was stormy, I have heaps of studying to be done and topped off with upsetting news from home. But, even with all of that working against me, moods can be cured with a good homemade French quiche and two incredibly caring housemates. Additionally, the fashion standards here are seriously exhausting. Oregonians, wear your rain boots, rain coats, yoga pants and practical backpacks proudly! September was winding up and I realized my little sister turns 18 on Friday and I go to Ireland on Saturday! Someone pinch me. I was sad to be missing my sister’s birthday but decided we’d just have to celebrate again when I get home. Then next hurtle, is concentrating through the last week of school before taking off to wander around a cheery green island.

I really love learning, and traveling, and I wish this time could last forever. But of course I don’t reeeally. I love learning about a culture I studied for so long and I’m now immersed in. I love learning history from interactive museums and historical sites. And meeting people from all over. I love staying up too late because of heart to heart conversations and not being the only one with coffee in class the next day. I love that this experience abroad is changing me and helping me appreciate so many little things. I’m glad that when I go home I’ll have a new perspective and a better understanding of certain aspects of the world. I’m looking forward to the classes I’ll be taking at home in the winter. And that technology allows me to stay in touch with the diverse friends I’ve made. I plan to keep traveling and keep learning.

Appreciating every moment and attempting to take nothing for granted is a wonderful way to live and learn, but it’s very very exhausting.  I sort of miss “wasting time” sleeping in or just chilling and not going. But the heightened senses I’ve been using here is something I want to take home with me. I’ll just need to learn to find a balance.

“There’s something happening every day, but I’m too tired and lazy to write it all down.” –Anne Frank and Emily

“I wanna be like you, I wanna talk like you, walk like you too!”

 Funny how the lens through which we view a situation can change our outlook entirely. While listening to a conversation between my fellow Americans about their first impressions of people; I was fascinated with how each person’s experiences and expectations changed their opinions of others entirely. I don’t want this to sound like a class essay so I’ll try to avoid writing about the too-much-thinking I’ve done about this, but there are the cultural glasses we wear, in which we see everything through a lens based on our American (or whatever) upbringing. But even within the same American upbringing, there are so many different pairs of these glasses. So many other facets of our lives that effect how one interprets a situation and it is interesting how vastly different the same moment can look, through different glasses.

For example:  I was with several other girls one day at a restaurant hoping to order an afternoon snack. The waiter came out to serve us and there were three of us who each interpreted what happened next, very differently. I, usually more prone to the “let’s not cause a scene and just deal with it” response was not particularly offended by the waiter’s attitude and had no intention of reacting. However, another girl felt quite differently. She felt that the service we received was rude and racist and thus we ended up leaving the restaurant.   I remained quiet and kept my opinions to myself in discussing the event or recounting it to others. I don’t feel that I knew enough about the culture to pass judgment and draw conclusions about the waiter’s attitude. While I am fairly certain we were not doing anything gravely offensive, there may have been something about our behavior that triggered the waiter’s response, perhaps we were the ones that were unknowingly rude. Maybe he was not acting out of the ordinary for that style of restaurant in that part of the world, and he may have not had any racist thoughts. Perhaps he had dropped a plate on his foot 10 minutes before, or received an unsettling phone call from home. I’ll never know, and it doesn’t matter. It was a lesson on perspective and open-mindedness. The lesson for me is that I want to learn how to behave to fit in while I’m here.

Cultural Norms:

As I mentioned before, I had a fear of breaking little cultural unwritten rules while I learned how to blend in with the French people for a few months. Here is my report back. It happens all the time! It usually is not as bad as I anticipated but it’s still obvious. Such as wearing tennis shoes, or speaking English, sneezing loudly or chewing gum. There are too many to go over. For the most part, people just ignore us. Sometimes they are helpful and polite and giggle at our attempts. Riding the tram is a great place to stick out and watch the reactions of the French. We get stared at while talking to one another in English (would it be better or worse to speak in our broken French with a foreign accent?). I always catch people smiling to themselves when they see the homework I’m working on. Luckily, in this town people are used to exchange students.

Assumptions, Attitudes and Accusations:

One of my biggest pet peeves is when someone jumps to conclusions without enough information, and then acts on this. It’s bad enough at home where we know the unwritten rules and have more experience with what is “normal” or socially acceptable. But I find it really frustrating here, where we don’t know.  For example, if receiving “bad” service somewhere, why is the next assumption “They treated us like that because we are American! It’s so dumb and not fair! The French are racist!”? We have no idea actually and I can say with some certainty that there must be a lot more to it that meets the eye. Maybe it is the psychology major in me coming out; one cannot draw conclusions based on perception.

