In the month of December, I have gone to an aquarium, a musical, and a play. The aquarium was actually an aquarium, a movie theater, an art gallery, and a TV station (well a green screen!) all in one. The musical was Mozart l'Opéra Rock and reminded me a lot of Mamma Mia. The play was at school, put on by French students, and very entertaining. While I am still very entertained by Paris in general (the people, the métro, the Frenchness, realizing that I think in French a lot now), I'm realizing what else I could be missing here in the way of entertainment--especially now that it's cold out and I don't feel the need to walk around outside all day every day anymore!
The Aquarium de Paris is "bien plus qu'un aquarium" (much more than an aquarium!) and includes Cinéaqua, which is a movie theater. My friend Katie and I spent five hours maybe more inside the aquarium/movie theater on a cold December day. We saw Nemo-like fish and seahorses, petted koi, looked at many artists' interpretations of Disney princesses, watched the movie Christmas with the Kranks dubbed in French, and took pictures in the green screen room. The green screen was probably our favorite part because we got to run from a dinosaur, have a dance party, and do the weather! It reminded me of third grade (I think) when I visited Kare11 with the Girl Scouts of Troop 397 and we met Belinda Jensen and saw that the weather map was not actually on the screen behind her...blew my mind then and it still does!
I didn't know what I was getting myself into with the musical Mozart L'Opera Rock, but I went one night with ISA. It turned out to be the story of Mozart's life set against a modern, colorful background with very sparkly costumes. It was described to me as kind of like Mamma Mia and it lived up to that description except not too much because I actually liked it! Now that I think of it, it was kind of Cirque du Soleil-esque. There was very little dialogue in between the loud, excited, almost yelled songs. The songs were kind of hard to follow sometimes, but the story was about Mozart's life and loves and music. It was so fast-paced and exciting, what's not to like? No one in the group liked it except me.
Finally, I saw a play at the Catho done by French students and a Venezuelan student who's in one of my classes! It included many short scenes of Shakespeare, Molière, and other great playwrights. It even had "La Cigale et La Fourmi," a story by Jean de la Fontaine based on Aesop's fable, which we happened to be talking about in one of my classes. I am definitely une cigale because I don't plan my life ahead of time! I gotta work on that! My favorite part was probably when all of the characters in one of the stories started singing Hakuna Matata! I'm not really sure how it related to anything, but it's a good song to live by!
It has also been kind of a sad time because everyone is leaving Paris, not to mention everyone is going back to DU from all over the world. ISA had a farewell tea party where there was no tea just champagne! It was fun to see people who I hadn't seen in a while and to say goodbye to my friends who I might not have seen otherwise. I hadn't seen some people since Morocco. I even got a kind of normal, kind of good picture of my friend Casey and me. We were roommates in Morocco, and she thinks I'm really weird, and we live like a block away from each other in Paris (well except that Paris doesn't have blocks but you know) and I tried to visit her once but her house doesn't have a doorbell so long story short, I hadn't seen her in a long time! Hahaha I miss Morocco and Morocco people! Now almost everyone is back in the States safe and sound except me and I'm on break in Paris for two weeks! Ok so another blog including Christmas-y stuff and break stuff is coming before the month--and year!--is over!
Monday, December 27, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
lots of random stories to tell now that i only blog twice a month
After raining for a straight week after I got back from Morocco, Paris made up for it with some sunny days, some rainbows, and even snow! Since I've been back in Paris, I've been constantly reminded of why I love it here...mostly whenever I do something they do in my favorite movie ever, Paris, Je T'aime. On a sunny day, I visited Père Lachaise Cemetery, which they visit in the movie and where many famous people are buried, including Oscar Wilde and Jim Morrison. There are also many Emilie's (spelled right, the French way!) and even a Weiller (with two l's, but it was the closest I found!) buried there. It is a beautiful cemetery, and I was more reminded more of life than I was of death. It made for a lovely day of walking down the cobblestone paths in the cemetery with some of my friends. The only problem is that I've had a sore throat and a cold ever since I kissed Oscar Wilde's grave. Hmm, probably not a good idea, but totally worth it! I also realized that I like the daily life in Paris as much as or more than I like the tourist attractions, and the things that make it the City of Lights and the City of Love. Like, please, Americans on the metro, please don't think you can pull off PDA like Parisians. You can't! Hahaha.
Speaking of Parisians, I went to see some very Parisian entertainment in the last few weeks, including a show called How to Become Parisian in One Hour, which was stand-up comedy by a guy named Olivier, which happens to be one of my favorite French names. I think everyone in the packed, 200-seat theater laughed for the entire hour! I can't give away the jokes, but let's just say I'll never think of my Navigo pass the same way again! I also went to the famous Parisian cabaret, Lapin Agile. It was not what I expected, but it was more than three hours of accordion-playing, piano-playing, guitar-playing, comedy, and singing along. I even understood some of the jokes, which included les jeux de mot (puns) en francais! We sang along to songs like "Sur le Pont d'Avignon" and "Alouette." I also made it to one of my favorite places in Paris for the first time on this trip--Centre Pompidou! The modern art, the building itself, and the view of Paris from the top floor still amaze me.
Even fire drills are better in France. I say this because they are very different than American fire drills and very entertaining to watch. The fire alarm went off about fifteen minutes before the end of one of my classes. Instead of getting up and out of the building as quickly as possible, as I have been taught to do ever since I was in kindergarten, we sat there for a while to make sure what we were hearing in our basement classroom was actually the fire alarm, were assigned our homework for the next class, packed up all of our things, and put on our coats and scarves before we walked at a normal or even slow pace up the stairs and out the door. Outside, French students on the sidewalk and in the street were talking, smoking, and having a good old time, all in very close proximity to the building, which could have been on fire for all we knew. It was just a drill, but there were real firemen there, and even they laughed as they announced on a loud speaker how long it took everyone to get out of the building. I left after a few minutes of standing outside and talking, but I wonder how long it went on like this and what would happen if there was a real fire. I'm guessing teachers wouldn't stay in the building, stick their heads out the third floor windows, and talk to the people standing in the street, but who knows?
