A few weeks ago I went to Provins with the "Tuesday Day Trip Club"-a bunch of people from ABS who don't have Tuesday classes who invited me to Provins which means I'm tagging along until June.
I woke up in the morning and stopped by an a.t.m. before meeting my group at the train station. The machine decided to keep my card for the next five minutes and freeze on the choose a language screen. I yelled a few english profanities, and then the a.t.m. laughed at me and gave it back. Normal people would run away from the machine, but it was 7 am and I must have been in another state of mind. I saw another machine 10 feet away which looked much shinier and newer, so I tried my luck with that one. Another stupid stupid decision. Machine 2 liked to play a similar game, which led to more profanities, probably a little praying, and then the eventual return of my card. Keep in mind that I was leaving the country for Spain on Friday, and I don't have a bank account or any way to get money without that little piece of plastic.
So then we get to the train and make it to Provins, and it's pouring. This was the one time in France I really wished I had worn the bright purple ski jacket my mom got me that has a water shield so powerful that it can completely rid you of your peripheral vision. We quickly stopped caring once we found the tourists office surrounded by stone structures from the 1200's with little holes for bows and arrows when under attack. The woman at the desk gave us a list of things to see (which I believe is pretty typical of all tourist offices, so that was probably a very unnecessary detail), and then offered us a movie in the theatre! We realized that we had arrived at Provins before anything was open, so we opted for a little more time indoors with the movie. She led us into a large room with rows of wooden benches and a projector screen. We then watched a short film about the renaissance fairs and big gatherings that we would not be seeing that day (apparently we came off season), and looked at pretty pictures since we couldn't understand the French.
As we walked out of the tourism office, we realized that it had stopped raining and it was actually quite beautiful outside. The rest of the day for the most part just relaxing. We walked through a graveyard with giant marble tombs. We also visited Saint Quiriace Collegiate Church that survived so many different architectural generations that you could see the different styles from the time periods around the walls. The church was huge, and probably colder than outside. The old feeling about it though was very cool to see.
We stopped for lunch at a nice little restaurant near le Tour Cesar. I had my first paupiette (which kind of reminded me of those websites with the burrito, wrapped in pizza, wrapped in potatoe chips, topped with ice cream). Anyway, it was some sort of meal wrapped in veal in a really tasty sauce. We had a beautiful salad with melted chevre on toast. I tried to make it for my mom and sister when they came this week. Well the salad that is...the paupiette was a little bit over my head.
After lunch we went to le Tour Cesar one of Provins' medieval fortifications. We walked up to the top of the building to the bell tower and climbed through very narrow stone staircases around the structure. The best part of le Tour Cesar (other than the fact that the welcome desk woman was wearing velvet medieval clothing with a hat that looked like a donut ring- the types you have to sit on if you break your bum) was the basement where they stored the supplies. The museum had diagrams of the clothing and weapons that would be kept there, and then it started to sink in how old this place was, unless the US government still uses chest plates, metal armor, and crossbows. The outside of the building had a place for a moat and a drawbridge. I felt like I was playing in super mario brothers playing in fortresses, especially when we climbed through the walls and looked out on the city from up high.
After a visit to a rose honey shop (if you think that sounds amazing, you haven't tried the confiture rose with actual rose petals in it) we decided to head home. We got to the train station, and the ticket office was closed. The sign on the window of the guichet (french vocab word!) told us to try the ticket machine, which of course doesn't take American credit cards or paper money. With only 20 minutes until the train leaves, Alex, Ben, and I ran to the town center to find a place who would convert 40 euros to coins. A very kind bank teller searched the office for enough euros to help us out and is the sole reason we probably got home. We ran back to the station (which was not an easy feat for someone who was trying to keep up with two stilt legged men-alex must be at least 6'3) and ran to the train. The doors closed as the last of just made it into the car.
This post was also written two weeks ago during class before I went on winter break. I have attempted to modify verbs to fit the change in timing, but I make no promises. Hopefully more posts coming soon about Espagne!!!
Today, I got the nerves to go get a sandwich. I had this process down to an art. I pushed the door (rather than struggling to pull); I ordered my jambon in perfect French; and when she asked me if I wanted “the special sauce” I had a realization. She was asking if I wanted a napkin. The special “s” word had been there all along! It was a small, silly understanding (she must have been using a shortened slang word for serviette), but for the first time in France I could really feel that I had something tangible to show that I was learning here. And the sandwich was delicious..just as I remembered.
So the last week has been a little hectic, so I apologize for the long blog break. I'm currently sitting in the Sciences Po dining hall/lounge area. There is a group of students arguing about politics, and I'm judging them for being a bunch of nerds. Then I remember comm school and how all we talk about in our free time is business....I immediately stop judging.