“I’m gunna bring America to France!” –anonymous student

This topic makes me think of the Jungle Book and sometimes, after a day of studying French and the culture I find myself humming: “I wanna be like you, I wanna talk like you, walk like you too!”. I think it is important that while we are here to study and to visit, we learn as much as we can, and adapt when possible and most of all, avoid just plowing through leaving an American trail and a bad taste in the local’s mouths. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean that I’m going to stop wearing my rain jacket because I get weird looks, I mean I want to avoid the attitude, of shrugging things off and dismissing local cultures while insisting on bringing my home culture here.

Acceptance:

While I’m on this deep streak, I might as well bring up that in my determination to be open minded I’ve had some surprises and found myself bonding with other Americans I may never have spoken to had it not been for studying abroad together. I have made some very unlikely friends that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. They have already taught me so much and given me a new perspective (or to get really essay-esk, new glasses) on life that I think will help me be less judgmental.  They have been a good reminder to always put forth the effort to get to know someone, and find out about people and why they are the way they are.

My final thoughts for now have to do with stereotypes.  I was about to post this blog but remembered a topic that came up in a class today. I may write more about this in the future, but for now I’d like to leave you with a question.  Basically, our discussion was about the different opinions of and labels assigned to various regions of France (the comparison being how each states views the other states or on a very local level, how Corvallis sees Eugene, (how Corvallis sees Corvallis), and how Eugene sees Corvallis (how Eugene sees Eugene)).  On my long tram ride home, the words of my professor still ringing in my ears, I began to connect that topic to the experience I was having locally and my constant comparisons of France and America/Oregon.
It was pointed out to us, that we stereotype on any level because it allows us to affirm who we are and assert who we need to be. I was intrigued by the concept of there being a model of who you are, within the stereotype you form about others. It is often seen in rivalries that what you say about another group of people (the negatives) is the opposite of how you would like to perceive and define yourself. For example, reading between the lines of saying “they are cold and snobby”, shows the opinion “we are warm and friendly”.
And now I am here, constantly looking for evidence to prove or disprove stereotypes about the French while learning the stereotypes that the French do actually identify with and what they believe about Americans.  So before I get too carried away with this, I’ll stop and just wonder aloud what do the stereotypes I knew about France before arriving have to say about how Americans perceive themselves?  Are negative stereotypes formed out of jealousy? Which came first, the stereotype or a sense of cultural superiority?

Food for thought.
Emily

One excited American in Paris at that! By boy, getting here…you are probably tired of hearing about our days in transit, but this is the end of the trip so there will be far fewer after this! So for the first time in 3 weeks of getting places, we needed a reservation to get to Paris. My Dad and I expertly took care of that and the helpful woman at the window made everything seem so simple! It was too good to be true. We stopped in a little town on the border of Belgium and France and none of us paid any attention because we weren’t to our connection city yet. However, after sitting on the train for several minutes and after everyone else got off, we were informed that we were supposed to make an extra connection here that we had no idea about. Now, flustered and rushing we sped to the next platform. There was an unlabeled train about to pull away, unsure what we were supposed to do, we didn’t get on and the train left. Moments later, we realized that that had been the one. Shoot. Lost, confused, and annoyed we met a lost, confused and annoyed couple that was in the same situation as us.  Leaving my mom to guard the bags, my dad and I went off to figure out what was going on. Alright this story is getting boring- basically it was way too difficult but eventually we got the info we needed and shared it with the couple. Left now to stew and wait we struck up conversation with the young couple and vented together. Conversation led us to find out they were an Australians traveling for 2? 3? months together and then living in England. It was very pleasant to sit and share stories of hostels, restaurants, and many experiences similar as well as vastly different. Not to mention comforting to have someone else in the same situation as we were.  Finally we made it to Lille, France and bid farewell to our new companions. Of course, since this was the only time we had reservations, we had missed our train and had to deal with getting new spots. To add to the fun, there are two train stations (10-15 minute walk apart) in Lille. Joy.  Some pacing and utilization of my French skills got us on another Train to Paris.