It's starting to feel like the holiday season in Paris. It snowed on Thanksgiving and the day after Thanksgiving (no signs of Black Friday shopping here!), and I've seen my first Christmas lights strung across the streets and Christmas trees for sale. In a country that has no reason to celebrate Thanksgiving, it was hard to resist skipping right to Christmas. But luckily, I was very patriotic and had not one but two Thanksgivings! I went out to dinner with ISA at a French restaurant that tried its best at cooking an American Thanksgiving dinner for all of us American students. They had turkey, which is very hard to find in France, and all the essentials like cranberries and green beans. The mashed potatoes were actually mashed sweet potatoes or yams (I still don't know the difference), and the lack of stuffing was very distressing for some people, but the worst part was probably that what we originally thought was stuffing--the mixture of gravy and turkey parts or giblets or something--is still unidentified. But still, it was a great substitute when we couldn't have Thanksgiving at home, complete with the closest thing I have to a family here. My second Thanksgiving was the next night when I attempted to cook, if you can call it that, Thanksgiving dinner at my friend Chelsea's apartment. We had a rotisserie chicken instead of turkey, boxed mashed potatoes (for the first time in my life so a learning experience and pretty good after all!), cranberries and gravy from the Thanksgiving store that was sold out of everything else on the day after Thanksgiving (makes sense!), green beans, risotto, apple pie, chocolate cake, and wine. Again, stuffing was nowhere to be found, but we decided that with a crusty baguette and the right spices, it could be possible in the future. So even if we didn't really "cook," we did the best we could with Chelsea's tiny, ovenless kitchen and a country full of people who cannot appreciate the concept of Thanksgiving ingredients. With another American, Vanessa, and Chelsea's French friends, Mickael and Elsa, we had a very multicultural Thanksgiving. We even went around the table (well, couch) and said what we are thankful for, probably my favorite part of Thanksgiving.
I'm thankful for my host family. The Faures have been nothing but nice to me, if not in the sense of Minnesota nice. After not really doing anything for my birthday (I thought), they had a surprise for me one night about three weeks later after dinner. They turned out the lights, told me there was something more for dessert than just the usual yogurt/pudding/cheese, and came in with a cake with a singing candle and presents. They gave me two books from Fnac, one about famous people in French history and one about famous places in France--a very thoughtful gift for someone of my French reading level! And Arnaud was home for the weekend, so it was a family affair! Another weekend, I went with Madame, Laurene, and Victor to the movies to see Les Hommes et Les Dieux, a very serious movie that I could not have handled when I was nine like Laurene is now. It was in French (of course!) but not too hard to understand because there was just as much pausing and contemplative staring as there was dialogue. I recommend it, but it was very somber and disturbing. Good thing we went to MacDo (McDonald's for you non-Francophones), got takeout, and played with Laurene's Happy Meal toy after the movie!
I've also started to watch TV with the family sometimes. My new favorite show is probably the reality show where French kids compete to be the next Michael Jackson. If trying to find the next Michael Jackson on a reality show isn't funny enough, imagine French seven-year-olds singing his songs (not even in their first language!), moonwalking, dressing like him, and singing like him. It's adorable. I'm not even a big Michael Jackson fan, but I love this show. I've also heard Michael Jackson songs blasting from upstairs sometimes when I don't know who's up there. I'm starting to worry about how much this family actually loves Michael Jackson...
In other news, I successfully made my first phone call in French and typed so much on French keyboards that now I get confused when I try to type on American keyboards. That's progress, right? I also looked up so many words in my four-year-old French dictionary that I got for the first time I came to France that the spine is starting to rip. I almost cried. When I'm not studying hard (as hard as necessary for fake abroad school!), I'm finding all of the Christmas music on my computer and starting to listen to it. Easier said than done when I can't just go up to the attic at home and find the box of Christmas CDs. Is it weird that it wouldn't feel like Christmas to me without Trailer Trash?
Speaking of Parisians, I went to see some very Parisian entertainment in the last few weeks, including a show called How to Become Parisian in One Hour, which was stand-up comedy by a guy named Olivier, which happens to be one of my favorite French names. I think everyone in the packed, 200-seat theater laughed for the entire hour! I can't give away the jokes, but let's just say I'll never think of my Navigo pass the same way again! I also went to the famous Parisian cabaret, Lapin Agile. It was not what I expected, but it was more than three hours of accordion-playing, piano-playing, guitar-playing, comedy, and singing along. I even understood some of the jokes, which included les jeux de mot (puns) en francais! We sang along to songs like "Sur le Pont d'Avignon" and "Alouette." I also made it to one of my favorite places in Paris for the first time on this trip--Centre Pompidou! The modern art, the building itself, and the view of Paris from the top floor still amaze me.
Even fire drills are better in France. I say this because they are very different than American fire drills and very entertaining to watch. The fire alarm went off about fifteen minutes before the end of one of my classes. Instead of getting up and out of the building as quickly as possible, as I have been taught to do ever since I was in kindergarten, we sat there for a while to make sure what we were hearing in our basement classroom was actually the fire alarm, were assigned our homework for the next class, packed up all of our things, and put on our coats and scarves before we walked at a normal or even slow pace up the stairs and out the door. Outside, French students on the sidewalk and in the street were talking, smoking, and having a good old time, all in very close proximity to the building, which could have been on fire for all we knew. It was just a drill, but there were real firemen there, and even they laughed as they announced on a loud speaker how long it took everyone to get out of the building. I left after a few minutes of standing outside and talking, but I wonder how long it went on like this and what would happen if there was a real fire. I'm guessing teachers wouldn't stay in the building, stick their heads out the third floor windows, and talk to the people standing in the street, but who knows?
