Hey guys,
You can expect a big update tomorrow. I was going to do that, but I sort of took a bit of a detour to the emergency room (long story, but everything is totally fine!)
Tomorrow!!! (Or in French, A demain!)
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
After the storm, some calm
Let me first begin by apologizing to those of you who have eagerly awaited updates from Grenoble. The time that has passed between now and when I wrote my last post has seemed to me something of an eternity. After finally collecting my thoughts from the first portion of my trip, I felt confident that I would be able to update my blog on a regular basis. However, this past month has unravelled quiet differently than I had expected. A series of pretty remarkable occurrences - some good and some bad - have really disoriented me. Only this very week have I begun to feel as though I've recovered and am back on my feet.
Unfortunately, I don't think I will be able to recollect the last month with the same amount of clarity that I did the first month. Since I last blogged, I have travelled extensively. I have visited Avignon, Chartreuse, Tours, Dijon, Beaune, and Milan. I will try my hardest to give a meaningful, if not exhaustive account of these trips. Luckily for me, my very beautiful girlfriend with whom I have shared many adventures with is also a thoughtful and disciplined blogger. If you are eager to fill in the gaps of my narrative, I encourage you to visit her blog.
I left off in my last blog about to depart for Avignon. For those unfamiliar with this city, it is a medium sized town in the Provence region of France. Provence is in the South of France, far sunnier and warmer than Alpine Grenoble. Caryne and I decided to visit this small town in order to indulge in our historical dorkiness. During the 14th century, after a series of calamitous events in Italy, the Papacy decided to move from Rome to Avignon. Avignon was the seat of 7 different popes, and the "Palais des Papes" (Palace of the Popes) still stands today. The "Great Schism" as historians call was a crucial, if not slightly odd period of European history. I would be lying if I said that the warmer Provence climate didn't at least partially contribute to our decision to take a day trip. Caryne arrived in Grenoble on a Friday night, and on Saturday we departed on train to Avignon for the day. My friend Shalini also joined us. The Palais was a pretty remarkable thing to see. I have a theory that there are really two kinds of Europe: "magical Europe" and "real Europe." Magical Europe is the Europe of fairytale; the Europe of castles and knights. When I arrived in Europe, I expected all to be magical. This had sort of been my experience in Torgau, Germany during my summer exchange programs in high school. Since I had arrived in France, however, I had not yet experienced this "magical Europe." In France, I had been awakened to the fact that Europe was far more "real" than "magical." In Avignon, however, I felt connected with the historical Europe in a way I had not in Paris or London or Grenoble. This was slightly qualified by the fact that the Palais des Papes was essentially an empty building, devoid of furnishings of the Middle Ages. In either case, I really enjoyed visiting such a historic building. After the Palais, we went to the neighboring building, which hosted an extensive collection of Italian religious art painting from the 14th-17th centuries. I'm shocked to say that out of all the art museums I've visited (included the Louvre and the d'Orsy), this was my favorite.
One incident of note in Avignon: after visiting the museum of religious art, Shalini, Caryne and I took a small rest in the courtyard of the Palais de Papes. While we were sitting, we saw a group of young French teenagers breakdancing right in front of the Palais. Watching teenagers breakdancing in front of the seat of Medieval European Christendom was incredibly amusing, and strangely characteristic of modern France. After taking a rest, we visited the famous "Pont de Avignon," which is of almost no historic significance, but has gained notoriety as the topic of a famous French song (think "London Bridge is Falling Down," but en Francais.) As I stated above, Caryne has a more extensive account of our trip to Avignon on her blog, if you care for more nitty-gritty details.
The week after our trip to Avignon was one of the more traumatizing of my recent years. Caryne departed from Grenoble to Paris, and from Paris to England. I meanwhile stayed in Grenoble, and starting on Tuesday morning, became progressively more and more ill. By either Wednesday night or Thursday morning, I was extremely ill. Nothing terribly serious, luckily, but probably one of the least enjoyable sicknesses of the last 10 years. I don't remember having gotten this sick since I was a little boy. I became terribly nauseous, and unable to keep anything down. I was completely bedridden for a couple of days. At the height of my sickness, the API director set up an appointment at a French doctors office. My host mom Nicole drove me the doctors and dropped me off in the front, leaving me to my own highly impaired devices. I somehow stumbled up the stairs, only about half-conscience, and proceeded to lay down sprawled out in the middle of the doctor's office. When the doctor was finally able to see me, I stumbled into her office, and quickly realized she spoke very little English. In order to make it clear what was wrong in my broken French, I pointed to my stomach and said "c'est triste", or "it is sad." I think she got the message, and gave me a very odd examination which involved her messaging my stomach. The entire ordeal is something of a blur to me, as I was completely and totally delirious in the office. The director of API came and picked me up after the appointment, and I do literally mean "picked me up." She had to help me back down the stairs, and I am confident I would have not made it back down alone. She ran into a pharmacy, got the drugs for me, and rushed me back home. She made sure I got the medicine downs, and put me in my bed. The next thing I remember, I woke up about 7 hours later after some of the deepest sleep I've ever had. I can't quiet describe my state after I woke up. I was pretty conscious, but almost completely unable to move. Not wanting to fight my body, I went back to sleep for about 3 hours. I finally woke up at around 10 o'clock at night, and felt like a new person. The worst of my sickness had passed. That night was pretty terrible, however, as I was completely unable to sleep, and I just resigned myself to watching episodes of "Curb Your Enthusiasm." As odd as it sounds, I really credit the genius expression of Jewish-American life that is "Curb Your Enthusiasm" with helping me work through my sickness. That night, having experienced a really awful sickness in a foreign country, I felt very very far away from home. "Curb," however, brought me a little closer to home. So, Larry David, if you are reading this, thank you for helping me overcome a pretty awful experience.
It may go without saying, but the stomach virus almost completely quelled any desire I had to stay in Europe for a long time. After recovering from my sickness, I could really only focus on how badly I wanted to leave France and come back to the United States. This was a sentiment that stayed with me for a couple of weeks, but has luckily passed.
The timeline for the next couple of weeks is slightly hazy for me right now, and I'll go back and check. The weekend after my sickness, I took a trip to the Chartreuse mountains with API. Here we got to see where the famous liquor is made, and also visited a monastery. This trip was a nice way to get out of Grenoble for a couple of hours, after having just spent the previous couple of days bedridden. The rest of the weekend I took very easy, resting and watching TV and making sure I was completely recovered. By Monday, I felt 100%.
The weekend proceeding my trip to Chartreuse, Caryne and I took our first excursion together (excluding Avignon, which was only a day trip). We decided to go to Tours, which is a small city situated right in the heart of the Loire Valley. What makes Tours an exceptional place to visit isn't the city itself (although it is lovely), but it's proximity to some of the finest and most elegant Chateaux in all of France. The Loire Valley was a strategic location in the Middle Ages and Early Modern period, and the King's of France (and their advisers) would travel from chateaux to chateaux, bringing the entire apparatus of state with them. In Tours, we visited 3 of the most famous chateaux; Chenonceau, Villandry, and Azay. Again, I would direct you to Caryne's blog for specific details about this excursion, but I will try and provide my own brief description. Tours itself is a odd city. It is a very old and historic city, but has developed something of an urban sprawl which contrasts quiet markedly with its lovely medieval neighborhood. Medieval Tours is where our hostel was located, and where we spent most of our time. The half timbered buildings and small streets were perfect examples of the so called "magical Europe." Very little of our time was spent in the city; we spent most outside in the different Chateaux. On Saturday, we went to Chenonceau, which is probably the most famous in France. It was absolutely gorgeous, "achingly beautiful" as one travel guide described it. There is the main house, which was once used by Catherine de Medici as the location from which she ruled France as a regent, and a bridge the spans the river and connects the main building with the forest on the other side. One interesting thing about the building was that, during World War II, the river it spanned marked the border between Nazi France and "Free" Vichy France. One side of the building was located in Nazi occupied France, and the other in Vichy. Again, I found this juxtaposition of modern history and medieval/Renaissance history utterly fascinating. The interior and exterior of this Chateaux were the most interesting of the 3 we visited I believe. It is a must see for anyone who finds themselves lucky enough to be in the Loire Valley. Also, the audio tour (which was conducted on an ipod video) was the best audio tour I've ever taken. If I had to pick a Chateaux to live in, it would absolutely be Chenonceau. After we visited Chenonceau, we spent a little time exploring Tours. We went to this very campy guild museum, which had the "masterpieces" of trades craftsman. The coolest thing I saw there was a copy of the famous Hospice de Beanue made completely of noodles. It was a very eccentric museum, but tons of fun. Afterwards, we stumbled into an old church of St. Martin. This was one of the most odd experiences of my time in Europe thus far. We weren't exactly sure what was in this particular church, but signs that said "Crypt" fed our curiosity. Eventually, we wandered into a small room on a lower floor of the church, and came across about 3 nuns praying very intently. After looking around and spotting a picture of Pope John Paul II praying in the very room we were standing, we realized we were probably some place important. It eventually dawned on us that we were at the supposed grave of St. Martin, the person credited with first bringing Christianity to France. Only in France can you randomly stumble into the grave of a saint.
