Bones and tennis

After finishing his studying abroad in Morocco a few days ago, Kyle came to Paris to play in Europe before returning to the US. We've been prancing around Paris for a few days doing lots of exploring and wandering. Last night we had a picnic at Montmartre with Middkids; unforunately rain pushed us onto the steps of the church and then the guards kicked us off. Unable to think of another public space out of the rain that would fit all of us and allow us to picnic, we headed to the waiting area in Gare Saint-Lazare (train station) and finished our picnic there. After all of our lovely sunny picnics in beautiful parks around Paris, our last one had to be a bit more exciting and challenging, and it certainly was.

This morning Kyle and I decided to visit a tourist site in Paris, and we chose the Catacombs. The Catacombs are underground tunnels where the French buried people, or relocated bones from graveyards in the 1700s. These are not your average mass graves however; the bones are stacked neatly with skulls forming designs between the longer bones. The exhibit was a one-mile walked through dark and damp caves with bones lining the walls. It was a very very creepy experience and we were thrilled to be back in the sunlight amongst the living at the end.

Afterwards we headed to Bois de Bologne, the major "woods"/park of Paris. We knew that the French Open was taking place near there, and had read online that you could buy tickets for only 10 euros for the night sessions. After wandering around the neighborhood for a half-hour, we finally found the stadium and joined the long line of others waiting for the ticket counters to open. About fifteen minutes before five, a staff member handed us a paper with the ticket choices and prices; we could either buy tickets for the stadium court, Suzanne Lenglen, Court #1, or a grounds pass. The line for the grounds pass was moving much quicker, and it only cost 10 euros, so Kyle and I picked that one. We also knew it was the first round, so good players would be on all courts. We got onto the grounds around 5:30 and started wandering around the courts. We saw a line at Court 2 and joined it, then discovered Max Myrni and Lleyton Hewitt. We watched the end of their match, then anxiously awaited the next pairing on the court. To our great surprise, James Blake was up next and we had an excellent view of the beginning of his match. We got hungry a few games in and headed to the snack bar to get some dinner. While eating our sandwiches and watching Rafael Nadal on the stadium court, two nice men approached us and asked if we wanted tickets for the Nadal match. We were thrilled and wound up with fantastic seats for the last two sets of the match. The Blake match still wasn't over by the end of the Nadal match, so we went back to Court 2 and saw Blake lose sadly in a fourth set. The match was great though, and the overall experience was amazing.

Vienna

So after my 36 hour visit to London, I boarded a plane to Vienna and landed there at 10 p.m. Luckily there was no line at customs, I had checked no baggage, the ride to the city was short, and the hostel directions were good, so I arrived at my hostel (which turned out to be in the way outskirts of the city) just before midnight to find Dan awaiting me in the yard. Although our hostel was a 20-minute subway ride outside the city, it was very nice and very clean and we wound up in a 3-bed room with a nice girl from Pennsylvania who was traveling before studying abroad. After babbling for an hour following my arrival, Dan and I went to bed knowing we'd be kicked out of the hostel at 9:30 the next morning.

We left nice and early the next morning, and discovered that when one is out the door by nine-thirty, the day is long and lots can be accomplished. We didn't have any plans for Vienna, only a map and we set off walking around the center of the city. We walked and walked and walked, staring at pretty architecture and museums and lovely parks along the way. We covered half the sites before lunchtime and we ate in a typical (we think) Austrian pub/bistro. I had a omelette/dumpling concoction, and Dan was daring and tried an Austrian weiner.

After lunch we headed to the Prater, Vienna's famous amusement park, and although it was open, the park was completely empty and the majority of the attractions were closed. Very bizarre considering it should be tourist season. We made our way back into the center of the city and walked some more, through parks and down beautiful streets until we reached the Belvedere Palace. We admired the gardens for a bit, then entered the palace, which has been converted into a museum and was a good sampling of Austrian art, with the exception of a bizarre modern art exhibit tossed in randomly that included a video of a woman decorating the palace stairs and windows with red velour hearts and other objects that were still in place. Very strange and not at all fitting with the other art or the palace itself.