It's starting to feel like the holiday season in Paris. It snowed on Thanksgiving and the day after Thanksgiving (no signs of Black Friday shopping here!), and I've seen my first Christmas lights strung across the streets and Christmas trees for sale. In a country that has no reason to celebrate Thanksgiving, it was hard to resist skipping right to Christmas. But luckily, I was very patriotic and had not one but two Thanksgivings! I went out to dinner with ISA at a French restaurant that tried its best at cooking an American Thanksgiving dinner for all of us American students. They had turkey, which is very hard to find in France, and all the essentials like cranberries and green beans. The mashed potatoes were actually mashed sweet potatoes or yams (I still don't know the difference), and the lack of stuffing was very distressing for some people, but the worst part was probably that what we originally thought was stuffing--the mixture of gravy and turkey parts or giblets or something--is still unidentified. But still, it was a great substitute when we couldn't have Thanksgiving at home, complete with the closest thing I have to a family here. My second Thanksgiving was the next night when I attempted to cook, if you can call it that, Thanksgiving dinner at my friend Chelsea's apartment. We had a rotisserie chicken instead of turkey, boxed mashed potatoes (for the first time in my life so a learning experience and pretty good after all!), cranberries and gravy from the Thanksgiving store that was sold out of everything else on the day after Thanksgiving (makes sense!), green beans, risotto, apple pie, chocolate cake, and wine. Again, stuffing was nowhere to be found, but we decided that with a crusty baguette and the right spices, it could be possible in the future. So even if we didn't really "cook," we did the best we could with Chelsea's tiny, ovenless kitchen and a country full of people who cannot appreciate the concept of Thanksgiving ingredients. With another American, Vanessa, and Chelsea's French friends, Mickael and Elsa, we had a very multicultural Thanksgiving. We even went around the table (well, couch) and said what we are thankful for, probably my favorite part of Thanksgiving.
I'm thankful for my host family. The Faures have been nothing but nice to me, if not in the sense of Minnesota nice. After not really doing anything for my birthday (I thought), they had a surprise for me one night about three weeks later after dinner. They turned out the lights, told me there was something more for dessert than just the usual yogurt/pudding/cheese, and came in with a cake with a singing candle and presents. They gave me two books from Fnac, one about famous people in French history and one about famous places in France--a very thoughtful gift for someone of my French reading level! And Arnaud was home for the weekend, so it was a family affair! Another weekend, I went with Madame, Laurene, and Victor to the movies to see Les Hommes et Les Dieux, a very serious movie that I could not have handled when I was nine like Laurene is now. It was in French (of course!) but not too hard to understand because there was just as much pausing and contemplative staring as there was dialogue. I recommend it, but it was very somber and disturbing. Good thing we went to MacDo (McDonald's for you non-Francophones), got takeout, and played with Laurene's Happy Meal toy after the movie!
I've also started to watch TV with the family sometimes. My new favorite show is probably the reality show where French kids compete to be the next Michael Jackson. If trying to find the next Michael Jackson on a reality show isn't funny enough, imagine French seven-year-olds singing his songs (not even in their first language!), moonwalking, dressing like him, and singing like him. It's adorable. I'm not even a big Michael Jackson fan, but I love this show. I've also heard Michael Jackson songs blasting from upstairs sometimes when I don't know who's up there. I'm starting to worry about how much this family actually loves Michael Jackson...
In other news, I successfully made my first phone call in French and typed so much on French keyboards that now I get confused when I try to type on American keyboards. That's progress, right? I also looked up so many words in my four-year-old French dictionary that I got for the first time I came to France that the spine is starting to rip. I almost cried. When I'm not studying hard (as hard as necessary for fake abroad school!), I'm finding all of the Christmas music on my computer and starting to listen to it. Easier said than done when I can't just go up to the attic at home and find the box of Christmas CDs. Is it weird that it wouldn't feel like Christmas to me without Trailer Trash?
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
"i'm in morocco! i'm in morocco! i'm in morocco!"
This was my favorite line last week when I was, in fact, in Morocco. It was the reason why I could not sleep at night even though I was sooo tired. It was the reason I got one of my many new nicknames from the trip, Dory. Like the fish in Finding Nemo with short term memory loss who is always way too excited about everything? Ya that was me. It probably didn't help that I wore a blue sweatshirt for almost the whole trip so I even looked like Dory.
I was in Morocco all of last week for fall break. I was picked up by a shuttle at approximately 4:30 in the morning on Halloween and on a plane to Casablanca at 7:25. I sat across the aisle from Gabriel, the French/Greek guy who leads the trip and was born in Morocco and named Casablanca's Most Beautiful Baby in 1956, the year of Morocco's independence. He also wore a sleeping mask on the flight, and don't worry I got pictures. He was a great tour guide/Arabic teacher/Franglais speaker! The only problem is it's impossible to tell when he's joking, but that just makes it more entertaining.
We landed in Casablanca at about 8:30 in the morning with the time difference, and it was cloudy and raining. It's not supposed to rain in Africa! But the later part of the trip in the Sahara Desert during which I saw three tiny white clouds in three whole days made up for it! We got on a bus and drove around a lot of Casablanca, including la mosquée Hassan II, a big, beautiful mosque on the coast right next to a rocky beach. We had to take our shoes off in certain parts of the mosque, we saw where the men and the women pray separately, and we went on a guided tour that was scheduled in between the five times a day when thousands of Muslims come to pray. We saw the public baths in the basement of the mosque that have never been used but are meant to symbolize the ritual washing before prayer in the religion of Islam and the social aspect of the mosque. Then we got on the bus and drove three or four hours to Fès, where we stayed in a four star hotel.
The next day, we visited the medina in Fès. The word medina means "city" or "town," and medinas like the one in Fès actually were the whole city hundreds of years ago. Today, the medina is a never-ending maze of dirt roads that go uphill and downhill and open up into everything from dirt-floored stands to modern-looking stores full of hand-woven Moroccan rugs and Moroccan spices. We visited a rug shop, a spice shop, a clothing store, a tannery, and a textile shop, all with owners who seemed to be personal friends of Gabriel, or at least very friendly. We were offered amazing mint tea with real mint leaves at almost all of our stops. Sometimes it was easy to forget that we were in an ancient medina with dirt paths and donkeys and cats wandering around outside. Everyone was very persistent about selling their products, but I got out of there after spending only a few dirhams on green lipstick (no really!) in a green tube that turns incredibly pink when you put it on your skin or lips. You have to see this to believe it. Barbie pink is the best way I can describe it. Somewhere between all of the shopping and tea-drinking, we had lunch in a restaurant hidden in the medina. We sat at two big tables surrounded by benches covered in pillows and cushions. We were lucky to have a guy name Brent on the trip who is studying at another school in Paris, and his brother Brian who is currently in the Peace Corps in Morocco joined us for the day. He showed us how Moroccans eat out of one big plate in the middle of the table usually with only their hands. He demonstrated how to eat couscous by rolling it into a ball and eating it gracefully out of your hand. It looks like it takes a lot of practice, and most of us chose to use utensils. After the medina, we visited a place where they make pottery. We saw every step of the process, including forming the pots on a pottery wheel, painting them, and firing them in kilns. Then we had a chance to buy some of the gorgeous finished pottery and tiles, but I restrained myself. That night, we went to a traditional folk show, complete with belly dancers, drummers, wine, and audience participation.