On Sunday, we visited Villandry (famous for its gardens) and Azay (the quintessential "fairy tale" castle). We took these two trips with a tour group, run by a very quirky and odd French man who had lived for several years in Canada. He had the accent of a French Canadian trying to speak English. Villandry had an amazing garden, although it was not yet in bloom. Villandry was also particularly interesting because it was inhabited by a family in the 20th century (the matriarch of the family was an American who attend Bryn Mawr college). The chateaux, although built during the Middle Ages, was preserved to look like it did when occupied in the 20th century. I was very interested in this presentation of the building, as it reminded me that these Chateaux remained living, breathing buildings well past the 17th century. By the time we arrived at Azay, we were already getting a bit exhausted. The interior was interesting (although not as much as Chenonceau). What really made Azay special was its exquisite architecturally design; it was a very harmonious and graceful building. After Azay, we returned to the city and departed back to Grenoble and Paris.
The week following Tours was no less uneventful than the previous weeks. On Monday night that following week, I was invited to dinner with the Ettingers, a Jewish couple who lived in center-city Grenoble. They also invited me to a Purim service at the synagogue in Grenoble. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Purim, it is the Jewish holiday commemorating Queen Esther's foiling of Hayman's plan to kill all the Jews. It is a very festive and lively holiday, something of a Jewish version of Carnival. I met the Ettinger's at the synagogue, which is in downtown Grenoble. As I was looking around for the synagogue, I met an elderly lady who was also en route. I asked the lady "ou est le synagouge," but apparently I was mispronouncing the word synagogue and she could not understand me. After a couple attempts, I asked her instead "Ou est l'eglise Juif" (where is the Jewish Church), and apparently my pronouncing of eglise was slightly better. As it happened, she was also going to the synagogue, so I walked with her, speaking French along the way. When I first walked in to the synagogue, I had not yet met the family, and was slightly overwhelmed, as the synagogue was orthodox, and the people were speaking only Hebrew and French. Luckily, the woman whom I had walked with introduced me, and explained to everyone that I was an American student studying in Grenoble. Soon after, a very lovely man named Marc Michel came over and introduced himself in perfect English. We spoke for awhile, and he told me that he grew up in Grenoble, but now lives half the year in Sarasota, Florida (the same place where my own grandparents spend the same half the year!) I can't even begin to express how comforting it was to meet Mr. Michel; he made me feel completely at home, and sat with me during the service.
After the service, I met the Ettingers and dined at there house. It was a very lovely dinner, and I was very appreciative to have been invited. We spoke for upwards of 3 hours about French politics, history, and society, and European Jewry. Mr. Ettinger was born a Jew in Nazi occupied Grenoble. This was a pretty amazing thing for me to realize. He is about the same age as my own grandfather, and it was very startling for me to realize how recently the Nazi's had occupied the very city I am now living. I found the Ettingers to be a very lovely and caring couple, and relished in the opportunity to eat with them.
For a variety of reasons outside any one's control, I decided that it would be best for my experience in France if I moved. This was a pretty agonizing decision for me, and I did not come about it easily. The Leenhardt family was extremely hospitable, and I truly welcoming me into their home. However, I ultimately made the decision to move in with the Ettingers (who had a room to rent). This all happened at a very rapid pace, and I moved in with the Ettingers on the Friday afternoon proceeding my first dinner with them. It was very nice to be with the Ettingers on Sabbath. They made a great dinner, which they invited me too, and we celebrated the Sabbath together. The Ettingers are shomer sabbath, meaning they do not use any electricity on Sabbath. It was a very interesting experience to celebrate with them, and after dinner we all sat together and read on the sofa.
I think I've reached my peak amount of writing for today. Tomorrow, I'll write about my trip to Burgundy, my trip to Milan, and some general feelings about living in center city Grenoble.
(P.S. Please excuse my last post about the Jackson 5. I believe I wrote that just as my sickness was coming on, when I was in something of a delirious state of consciousness).
Unfortunately, I don't think I will be able to recollect the last month with the same amount of clarity that I did the first month. Since I last blogged, I have travelled extensively. I have visited Avignon, Chartreuse, Tours, Dijon, Beaune, and Milan. I will try my hardest to give a meaningful, if not exhaustive account of these trips. Luckily for me, my very beautiful girlfriend with whom I have shared many adventures with is also a thoughtful and disciplined blogger. If you are eager to fill in the gaps of my narrative, I encourage you to visit her blog.
I left off in my last blog about to depart for Avignon. For those unfamiliar with this city, it is a medium sized town in the Provence region of France. Provence is in the South of France, far sunnier and warmer than Alpine Grenoble. Caryne and I decided to visit this small town in order to indulge in our historical dorkiness. During the 14th century, after a series of calamitous events in Italy, the Papacy decided to move from Rome to Avignon. Avignon was the seat of 7 different popes, and the "Palais des Papes" (Palace of the Popes) still stands today. The "Great Schism" as historians call was a crucial, if not slightly odd period of European history. I would be lying if I said that the warmer Provence climate didn't at least partially contribute to our decision to take a day trip. Caryne arrived in Grenoble on a Friday night, and on Saturday we departed on train to Avignon for the day. My friend Shalini also joined us. The Palais was a pretty remarkable thing to see. I have a theory that there are really two kinds of Europe: "magical Europe" and "real Europe." Magical Europe is the Europe of fairytale; the Europe of castles and knights. When I arrived in Europe, I expected all to be magical. This had sort of been my experience in Torgau, Germany during my summer exchange programs in high school. Since I had arrived in France, however, I had not yet experienced this "magical Europe." In France, I had been awakened to the fact that Europe was far more "real" than "magical." In Avignon, however, I felt connected with the historical Europe in a way I had not in Paris or London or Grenoble. This was slightly qualified by the fact that the Palais des Papes was essentially an empty building, devoid of furnishings of the Middle Ages. In either case, I really enjoyed visiting such a historic building. After the Palais, we went to the neighboring building, which hosted an extensive collection of Italian religious art painting from the 14th-17th centuries. I'm shocked to say that out of all the art museums I've visited (included the Louvre and the d'Orsy), this was my favorite.
One incident of note in Avignon: after visiting the museum of religious art, Shalini, Caryne and I took a small rest in the courtyard of the Palais de Papes. While we were sitting, we saw a group of young French teenagers breakdancing right in front of the Palais. Watching teenagers breakdancing in front of the seat of Medieval European Christendom was incredibly amusing, and strangely characteristic of modern France. After taking a rest, we visited the famous "Pont de Avignon," which is of almost no historic significance, but has gained notoriety as the topic of a famous French song (think "London Bridge is Falling Down," but en Francais.) As I stated above, Caryne has a more extensive account of our trip to Avignon on her blog, if you care for more nitty-gritty details.
The week after our trip to Avignon was one of the more traumatizing of my recent years. Caryne departed from Grenoble to Paris, and from Paris to England. I meanwhile stayed in Grenoble, and starting on Tuesday morning, became progressively more and more ill. By either Wednesday night or Thursday morning, I was extremely ill. Nothing terribly serious, luckily, but probably one of the least enjoyable sicknesses of the last 10 years. I don't remember having gotten this sick since I was a little boy. I became terribly nauseous, and unable to keep anything down. I was completely bedridden for a couple of days. At the height of my sickness, the API director set up an appointment at a French doctors office. My host mom Nicole drove me the doctors and dropped me off in the front, leaving me to my own highly impaired devices. I somehow stumbled up the stairs, only about half-conscience, and proceeded to lay down sprawled out in the middle of the doctor's office. When the doctor was finally able to see me, I stumbled into her office, and quickly realized she spoke very little English. In order to make it clear what was wrong in my broken French, I pointed to my stomach and said "c'est triste", or "it is sad." I think she got the message, and gave me a very odd examination which involved her messaging my stomach. The entire ordeal is something of a blur to me, as I was completely and totally delirious in the office. The director of API came and picked me up after the appointment, and I do literally mean "picked me up." She had to help me back down the stairs, and I am confident I would have not made it back down alone. She ran into a pharmacy, got the drugs for me, and rushed me back home. She made sure I got the medicine downs, and put me in my bed. The next thing I remember, I woke up about 7 hours later after some of the deepest sleep I've ever had. I can't quiet describe my state after I woke up. I was pretty conscious, but almost completely unable to move. Not wanting to fight my body, I went back to sleep for about 3 hours. I finally woke up at around 10 o'clock at night, and felt like a new person. The worst of my sickness had passed. That night was pretty terrible, however, as I was completely unable to sleep, and I just resigned myself to watching episodes of "Curb Your Enthusiasm." As odd as it sounds, I really credit the genius expression of Jewish-American life that is "Curb Your Enthusiasm" with helping me work through my sickness. That night, having experienced a really awful sickness in a foreign country, I felt very very far away from home. "Curb," however, brought me a little closer to home. So, Larry David, if you are reading this, thank you for helping me overcome a pretty awful experience.
It may go without saying, but the stomach virus almost completely quelled any desire I had to stay in Europe for a long time. After recovering from my sickness, I could really only focus on how badly I wanted to leave France and come back to the United States. This was a sentiment that stayed with me for a couple of weeks, but has luckily passed.
The timeline for the next couple of weeks is slightly hazy for me right now, and I'll go back and check. The weekend after my sickness, I took a trip to the Chartreuse mountains with API. Here we got to see where the famous liquor is made, and also visited a monastery. This trip was a nice way to get out of Grenoble for a couple of hours, after having just spent the previous couple of days bedridden. The rest of the weekend I took very easy, resting and watching TV and making sure I was completely recovered. By Monday, I felt 100%.