Thursday evening was our big spectacle and the most exciting event of the trip. We just happened to be in Vienna on the night that the Viennese Symphony Orchestra gave a free public concert (Concert for Europe) on the grounds of an amazing Viennese palace. The grounds were unbelievably gorgeous and enormous (better than Versailles in my opinion). The picture is of us on the hill looking down at the palace and the lawn where the concert was held. We initially intended to listen from above, but the speakers didn't work that well so we trekked back down to the crowd on the lawn. Bill Clinton and Sharon Stone also attended the concert to receive a check for an AIDS charity foundation. It was quite a to-do. The concert itself was also wonderful. We picnic-ed for dinner on the lawn outside and generally enjoyed our time. Getting home was a slight challenge after they closed the nearest metro stop and we had no idea where to go, but we took a tram and then a taxi and somehow made it back safely.

Friday morning we checked out of the hostel and went down to the nearby bakery to get yummy Austrian pastries for breakfast. This was a slight challenge since the bakers spoke no English and us no German, but we wound up with good pastries. First thing in the morning we went to the Sigmund Freud museum in his former apartment. It was a decent museum with lots and lots of old documents, but not the greatest. We then wandered back to a particular neighborhood in search of one of Beethoven's former apartments and found that by chance. It was very neat to be in a city filled with apartments and houses of most of the great composers. We ate lunch in another typical bistro, and then headed to the bus station so I could catch a shuttle to Bratislava airport to catch my plane. The bus left Vienna on time, but hit traffic and made several stops along the way so I ended up at the airport 35 minutes before my flight was supposed to take off. Nonetheless I made it on and back to Paris safely.

London

Last week in a moment of mild insanity and a desire to see friends and family, I hopped on the Eurostar (train through the chunnel) and headed to London. I arrived there around noon and met up with my father, who had also just arrived in town for business. We met in Waterloo station and began wandering around London. We walked past many major sites (London Eye, Westminster Abbey, Parlement, pretty parks, etc.) until we found a cute cafe for lunch.

After lunch, we wandered some more, then hopped on a tour bus. From the top of the double-decker, we saw all the major London sites - the museums, London Bridge, Tower of London, parks, etc. We got off for a while to take a boat down the Thames past the waterfront sights, then hopped back on the bus. Afterwards we took a ride on the London Eye. We ate a quick dinner in Waterloo station, then Dad hopped on a train back to his hotel and I went to visit Becca at Royal Holloway University, a half hour outside London.

After arriving at Royal Holloway and getting a brief tour of the town of Egham, I met Becca's friends and hung out in their student center. She goes to a real university with dorms and a campus, and lives in a flat with British students. Wednesday morning we walked around her campus, which includes a castle with a courtyard in the middle that the students sit in. It was extremely cute. We had lunch in her favorite pub in town, and then I hopped on a train to Heathrow to catch my flight to Vienna.

Senate, Korean, Cuisine

This morning Middlebury arranged a private tour for us of the French Senate, a beautiful building right outside my door in Luxembourg Gardens. The public isn't allowed in there, only private groups, and so a few of my friends and I took advantage of the opportunity. It was super-interesting to see the building, which is beautiful and see the gardens from the inside. I also learned quite a bit about the role of the Senate in France - like Senators are not elected by the people...they're nominated by other officials and the Senate cannot be dissolved. and they work in an old castle, which is very cool. The Senate palace was built by Queen Marie de Medecis when she decided the Louvre was too much for her and she wanted something that resembled the Italian palaces of her childhood. Thus came Luxembourg Palace and Gardens.

After the tour my friends and I went out to a Korean restaurant for lunch where my friend emily introduced me to her people's cuisine. It was yummy and very different from other Asian cuisine in the dishes and the style of eating. It was great to have a Korean friend there who could explain all the cultural traditions to us.

This evening I finally took part in one of Mme. Beguin's infamous cooking classes and it was a wonderful experience. The group included me, Jess, James, Kay, and Mariella (a family friend from Venezuela). We made fish (I believe it was bass...whatever it was was fresh from Normandy - caught Friday - and delicious). We made a simple butter sauce to go on the fish and Mme. Beguin's signature rice (rice pilaf cooked in a bit of oil with fresh ground garlic and ginger). For dessert we made creme brulees with fresh vanilla and verbena (super popular herb in France). We made little almond crisps to dip in the creme brulee that were delicious. While we were putting the batter on the pan, I accidently spilled some and made a massive massive batter spot instead of a delicate little one like planned. Everyone got a good laugh and Mme. Beguin leaned over to me and said "What would your mother say if she saw you now?" I told her my mother wouldn't be surprised one bit. She also started the class by telling everyone that I couldn't cook at all, but that i have wonderful taste that is constantly improving as I try more and more good foods. Which I suppose is true, depending on how one defines good taste. Anyways, dinner was absolutely delicious and lovely as we ate on the terrace watching the sun set over the Eiffel Tower.