I had my first higher level French class today. My professor asked for my name and immediately realized I was an American girl. She then explains to me that she has barely any guys in her class and most everyone is American. I might as well just give up now. She then hands me an assignment for a two page paper about liberties and laughter. I am clearly confused, so she shows me an article about this famous caricature that caused controversy in 2006. When I'm still not getting it, she gets mad that I don't know about this major event in politics, which furthers her hate for ignorant American females. She then invites me to the class dinner at her house in March. If we were dating, this would be defined as sending "mixed signals".
I went to get a book from the library on Monday for my presentation next week. The librarian informs me that it will take three days to receive the book. I then ask her if the book is checked out by someone else. She responds plainly that the book is in the building and available but it takes about three days for them to go get it. I ask my teacher what I should do about this, since I am supposed to present the book next week. She tells me that I can pick a random chapter and present that one, and if I decide I like it then I'll just write my final paper on it. Pick a random chapter to read from an economics book? No worries, it's only worth 40% of my grade. The other students just write down everything they want to say for their presentations and read off their papers to the class. Then the teacher claps and smiles. I feel like I am on another planet. I guess they're practicing for the day when they present pre-written speeches to large groups of audiences at their political acceptance ceremonies.
On a non school related note, we went to Reims (Champagne country) last weekend. It was absolutely incredible. We started at this museum where the Germans signed the surrender terms during WWII. You actually get to go into the room where all of the officers outlined the supplies and territory agreements. The original maps are still on the wall. We all got goosebumps as soon as we walked in. It really was amazing.
Reims also has a huge cathedral in its center. I had earlier asked a woman at the museum how to get to it, and she laughed at me. I didn't understand why until we started walking and you can see the cathedral tower over the rest of the town. You would have to try to miss it.
I also had to stop in a store to try get warm socks, since my shoes were falling apartment and there was snow everywhere. I then stood by the door and took my shoes off to put on my new purchase while the entire store staff stared at me. Gulfem's shirt then set off the security detectors, and the guard made her take off her jacket and sweater so he could make sure she wasn't shoplifting. It didn't help that it was freezing outside, so she had about 4 layers to go through. It turns out she forgot to take the little magnetic thing off of her turtleneck, so the guard went and got a scissor and cut it off for her. I'm not gonna lie, the whole thing was pretty amusing.
After de-icing ourselves in a pub for lunch, we went to search for places to tour les caves (where champagne is made) and go for a tasting. We started at Veuve Clicquot but they were only open with reservations. They called another vineyard across the street and found us an opening for an English tour twenty minutes later. We rushed down the street, and went to Pommery. I don't really know how to describe Pommery, so I'm going to have to just post pictures or something. If you've never taken a tour of where Champagne is made, it is aged in deep limestone pits underground. When the owner of Pommery died, his wife took over the business. She loved art, so she had artists come sculpt beautiful portraits of Dionysus and Bacchus in the wall. They also hold modern art exhibitions in les caves which we were fortunate enough to see while we took our tour. The artist was very strange, and just put random objects around the different rooms. For example, he put a grocery store sized cart of nutella in one room. The tour guide explained that this was to show everyday objects in a new point of view. She said no one would ever have that much nutella in their cabinet. I then told her that the artist should see the amount of nutella me and the other girls keep in our cabinets, and he may change his mind. Another room had palm trees with Christmas lights. I tried really hard to get it. Art majors, help me out here. We kept walking and we found rooms and rooms of aging champagne. One group of bottles has been aging since 1921. Americans were in prohibition at that time!
After the tour we got to taste champagne. Our guide told us that you taste it with all five of your senses. You listen to the bubbles, smell the champagne, look at the bubbles (you can tell the age of the champagne by looking at it...but i can't remember how), and you taste the champagne. Yep, four senses. Diana and I were still looking for the fifth, but then we got over it. I got a rose champagne (which gets its flavor from the red wines in it), and we all got the vintage. The flavor of the champagne is based on how long it spends aging and what times of wines are used to make it. The vintage champagne tastes different each time it is made, which is one of its special characteristics. It also has a stronger flavor since it has been aging longer which means that you must taste it after the others or else you won't be able to taste anything else. Steven told me to ask what kind of wines they use to make Strawberry Andre. Most exciting of all, the bathrooms had those super powerful hand dryers like they have at Boylen. Just kidding...kinda.
We headed back to the train station, and all bought potato chips for the ride home. I'm still determined to try all of the weird flavors, so I picked out Bolognaise. It was definitely different, but I think that was the end of my phase and I will now return to sour cream and onion. By the way, bring your own salt and vinegar because they don't make those here! Just a heads up for future travelers.