The weekend proceeding my trip to Chartreuse, Caryne and I took our first excursion together (excluding Avignon, which was only a day trip). We decided to go to Tours, which is a small city situated right in the heart of the Loire Valley. What makes Tours an exceptional place to visit isn't the city itself (although it is lovely), but it's proximity to some of the finest and most elegant Chateaux in all of France. The Loire Valley was a strategic location in the Middle Ages and Early Modern period, and the King's of France (and their advisers) would travel from chateaux to chateaux, bringing the entire apparatus of state with them. In Tours, we visited 3 of the most famous chateaux; Chenonceau, Villandry, and Azay. Again, I would direct you to Caryne's blog for specific details about this excursion, but I will try and provide my own brief description. Tours itself is a odd city. It is a very old and historic city, but has developed something of an urban sprawl which contrasts quiet markedly with its lovely medieval neighborhood. Medieval Tours is where our hostel was located, and where we spent most of our time. The half timbered buildings and small streets were perfect examples of the so called "magical Europe." Very little of our time was spent in the city; we spent most outside in the different Chateaux. On Saturday, we went to Chenonceau, which is probably the most famous in France. It was absolutely gorgeous, "achingly beautiful" as one travel guide described it. There is the main house, which was once used by Catherine de Medici as the location from which she ruled France as a regent, and a bridge the spans the river and connects the main building with the forest on the other side. One interesting thing about the building was that, during World War II, the river it spanned marked the border between Nazi France and "Free" Vichy France. One side of the building was located in Nazi occupied France, and the other in Vichy. Again, I found this juxtaposition of modern history and medieval/Renaissance history utterly fascinating. The interior and exterior of this Chateaux were the most interesting of the 3 we visited I believe. It is a must see for anyone who finds themselves lucky enough to be in the Loire Valley. Also, the audio tour (which was conducted on an ipod video) was the best audio tour I've ever taken. If I had to pick a Chateaux to live in, it would absolutely be Chenonceau. After we visited Chenonceau, we spent a little time exploring Tours. We went to this very campy guild museum, which had the "masterpieces" of trades craftsman. The coolest thing I saw there was a copy of the famous Hospice de Beanue made completely of noodles. It was a very eccentric museum, but tons of fun. Afterwards, we stumbled into an old church of St. Martin. This was one of the most odd experiences of my time in Europe thus far. We weren't exactly sure what was in this particular church, but signs that said "Crypt" fed our curiosity. Eventually, we wandered into a small room on a lower floor of the church, and came across about 3 nuns praying very intently. After looking around and spotting a picture of Pope John Paul II praying in the very room we were standing, we realized we were probably some place important. It eventually dawned on us that we were at the supposed grave of St. Martin, the person credited with first bringing Christianity to France. Only in France can you randomly stumble into the grave of a saint.
On Sunday, we visited Villandry (famous for its gardens) and Azay (the quintessential "fairy tale" castle). We took these two trips with a tour group, run by a very quirky and odd French man who had lived for several years in Canada. He had the accent of a French Canadian trying to speak English. Villandry had an amazing garden, although it was not yet in bloom. Villandry was also particularly interesting because it was inhabited by a family in the 20th century (the matriarch of the family was an American who attend Bryn Mawr college). The chateaux, although built during the Middle Ages, was preserved to look like it did when occupied in the 20th century. I was very interested in this presentation of the building, as it reminded me that these Chateaux remained living, breathing buildings well past the 17th century. By the time we arrived at Azay, we were already getting a bit exhausted. The interior was interesting (although not as much as Chenonceau). What really made Azay special was its exquisite architecturally design; it was a very harmonious and graceful building. After Azay, we returned to the city and departed back to Grenoble and Paris.
The week following Tours was no less uneventful than the previous weeks. On Monday night that following week, I was invited to dinner with the Ettingers, a Jewish couple who lived in center-city Grenoble. They also invited me to a Purim service at the synagogue in Grenoble. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Purim, it is the Jewish holiday commemorating Queen Esther's foiling of Hayman's plan to kill all the Jews. It is a very festive and lively holiday, something of a Jewish version of Carnival. I met the Ettinger's at the synagogue, which is in downtown Grenoble. As I was looking around for the synagogue, I met an elderly lady who was also en route. I asked the lady "ou est le synagouge," but apparently I was mispronouncing the word synagogue and she could not understand me. After a couple attempts, I asked her instead "Ou est l'eglise Juif" (where is the Jewish Church), and apparently my pronouncing of eglise was slightly better. As it happened, she was also going to the synagogue, so I walked with her, speaking French along the way. When I first walked in to the synagogue, I had not yet met the family, and was slightly overwhelmed, as the synagogue was orthodox, and the people were speaking only Hebrew and French. Luckily, the woman whom I had walked with introduced me, and explained to everyone that I was an American student studying in Grenoble. Soon after, a very lovely man named Marc Michel came over and introduced himself in perfect English. We spoke for awhile, and he told me that he grew up in Grenoble, but now lives half the year in Sarasota, Florida (the same place where my own grandparents spend the same half the year!) I can't even begin to express how comforting it was to meet Mr. Michel; he made me feel completely at home, and sat with me during the service.
After the service, I met the Ettingers and dined at there house. It was a very lovely dinner, and I was very appreciative to have been invited. We spoke for upwards of 3 hours about French politics, history, and society, and European Jewry. Mr. Ettinger was born a Jew in Nazi occupied Grenoble. This was a pretty amazing thing for me to realize. He is about the same age as my own grandfather, and it was very startling for me to realize how recently the Nazi's had occupied the very city I am now living. I found the Ettingers to be a very lovely and caring couple, and relished in the opportunity to eat with them.
For a variety of reasons outside any one's control, I decided that it would be best for my experience in France if I moved. This was a pretty agonizing decision for me, and I did not come about it easily. The Leenhardt family was extremely hospitable, and I truly welcoming me into their home. However, I ultimately made the decision to move in with the Ettingers (who had a room to rent). This all happened at a very rapid pace, and I moved in with the Ettingers on the Friday afternoon proceeding my first dinner with them. It was very nice to be with the Ettingers on Sabbath. They made a great dinner, which they invited me too, and we celebrated the Sabbath together. The Ettingers are shomer sabbath, meaning they do not use any electricity on Sabbath. It was a very interesting experience to celebrate with them, and after dinner we all sat together and read on the sofa.
I think I've reached my peak amount of writing for today. Tomorrow, I'll write about my trip to Burgundy, my trip to Milan, and some general feelings about living in center city Grenoble.
(P.S. Please excuse my last post about the Jackson 5. I believe I wrote that just as my sickness was coming on, when I was in something of a delirious state of consciousness).
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Grenoble until today (February 18th), and one other trip to Paris
I last left off having arrived in Grenoble on January 29th; 3 weeks ago tomorrow. I will not get into the nitty-gritty of what happened every day for these past 3 weeks, because frankly much of it has been unexceptional. I will however, give a fairly brief overview of my time thus far.
This may be a good time to describe exactly how my program works. I am studying at Centre Universitaire d'Études Françaises (CUEF), which is a program within the University of Grenoble Stendhal 3. Essentially, people from all over the world come to CUEF to learn French language, culture, and civilization. CUEF offers two tracks: a language immersion track, and a language and culture track. The language and culture track are for people who are out an intermediate level. I opted to do the language immersion track. The first week of class, I took a placement test, that determined my level in France. I placed into A2.1 (which is the 3rd level out of like 10-12). I was very happy to be placed above the first or second level, because it means that my semester at William and Mary really placed off. The other people from my program were placed at different levels. I have class 4 hours a day, 5 days a week. These classes are total French immersion. One of my professors (Jean Bavard) speaks almost no English whatsoever, and has to rely on playing charades and the Internet to explain all idioms and difficult phrases. My other professor (Kristof) speaks a little English, but on very limited occasions. 99.9% of the class is conducted solely in French. Classes are a mixture of grammar exercises, small group assignments, readings, and conversation. At the end of each month, we take a test, and if we pass, we move on to the next level of French. We are able to repeat a class for 2 months if need be, but after that we are forced to move on. This semester, I have one professor (Jean Bavard) who teachers Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays, and another (Kristof) who teaches Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The two professors have vastly different temperaments and teaching styles, and so far I think I like the combination. I initially found Jean Bavard intimidating (he was our only teacher for the first two weeks). He is a tall man, probably in his late 30s. Over the course of the weeks, I've really warmed up to him. He is a quirky guy, who I think is a true closet nerd. One day he told me that he played World of Warcraft, and wrote down his guild's website on my binder (www.woodwar.fr). I think he also once compared Carla Bruni to Maria Antoinette (both are foreign first ladies of France). I think I've warmed up to him too, and he's given me some travel advice. The first day of class, however, was utterly terrifying. Our schedule changes each day (some days we start at 8:30, other days at 12:30, some days we have lab and then class, some days class then lab then more class, etc). Our classes started on a Wednesday, and on Wednesday's we start with lab. Starting with lab on my very first day of class was the worst possible outcome. I walk in, and have not an idea of what is going on. I see other people put on headsets, so I do the same. Our teacher starts talking into our headsets, all in French, I am utterly confused. I sort of figured out what we were doing by the end, but not entirely. Worst of all, I didn't realize right way that that was our hour of lab, and I started to think that all my classes would be conducted that way. It was a really horrifying experience. However, after class, when we went into a regular classroom and had a normal grammar style lesson, I began to feel more comfortable. By the end of the week, I had the routine down pat.