The day’s delays did not keep us from the plan. After squeezing into our tiny (smallest yet) hotel room, the Eiffle Tower called. Well it’s been calling for about 10 years but, now, I finally got to respond. There was one more delay to tend to, which was my tummy, calling louder than the tower. But hey, we’re in France, how could one not prioritize bread!?

The view was magnificent! We had (again) impeccable timing, or at least as good as it gets at a world attraction. We got in line just before it got insanely busy and got our elevator passes. There was a lot of pushing and jostling and signs for pickpockets on the several jaunts to the top. I was amused by one particular warning video with the pick pocket shown in all red.

Nice of them to dress in such a way we could keep an eye out for whom to avoid. “Attention, Ladies and Gentleman, pick pockets are active in the tower, please watch your luggage.” They’re active. Beware. We got to the top, with all of our belongings and it was wonderful. Windy and crowded but a view of all of Paris! We were able to stay as night fell and to witness a proposal and watch as the city lit up; followed by the tower lighting up and we could hear the gasps of spectators below.
We took the stairs to go back down and enjoyed the lit up architecture from the inside which, honestly, during the day and from up close, is not the pretty.  Down down, down, we got closer to the ground and I went to bed in disbelief that the next day, I’d begin visiting the sights we just saw from the top.

Good morning! No time to waste,  Rick Steves, Notre Dame and my parents were up, ready and waiting. We subwayed (I needed a new verb) to the church and got there with the morning sun shining just right. We had an audio tour to listen to, but my dad forgot his mp3 player, my mom’s ipod died and so mine was our only hope. Turned out, Notre Dame was the only audio guide that didn’t finish downloading on my ipod. So we had nothing but the notes in the book. Oh well! I stood on the center of Paris out front and visited Sainte Dennis who holds his head. I also tried to get a head count of all the people on this intricately decorated exterior, and got lost after a tiny section with more than 100 statues.  The inside was beautiful as expected and after a good hard look; we walked around to the outside to have coffee with a view of the gargoyles.

It was a church-y day. We had two more to visit by 4pm. But first, a moment at the WWII French deportees’ memorial.  The memorial is under ground at nearly water level of the Seine. It was designed to give you the feeling of being closed in, or trapped, and it succeeded. Inside there is a room, or rather hall way, that has a little light for each deportee that did not return. I felt that the simple but impactful memorial was well done, and I was grateful to understand enough French to read some of the engravings in the stone. It is not permitted to post pictures on the internet (though you can google image “La Mémorial des Martyrs de La Déportation”) but the most striking quote for me etched into the stone was:

Pardonne
N’Oublie pas…

We emerged back into present time Paris and headed to Sainte Chapelle. I’ll admit, trying to follow the walking tour on a hand drawn map in a book got us lost. Once we found it we got into the line for security. My Dad set off the detectors and held up the line while taking everything out of his bunches of pockets until finally it was discovered that it was only his passport causing commotion. You’ve got to look out for those sneaky little books trying to sneak in without being x-rayed. Thanks to his trouble, my mom and I knew to take ours out.

Brief and chronologically accurate pause to include another Water Closet story:  You get what you pay for. We weren’t exactly sure where to go because there were no signs to be found. Once the entrance was located, there was still no sign of which (or if) side was designated for which gender. I finally noticed a PENCIL stick figure on the outside wall wearing skirt. Decided that was where to go. OH! I should have listened to Rick Steves’ suggesting that in Paris you carry extra toilet paper just in case. Because there wasn’t any. And I had just emptied my pockets of napkins and things in security. A nice lady shared, no wait, she “rationed” her tissues to those of us desperate.

Inside the church was absolutely breathtaking. I love stain glass but this exceeded my expectations. Unfortunately there was restoration going on and scaffolding up inside while we were there and so the view was a bit obstructed. On the bright side, we were lucky enough to see the before and after difference of the work they were doing. The after product was incredibly cleaner and brighter and over all clearer to enjoy to intricate story it portrays.

Two churches appreciated, one to go. Saint Sulpice! This was one of the destinations in The Da Vinci Code for my fellow fans. It was also really neat because it was the Paris Meridian, or better known, the Rose Line.  Feeling pretty cool, I set my compass down on the brass line along the floor to see it point to “True North”.  As I was taking a picture, I was also amused by the other tourists not-so-sneakily wondering what in the world I had found to take a picture of on the floor.

