(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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