On our third day in Morocco, we went to the desert, which is what I was the most excited for! After a looong bus ride, we got in jeep 4 x 4's with guys who can only be described as VERY experienced desert drivers and left civilization. It was kind of sad to leave Fès because the king was coming! Everyone in Morocco loves the king, and he makes time to visit many of the cities and towns regularly. When he comes to town, everything is cleaned up and all of the people wait outside for him to make a short speech. During our bus ride, there were guards standing every 200 meters for 65 kilometers on the road we were taking out of Fès, according to Gabriel. They were everywhere! Then we stopped somewhere on the side of the road, got into four jeeps, and were driven into the middle of the desert as the sun went down. By the time we stopped, the sky was completely dark and the stars were starting to come out. I still don't understand how the drivers knew where they were going with no signs, no roads, and even no marked paths. Turn right at the third tumbleweed? Turn left after the first dramatic dip in the ground? And they took four completely different paths, I think to avoid the blinding dust their tires kicked up. I was très impressed!...almost as impressed as I was by the place where we had just arrived. It was completely in the middle of nowhere. Besides a few tents, there were only sand dunes as far as you could see. Well, it was dark. Maybe you couldn't see yet. But there were soooooo many stars. There were probably as many shooting stars as I have ever seen in my life. It seemed that every time I looked up, or even just straight in front of me while standing on top of a dune, I saw one. I made plenty of wishes. We went to sleep in the tents. And by tents, I mean the nicest tents I've ever seen with carpets and mattresses and light bulbs! So maybe it wasn't exactly camping, but it was a really nice place to sleep when you have to get up at 4 the next morning!
That's right, we got up at around 4 to walk to the best sunrise-watching dune we could find with the help of our guides who seem to know each dune by heart. The moon was up after being nowhere to be found when we went to bed, and we watched it disappear as the sky turned from black to orange to yellow to blue. It was cold, and we were tired, but it was sooo worth it! Then we spent the day riding camels, climbing dunes, and visiting a little village full of really cute Moroccan kids! I rode two different camels and was on and off camels three times. I think that's enough for a few years, but it was so much fun! The camels had names like Michael Jackson, Bob Marley, Ba-hello (that's the phonetic spelling of course), and Jubbaly Hubbaly (no idea how to spell or pronounce that one anymore!). We spent the rest of the day walking around the dunes, climbing them, running down them, and snowboarding down them (well, some of us did). With my complete lack of snowboarding skill in the past, I just watched and attempted to photograph the boys in action. I also walked around barefoot A LOT. Gabriel told us not to because of the scorpions, but then the Moroccan guys told that all of the scorpions live on the other side of the mountains in Algeria, so I felt a lot better. We could see ALGERIA! At this point, I still could not even believe I was in Africa, let alone so close to another African country! After another night in the desert of almost no sleep because I was so excited, I saw most of the sunrise again (not the 4am part, but closer to the 7am part), and it was almost time to get back in the jeeps to go back to the bus and back to real towns and real cities. The drive in the 4x4's looked completely different in the daylight, but it was still cloudless. I miss the desert.
The rest of the trip was mostly driving on the bus and taking in the changing landscapes. Some of it reminded me of driving through Iowa and Nebraska, only more interesting because it's AFRICA!...and there are sheep everywhere instead of cows. Other parts of it reminded me of driving through the narrow, winding roads in the mountains of Colorado. There were even mountains with snow on them in the distance! We made one very important stop between the desert, the hotel in Meknès for the last night, and the airport in Casablanca. We stopped to feed the monkeys! I only saw two or three monkeys compared to the hundreds that supposedly come out sometimes, but one took a banana right out of my hand! While I was wondering if I should peel it and how much monkeys really even like bananas, he had it out of my hand, out of the peel, and gone in about five seconds. It was so cool! I just wish I had time to take a picture.
I miss Morocco! Especially since it has been raining and gray in Paris ever since I got back. But it's still Paris! And now it's Paris with some new goals--journal more (like I kind of started to in Africa), take more pictures, actually learn about photography, go back to Africa, and go to all of the continents (3 down, 4 to go!). I'm so happy to be back in Paris, but Morocco was probably the best week ever. I still can't believe it. I was in Morocco! I was in Morocco! I was in Morocco!
I was in Morocco all of last week for fall break. I was picked up by a shuttle at approximately 4:30 in the morning on Halloween and on a plane to Casablanca at 7:25. I sat across the aisle from Gabriel, the French/Greek guy who leads the trip and was born in Morocco and named Casablanca's Most Beautiful Baby in 1956, the year of Morocco's independence. He also wore a sleeping mask on the flight, and don't worry I got pictures. He was a great tour guide/Arabic teacher/Franglais speaker! The only problem is it's impossible to tell when he's joking, but that just makes it more entertaining.
We landed in Casablanca at about 8:30 in the morning with the time difference, and it was cloudy and raining. It's not supposed to rain in Africa! But the later part of the trip in the Sahara Desert during which I saw three tiny white clouds in three whole days made up for it! We got on a bus and drove around a lot of Casablanca, including la mosquée Hassan II, a big, beautiful mosque on the coast right next to a rocky beach. We had to take our shoes off in certain parts of the mosque, we saw where the men and the women pray separately, and we went on a guided tour that was scheduled in between the five times a day when thousands of Muslims come to pray. We saw the public baths in the basement of the mosque that have never been used but are meant to symbolize the ritual washing before prayer in the religion of Islam and the social aspect of the mosque. Then we got on the bus and drove three or four hours to Fès, where we stayed in a four star hotel.