My friend Helena, the Brazilian dancer I had met at SIBA, was in Paris at the same time we were.  The previous night, I’d made plans to meet up with her and together tour the Musee d’Orsay! It was so exciting to be re-united and have a new face in our trio! Good company and good art is an understatement. After our tailored self tour we parted ways for the evening.

On our way “home”, my parents and I were almost trampled by a group of young men sprinting past us in the Subway station carrying rings of (stolen?) Eiffel Tower key chains, pursued by the police. Not sure what had happened, we were left feeling unsettled and regretted not tripping the group as they hoped the gates to the underground transportation.  The least we could do was point the officers in the right direction and not buy a key chain from the random vendors on the street with only the ring of key chains shouting “One Euro!” to everyone that passed.

We got off the Subway by the Tower in search of Crepes and lo and behold the perfectly located stand presented me with the most glorious crepe of my life! Nutella and banana and strawberry, next to a carousel at sun set, under the Eiffle Tower. Heaven?

We digested our food in The Place du Trocadero with the monument towering above us in the distance.  While waiting for the light show we attempted to take funny pictures until better entertainment ran by. Literally. Some sort of work out class chose the steps by where we sat to run/hop/jump up and down to loud music in bright colors amusing many spectators accepting the interruption as a preshow.

Finally, the tower lit up and flashed and sparkled as we “ooo”ed and “awww”ed and took pictures of the people at the top taking pictures of us reversing roles from the previous night.

Wow. I just scrolled back up as I typed this, and I’m really not sure how we did all of that in one day. Super tour-ers!

Okay, take a snack break and rest your eyes….

Next day:

L’Arc de Triomphie! Another interesting vantage point to look at the city, the Eiffel Tower and down the famous street we were about to explore, all while learning a bit of history.

Humming “Aux Champs-Elysees!”, the cheery song stuck in my head, we trekked toward the Louvre.

We were almost cornered by some obnoxious kids, and could have been pick-pocketed. Luckily, my dad recognized their behavior from his reading and scared them (and made me jump) before they had the chance to scare us. Only harm to anyone was a momentarily increased heart rate!
Our stops included a shiny, no a SHIIIINY staircase in a random store on which I felt compelled to have my photograph taken, a caffeine excursion, and a Disney store (where a grouchy guard scolded me for taking a picture and a friendly guard made friends with my dad as he professionally blew bubbles). Running behind as expected, we were about to be late for our next rendez-vous with Helena when she showed up behind us. What crazy luck! Perhaps our supply of serendipity was not completely depleted after finding each other in Vienna weeks prior.

Surrounded by gardens and statues, I had an amazing, inside-out grilled cheese sandwich lunch thing called a monsieur croquette. The perfect fuel before our reader’s digest version of touring the Louvre. It being the end of our trip, I think we all appreciated Helena’s fresh presence, decisive attitude and sound sense of direction as she assumed the role of tour guide for the day. Hitting the highlights was a wonderful way to experience this huge, famous museum.

We stopped to rest and hydrate at a café somewhere deep inside. I ordered just a small Coca-Cola. One look at the bill quickly enlightened us. THAT is where the Roman statues we’d viewed downstairs lost their fingers.  After decades of Toy Story like Nights in the Museum those poor thirsty statues ran out of gold.  Makes me wonder what the ARMless statues ordered at the café.

Well, Ms. Mona, awaited.  Needing a game plan to fight the tourists, I suggested we just sort of squat and squawk like chickens if the crowd was too difficult. I figured this would confuse people enough to clear a path, but alas, it was unnecessary. There were indeed a zillion people but I did manage to make it to the front where the famous portrait smiled for the camera. I really saw her. Woah. As mainstream and unoriginal as it sounds, that was one of my Paris highlights.

Evening was arriving and our feet aching. We headed back to the hotel to prepare for our final day together. On the way, Helena decided to test out the fancy outhouse-like street Water Closets. Story:  The door was automatic. It worked fine for the person ahead of us but when it came to Helena’s turn, it would not close. No matter what we did the toilet was exposed. After various attempts it did shut, but only long enough for one to be convinced it finally had worked before bursting open again! It teased us several more times before Helena gave up.

Paris is a big city. Big cities are quite different than small fairytale towns. The hustle and bustle is extremely exciting and there is a never ending supply of things to do, but I didn’t realize just how worn out I could get just navigating the population.  It gave me more appreciation for the dinky places we stayed and more excitement to settle down in a smaller, less touristy place as fall arrived.  As an additional random note, I also had no idea that I actually don’t care much for underground trains, especially when there are interesting things to see!