Well I've sufficiently wasted enough time for today. I would say "a tout a l'heure" but I found out in French class that you only say it when you're definitely going to talk to someone later that day. A simple bonne journee will have to do.
I just bought my ticket for Barcelona for Winter Break!!!
I had my economy of India class on Thursday. The professor spoke really fast and had a very heavy accent. I could barely understand what was going on, and English is my first language. He then started talking about time series, and everyone in the class had never heard of it (thank you T-Bags). The professor then explained it as "when you throw a rock into the water, and the ripples form, and then you throw another rock and you want to see if the ripples are the same, you throw many rocks in at once and then you see all of the ripples and there are so many ways to measure the ripples...." Everyone's jaws dropped, and I wanted so badly to pull up Megastat and show them that there are zero rocks involved.
So much has happened in the last few days, it would be impossible to tell everything. Therefore, I will start with what happened to me roughly 90 minutes ago. As I was coming home from the grocery store (which took me at least an hour for only five ingredients because I don't know how to navigate French megastores yet...not to mention I'm not sure if I got butter or margarine, ham or bacon)...as I digress I'm walking home from the store and I come to my apartment building and the door won't open. Another resident walks up, a guy probably about 24 years old, and he tries his key at the door as well. We're both standing there trying to open the door, and I explain to him that it's my first day in my apartment. He speaks zero English, so of course I take this as an opportunity to work on my French. I think his name is Hermes (I couldn't understand him very well at all). He then invites me to come see his apartment (I keep my groceries with me, just in case I need an excuse to get out of there, keeping in mind that I really want to make friends in my building). He then proceeds to show me a family slideshow of about 150 pictures all of his brother, sister, and dad. His dad, by the way, is the African ambassador to the United States (I think...I'm not really sure I understood completely, but he kept showing me pictures of his dad shaking hands with important people). Then he boots up his computer to show me articles about his dad. This whole time, I am just thinking about how to get Leslie Keena an internship with this guy, so she can study Africa. And then just when you think it's bad...it gets worse. He pulls out his 2pac dvd's. Now I get to look at pictures of him at the Snoop concert, and all of his American dvd's about rappers. I also get to look at his fanbook about Barack Obama. I made up a lie about having homework, and came upstairs to my apartment.
Now we rewind... Friday I went to the Louvre with the UVA girls. I suggested that we go to the part of the museum called "Sully". Diana then responded "Becca, we can't just go to that part because you like the main character from Monsters Inc." I quickly denied these accusations...although they may be somewhat true. They opened up an exhibit of the original walls of the Louvre. A contemporary artist wrote French poetry in neon lights on the walls to show a contrast between the old walls and the new inspirations of the Louvre. The phrases I could understand were very cool. We're all nerds and read basically every informational plaque on the wall. As a result, we only made it through about five rooms at the Louvre before it closed. Once we got outside, I directed the group towards the outside courtyard of the Louvre. We almost got run over because I failed to notice the "Interdit Pietons" at that doorway and the trail of tourists walking through the other entrance that wasn't a major traffic center.
Saturday I met with Steven's family right outside of Paris. I joined them for a beautiful lunch at their house which began with great white wine and appetizers. It then moved to great red wine and the entrees. And ended with cafe de marron (french people love love love their espresso. Apparently the spokesperson for Nespresso here is George Cloony and French women love him), a beautiful cheese plate, and macaroons. We then drove about ten minutes to Chateau de Malmaison (passing the forests of Versailles on the way...naturally). The Chateau once housed Napoleon and his wife Josephine following his return from Egypt. The rooms were very beautiful, but the best part was the top floor of the mansion. It held very detailed records of every type of wine that was purchased for the house. Jean Marie also taught me the different words for glasses to drink from. I didn't understand the difference between vert(the color green) and verre(a glass to drink from). A random old French woman listening in to our conversations then decided to give me her own little lesson and very shortly told me (in french) "the glass IS NOT THE COLOR!" I politely thanked her, and then very quickly walked away. I also saw a huge beer mug that once belonged to Napoleon. It is about the size of a liter, and if you go to Germany and order this mug they will bring you that much beer for one person (I would most closely relate it to ordering a pitcher for yourself at a bar). We then went to walk around St. Germain near the chateau, and stopped for a warm drink at a cafe. The cafe was absolutely beautiful with embroidered tableclothes, and very detailed china. The cafe owner knew Steven's family very well, and they talked about politics and current events. At one point I thought the owner went on a rant about Russian prostitutes which I thought I misunderstood, but Coraline (Steven's cousin who speaks English) translated their conversation for me and sure enough I was right. We then went out to dinner at a famous restaurant called Le Restaurant de la Maison Fournaise. I've included a link to make this blog more interactive! http://www.restaurant-fournaise.fr/ For those of you who are too lazy to read the website, this restaurant was featured in a famous Renoir painting found at the National Gallery in D.C. This was also a place that many famous impressionist artists would come to paint pictures of people boating in the summertime. There's even a boat in the water nearby where artists come today to paint. I ordered duck (and I had it cooked rare like the French do). Before telling him, the waiter asked if I wanted my duck well done. I answered non, Merci and Coraline gets hers well done. The waiter thought that was great and then asked her if she was sure she wanted her duck "cooked American?" I wanted to shout "this American understands French...tu comprends?" Instead I shrugged it off, and enjoyed my dish because you could never get it cooked this way in the states. I guess he had some truth in his joke.