The next day, we visited the medina in Fès. The word medina means "city" or "town," and medinas like the one in Fès actually were the whole city hundreds of years ago. Today, the medina is a never-ending maze of dirt roads that go uphill and downhill and open up into everything from dirt-floored stands to modern-looking stores full of hand-woven Moroccan rugs and Moroccan spices. We visited a rug shop, a spice shop, a clothing store, a tannery, and a textile shop, all with owners who seemed to be personal friends of Gabriel, or at least very friendly. We were offered amazing mint tea with real mint leaves at almost all of our stops. Sometimes it was easy to forget that we were in an ancient medina with dirt paths and donkeys and cats wandering around outside. Everyone was very persistent about selling their products, but I got out of there after spending only a few dirhams on green lipstick (no really!) in a green tube that turns incredibly pink when you put it on your skin or lips. You have to see this to believe it. Barbie pink is the best way I can describe it. Somewhere between all of the shopping and tea-drinking, we had lunch in a restaurant hidden in the medina. We sat at two big tables surrounded by benches covered in pillows and cushions. We were lucky to have a guy name Brent on the trip who is studying at another school in Paris, and his brother Brian who is currently in the Peace Corps in Morocco joined us for the day. He showed us how Moroccans eat out of one big plate in the middle of the table usually with only their hands. He demonstrated how to eat couscous by rolling it into a ball and eating it gracefully out of your hand. It looks like it takes a lot of practice, and most of us chose to use utensils. After the medina, we visited a place where they make pottery. We saw every step of the process, including forming the pots on a pottery wheel, painting them, and firing them in kilns. Then we had a chance to buy some of the gorgeous finished pottery and tiles, but I restrained myself. That night, we went to a traditional folk show, complete with belly dancers, drummers, wine, and audience participation.
On our third day in Morocco, we went to the desert, which is what I was the most excited for! After a looong bus ride, we got in jeep 4 x 4's with guys who can only be described as VERY experienced desert drivers and left civilization. It was kind of sad to leave Fès because the king was coming! Everyone in Morocco loves the king, and he makes time to visit many of the cities and towns regularly. When he comes to town, everything is cleaned up and all of the people wait outside for him to make a short speech. During our bus ride, there were guards standing every 200 meters for 65 kilometers on the road we were taking out of Fès, according to Gabriel. They were everywhere! Then we stopped somewhere on the side of the road, got into four jeeps, and were driven into the middle of the desert as the sun went down. By the time we stopped, the sky was completely dark and the stars were starting to come out. I still don't understand how the drivers knew where they were going with no signs, no roads, and even no marked paths. Turn right at the third tumbleweed? Turn left after the first dramatic dip in the ground? And they took four completely different paths, I think to avoid the blinding dust their tires kicked up. I was très impressed!...almost as impressed as I was by the place where we had just arrived. It was completely in the middle of nowhere. Besides a few tents, there were only sand dunes as far as you could see. Well, it was dark. Maybe you couldn't see yet. But there were soooooo many stars. There were probably as many shooting stars as I have ever seen in my life. It seemed that every time I looked up, or even just straight in front of me while standing on top of a dune, I saw one. I made plenty of wishes. We went to sleep in the tents. And by tents, I mean the nicest tents I've ever seen with carpets and mattresses and light bulbs! So maybe it wasn't exactly camping, but it was a really nice place to sleep when you have to get up at 4 the next morning!
That's right, we got up at around 4 to walk to the best sunrise-watching dune we could find with the help of our guides who seem to know each dune by heart. The moon was up after being nowhere to be found when we went to bed, and we watched it disappear as the sky turned from black to orange to yellow to blue. It was cold, and we were tired, but it was sooo worth it! Then we spent the day riding camels, climbing dunes, and visiting a little village full of really cute Moroccan kids! I rode two different camels and was on and off camels three times. I think that's enough for a few years, but it was so much fun! The camels had names like Michael Jackson, Bob Marley, Ba-hello (that's the phonetic spelling of course), and Jubbaly Hubbaly (no idea how to spell or pronounce that one anymore!). We spent the rest of the day walking around the dunes, climbing them, running down them, and snowboarding down them (well, some of us did). With my complete lack of snowboarding skill in the past, I just watched and attempted to photograph the boys in action. I also walked around barefoot A LOT. Gabriel told us not to because of the scorpions, but then the Moroccan guys told that all of the scorpions live on the other side of the mountains in Algeria, so I felt a lot better. We could see ALGERIA! At this point, I still could not even believe I was in Africa, let alone so close to another African country! After another night in the desert of almost no sleep because I was so excited, I saw most of the sunrise again (not the 4am part, but closer to the 7am part), and it was almost time to get back in the jeeps to go back to the bus and back to real towns and real cities. The drive in the 4x4's looked completely different in the daylight, but it was still cloudless. I miss the desert.
The rest of the trip was mostly driving on the bus and taking in the changing landscapes. Some of it reminded me of driving through Iowa and Nebraska, only more interesting because it's AFRICA!...and there are sheep everywhere instead of cows. Other parts of it reminded me of driving through the narrow, winding roads in the mountains of Colorado. There were even mountains with snow on them in the distance! We made one very important stop between the desert, the hotel in Meknès for the last night, and the airport in Casablanca. We stopped to feed the monkeys! I only saw two or three monkeys compared to the hundreds that supposedly come out sometimes, but one took a banana right out of my hand! While I was wondering if I should peel it and how much monkeys really even like bananas, he had it out of my hand, out of the peel, and gone in about five seconds. It was so cool! I just wish I had time to take a picture.
I miss Morocco! Especially since it has been raining and gray in Paris ever since I got back. But it's still Paris! And now it's Paris with some new goals--journal more (like I kind of started to in Africa), take more pictures, actually learn about photography, go back to Africa, and go to all of the continents (3 down, 4 to go!). I'm so happy to be back in Paris, but Morocco was probably the best week ever. I still can't believe it. I was in Morocco! I was in Morocco! I was in Morocco!
Friday, October 29, 2010
old lady status
This is my first blog post as a 21-year-old. Exciting, huh? Not really when you're in a country where you can drink practically since you are born. Anyway, it was a happy birthday thanks to all the love from home and all my new friends here! I like making new year's resolutions on my birthday instead of on the actual new year. This year's? Write something in this blog once a week...except maybe next week when I'm in Morocco and internetless. And hopefully make each post shorter and less rambly. We'll see how this goes.