The final destination of our traveling time together was Versailles. Tired and emotional, I enjoyed the tour of the Chateau less than I may have at a different time. It was too crowed and slightly difficult to use their provided audio guide. Nevertheless it was a wonderful conclusion.

Upon arrival at Louis’ Golden Gates my breath was taken away. I enjoy the way that Rick Steves presents historical information and learned a substantial amount about the Sun King, his reign and the following crowned kings/queens.

“There’s a long line-a wimins (women), that must be the water closet” –My Dad. Oh the truth in that.

The highlight for me, as for many, was the hall of mirrors and the two rooms at either end (war room and peace room). There was also an, almost distracting, modern art display throughout the castle including huge high heel shoes made from cooking pots!

Fresh air and sunshine welcomed us to the magnificent gardens. Because it was Saturday, we had to pay a bit extra to get in, but it was worth it to see the fountains turned on! I was amused by my parents interacting with the French ticket people. My dad greeted one woman and after completing the transaction she said “Merci” as we began to walk away, and my dad turned back and waved saying, “Beaucoup!”  Then turning to me, he said (almost proudly); “I don’t know what beaucoup means, but I said it to her!” I laughed and explained that it translates to “a lot” and explained that it didn’t make much sense in the context he used it in.

Lunch was great, walking through the beauty was great and best of all, watching the fountains or leading my parents through rows and rows of tall hedges with the map upside down in search of the next fountain and shade was great.

After another heavenly crepe, unfortunately the end of the evening was spent unpacking, organizing and repacking with a bit of sitting on my suitcase and saying goodbye to my new rubber ducks. As I climbed into bed for the last night, my racing mind was too tired to do much worrying or anticipating or anything and I snoozed off thankful beyond expression for the recent adventures (for lack of a better one word summary) and bonding that changed my life.

Au Revoir,
Emily

Well we’ve traveled far and wide and covered almost all forms of transportation. Really!  Let me list them: Plane, shuttle van, walking, public bus, fast train, slow train, tram, gondola, bike, taxi, funicular, tour bus, little boat, big boat, car, subway, elevator, and even those moving path things in airports and train stations.

When we arrived in Arnhem, I had totally forgotten that we were in the land of my ancestors! Finally! I’ve always wanted to visit and now was my chance, and even closer to their actual land than I had anticipated.  I was curious to see how Dutch was different from German and practiced saying dank u wel as soon as I got there. The very first thing I noticed about the people was their height. As I had been told, they were oddly tall and many fit nicely into this stereotype.  The houses are also tall and skinny with the steepest, narrowest stairs I have ever seen. The house our room was in, was built in 17?? And was very typical.

Having limited time here, we rushed off to find the Open Air Museum and buy museum passes. This was one of the most interesting museums in terms of lay out and the way the information was presented. I found it to be a wonderful way to learn history, but had to wonder if a similar type of format would survive in America – where museum artifacts are behind glass.  The idea was to show how the Dutch lived thought the decades as realistically as possible. I really felt like I was walking through time. The authentic barns, houses, workshops and gardens we open for guests to wander around inside to look at all the artifacts as they would have been left not tucked away in a display case or merely models. Another opportunity I took advantage of was watching dressed up workers/actors going about their daily business as if in another century.  Unfortunately, we ended up having to rush through even the few main attractions we chose to focus on. I’m glad we fit in the time we did because it was special to see firsthand how my family lived and to explore the iconic windmills, play with old toys, eat bread and enjoy chocolate! I even bought slippers that looked like the famous Dutch wooden clogs.

The following day we borrowed free bikes and rode out to another museum. We biked through the park; heather, trees and sand for 10 kilometers to get in. Inside the Kroller Mueller Art Museum, we got to see a lot of famous art. Outside, my mom and I (getting fatigued) were amused by the modern art sculptures. Feeling guilty for being amused by what I assumed to be serious art, we suppressed our giggles at very obvious titles such as “Squares with Two Circles” or “Rocky Lumps”. I appreciated one artist in particular who had given permission for guests to climb around on his work. We entered up through a secret door and wandered around on a large piece of Dr. Seuss-y art.

Alas, we departed on our free bikes through the fresh air and bustled off to the joy of public mass transportation.