The way CUEF works, with month long sessions, people come and go all the time. Some of the students in A2.1 with me had been in Grenoble for 2 months, so are at a much greater speaking level than I am (also a little intimidating). At first, I feared that I had been placed in a level slightly too high for me. After class on the 3rd day, I asked Jean Bavard, who said "ca va," which I might have wrongly assumed meant "you're fine." I ended up sticking with the class, and I really think it was the best option. It is very challenging, especially the labs, but not exceedingly overwhelming. The composition of the class is also interesting. I am the only American in the class, which came as a big surprise. There are two other English speakers in the class, a Swedish girl named Josephine, and a Dutch girl named Adama. Adama's mother is Dutch, and her father is an Anglophone originally from Mali, which I think is a very interesting cultural background. They both speak English nearly perfect, so I've obviously bonded with them more than the other students in my class. I had a very funny encounter with Adama, where she told me that when she was in high school, she used to watch MTV and believed that Americans were all like that. It was an eye-opening conversation for me, as I began to see maybe why Europe holds the views of America that it does; Europe's main encounter is through American pop culture, which isn't exactly the most flattering aspect of our great nation. I've found it very enjoyable to talk to Adama and Josephine about their experiences as Europeans. The other students in my class are Chinese (the majority), one Brazilian girl, a few Koreans, and one Iranian. Everyone is very down to earth and pleasant; there isn't a single person in my class who rubs me the wrong way. I'm very happy to be having such a multicultural experience. I was anticipated classes taught in English, composed of American students, but this is not the case at all.
Classes are difficult, but are getting better. Some days are really good, others more frustrating. I am still waiting to see how this immersion plays out.
The city of Grenoble is interesting. I was expecting the city to be about the size as say, Asheville, North Carolina or Williamsburg, Virginia, but it is much bigger. Population-wise, Grenoble is comparable to Savannah, Georgia or Springfield, Illinois. There is a large immigrant population of North Africans and Italians. Grenoble is in the Southwest of France, right on the border of France and Italy. In the 1970s when Italy was experiencing a economic depression, many Italians immigrated to Grenoble. There is even a part of the city called the Italien Quartier (literally Italian neighborhood), composed almost entirely of Italians. The neighborhood has its own stores, radio stations, and soccer teams. It is one part of the city I'm dying to see. I am afraid to say that I haven't really explored the city very much as of yet. I found a part of the city that I really like called the Place Notre Dame, and I've spent most of my time there. I am sort of waiting for it to warm up a bit, before I hit the streets. It is a big city, but small enough that I feel as though I can really get to know the place. It has 3 tram lines, which make the city very navigable.
Grenoble is perhaps most famous for its mountains. It is surrounded on all three sides by mountain chains. By far the most beautiful of the three are these glorious, snow-capped mountains. I don't know the names of all three ranges (I'll learn this soon), but I can say that it is a natural beauty that defies written description. The snow-capped mountains seem like they are out of a storybook. I hate to tantalize you without posting some pictures, so I'll make sure to do that soon. Grenoble hosted the Winter Olympics in 1968, and are currently bidding for 2014. The Maison du Tourisme (tourism office) has a big box in the front where you can fill out a postcard petitioning for the 2014 Olympics. Grenoble is close to some world-famous ski resorts, and has been given the nickname "Capital of the Alps." Although it isn't top on my list of priorities, I hope to have a chance to ski sometime before I return to the US.
Something that really boggled my mind right as I arrived in Grenoble was the amount of people wearing "Franklin and Marshall" apparel. F&M is a small college in Lancaster, PA, not far from Wilmington. I could not figure out for the life of me why everyone was wearing FM sweaters and shirts. I even stumbled across a store that sold FM apparel exclusively. I finally got around to checking it on wikipedia, and I found out that in the 90s, and Italian designer saw an FM sweater and decided to make a line out of it, without even telling the college. It became a sensation in Europe, and apparently its huge in Grenoble. I found my host sisters FM catalogue, and it was fascinating to see the European perception of American university. The catalogue, which is an exhibition of FMs vintage brand based on the attire of the 60s and 70s, plays up the fact that Martin Luther King spoke at FM. Again, I'm amazed to see Europe's memory of MLK.
My schedule has been pretty uneventful so far. Pretty much every day after class, I either go to the optional language lab to work on my grammar if I have early class that day, or go to Place Notre Dame and hang out at a cafe with my friends from the API. I must admit that we aren't quiet at the point yet where we speak French to each other, but I think we will do so with increasing frequency as time goes on. After hanging out at the cafe until about 6 or 7, I come home and have dinner. I have been spending WAY too much time on the computer, and I'm really working on curtailing my time. However, I think it is really important to write down my impressions thus far, so I don't forget years from now.
One really cool thing about Grenoble: When Caryne came my second week here, we went to this museum in the city. The museum traces the history of Grenoble from pre-history until today. The museum was cool, and I plan on going back, but the really neat thing was that underneath it, you can see Grenoble's old roman walls and the remains of a baptistery dating from the 4th to the 10th century. Every Easter, people would come to the baptistery for baptism, which some of my Baptist readers may be interested to know was initially by full immersion (I'm talking to you, Eskridges and Boykins!) Caryne's weekend in Grenoble was really great. I was glad to have her come along to explore the city with me. We also went to this museum about the French Resistance, and the deportation of the Jews during the Vichy regime. The most powerful artifact in the museum for me personally was a yellow star that said "Juif" on it, the kind the Nazis made the Jews wear in Grenoble. I don't think I'd ever seen a yellow star up close; the though of seeing that star on one of my relatives filled me with a sense of apprehension that I'd never experienced before. Reading about General Charles de Gaulle, the Free French Forces, and the efforts by the people of Grenoble to protect the Jews was emotional. The citizens of Grenoble were pivotal in the Nazi resistance, and went to great lengths to protect the Jews in the city. Since coming to France, I've developed a mini-obsession with de Gaulle and the French Resistance to the Nazi occupation. I'm trying to find a Free French Forces Flag while I'm in France to bring home. Viva la France!
I will briefly describe my weekend (this past weekend) in Paris before I conclude my blogging until after I visit Avignon this weekend. I came to Paris on Friday right after classes. We had a brief dinner with Caryne's host mom before heading to the Louvre, which was free and open until 9:45. At the Louvre, we spent our time almost exclusively on Egyptian antiquities. The artifacts were amazing, especially the sarcophagi. They had an actual mummy there as well. I think the coolest thing I saw there was a collection of Egyptian musical instruments, placed around some ancient wall paintings depicting the Egyptians playing these instruments. They also had this amazing display where they put a statue of gods and goddesses next to a brief description of those deities. The next morning, we went to 3 more museums: the Institute du Monde Arab (Institute of the Arab World), the National Archives, and the Carnvalet. The Institute du Monde Arab was having an exhibit on Napoleon's wars in Egypt. The exhibit was smaller than I had anticipated, but it also had some neat artifacts, including a cabinet that the Quran is kept in dating from the Napoleonic conquests. Apparently, the Egyptians sent the French a giraffe as a token of friendship, and they sent it through Marseilles. I just love the picture of some French sailors having to navigate a giraffe through the busy port city. Apparently, the giraffe is still preserved in a museum in La Rochelle, which I might be visiting. I'll let you know if I see the giraffe. Next on the list was the National Archives. This was sort of a confusing place, since everything was written in French, so I couldn't really understand all that much. The place was nearly empty, and very cheap, so I highly recommend it. There were some things that I could understand. For example, I saw an original copy of J'Accuse, the newspaper article where Emilia Zola exposed the plot to frame Alfred Dreyfus. Also among the highlights was a letter written by King Clovis in the 600s, a handwritten speech given by Charles de Gaulle. Again, something that was pretty emotional was a letter written by a French bureaucrat to a Nazi collaborator with the name and address of a French Jew, letting the collaborator know that he could go and take everything in the Jew's house, and enclosed with a diagram of everything in the house. We thought that the Edict of Nantes was housed in the archives, but we couldn't find it. We are going to try to figure out where the Edict is located, since it is tremendously historic. The last museum we went to was Carnvalet, which is the museum about the city of Paris. There were some pretty neat paintings here, including famous ones of Maria Theresa and Francois I. The highlight of the museum was their collection of items from the French Revolution. They had a copy of the certificate that the National Assembly gave to anyone who could prove they had participated in the storming of the Bastille, as well as clocks that displayed the time system created by the Revolutionary government, porcelain with messages like "Liberte ou Mort" (Liberty or Death) written on it, and a collection of this famous series of illustrations from the Revolution that sort of look like clothe patches. Some of the cooler patches were the one depicting four red-capped men carrying a model of the Bastille (which serves as the cover of a book I own about the Revolution), and a picture of some Revolutionaries singing the Marseilles. The Carnvalet also had a neat exhibit, where an artist drew pictures of each metro stop in Paris. It is an interesting juxtaposition between old Paris (Francois) and new Paris (the metro stops).
So far, I've given you a very brief (ha!) overview of my time so far. I feel very relieved to have this all written down, finally. My first couple of weeks have been turbulent, as I've tried to get accustomed to my life here, including a different eating schedule, different friends, and a language that I am far from proficient in. Dinners are still sometimes kind of awkward with my family, and I'm still frustrated with the level of my French. However, now that I have gotten something of a routine down, I should be able to blog with a fair degree of frequency. I'm going to Avignon this weekend with Caryne, and I'll be sure to write all about that. I haven't had any moment in Europe yet where it has really hit me that I am in a totally different continent with an amazing history, and I am sorting of hoping Avignon will be that moment. I'm still searching for this "magical Europe" that I've long envisioned, and if I find it, you'll be the first to know.
Au revoir, for now!