In the last three weeks, I have experienced French strikes, travelled to Normandy and Mont St Michel, had arguably the best hot chocolate in the world, and gone to a French futbol game to cheer on les Bleus. The night of the soccer game, I was out with my friend Ryanne and some other girls from DU who were visiting from London. It was great to see them and to meet some of them, but by the time Ryanne and I found the metro and I got to the Stade de France, it was halftime. You wouldn't have known it from the roar of the crowd I could hear from the metro station, which was several blocks away. I didn't even have to wonder which way to go to find this place outside of Paris which I had never been to in my life. I just followed the sound of 80,000 cheering fans. Keep in mind, this was only halftime. The second half of the game was very exciting, with France scoring once in the last five minutes and again in the last minute of the game to beat Romania 2-0 and move on in the 2012 Euro Cup qualifiers. A text from my friend Lauren on my way to the stadium summed it up pretty well with something like, "If anyone gives you any trouble, 'allez les bleus!' seems to be a pretty solid line."
The next weekend, I went on an excursion with ISA to Normandy and Mont St Michel. We visited the Memorial de Caen, the American Cemetery, Omaha Beach, and Pointe de Hoc. I never thought I would be so interested in history in my life. I think I learned more about World War II in those few hours than I ever did in any of my history classes. It was so amazing to walk along Omaha Beach and see how serene and beautiful it is today knowing what happened there so many years ago. It looks like any other beach I've ever been to, and it's hard to believe it all connects to the same ocean. I said hi to you all in America on the other side. The next day, we went to Mont St Michel, the famous abbey surrounded by its own kind of ocean--quicksand! It was a lot of stairs but worth it since it's the most visited monument in France after the Eiffel Tower.
The best hot chocolate in the world is at a chocolaterie/boulangerie/salon de thé across the street from the Tuileries called Angelina. It comes from North Africa, and it is the chocolatiest, meltiest hot chocolate you will ever have in your life. Angelina is a beautiful tea room close to the Louvre that feels oh so Parisian. The walls are covered in murals, the ceiling is rimmed with gold, and the tables are the little round kind you see outside cafes all over Paris. I went to Angelina with two friends from one of my classes, British Matt and another Emily from Chicago. We discussed books, movies, and photography (en francais!), all while looking out for celebrities and models, the kinds of people rumored to frequent this place. It was all very classy.
I guess the memory of Angelina has to make up for missing the other very sophisticated and tasteful event I was looking forward to. As I started writing this last night, I was supposed to be all dressed up at the Opera Garnier watching the ballet Paquita. But, in France, ballerinas go on strike too!
In the last three weeks, I have experienced French strikes, travelled to Normandy and Mont St Michel, had arguably the best hot chocolate in the world, and gone to a French futbol game to cheer on les Bleus. The night of the soccer game, I was out with my friend Ryanne and some other girls from DU who were visiting from London. It was great to see them and to meet some of them, but by the time Ryanne and I found the metro and I got to the Stade de France, it was halftime. You wouldn't have known it from the roar of the crowd I could hear from the metro station, which was several blocks away. I didn't even have to wonder which way to go to find this place outside of Paris which I had never been to in my life. I just followed the sound of 80,000 cheering fans. Keep in mind, this was only halftime. The second half of the game was very exciting, with France scoring once in the last five minutes and again in the last minute of the game to beat Romania 2-0 and move on in the 2012 Euro Cup qualifiers. A text from my friend Lauren on my way to the stadium summed it up pretty well with something like, "If anyone gives you any trouble, 'allez les bleus!' seems to be a pretty solid line."
The next weekend, I went on an excursion with ISA to Normandy and Mont St Michel. We visited the Memorial de Caen, the American Cemetery, Omaha Beach, and Pointe de Hoc. I never thought I would be so interested in history in my life. I think I learned more about World War II in those few hours than I ever did in any of my history classes. It was so amazing to walk along Omaha Beach and see how serene and beautiful it is today knowing what happened there so many years ago. It looks like any other beach I've ever been to, and it's hard to believe it all connects to the same ocean. I said hi to you all in America on the other side. The next day, we went to Mont St Michel, the famous abbey surrounded by its own kind of ocean--quicksand! It was a lot of stairs but worth it since it's the most visited monument in France after the Eiffel Tower.
The best hot chocolate in the world is at a chocolaterie/boulangerie/salon de thé across the street from the Tuileries called Angelina. It comes from North Africa, and it is the chocolatiest, meltiest hot chocolate you will ever have in your life. Angelina is a beautiful tea room close to the Louvre that feels oh so Parisian. The walls are covered in murals, the ceiling is rimmed with gold, and the tables are the little round kind you see outside cafes all over Paris. I went to Angelina with two friends from one of my classes, British Matt and another Emily from Chicago. We discussed books, movies, and photography (en francais!), all while looking out for celebrities and models, the kinds of people rumored to frequent this place. It was all very classy.
I guess the memory of Angelina has to make up for missing the other very sophisticated and tasteful event I was looking forward to. As I started writing this last night, I was supposed to be all dressed up at the Opera Garnier watching the ballet Paquita. But, in France, ballerinas go on strike too!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
i got a blue and red adidas bag and a humungous binder
I've survived the first two weeks of school!...well, the first two DU-like weeks of school with no class on Fridays. The first few days made me think of the line in that Barenaked Ladies song. Though I did not have a blue and red adidas bag, I did have a humungous binder (by French standards anyway). I looove French school supplies! Between the little tiny notebooks with the little tiny lines that are like graph paper only cooler and the left-handed pencils that I found at Monoprix and my first time at a Gilbert Jeune store, one of eight of their stores that surround the St Michel metro stop and are five or six whole floors of books and school supplies, I could not even handle my excitement. And I think my humungous binder is acceptable because it has the drawings that Marie and Jean-Victor Maublanc from my French host family four years ago drew for me on the front and back and I haven't gone to school without it since!
I like all of my classes--Langue francaise, Francais oral, Phonetique, and France: comment ca fonctionne? However, the one with the craziest professor just happens to be the only one that I have for six hours every week instead of three. She is really energetic and never stands still for more than about two seconds. Her mode of transportation around the classroom has been described as yoga, and I don't know how, but that's actually pretty accurate. When she asks questions, she stares at you, you answer, and she stares at you some more until you say whatever you can to make her move on to the next person. During her class, I was explaining that I don't understand how Parisians have such huge dogs when they live in such tiny apartments. I thought it was a legitimate thing to wonder about. I mean, Paris has some of the biggest dogs I have ever seen in my life, and I worry about them. So after explaining this to her and asking in pretty good French how it is even possible that they survive here, she gave me a blank stare and pretty much said, "It just is. How do you think? They're obviously ok" and stared at me for a while. That was fun. I want a dog in Paris.