Arrival in Amsterdam = instantaneous, pure overwhelment. Yep. I needed to make up that word to describe the feeling.

Amsterdam
“Are you getting somewhere? Or did you get lost in Amsterdam?” – Guster

Dear Guster, we did get lost in Amsterdam but we also certainly got somewhere. More than once if you ask my Dad and I who were often convinced we were going in circles. It all looks the same! Good thing we had my mom/ “our tour guide” along to escort us through the city!

Up and at it, croissant in hand we began our first full day. Only to be sent back home for rain jackets. This time, armed and ready to brave the weather, we changed the order of our plans and retreated to museums while the city got drenched. On the way to the Van Gogh museum we stopped for huge Dutch pancakes and coffee! There was some fascinating, large, rock sugar for the coffee, which I found picture and noteworthy.

Skipping the line (with our handy museum passes!), we wandered the arm museum and the Doctor Who episode about Van Gogh played in my head as I read about his dark, up and down life and looked at his masterpieces that couldn’t bring him fame in time for him to enjoy.  I drank my dose of paintings and noticed how his art changed as his life did and began to wonder what would happen if I picked up a paint brush.

Finishing in up in the gift shop, we got some fresh cold drinks in the fresh cold air to freshen up and cool down before tackling the Reich museum. Thank goodness some of it was closed. Here, I was honored yet again to see art that was so old, so impressive, and so famous.

After a long day on our feet, the perfect idea was a boat ride on a canal as night fell on the city. We experienced the sun set and lighting up of Amsterdam’s night life as well as the tour in at least 4 languages. It was a quick and helpful way to get oriented to the wet, half moon shape that didn’t make much sense to me on the map.

On the second morning, we got up early and rushed off to the Anne Frank house.  And because my mom is awesome and super organized, we beat the crowd for the most part and the whole experience was good. The tour was powerful since the museum is in the actual building that the history took place in which makes it so much more real and touching.  I found it really interesting in the part of the house they hid in, the secret annex, it has been preserved empty as her father (who helped with turning their house into a museum) wished. This represented the hollow emptiness left behind when so many people were taken away to never return.  Before I knew that, I was wondering why they had just created models to show how it had been, and after learning that I appreciated his decision. “Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.” –Anne Frank

After leaving the house, we went down the street; ok we paced like 4 streets and even stopped at the cheese museum for free samples, before settling on a hole in the wall breakfast place. Luck again! We just beat the rush and enjoyed delicious Dutch pancakes again.

With full bellies and a bit of caffeine, our day evolved into wandering and following the walking tour Rick Steves provides. As distractible as we are and as confusing as Amsterdam roads are, the few noted spots took us the rest of the day. After dinner (which was bizarre because we ate in a tiny café hidden in a huge department store) we braved the streets of the red light distract. I was there. I had to see it. I suppose I’ll just say, this was an eye opening experience that started out semi-uncomfortable and a drastically different tour than that morning.

So, on our last morning we finally had to do laundry at a mat. It was not as expected. The point was to leave your clothes, let them do it and come back in an hour. My mom and I, being the control freaks we are, didn’t quite catch on to that and stayed and micromanaged the process. But eventually with clean and either damp or shrunken clothes we began our jouney to Brugge, Belgium.

This trip was not as hot as previous days of travel (luckiy!!) but there were a lot of tired and grouchy people around. Me, sitting next to them, quietly reading seemed to be as much of a nuisance as burnt toast for breakfast. I had an encounter with a conductor that I will not forget. It is stressful enough not knowing when they are coming and having to find my Eurail pass and hoping I filled it out correctly, no need for an added layer. The novel I am enjoying currently has been a good companion on the train, especially when split from my parents as I was in this case. I was sitting alone with my bag next to me, deeply engrossed in the turmoil of the characters’ lives. The main character, a young woman, had just been left alone for a few hours and was not looking for trouble when she was suddenly captured by the enemy, suspicious of her identity, and taken away to be locked up and questioned. This is when “the ticket guy” as I refer to them, came along and made me jump. He took my pass and looked at it intently. Then glanced and me and mumbled in French before leaving abruptly…with my pass! I nervously sat and fumbled with my bookmark contemplating my fate. When he returned, he continued to grump at me in French about my ticket, but in a language I barely speak with background train noises and with my anxiety levels already above comfortable, I had no idea what the problem was. He did a lot of pointing (at my ticket) and more explaining accompanied by glares and open ended questions.  I began to try to explain I had no idea what was wrong and that the part he was fussing over has been fine on every other train when he gave up, apparently fixed the problem, and then huffed off. *exhale* I survived. I was in fact questioned by the suspicious but at least not captured by the enemy! What a fiasco.