Later that night at Gulfem's birthday After dinner, Jean Marie drives me back to the apartment. This way I get to see Paris in a car which is completely different than going across town in the smelly metro. The L'Arc de Triumphe is lit up, and we drive down the Champs Elysses while drunk students are making out in the middle of the street. I meet the rest of the group, and we go to the euro shot bar for Gulfem's celebrations. After accidently taking a group's table (which almost ended in a West Side Story brawl...only there was no snapping and everyone spoke French...and no physical violence...actually it's nothing like West Side Story), the Americans finally win and we get to keep our spot. I then politely ask the gentlemen next to us to slide over a bit so we can fit everyone in the booth...bad decision. Thus begins long conversations with creepy French men. One of them has baby arms and resembles Judy from SNL. Again I insert a clip that only Americans can see (you can't stream American tv shows in France), to make this more interactive. http://www.hulu.com/watch/73360/saturday-night-live-lawrence-welk One of them asks for my number, so I told them in my very best French that "I don't give my number to people, and my heart belongs to Diana (who is sitting next to me)". They ask if we're lesbians, so I very obviously and sarcastically respond "of course." Then Mr. Hair Gel Short Arms yells "lesbians!!!" at the top of his lungs to the whole bar. Luckily it's a very classy establishment, and no one hears him. He then gets confused about why we stopped talking to him....he's a keeper. We then head to a bar near the Opera, where there is a huge dance floor with lazer lights and very drunk Europeans. It's a big sausage fest, so we decide to sit at the bar. Every time I looked around a very short, old man was standing behind me. He started to dance on my leg, and our Australian friend Lucy calls him a Leprochaun. Normally I would be upset about my friend using inappropriate name calling to "short people", but this guy definitely deserved it. He stopped creeping after that. We couldn't get a taxi home, so naturally we waited at the bar until the metro opened again at 6. The next morning at 6 at the metro... Random guy comes up to us and asks us where we're from in America. We've had this same conversation literally 20 times that day, and we don't feel like doing it again. He walks away, and I am then informed that he was smoking weed 6 inches away from me and I had no idea. I then look around the metro stop and everyone is smoking marijuana and eating crepes. We then proceed to pass out for the next twelve hours at the apartment.
Yesterday I had my first class yesterday. My teacher's second language is English, so she speaks very slowly. It's awesome because it gives me time to take notes and try to keep up with all of the political sociology that my peers are babbling about. The teacher then asks who knows the definition of "outsourcing". Some random girl in the class gives a horrible definition, and then the teacher is super proud and asks where she would have learned about that kind of thing. The comm school would have been very disappointed in me for not raising my hand. Especially since that's probably the only question I'll be able to answer for the entire semester. We also go around the room and tell the class where we're from and why we're here. When I said UVA, my professor asked me to talk about the campus since it's so beautiful. I got really giddy and rambled about the lawn and Thomas Jefferson and how much I love my school. I got all warm and fuzzy, and everyone in the class was smiling at me, and it was pretty awesome.
Today I had my first French language class. My metro line broke down on the way, and I had to make two more line changes in order to get to my class. Unfortunately I couldn't understand the public service announcements telling me to get off the metro. I then had to ask a random woman on my car for help. I was twenty minutes late, but my teacher was very understanding. She's a little spacey I think. She kept referring to the other absent girl as Rebecca. Finally I just asked her if there was another Rebecca in the class. She then told me that she thought I was Evelyn the whole time (the other missing girl who didn't have metro problems), even though she had discussed ways to say "the metro broke down" in French and had been calling on me during class.
We learned important French phrases to ask for help. One of them was asking for a light for your cigarette. She then polled the class to see who smoked. One girl said she only smokes when she drinks. Our teacher then replied that they can be a great combination! Only in France.... We then reviewed the alphabet, and most people couldn't do it. I think I may need to move to the next level.
Whew I'm done. In this process I have finished my second jar of nutella with pretzels. I would say that is a successful blog post. Pictures are coming soon!