During the same class today, a bunch of old guys came into the room and told us we had to move. I'm not really sure why, but we moved to another room that was on the fourth/top floor of a building with a really narrow staircase. Then we had a break in the middle of class, so I walked around the floor and decided to see what was downstairs. I made it all the way down to the first floor, walked around, and went back up the stairs. I was almost back to the fourth floor when I realized that the stairway I was on was a lot wider than the one that went back to the classroom. I definitely thought this building only had one staircase. I found it eventually, but seriously, it was like a disappearing staircase. I came back into the classroom rather late when everyone else was already back and discussing something important. Clearly, I was the only one who got lost. I didn't know it was possible to lose a flight of stairs.
So I almost flooded the bathroom again...or something. I'm not really sure why, but Madame showed me how to do my laundry like I was going to do it by myself and then she watched me do it and of course I did it wrong. French washing machines have three little compartments for three different kinds of detergent, and I was only using one kind and I put it in the wrong one. Then she pulled out a separate container that you put another kind of detergent in and put in the actual washer. I definitely did not remember that from her demonstration like two days earlier. Also, I did not remember my clothes being this stiff after they air dry in France because no one has dryers. I guess the only other time I did laundry in France, it was hung outside on the clothes line. This time, I hung everything on the drying rack and the next day it was all hung up in different ways. I didn't know there was a right way and a wrong way to hang up laundry.
I'm getting along fine with my current host family, which includes Madame Faure, Victor who is fifteen, and Laurene who is nine. They are all very busy, and I only see them for a little while at dinner every night. They make sure I have everything I need, but they don't talk to me about much else. That is probably a good thing for the sake of my French skills and how much Marie and Jean-Victor made fun of me when I would try to speak it. But I still don't know why I can understand all of my professors, other students, and even French people on the metro, but I can hardly understand a word anyone in my host family says without listening reeeally carefully and usually having them repeat stuff. I guess I will just need to practice! As host families go, I'm pretty sure that they think of me as more of a boarder and less of a member of the family, but that's ok! I'm still getting to know the Faure family, but I'm pretty sure no one can compare to the Maublancs! But I looove how the house always smells like French laundry and there is always a baguette sitting on its own cutting board in the kitchen or the dining room--always.
I was sad when I found out that there would not be any French students in my classes. But after my first class, which had students from Venezuela, Japan, Canada, South Korea, and the United States, I realized how amazing this school year is going to be. I love hearing how different they all sound when they speak French. They have all learned French so differently than I have, and while it is the same language, it's like learning it all over again. At the same time, I'm also meeting so many amazing Americans. It's funny how I came here thinking about the French people I would meet and then I've met so many people from the United States and even people from DU who I would have never met on campus.
Last weekend, I went to the Loire Valley with some of my friends from DU and ISA, the study abroad program. It reminded me so much of the Vis (and oh ya, Eastview) trip to France four years ago! We visited the chateaux of Chenonceau and Chambord and a new one--Blois! At Chambord, we rode bikes around the grounds, which led to some Sound of Music singalongs, and we rowed boats in the river/moat around the chateau, which led to me singing the Indiana Jones theme song...? Don't worry it's on video. We had a tour of a winery and got to try lots and lots of wine. Apparently they hire students for the harvesting slash grape sorting for a few weeks in August or September. Courtney and I are doing that next summer...once we find the money for another ticket to France. At Chambord, we tried the famous Chambord liqueur and biscuits/cookies.We also had French bread with goat cheese and pate at the winery...everything tastes better in France. Even Domino's pizza, which is what I had for dinner with my family tonight.
I met some French kids in Tours, the town where we stayed for the weekend, and they told me the difference between bon soir, bon soiree, and bonne nuit! Actually, I just remembered that bonsoir is one word too. They told me that you can say either bonsoir or bon soiree most of the time, but bonsoir is more casual or used when you are going to see the person again soon. Bonsoir is more like "Bye," and bon soiree is more like "Bye. Good night. Have a nice life!" Bonne nuit is more for when you are actually going to bed, so I think all those years of "bonne nuit, ma petite!" were right, mom! But of course I will probably still never remember which is right when I actually want to use them, and this doesn't even answer the question of when to stop saying bonjour and start using the night ones.
Back in Paris, everything is pretty normal...strikes on the metro, terrorist threats at all the touristy places, warnings to Americans not to go anywhere, the usual. I was at the Eiffel Tower the other day, and as I sat there reading a book, I couldn't look up without seeing armed security people going by. If you think of it that way, the touristy spots could actually be the safest. I still haven't figured out the picture thing, but I have some great ones of people under the Eiffel Tower sitting on the benches, reading, talking, but from where I was, it was impossible to get the whole Eiffel Tower without also getting an ugly green trash bag on a pole. I wondered about those, but I learned in class this week that they replaced normal trash cans after a few too many bombs went off inside them. So I guess it's worth it, right? It's still the Eiffel Tower. It's still beautiful. It's still Paris! Whenever it rains or one of my friends here gets a cold or anything at all goes wrong, we just say, "So what? We're in Paris!" So true.
Happy October! Happy anniversary Mom and Dad! Go Twins!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
explanation of title and why i should not be allowed in foreign countries
Bonjour/bon soir/bon soirée/bonne nuit! It is very late here in Paris, and I'm trying to accommodate all time zones and I don't understand how French people know at what time of day or night to switch between these expressions. But more on that later.
I am in Paris, France, for the next nine months. I will be studying French and almost nothing but French. Hopefully, I will be fluent in French (or at least almost! or at least mistaken for a French person once in a while! or at least not so obviously a tourist!) by the time this is over. Everyone at home seems to think I will end up with some French boy and get offered a French job and never come home again, but I am not convinced.
I've been in Paris for about ten days now, and I'm getting used to living here and loving it. I'm resigned to the fact that no Parisians wear flip-flops (at least not at this time of year) now that I've seen it with my own eyes, and I'm trying to adjust to this fact. I only wore them the first weekend when my feet hurt from all of my other shoes! If you know me at all, you know that this is a big accomplishment. Other than that, I've been getting to know my host family and everyone else in my study abroad program, even though that includes a lot of people from DU! I've been to the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Versailles, the Luxembourg Gardens, the Tuileries, and the Arc de Triomphe. I might even be forgetting a few places. We're being so touristy it's funny...which brings me to my background picture. I do not know how it got there and I do not know how to make it go away. I really like it (and Bonnie is a really good photographer!), but I just don't know if I like it so big and all over everything. On the other hand, it is kind of perfect. It has all the essentials of Paris--a famous monument, a pigeon, and an Asian tourist...and I mean that only in the nicest way. I love all the Asian tourists.