This may be a good time to describe exactly how my program works. I am studying at Centre Universitaire d'Études Françaises (CUEF), which is a program within the University of Grenoble Stendhal 3. Essentially, people from all over the world come to CUEF to learn French language, culture, and civilization. CUEF offers two tracks: a language immersion track, and a language and culture track. The language and culture track are for people who are out an intermediate level. I opted to do the language immersion track. The first week of class, I took a placement test, that determined my level in France. I placed into A2.1 (which is the 3rd level out of like 10-12). I was very happy to be placed above the first or second level, because it means that my semester at William and Mary really placed off. The other people from my program were placed at different levels. I have class 4 hours a day, 5 days a week. These classes are total French immersion. One of my professors (Jean Bavard) speaks almost no English whatsoever, and has to rely on playing charades and the Internet to explain all idioms and difficult phrases. My other professor (Kristof) speaks a little English, but on very limited occasions. 99.9% of the class is conducted solely in French. Classes are a mixture of grammar exercises, small group assignments, readings, and conversation. At the end of each month, we take a test, and if we pass, we move on to the next level of French. We are able to repeat a class for 2 months if need be, but after that we are forced to move on. This semester, I have one professor (Jean Bavard) who teachers Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays, and another (Kristof) who teaches Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The two professors have vastly different temperaments and teaching styles, and so far I think I like the combination. I initially found Jean Bavard intimidating (he was our only teacher for the first two weeks). He is a tall man, probably in his late 30s. Over the course of the weeks, I've really warmed up to him. He is a quirky guy, who I think is a true closet nerd. One day he told me that he played World of Warcraft, and wrote down his guild's website on my binder (www.woodwar.fr). I think he also once compared Carla Bruni to Maria Antoinette (both are foreign first ladies of France). I think I've warmed up to him too, and he's given me some travel advice. The first day of class, however, was utterly terrifying. Our schedule changes each day (some days we start at 8:30, other days at 12:30, some days we have lab and then class, some days class then lab then more class, etc). Our classes started on a Wednesday, and on Wednesday's we start with lab. Starting with lab on my very first day of class was the worst possible outcome. I walk in, and have not an idea of what is going on. I see other people put on headsets, so I do the same. Our teacher starts talking into our headsets, all in French, I am utterly confused. I sort of figured out what we were doing by the end, but not entirely. Worst of all, I didn't realize right way that that was our hour of lab, and I started to think that all my classes would be conducted that way. It was a really horrifying experience. However, after class, when we went into a regular classroom and had a normal grammar style lesson, I began to feel more comfortable. By the end of the week, I had the routine down pat.
The way CUEF works, with month long sessions, people come and go all the time. Some of the students in A2.1 with me had been in Grenoble for 2 months, so are at a much greater speaking level than I am (also a little intimidating). At first, I feared that I had been placed in a level slightly too high for me. After class on the 3rd day, I asked Jean Bavard, who said "ca va," which I might have wrongly assumed meant "you're fine." I ended up sticking with the class, and I really think it was the best option. It is very challenging, especially the labs, but not exceedingly overwhelming. The composition of the class is also interesting. I am the only American in the class, which came as a big surprise. There are two other English speakers in the class, a Swedish girl named Josephine, and a Dutch girl named Adama. Adama's mother is Dutch, and her father is an Anglophone originally from Mali, which I think is a very interesting cultural background. They both speak English nearly perfect, so I've obviously bonded with them more than the other students in my class. I had a very funny encounter with Adama, where she told me that when she was in high school, she used to watch MTV and believed that Americans were all like that. It was an eye-opening conversation for me, as I began to see maybe why Europe holds the views of America that it does; Europe's main encounter is through American pop culture, which isn't exactly the most flattering aspect of our great nation. I've found it very enjoyable to talk to Adama and Josephine about their experiences as Europeans. The other students in my class are Chinese (the majority), one Brazilian girl, a few Koreans, and one Iranian. Everyone is very down to earth and pleasant; there isn't a single person in my class who rubs me the wrong way. I'm very happy to be having such a multicultural experience. I was anticipated classes taught in English, composed of American students, but this is not the case at all.
Classes are difficult, but are getting better. Some days are really good, others more frustrating. I am still waiting to see how this immersion plays out.
The city of Grenoble is interesting. I was expecting the city to be about the size as say, Asheville, North Carolina or Williamsburg, Virginia, but it is much bigger. Population-wise, Grenoble is comparable to Savannah, Georgia or Springfield, Illinois. There is a large immigrant population of North Africans and Italians. Grenoble is in the Southwest of France, right on the border of France and Italy. In the 1970s when Italy was experiencing a economic depression, many Italians immigrated to Grenoble. There is even a part of the city called the Italien Quartier (literally Italian neighborhood), composed almost entirely of Italians. The neighborhood has its own stores, radio stations, and soccer teams. It is one part of the city I'm dying to see. I am afraid to say that I haven't really explored the city very much as of yet. I found a part of the city that I really like called the Place Notre Dame, and I've spent most of my time there. I am sort of waiting for it to warm up a bit, before I hit the streets. It is a big city, but small enough that I feel as though I can really get to know the place. It has 3 tram lines, which make the city very navigable.
Grenoble is perhaps most famous for its mountains. It is surrounded on all three sides by mountain chains. By far the most beautiful of the three are these glorious, snow-capped mountains. I don't know the names of all three ranges (I'll learn this soon), but I can say that it is a natural beauty that defies written description. The snow-capped mountains seem like they are out of a storybook. I hate to tantalize you without posting some pictures, so I'll make sure to do that soon. Grenoble hosted the Winter Olympics in 1968, and are currently bidding for 2014. The Maison du Tourisme (tourism office) has a big box in the front where you can fill out a postcard petitioning for the 2014 Olympics. Grenoble is close to some world-famous ski resorts, and has been given the nickname "Capital of the Alps." Although it isn't top on my list of priorities, I hope to have a chance to ski sometime before I return to the US.
Something that really boggled my mind right as I arrived in Grenoble was the amount of people wearing "Franklin and Marshall" apparel. F&M is a small college in Lancaster, PA, not far from Wilmington. I could not figure out for the life of me why everyone was wearing FM sweaters and shirts. I even stumbled across a store that sold FM apparel exclusively. I finally got around to checking it on wikipedia, and I found out that in the 90s, and Italian designer saw an FM sweater and decided to make a line out of it, without even telling the college. It became a sensation in Europe, and apparently its huge in Grenoble. I found my host sisters FM catalogue, and it was fascinating to see the European perception of American university. The catalogue, which is an exhibition of FMs vintage brand based on the attire of the 60s and 70s, plays up the fact that Martin Luther King spoke at FM. Again, I'm amazed to see Europe's memory of MLK.
My schedule has been pretty uneventful so far. Pretty much every day after class, I either go to the optional language lab to work on my grammar if I have early class that day, or go to Place Notre Dame and hang out at a cafe with my friends from the API. I must admit that we aren't quiet at the point yet where we speak French to each other, but I think we will do so with increasing frequency as time goes on. After hanging out at the cafe until about 6 or 7, I come home and have dinner. I have been spending WAY too much time on the computer, and I'm really working on curtailing my time. However, I think it is really important to write down my impressions thus far, so I don't forget years from now.
One really cool thing about Grenoble: When Caryne came my second week here, we went to this museum in the city. The museum traces the history of Grenoble from pre-history until today. The museum was cool, and I plan on going back, but the really neat thing was that underneath it, you can see Grenoble's old roman walls and the remains of a baptistery dating from the 4th to the 10th century. Every Easter, people would come to the baptistery for baptism, which some of my Baptist readers may be interested to know was initially by full immersion (I'm talking to you, Eskridges and Boykins!) Caryne's weekend in Grenoble was really great. I was glad to have her come along to explore the city with me. We also went to this museum about the French Resistance, and the deportation of the Jews during the Vichy regime. The most powerful artifact in the museum for me personally was a yellow star that said "Juif" on it, the kind the Nazis made the Jews wear in Grenoble. I don't think I'd ever seen a yellow star up close; the though of seeing that star on one of my relatives filled me with a sense of apprehension that I'd never experienced before. Reading about General Charles de Gaulle, the Free French Forces, and the efforts by the people of Grenoble to protect the Jews was emotional. The citizens of Grenoble were pivotal in the Nazi resistance, and went to great lengths to protect the Jews in the city. Since coming to France, I've developed a mini-obsession with de Gaulle and the French Resistance to the Nazi occupation. I'm trying to find a Free French Forces Flag while I'm in France to bring home. Viva la France!
