It is funny how soon you begin to feel that a place is home. On Saturday I strolled with my host brother through town. He is actually a student doing an internship in Rouen, not any actual relation to my host family (it's just easier to say host brother rather than all of that.) He had not been to downtown Rouen yet so we had a nice afternoon walk though the shops and squares of Rouen. I was leading him through streets, giving a mini tour when he asked me how I knew so much about Rouen.
"Well, I have lived here for 2 1/2 months, I should hope I know it."
I got to thinking about how familiar Rouen has become for me. I know the bus/metro system like the back of my hand. I have my favorite haunts... aka shoe stores and cafés. I run into people when I am walking through town. It has quickly become home to me. The cobblestone is now normal. Seeing the spires of the cathedral is a orienting tool, not just a tourist attraction.
I was communicating this same thing to my friend Clara and she said, "it has become a second home. Or actually, a third for me. Home, Canton and Rouen." That got me to thinking. How many places do I think of as home? Many times I have asked myself "where is my hometown?" but this is a different question altogether. After moving several times and traveling a lot, I have racked up quite a bit of places that have been homes to me. There are the normal obvious places, San Diego, Princeton, Pataskala, Bremerton, Canton, and Watertown. But also, there are the places like Mzuzu and Rouen in which I have come to call or think of as home.
Perhaps "home" is the wrong word. However I think that for me, home has been relative. Home is where my family has been. Now, in Rouen, I have been surrounded by people who quickly became a part of my family. Thus, Rouen, like many other places, has joined my collection of homes.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
The Dangers of French Cuisine...
As my friend Thahitun said the other day, "I managed to avoid the Freshman fifteen but I didn't expect the French fifteen."
On Friday we had a soirée for my director's birthday at his apartment. It was a great time. We had gotten galettes for lunch at our favorite creperie and then went to his apartment for champagne and pastries from a nearby shop that is literally dessert heaven on earth. Full and happy, the mood was very laid back and cheerful. This pleasant atmosphere hit a slight bump when we discovered that there was a scale in the bathroom. After everyone had weighed themselves and done the math, no one wanted another piece of cake.
We have been having such a wonderful time trying and enjoying all the French cooking we have been exposed to that it is apparently obvious in kilograms as well. Although we are still enjoying the cuisine we had a rude awakening. I pulled out my running shoes that have been in the back of the closet for sometime. I used them the very first weekend I was here but they haven't been taken out since.
So now that I have conquered a lot of my food goals (steak tartare, escargot, numerous cheeses, etc.) my next is to get back into a good routine. This has felt like an eternal vacation but I need to stop eating like it, haha.
On Friday we had a soirée for my director's birthday at his apartment. It was a great time. We had gotten galettes for lunch at our favorite creperie and then went to his apartment for champagne and pastries from a nearby shop that is literally dessert heaven on earth. Full and happy, the mood was very laid back and cheerful. This pleasant atmosphere hit a slight bump when we discovered that there was a scale in the bathroom. After everyone had weighed themselves and done the math, no one wanted another piece of cake.
We have been having such a wonderful time trying and enjoying all the French cooking we have been exposed to that it is apparently obvious in kilograms as well. Although we are still enjoying the cuisine we had a rude awakening. I pulled out my running shoes that have been in the back of the closet for sometime. I used them the very first weekend I was here but they haven't been taken out since.
So now that I have conquered a lot of my food goals (steak tartare, escargot, numerous cheeses, etc.) my next is to get back into a good routine. This has felt like an eternal vacation but I need to stop eating like it, haha.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Nothing better than Spring in Paris... except when you have seasonal allergies.
One of the greatest parts of my program is that we get to spend a week in Paris. We stay at a group hostel called FIAP that is in the 14th arrondisement. Although it may not be the most central location, we had a metro nearby and were not a far walk from the Quartier Latin or Boulevard Saint Germain.
The weather during that week was absolutely beautiful. It was 60 degrees almost every day without any clouds. The flowers were blooming and the trees budding which was just lovely. However with the flowers also comes Hay fever and the necessity to carry around toilet paper rolls in one's Frada (fake prada). This just generally meant that I was not enjoying the museums as much as I normally would. I would just look for rooms with benches and camp out there for about ten minutes before moving onto the next. Despite my allergies, our "Paris week" was great.