So on to the point of this post. I got locked out of my house. The first Saturday night I was here, my host family went out of town for a wedding. My host mom had given me a key, shown me how to use it, and even made me practice until I could do it right. So I went out to walk around and explore for a few hours. Then I took the metro back to my stop and of course took every wrong street possible so what should have been a five minute walk back to the house was somewhere around an hour or two. When I finally found the house, I was so happy and so ready to go inside and go to bed. I thought getting inside would be the easy part. But no, I could not get the key to work. I stuck it in the right way, I turned it until it clicked, I pulled the door handle out as I turned the key, and I thought I did everything I was supposed to do. Apparently not. After trying over and over again, I walked up and down the street a few times, called Bonnie who of course couldn't help me because she was about an hour away but made me feel better anyway, and then tried again. After a few more tries, it worked. I don't know how it worked and I don't know what I did differently, but I was all safe and sound and I can laugh about it now.
I can also laugh about my experience a few days later with a French sink. I got up one morning and went to wash my face and brush my teeth. One of the times when I turned the water on, I could not turn it off. I turned it too far the wrong way and then I did not know which way was right and then I could not turn it at all. It was stuck, and I was sure I was going to flood the bathroom and the whole house, especially since the bathroom is on the fourth floor. I thought that no one else was home, but at that moment, the door downstairs opened and Madame and Laurene, the nine-year-old girl, had come back from somewhere. So I was all, "Madame! Aide-moi, s'il vous plait!" and they both came running upstairs, helped me turn off the faucet, and had a good laugh about it. I learned my lesson.
After all of my mishaps and misunderstandings of the first week, I am now able to find my house, get into my house, use the bathroom correctly, and even find my school where I will start class tomorrow. To make it even better, I'm pretty sure that someone mistook me for a French person today. I was walking down the street, not looking particularly French I didn't think (but maybe it was my purposeful way of walking or my very stylish zebra umbrella that convinced him) when an old man asked me in French if I knew where the nearest Fnac was. I told him in French that no I did not and I was sorry. He said that was ok and thanks anyway, and he didn't even switch to English. Yes! Of course, only later did I think of an even better answer--Fnac is not even open on Sundays. Are you crazy? Nothing is open in Paris on Sundays! French people never work! Just kidding. I love France and I love French people and I cannot wait to see what happens this year!
I am in Paris, France, for the next nine months. I will be studying French and almost nothing but French. Hopefully, I will be fluent in French (or at least almost! or at least mistaken for a French person once in a while! or at least not so obviously a tourist!) by the time this is over. Everyone at home seems to think I will end up with some French boy and get offered a French job and never come home again, but I am not convinced.
I've been in Paris for about ten days now, and I'm getting used to living here and loving it. I'm resigned to the fact that no Parisians wear flip-flops (at least not at this time of year) now that I've seen it with my own eyes, and I'm trying to adjust to this fact. I only wore them the first weekend when my feet hurt from all of my other shoes! If you know me at all, you know that this is a big accomplishment. Other than that, I've been getting to know my host family and everyone else in my study abroad program, even though that includes a lot of people from DU! I've been to the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Versailles, the Luxembourg Gardens, the Tuileries, and the Arc de Triomphe. I might even be forgetting a few places. We're being so touristy it's funny...which brings me to my background picture. I do not know how it got there and I do not know how to make it go away. I really like it (and Bonnie is a really good photographer!), but I just don't know if I like it so big and all over everything. On the other hand, it is kind of perfect. It has all the essentials of Paris--a famous monument, a pigeon, and an Asian tourist...and I mean that only in the nicest way. I love all the Asian tourists.
So on to the point of this post. I got locked out of my house. The first Saturday night I was here, my host family went out of town for a wedding. My host mom had given me a key, shown me how to use it, and even made me practice until I could do it right. So I went out to walk around and explore for a few hours. Then I took the metro back to my stop and of course took every wrong street possible so what should have been a five minute walk back to the house was somewhere around an hour or two. When I finally found the house, I was so happy and so ready to go inside and go to bed. I thought getting inside would be the easy part. But no, I could not get the key to work. I stuck it in the right way, I turned it until it clicked, I pulled the door handle out as I turned the key, and I thought I did everything I was supposed to do. Apparently not. After trying over and over again, I walked up and down the street a few times, called Bonnie who of course couldn't help me because she was about an hour away but made me feel better anyway, and then tried again. After a few more tries, it worked. I don't know how it worked and I don't know what I did differently, but I was all safe and sound and I can laugh about it now.
I can also laugh about my experience a few days later with a French sink. I got up one morning and went to wash my face and brush my teeth. One of the times when I turned the water on, I could not turn it off. I turned it too far the wrong way and then I did not know which way was right and then I could not turn it at all. It was stuck, and I was sure I was going to flood the bathroom and the whole house, especially since the bathroom is on the fourth floor. I thought that no one else was home, but at that moment, the door downstairs opened and Madame and Laurene, the nine-year-old girl, had come back from somewhere. So I was all, "Madame! Aide-moi, s'il vous plait!" and they both came running upstairs, helped me turn off the faucet, and had a good laugh about it. I learned my lesson.
After all of my mishaps and misunderstandings of the first week, I am now able to find my house, get into my house, use the bathroom correctly, and even find my school where I will start class tomorrow. To make it even better, I'm pretty sure that someone mistook me for a French person today. I was walking down the street, not looking particularly French I didn't think (but maybe it was my purposeful way of walking or my very stylish zebra umbrella that convinced him) when an old man asked me in French if I knew where the nearest Fnac was. I told him in French that no I did not and I was sorry. He said that was ok and thanks anyway, and he didn't even switch to English. Yes! Of course, only later did I think of an even better answer--Fnac is not even open on Sundays. Are you crazy? Nothing is open in Paris on Sundays! French people never work! Just kidding. I love France and I love French people and I cannot wait to see what happens this year!
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