I will briefly describe my weekend (this past weekend) in Paris before I conclude my blogging until after I visit Avignon this weekend. I came to Paris on Friday right after classes. We had a brief dinner with Caryne's host mom before heading to the Louvre, which was free and open until 9:45. At the Louvre, we spent our time almost exclusively on Egyptian antiquities. The artifacts were amazing, especially the sarcophagi. They had an actual mummy there as well. I think the coolest thing I saw there was a collection of Egyptian musical instruments, placed around some ancient wall paintings depicting the Egyptians playing these instruments. They also had this amazing display where they put a statue of gods and goddesses next to a brief description of those deities. The next morning, we went to 3 more museums: the Institute du Monde Arab (Institute of the Arab World), the National Archives, and the Carnvalet. The Institute du Monde Arab was having an exhibit on Napoleon's wars in Egypt. The exhibit was smaller than I had anticipated, but it also had some neat artifacts, including a cabinet that the Quran is kept in dating from the Napoleonic conquests. Apparently, the Egyptians sent the French a giraffe as a token of friendship, and they sent it through Marseilles. I just love the picture of some French sailors having to navigate a giraffe through the busy port city. Apparently, the giraffe is still preserved in a museum in La Rochelle, which I might be visiting. I'll let you know if I see the giraffe. Next on the list was the National Archives. This was sort of a confusing place, since everything was written in French, so I couldn't really understand all that much. The place was nearly empty, and very cheap, so I highly recommend it. There were some things that I could understand. For example, I saw an original copy of J'Accuse, the newspaper article where Emilia Zola exposed the plot to frame Alfred Dreyfus. Also among the highlights was a letter written by King Clovis in the 600s, a handwritten speech given by Charles de Gaulle. Again, something that was pretty emotional was a letter written by a French bureaucrat to a Nazi collaborator with the name and address of a French Jew, letting the collaborator know that he could go and take everything in the Jew's house, and enclosed with a diagram of everything in the house. We thought that the Edict of Nantes was housed in the archives, but we couldn't find it. We are going to try to figure out where the Edict is located, since it is tremendously historic. The last museum we went to was Carnvalet, which is the museum about the city of Paris. There were some pretty neat paintings here, including famous ones of Maria Theresa and Francois I. The highlight of the museum was their collection of items from the French Revolution. They had a copy of the certificate that the National Assembly gave to anyone who could prove they had participated in the storming of the Bastille, as well as clocks that displayed the time system created by the Revolutionary government, porcelain with messages like "Liberte ou Mort" (Liberty or Death) written on it, and a collection of this famous series of illustrations from the Revolution that sort of look like clothe patches. Some of the cooler patches were the one depicting four red-capped men carrying a model of the Bastille (which serves as the cover of a book I own about the Revolution), and a picture of some Revolutionaries singing the Marseilles. The Carnvalet also had a neat exhibit, where an artist drew pictures of each metro stop in Paris. It is an interesting juxtaposition between old Paris (Francois) and new Paris (the metro stops).
So far, I've given you a very brief (ha!) overview of my time so far. I feel very relieved to have this all written down, finally. My first couple of weeks have been turbulent, as I've tried to get accustomed to my life here, including a different eating schedule, different friends, and a language that I am far from proficient in. Dinners are still sometimes kind of awkward with my family, and I'm still frustrated with the level of my French. However, now that I have gotten something of a routine down, I should be able to blog with a fair degree of frequency. I'm going to Avignon this weekend with Caryne, and I'll be sure to write all about that. I haven't had any moment in Europe yet where it has really hit me that I am in a totally different continent with an amazing history, and I am sorting of hoping Avignon will be that moment. I'm still searching for this "magical Europe" that I've long envisioned, and if I find it, you'll be the first to know.
Au revoir, for now!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Paris, part III of III
The next day, we woke up early to go to Versailles. Like Notre Dame, I felt ill-equipped to appreciate the magnitude of what I was seeing. I honestly think it takes some time to fully comprehend things such as Versailles. One thing that really struck me on the way to Versailles was the fact that a homeless man was living right outside the train stop (Versailles is a like 10km outside of the city). The juxtaposition between the grandeur of the royal palace was remarkable, and for a brief moment I felt as though I understood, albeit anachronistically, the anger of the bread less and starving Third Estate as they dragged Marie Antoinette and Louis VXI from their life of utter opulence. The palace was beautiful, and decorated exactly how I had expected, although it was smaller than I had imagined in 10th grade history with Mr. Rap. I took my sweet time with the audio tour of the palace, and was by far the slowest of the group. I was really amused by the fact that the introduction of the English audio tour referenced about 10 times the fact that Benjamin Franklin visited Versailles. Being in Versailles, with the knowledge of all that transpired during the Revolution and the Treaty of Versailles, was probably the most surreal moment of my orientation. Standing on one balcony, I could really visualize the courtyard packed with clamoring French citizens.
After Versailles, we grabbed a quick lunch near the metro station. For the first time in Europe, I ordered something having no idea whatsoever what I was eating. Turned out to be an delicious chicken sandwich. Being abroad has expanded my culinary horizons tenfold.
Next on the agenda was the Musee d'Orsay, which is Paris' modern art museum. I sort of departed from the rest of the group, wanting to take my time to relish the museum. Although I started by trying to see everything, and listen to the audio commentary, I realized quickly how impossible this would be. I ended up spending almost the entire time on the top floor, with all the impressionist artists. Although I would never pretend to be an art expert, I do know that I love Vincent Van Gogh, and so I made sure to see all of his works. I saw many paintings from his later career, including one sad self-portrait, a painting of church in Arles, a portrait of two napping farmers, and his super famous picture of an empty room. I saw many Manet paintings, and discovered a new artists: Paul Gauguin. His paintings of Tahiti and Brittany were enchanting; the latter of which has inspired me to visit that far-flunged region of France (more on that later). One really cool exhibit I saw were these silhouettes that they used for this hip 20th century club called the Chat Noir. They had black silhouettes of some famous people in French history, including Napoleon (with his army) and Emilia Zola. To me, these black silhouette cutouts seemed very authentically Parisian.
After the d'Orsay, I hung out with Caryne and some of her friends. I got confused though in a very frustrating moment. Caryne wanted me to meet her at the Hotel de Ville, be I thought she was saying Hotel de Invalides, so I got off at the totally wrong metro, having NO idea where she was. It did not inspire much confidence. Getting home to Latin Quartier from Caryne was a total nightmare, as the metro lines did not connect, and I had to take two transfers to get home. But to see Caryne, you know it was worth it!
The next day we started by waking up and climbing to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Like I said previously, the Eiffel Tower is a magnificent structure, and something that should be seen in person for full effect. However, after climbing to the top, allow me to suggest just looking at it, not looking out from it. The climb was pretty miserable in the cold. Our guide Marie had the theory that we would remember it more if we climbed it, and I guess in a sense she was right. There were some great views, especially of the Notre Dame and Arc de Triomph. One thing that was pretty neat was seeing a mini-Statue of Liberty in the Seine. Apparently, the French have a copy as well (it was the French who gave us the Statue of Liberty as a token of friendship). Now that I've been to the top, I have no real desire to go again.
After the Eiffel Tower, we headed to the Louvre. If I thought the d'Orsay was overwhelming, the Louvre exceeded it greatly. It is a GIGANTIC museum with 13 miles of galleries. We had a guided tour with this really sweet guide named Mariona. She spoke English with this strange French-Italian accent. She took us to the Monet Lisa (which is very tiny), the Venus de Milo, the Nike, and some Jacques-Louis David paintings. The Venus de Milo, Nike, and Mona Lisa were interesting just for the sheer novelty of being near something so famous. I was more impressed with the gigantic David paintings, including the coronation of Napoleon. Some of his paintings of ancient Rome and Greece I recognized from textbooks. Also, we went down to the old medieval walls of the Louvre. In the medieval age, the Louvre served as a royal palace. I found the giant glass pyramids which were received with complete outrage by the French (not least of all because they were designed by a Chinese-American) very lovely. After the tour, I wandered around the Louvre for literally 5 hours. To be honest, I tried to do too much, and at some point ceased appreciating what I saw. I went to Napoleon III's apartment, saw the medieval and Renaissance paintings (including the famous painting of John the Good), walked through the giant collection of medieval and Renaissance objects which allowed me to see stained glass up close, and also through Mesopotamian and Levant antiquities. Seeing the Code of Hammurabi was incredible, although in person it just looks like any other black slab with an engraving. The Louvre is a monumental museum, but I don't recommend staying for 5 hours like I did. I waited around the Louvre until Caryne was doing interviewing for her internship, and we got to hang out again for a couple of hours before I went home and crashed.
The next morning, we woke up and walked to the Notre Dame. Initially, we were supposed to do the Notre Dame before the Louvre, but since the French public transportation workers were going on strike, we switched the dates around. This was my very first experience with the French tradition of striking (manifestation, as they call it en Francais). Striking, it seems, is an integral part of French political expression, and I've encountered them on three different occasions since I've been to France. I read in a book that it is a relic of the French Revolution. As much as I appreciate culture's remembering their history, it can get a bit tiresome. The Notre Dame is right across from the Quartier Latin (where our hotel was located), so we could walk there no problem. Again, walking around the Notre Dame was breathtaking, and this time I felt as though I was better able to appreciate some of the fine wood panelling, and the gargoyles on top. After the Notre Dame, we were supposed to see Saint-Chappelle, but when we got there, we found out that no one was working at the front because of the strike. Marie, our tour guide, was NOT pleased. Instead, we walked to another extremely old church, which had a Greek Orthodox feel to me. I'll have to ask Marie the name of this church. We sort of putzed around for awhile, until our shuttle came and picked us up from the hotel and brought us to the Gare de Lyon.
All in all, I found that my plane-buddy's description of Paris as "ridiculous" was very appropriate. Paris is a city of extremes. It is extremely exhilarating, and extremely frustrating. Immense, but humbling. Exuberant, but sometimes tragic. For every baguette, a beggar. It is a great city, but a complex one, and it eludes simple description. Perhaps it is one of this things you must see to understand.
I spent my time in the train ride over chatting with the other API students. I didn't really take the time to appreciate the country side, figuring I would have many chances to do so en route to Caryne in Paris. It was a very peaceful and enjoyable ride, and not until the very end did I begin to feel any hints of nervousness. However, once I saw the mountains (which literally look like they are photograph), I began to get butterflies. Before I knew it, we were in Grenoble.