Our schedule had a lot of wiggle room for exploring. In the morning we frequented museums but in the afternoons, we were set free into Paris to do what we wanted. We needed to complete at least 3 "promenades" that my director, Roy Caldwell, had designated. There were the traditional walks like the Champs Elysees with the Arc de Triomphe or the Boulevard Saint Michel with the Luxembourg gardens or other less traditional like the Canal Saint Martin. I took a couple different promenades because the weather was beautiful and I didn't like being cooped up in museums when the sun was shining.
One of my favorite nights was when the group went to Montmartre for dinner and music. We went to a restaurant about two minutes from Sacre Coeur. I had escargot, which it turns out is totally worth the hype, and a fun dinner with our group. From our dinner we went to Le Lapin Agile which was a famous hangout for artists in the twenties like Picasso. It was a great atmosphere because the performers sang songs that everyone knew (except us obviously) so the audience sang along and interacted. It was a fun night.
It is after nights like the one I had in Montmartre that I have to take a step back and think about how lucky I am. I have gotten to do so many amazing things in the last couple months. This has been a once in a lifetime opportunity and I am just very thankful that I was able to do it. Going home and back to school in Canton is going to be quite a difference.
The weather during that week was absolutely beautiful. It was 60 degrees almost every day without any clouds. The flowers were blooming and the trees budding which was just lovely. However with the flowers also comes Hay fever and the necessity to carry around toilet paper rolls in one's Frada (fake prada). This just generally meant that I was not enjoying the museums as much as I normally would. I would just look for rooms with benches and camp out there for about ten minutes before moving onto the next. Despite my allergies, our "Paris week" was great.
Our schedule had a lot of wiggle room for exploring. In the morning we frequented museums but in the afternoons, we were set free into Paris to do what we wanted. We needed to complete at least 3 "promenades" that my director, Roy Caldwell, had designated. There were the traditional walks like the Champs Elysees with the Arc de Triomphe or the Boulevard Saint Michel with the Luxembourg gardens or other less traditional like the Canal Saint Martin. I took a couple different promenades because the weather was beautiful and I didn't like being cooped up in museums when the sun was shining.
One of my favorite nights was when the group went to Montmartre for dinner and music. We went to a restaurant about two minutes from Sacre Coeur. I had escargot, which it turns out is totally worth the hype, and a fun dinner with our group. From our dinner we went to Le Lapin Agile which was a famous hangout for artists in the twenties like Picasso. It was a great atmosphere because the performers sang songs that everyone knew (except us obviously) so the audience sang along and interacted. It was a fun night.
It is after nights like the one I had in Montmartre that I have to take a step back and think about how lucky I am. I have gotten to do so many amazing things in the last couple months. This has been a once in a lifetime opportunity and I am just very thankful that I was able to do it. Going home and back to school in Canton is going to be quite a difference.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
English, quoi?
There was an American invasion on the bus tonight.
Normally, Rouen has very few native English speakers, let alone Americans, riding on their metro system. After being surrounded by French nearly 24/7, I get so blown away when someone starts speaking English. However what is even stranger about these situations is that I can feel my "American-ness" coming out. All I can think of doing is going up and talking to them. It is this weird urge to take off my French mask and rejoin my fellow Anglophones.
The whopping two times this has happened, I have fought the urge and remained silent. Looking back, I am glad I fought the urge.
When I was in the Vatican Museum, Anel and I were chatting in the cafe and a couple walked up to us. After explaining that they heard us speaking English, they explained that it is so funny that we were running into each other. After chuckling a bit I asked them where they were from. New Orleans. Since Louisiana is not exactly close to New York (Anel lives in the city) and there are many many American tourists, I didn't think it was quite amazing that we ran into each other but I played along just the same. They were really nice but what they didn't know was that for Anel and I, Rome felt like a mini America. I hadn't heard so much English since I left the states two months ago. Although they felt a sense of relief hearing English, for us, hearing English is just bizarre.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
When I was on the train home this morning I got to thinking about how my concept of age has changed. After spending my spring break bouncing around Roman ruins I began thinking about how strange it will be to return home. Buildings will not look as old as they used to. When we were at Mont Saint Michel, a tour guide was showing us the "new" building of the island, built in the early 1800's. How many buildings do we have left in Watertown that were built in the early 1800's?