(P.S. One of my Amsterdam souvenirs was the next book in that mentioned series that I bought in the famous English book store!)

Upon arrival in Brugges, it was love at first sight! After the insanity of Amsterdam, Brugges was welcoming and tourist friendly and after seeing where we were staying I collapsed on my bed in fatigue and relief.

“…a handy gateway to Europe. It’s no secret, but even with the crowds, it’s the kind of place where you don’t mind being a tourist. Burges’ ultimate sight is the town itself, and the best way to enjoy it is to get lost on the back streets, away from the lace shops and ice-cream stands. Today this uniquely well-preserved Gothic city prospers because of tourism. Even with its crowds, it’s the kind of city where you don’t mind being a tourist. It hides some sweet surprises…” –Rick Steves

Our trip being guided by, and my writing being partially inspired by Steves, it seems appropriate to quote him. This is not originally the part of the travel book I wanted to include, but the book had to go back to the library and this was fitting. The part that you don’t get to read is a humorous note about Belgian people that helped me form my first impressions. The Belgians were much shorter, and much plumper than the Dutch. Not that I can blame them, they are famous for French fries, waffles, beer and chocolate!

Our rooms here were probably one of my top two favorite places to stay. It was very cute and the people were very nice, I liked the town and the entertainment! We got quickly acquainted after renting bikes and taking off in the countryside to see the town of Damme. (This is the part where those of you still reading will probably start to think that the European food and drinks have gotten to my head). I loved this bike ride. Quite a lot. After the big, crazy city, riding on the train, reading maps, walking and hauling my suitcase I was free in the countryside! It was absolutely beautiful and I felt like I was in a movie. I let my head completely space out and take in the view until we arrived at an old, OLD church with a cemetery and everything. This didn’t bring me back to reality of course, I just worked this scene into the movie I had fallen into.

Eventually we got back to town and found restaurant row in the square. Really, one entire edge was just restaurants! Each with their menu out front in 5 languages. Our waiter also spoke 5 languages and told us so as if it were no big deal. We had a view of the bell tower, and horses pulling buggies. The sun set was accompanied by a bell concert and conversation with two interesting American women sitting at the tiny table next to us. Not to mention that I tried cheese croquets, and oh my goodness it was the most amazing cheesy thing I’ve ever tasted. I spent every moment after they were gone counting down till I got to eat them again.

Sun rise and people rise, we hiked to the top of the bell tower that had been the previous evening’s entertainment as well. All 366 steps to the top were worth it! The bells strike every 15 minutes and we were lucky enough to be at the top looking down to where we had eaten and looked up when they played. Turning around I was impressed by the coordination of the machinery and HUGE, old bells.

The rest of the day was filled with touristy things such as; testing out at least 3 different chocolate shops, admiring the lace everywhere, enjoying Belgian fries and Rick Steves’ company and guidance. In the middle of the day we paused for another canal trip in the most beautiful part of little Brugge.

Afterward, it being past 2pm at this point, The Basilica of the Holy Blood was open again for visits and I got to pay about 20 cents to see the blood of Christ. That’s a long story, Google it. The final two highlights of our time here included a peaceful moment in The Church of our Lady, the church hosting Michelangelo’s Madonna and Child. How in the world did he make such a beautiful statue out of that material, so long ago!?

“Alright, we went to church, can I have some beer now?” – My Dad. This quote is taken out of context but it fits here as a transition to me mentioning our tour of De Halve Maan Brewery. We learned the history of the area and saw how the beer used to be brewed and learned how it is currently brewed, got a great view of the city from the top of the building and then a complimentary glass of their Brugse Zot, unfiltered beer.
Dinner time. Cheese Croquet time.  Goodbye to Brugge time.

Next morning, picked up some last minute chocolate and then….. Paris bound!!! Oh la la, I can’t believe it!

(I got behind on blogging but am going to post in order. So this starts 2-3 weeks ago and we headed to Paris on the 29th ish. Next up, Paris and then arrival in Angers (where I am currently staying for my actual study abroad program))