Now, before I arrived, I had corresponded just a little with the Leendhardt's (my host family). I believed that the family was 2 parents, 2 boys, and 2 girls. Monsieur Leendhardt had sent me a picture with himself and 3 girls, which I had believed were him, his twin girls, and his wife. However, when I got off the train, a woman was waiting for me who I had never seen in any of the pictures. She didn't speak much English, and I was so confused as to who she was. For a couple of minutes, I thought there was some sort of mix up, and that my families had changed or something. When I got to my house in Corenc (the village outside of Grenoble where I live), I was still utterly confused. It wasn't until I was introduced to my host sister Flore did I realize that the girl in the picture was not my mother, but that I had 3 host sisters and 1 host brother. I haven't explained this mix-up to my family yet, because I don't know enough French to meaningfully convey the story. It was quiet disorienting.
Phew. It feels wonderful to write all this down. I will continue with a brief summary of my host family and classes in Grenoble tomorrow.
After Versailles, we grabbed a quick lunch near the metro station. For the first time in Europe, I ordered something having no idea whatsoever what I was eating. Turned out to be an delicious chicken sandwich. Being abroad has expanded my culinary horizons tenfold.
Next on the agenda was the Musee d'Orsay, which is Paris' modern art museum. I sort of departed from the rest of the group, wanting to take my time to relish the museum. Although I started by trying to see everything, and listen to the audio commentary, I realized quickly how impossible this would be. I ended up spending almost the entire time on the top floor, with all the impressionist artists. Although I would never pretend to be an art expert, I do know that I love Vincent Van Gogh, and so I made sure to see all of his works. I saw many paintings from his later career, including one sad self-portrait, a painting of church in Arles, a portrait of two napping farmers, and his super famous picture of an empty room. I saw many Manet paintings, and discovered a new artists: Paul Gauguin. His paintings of Tahiti and Brittany were enchanting; the latter of which has inspired me to visit that far-flunged region of France (more on that later). One really cool exhibit I saw were these silhouettes that they used for this hip 20th century club called the Chat Noir. They had black silhouettes of some famous people in French history, including Napoleon (with his army) and Emilia Zola. To me, these black silhouette cutouts seemed very authentically Parisian.
After the d'Orsay, I hung out with Caryne and some of her friends. I got confused though in a very frustrating moment. Caryne wanted me to meet her at the Hotel de Ville, be I thought she was saying Hotel de Invalides, so I got off at the totally wrong metro, having NO idea where she was. It did not inspire much confidence. Getting home to Latin Quartier from Caryne was a total nightmare, as the metro lines did not connect, and I had to take two transfers to get home. But to see Caryne, you know it was worth it!
The next day we started by waking up and climbing to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Like I said previously, the Eiffel Tower is a magnificent structure, and something that should be seen in person for full effect. However, after climbing to the top, allow me to suggest just looking at it, not looking out from it. The climb was pretty miserable in the cold. Our guide Marie had the theory that we would remember it more if we climbed it, and I guess in a sense she was right. There were some great views, especially of the Notre Dame and Arc de Triomph. One thing that was pretty neat was seeing a mini-Statue of Liberty in the Seine. Apparently, the French have a copy as well (it was the French who gave us the Statue of Liberty as a token of friendship). Now that I've been to the top, I have no real desire to go again.
After the Eiffel Tower, we headed to the Louvre. If I thought the d'Orsay was overwhelming, the Louvre exceeded it greatly. It is a GIGANTIC museum with 13 miles of galleries. We had a guided tour with this really sweet guide named Mariona. She spoke English with this strange French-Italian accent. She took us to the Monet Lisa (which is very tiny), the Venus de Milo, the Nike, and some Jacques-Louis David paintings. The Venus de Milo, Nike, and Mona Lisa were interesting just for the sheer novelty of being near something so famous. I was more impressed with the gigantic David paintings, including the coronation of Napoleon. Some of his paintings of ancient Rome and Greece I recognized from textbooks. Also, we went down to the old medieval walls of the Louvre. In the medieval age, the Louvre served as a royal palace. I found the giant glass pyramids which were received with complete outrage by the French (not least of all because they were designed by a Chinese-American) very lovely. After the tour, I wandered around the Louvre for literally 5 hours. To be honest, I tried to do too much, and at some point ceased appreciating what I saw. I went to Napoleon III's apartment, saw the medieval and Renaissance paintings (including the famous painting of John the Good), walked through the giant collection of medieval and Renaissance objects which allowed me to see stained glass up close, and also through Mesopotamian and Levant antiquities. Seeing the Code of Hammurabi was incredible, although in person it just looks like any other black slab with an engraving. The Louvre is a monumental museum, but I don't recommend staying for 5 hours like I did. I waited around the Louvre until Caryne was doing interviewing for her internship, and we got to hang out again for a couple of hours before I went home and crashed.
The next morning, we woke up and walked to the Notre Dame. Initially, we were supposed to do the Notre Dame before the Louvre, but since the French public transportation workers were going on strike, we switched the dates around. This was my very first experience with the French tradition of striking (manifestation, as they call it en Francais). Striking, it seems, is an integral part of French political expression, and I've encountered them on three different occasions since I've been to France. I read in a book that it is a relic of the French Revolution. As much as I appreciate culture's remembering their history, it can get a bit tiresome. The Notre Dame is right across from the Quartier Latin (where our hotel was located), so we could walk there no problem. Again, walking around the Notre Dame was breathtaking, and this time I felt as though I was better able to appreciate some of the fine wood panelling, and the gargoyles on top. After the Notre Dame, we were supposed to see Saint-Chappelle, but when we got there, we found out that no one was working at the front because of the strike. Marie, our tour guide, was NOT pleased. Instead, we walked to another extremely old church, which had a Greek Orthodox feel to me. I'll have to ask Marie the name of this church. We sort of putzed around for awhile, until our shuttle came and picked us up from the hotel and brought us to the Gare de Lyon.
All in all, I found that my plane-buddy's description of Paris as "ridiculous" was very appropriate. Paris is a city of extremes. It is extremely exhilarating, and extremely frustrating. Immense, but humbling. Exuberant, but sometimes tragic. For every baguette, a beggar. It is a great city, but a complex one, and it eludes simple description. Perhaps it is one of this things you must see to understand.
I spent my time in the train ride over chatting with the other API students. I didn't really take the time to appreciate the country side, figuring I would have many chances to do so en route to Caryne in Paris. It was a very peaceful and enjoyable ride, and not until the very end did I begin to feel any hints of nervousness. However, once I saw the mountains (which literally look like they are photograph), I began to get butterflies. Before I knew it, we were in Grenoble.
Now, before I arrived, I had corresponded just a little with the Leendhardt's (my host family). I believed that the family was 2 parents, 2 boys, and 2 girls. Monsieur Leendhardt had sent me a picture with himself and 3 girls, which I had believed were him, his twin girls, and his wife. However, when I got off the train, a woman was waiting for me who I had never seen in any of the pictures. She didn't speak much English, and I was so confused as to who she was. For a couple of minutes, I thought there was some sort of mix up, and that my families had changed or something. When I got to my house in Corenc (the village outside of Grenoble where I live), I was still utterly confused. It wasn't until I was introduced to my host sister Flore did I realize that the girl in the picture was not my mother, but that I had 3 host sisters and 1 host brother. I haven't explained this mix-up to my family yet, because I don't know enough French to meaningfully convey the story. It was quiet disorienting.
Phew. It feels wonderful to write all this down. I will continue with a brief summary of my host family and classes in Grenoble tomorrow.
Paris, part II of III
So, having spent the past 4 days romping around Paris and London, I felt entitled to a bit of sleeping in glory in the hotel where the API orientation was to start. I was woken up sometime at around 11 by Brendan, another student with API, and the guy whom I would share a room with. Brendan is a very nice guy, and we immediately bonded over baseball and football, and how bizarre we found European sports.
By around noon, Brendan and I were hungry, so we decided to venture out in search of some food. We found this small cafe right outside our hotel room that looked neat. When we walked out, the man who was working gave us a glare. Forgetting a fair amount of my French for lack of consistent practice, I asked the man in French "parlez-vous anglais?" I did not think this was a particularly bold thing to do, since we were in a very tourist heavy part of a very tourist heavy city. The man, with a healthy dose of disdain in his voice, replied with a hostile "No. Je parle Francais." Taken aback by his hostility, we sat down and ordered as quickly as possible, just pointing to what we wanted. We ate quickly, not wanting to stay in the cafe any longer than need be. I felt bad the entire time, feeling as though I had immediately marked myself as an American tourist who demands everyone speak my language. Brendan and I were both so scared of this man that we argued over who was going to ask for the check. I did, and we paid and got out of there. It was my first experience with a truly unfriendly European, and to my good fortune, it remains one of only a few to date.After lunch, we wandered around Latin Quartier a bit. Just walking, we saw a very beautiful looking church, so we decided to stumble it. It was an incredibly ornate and beautiful cathedral. I thought that the act of stumbling into a gorgeous cathedral was so remarkably European. After the church, we found an amazing crepe stand, and I bought my first authentic French crepe. It was a plain sugar crepe, but it was amazing.