Here, it is strange to see modern buildings. They stick out like a sore thumb. Sore and ugly. At home, it is the older buildings that stand out. But in these standards our oldest buildings are not even that old. Weird.
Italy was great. I spent two nights in Venice and Florence and three nights in Rome. The first day in Venice was beautiful but the sun didn't come out again til we were in Rome. By far, Rome was my favorite. Although I would have enjoyed a more extensive metro system it was wonderful all the same. Since we didn't have a lot of cash to throw around, we walked pretty much everywhere. And we walked a lot. In fact, I don't think I have ever walked more in my life. I just wish I had brought my running shoes... oh well.
In terms of food, we saved a lot of money by eating lunch and/or dinner in grocery stores. There was a moment in Florence when we looked at our spread of food and just laughed. We had awful, stale, 80 cent bread with salami and pesto, fruit, and nutella spread over the aforementioned bread for dessert. We were on our beds in our hostel, in sweatpants, with only one knife. As we were sitting laughing about our meal, Ethan started singing the theme song to The Jeffersons. Too funny.
When we were not eating our sad little salami sandwiches we were judging the prices of restaurants on the price of their Margherita pizzas. Anything above 6 euro we would laugh and keep walking. The best place that we did eat had a 3.50 euro margherita and looked pretty sketchy from the outside. From all of our restaurant research we have constructed a theory. We call it the "Neon Light Theory." Very creative. If there is a neon light in the window there is a better chance that the prices are lower and the food more authentic. Those restaurants that provide "atmosphere" and "ambiance" are just overpriced and not as delicious. Nicely printed menus? No thanks. Only if it is written on a poster board. Perhaps this just works in touristy cities but I stand by it.
Overall we had a good time. We ate way too much gelatto (if it is possible), walked til we couldn't walk anymore, and even learned some Italian in the process.
Here, it is strange to see modern buildings. They stick out like a sore thumb. Sore and ugly. At home, it is the older buildings that stand out. But in these standards our oldest buildings are not even that old. Weird.
Italy was great. I spent two nights in Venice and Florence and three nights in Rome. The first day in Venice was beautiful but the sun didn't come out again til we were in Rome. By far, Rome was my favorite. Although I would have enjoyed a more extensive metro system it was wonderful all the same. Since we didn't have a lot of cash to throw around, we walked pretty much everywhere. And we walked a lot. In fact, I don't think I have ever walked more in my life. I just wish I had brought my running shoes... oh well.
In terms of food, we saved a lot of money by eating lunch and/or dinner in grocery stores. There was a moment in Florence when we looked at our spread of food and just laughed. We had awful, stale, 80 cent bread with salami and pesto, fruit, and nutella spread over the aforementioned bread for dessert. We were on our beds in our hostel, in sweatpants, with only one knife. As we were sitting laughing about our meal, Ethan started singing the theme song to The Jeffersons. Too funny.
When we were not eating our sad little salami sandwiches we were judging the prices of restaurants on the price of their Margherita pizzas. Anything above 6 euro we would laugh and keep walking. The best place that we did eat had a 3.50 euro margherita and looked pretty sketchy from the outside. From all of our restaurant research we have constructed a theory. We call it the "Neon Light Theory." Very creative. If there is a neon light in the window there is a better chance that the prices are lower and the food more authentic. Those restaurants that provide "atmosphere" and "ambiance" are just overpriced and not as delicious. Nicely printed menus? No thanks. Only if it is written on a poster board. Perhaps this just works in touristy cities but I stand by it.
Overall we had a good time. We ate way too much gelatto (if it is possible), walked til we couldn't walk anymore, and even learned some Italian in the process.
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