We went back to the hotel, where we rested for awhile. That night We had a demonstration about our cellphones, and that is when I first met the other API students. After the cell phone demonstration, we left the hotel for a river tour on the Seine. To be honest, I was still too jetlagged and too exhausted to really appreciate the tour. We decided to sit on the top level, on the outside, and it was FREEZING. It was really gorgeous to see the Seine at night, but I definitely want to take this tour again when it is a bit warmer. I found the Eiffel Tower at night very striking. Unlike the Globe Theater, I was overwhelmed, not underwhelmed, by the Tower. Its pictures do not do it justice. It is a much more beautiful structure in person than in photos. I also got a kick out of some of the old bridges, including the Bridge Neuf, which had these very odd carvings of demon like heads all around it.
After the cruise, we had an API-paid dinner on St. Germain des Pres. Without exaggeration, this was the most delicious meal I've ever had. I had tartine (which if beef cooked for hours), beef burgundy, and chocolate cake filled with warm chocolate on the inside. According to our host, it was a very authentic French meal. Our host's name is Marie de Socca. Her name isn't very old stock French because either her or her husband is Corsican (an Island off of France that is culturally very different than mainland France). She is a very energetic and wired woman, who is a Parisian by birth, and who now lives in Grenoble. During dinner, she gave us a French etiquette lesson. This was very helpful, because some of the rules are not intuitive. For example, when eating bread, the French do not put their slices on their plates, but on the table clothe next to their plate.
(I have to go to class, but I will continue writing about my next 3 days in Paris, as well as my first impressions of Grenoble this upcoming evening/afternoon).
Monday, February 16, 2009
Paris, Part I of III
(Warning: this is the UNABRIDGED addition of my travel log. It will be very lengthy, and very detailed. I will be sending out a very abridged addition in an e-mail sometime very soon. Also, this is the second post chronologically. My first post about Europe is below, entitled "London, and Intro.")
At 6:00 am, much to my displeasure, my alarm went off as planned. Ben was considerate enough to open his eyes, grunt, and wish me goodbye. The only thing that kept me from smashing my alarm and going right back to bed was the fact that I had a ticket to see Caryne in Paris. To be honest, at that time, I was more excited to see Caryne than I was to be in Paris. I didn't have a cellphone, and I don't speak very much French (YET) so I was worried about finding Caryne in the train station. Anyways, I gathered all my energy and waited outside for the cab, which came right on time. Having been in a state of half-consciousness, I don't vividly remember my cab ride. All I remember is my drive was super nice, and had once taken a trip to Florida and anticipated that it would only take him 3-4 hours to drive to New York. I think that is amusing, because I absolutely conceptualize Europe in the same way. I got to the train station at around 6:45, and it was PACKED. My train departed at 7:20, so I just kind of wandered aimlessly admiring the pretty superb Victorian architecture of St. Pancras Station. The actual train ride over was fine; only 3 hours, although I lost an hour because of the time difference between Paris and London (the Europeans must fine this very annoying.) Again, I was surprised by the lack of castles and fairies in Southern England, but started to come to grips with the falsity of my idealized vision of Europe. Northern France was markedly more beautiful, with farms and cathedrals.
I arrived in Paris right on time, and immediately began to feel the crushing sensation of not speaking good French. After wandering around Gare de Lyon, in terror at the prospect of not finding Caryne, I finally saw her smiling in the distance. It was a glorious feeling. Despite my happiness at seeing Caryne, I still was suffering a great deal of jetlag. She very kindly helped me with my gigantic bags. We got on the metro and headed to her place, where I was going to keep my bags for the weekend (I literally don't think there was enough room in my entire hostel to fit my bags). After lugging my bags up an inexplicable 6 flights of stairs, we grabbed cafe (espresso) at a cafe right in her neighborhood. We had a delightfully quirky waiter who I think will become the epitome of my time in Paris. He was very energetic, and willing to speak either French (with Caryne) or English (with Anglophone me). I don't know how many people will understand this reference, but he sort of reminded me of Cameron in 10 Things I Hate About You. We had a plate of cheese (my first in France), at which point I was in true paradise. The French eat an obscene amount of cheese, and this is one habit that I think I have adapted very well. Ben had told me in advance to get ready for the amazingness of French food. Of course, I had heard my entire life how the French are the world's gastronomical experts. However, I had always sort of believed that this was all hype. Once I began eating meals in France, I quickly changed my mind. French food is as good as they say. It is not too good to be true.
After lunch, we headed to the Champs Elysee for the obligatory touristy walk. This is a very famous street in France, and is quintessential Parisian. Walking on the Champs Elysee with Caryne was my first moment of cultural euphoria. It was a gorgeous winter day, and everyone in the city seemed cheerful and happy to be in Paris. We just walked and talked, and I really soaked up the experience of being in a large, cosmopolitan European city. Even as we walked, I caught some comical glimpses of cross-cultural exchanges, including previews for the Kate Winslet movie Revolutionary Road (which they translate Les Noces Rebelles). While we were walking, we came across this restaurant that makes famous macaroons, so we decided just to indulge ourselves. I can honestly say that I don't think I've ever had cookies this good in my life. The experts say that you experience some euphoria in the beginning, and walking on the Champs Elysee was definitely my moment of it.
That night I had the privilege of eating with Caryne's host mother. She was a very kind lady, who made a gigantic meal in my honor. The meal was fun, but I experienced my first bit of language difficulty. It is very hard to know how to respond when someone is speaking to you, and you don't understand a word of what they are saying. The question becomes, do you nod and smile, or do you make it known that you don't understand? I'm still grappling with this problem on a fairly daily basis. Luckily, I had a good translator in the form of Caryne, so I was able to get by. Mme. Turkheim is a very elegant and caring woman, and I think Caryne is very lucky to be living with her. After dinner, I headed to my hostel (a very nondiscript and bland place), where I completely crashed.
The next morning, I got up and headed right back to Caryne's neighborhood. We grabbed a quick croissant and cafe near her apartment and headed sightseeing. The first place we went, at Caryne's suggestion, was the Musee de l'Art et de l'Histoire de Judiasme (Museum of the Art and History of Judaism). This was an incredible museum. Since I've come to Europe, I've really experienced a regained interest in the experience of European Jews. This will be a recurring theme in my later writings as well. At College, my studies revolve predominantly on Christian Europeans or Colonial Americans, with only a small dabbling of Jewish history. As much as I love this history, I have always had a sense that this is not my history. However, in exploring different aspects of European Jewish history, I have a sense of inclusion in the action. I know my family wasn't at Yorktown or Whitehall, but I do know that we were among the French Jews (Alsatian Jews, to be exacted, on my mother's father's side) whose history is explored at places like the Musee de l'Art et de l'Histoire de Judiasme. What I really liked about the Musee de l'Art et de l'Historie is the chronological scope of the museum. Rather than being exclusively focused on the tragedy of 20th century European Jewry, the museum also had many exhibits on medieval and Renaissance Jews. For example, we saw Hebrew grave markers dated to 1200. "Rabbi" was used for all males, sort of like "Mister" or "Monseuir" today. Some of the coolest stuff I saw there were medieval and Renaissance hagdalahs, a Renaissance sukkot, and a really fascinating exhibit about the Dreyfus affair. At this museum, I felt profoundly indebted to my ancestors who persevered and thrived despite centuries of persecution, and whose toil and spirit of survival has allowed me to return to Europe and marvel at their accomplishment.
After finishing up at the Jewish museum, and in a Semitic spirit, Caryne and I decided to eat lunch in Paris' Jewish quarters, off the St. Paul metro stop. In this part of town, with roads too small to drive on, we saw throngs of people all lined up to get felafels, including a few Hasidim. At this moment, looking at the busy pedestrian streets, and smelling the bakeries all around me, I finally understood what the girl in the plane meant when she said Paris was "ridiculous." While the Champs Elysee had a marked touristy feel to it, in the Marais I felt like a real Parisian. The lunch we had was fantastic, and I felt really good giving my money to French Jews. Right before I had come to France, there had been a small series of anti-Semitic incidents in the south west of France, and I have a profound respect for the Jewish population of France for overcoming such hard times.
After eating in the Marais, we took a walk along the Seine, and headed over to the Ile de Cite. This is the oldest part of France, and perhaps the most iconic, as it contains the Notre Dame. Walking around the Notre Dame was another surreal experience. I have always heard that it is one of the greatest Cathedrals in Europe, and it was beautiful, but as I walked around I felt I was ill-equipped to appreciate the experience. It was overpowering, in a way. I marveled at the stain glass, and followed the herd of tourists around the edge. After Notre Dame, we went down to this underground museum right next to the Cathedral that takes you to the oldest part of the city. Down there, you can see some of the ruins of the old Roman walls. It was pretty much just super old bricks, and I have a very hard time conceptualizing archaeology, but the thought of being surrounded by Roman walls gave me a thrill.
After spending the days at tourists, we went with some of Caryne's friends to a Chinese restaurant on the opposite end of Paris. It was a good dinner, and I really enjoyed meeting Caryne's friends. Two of her friends had actually studied in Grenoble before, and it was very nice to hear them speak so nice of the city. Spending the days in London and Paris, I had sort of begun to worry that Grenoble was this provincial back country city with nothing to do. They assured me otherwise. After a nice dinner of chicken and noodles, Caryne kindly escorted me back to my hostel, where I completely crashed.
The next day, my official API orientation began. I woke up and took a cab to my hotel, which was in the Latin Quartier. I was the first person in the hotel, so I grabbed a quick breakfast (beaucoup croissants et cafe), went up to my room, and promptly went back to bed.
(Okay, I'm completely exhausted. I have 4 more days worth of Parisian adventures to blog about, in addition to my time in Grenoble but that will have to wait for tomorrow!)
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