Friday at the sea

I set my alarm for even later today, and yet again when I arrived downstairs, this time at ten-thirty, no one else except Mr. Beguin had left their bedroom. A few minutes into my breakfast, Julien arrived in the kitchen to prepare breakfast for him and Marie so they could have breakfast in bed together. Just like M. et Madame Beguin. I need to find a French husband who will bring me breakfast in bed…it’s a lovely tradition. Last night at dinner they asked me if the American husbands did the same thing. I replied with a puzzled look and said not exactly.

After breakfast M. Beguin took me out on the bicycles to their other house/garden to pick up his car. Turns out he completely restored an old car like Mme. Beguin’s…a small “primose yellow” (the exact name of the color according to him) convertible that is British in origin but came to him from Florida. It’s absolutely adorable and we cruised around the countryside in it. We stopped at a Canadian cemetery along the way, and then arrived home for him to show me his other automobile pride and joy…and American jeep from the disembarkation in 1944.

After a lovely lunch outside in the sun, M. Beguin and I hopped in the car and headed to the American cemetery. It was a beautiful drive there, past a boatyard and lots of sailboats and a beautiful golf course. The cemetery was packed with tourists and even in the small car we had trouble finding a parking space. The layout was extremely moving, although the atmosphere was slightly disrupted by the hordes of people. We didn’t spend much time there as the sun disappeared upon our arrival, and we had to get home by convertible and bicycle before the rain came. (Weather here is very bizarre…the temperature has varied by about 15 degrees up and down throughout the course of the day, and has alternated between blue skies and sunshine, grey and clouds, and rain.) The cemetery excursion was definitely interesting and I’m glad I’ve gotten to see what Normandy is known for. It’s been interesting being here, and in France in general and hearing about WWII, because the war and the memories are very alive here. Perhaps it’s because I took two classes with historical components, but in France WWII is the point of departure for so many historical phenomenon, political events, memories, monuments, etc. France essentially fought on both sides, with collaborators and resistors, and it seems that they almost overcompensate for the collaborators with their commemoration of the resistance. It’s definitely a point of great difficulty for the French, with a government who wants to forget Vichy and people who are conflicted about how to view the regime. Part of the presidential inauguration includes a ceremony in honor of the resistance at the Arc de Triomphe, and a second in the Bois de Bologne. It will be interesting to see how long the memories and commemoration continue…if they’ll fade with the survivors and resistors or if France will continue to commemorate WWII like it does the revolution.

Alors, after our little excursion I went for a run through town and along the cliffs, and now I’m headed next door to Jeanne’s house where all the young people are having a BBQ.

La Vie Normande

This morning I set my alarm for 9:30…early for me on a vacation day, because I was afraid to be “that guest” who gets up late and comes down awkwardly while all the family is already occupied. The weather was cold and gray and I had no desire to get out of bed, but I heard voices so I got up and dressed and arrived downstairs in 15 minutes. To my surprise, when I arrived downstairs, there was no one there. After several minutes M. Beguin came into the kitchen, showed me how to boil water and told me to help myself to breakfast, then hopped in his car. I sat at the table with my book and breakfast until 11:00 when Mme. Beguin finally descended. We decided to go shopping and hopped in the car to Bayeux, the nearest small city, before Marie and Julien emerged from their bedrooms.

Mme. Beguin and I did a tour of Bayeux, which is an adorable Normand city with lots of cute little houses and Normand architecture. It is also encircled by a route with more chains of supermarkets that I’ve ever seen in France. Mme. Beguin told me the British built it. Naturally. Finally we stopped at one of these supermarkets, one Mme. Beguin told me she really liked. To my enormous surprise, we had arrived at the French version of Target. This store had everything…clothes, food, appliances, house wares, even a restaurant. I was astounded. And highly amused as we wandered around buying things like 6-packs of fizzy water. It took forever to make our way around the store, but at last we arrived at the register and packed up our full cart in reusable bag after reusable bag that Mme. Beguin kept pulling out of her purse. On the way home we stopped at her garden, her pride and joy aside from the grandchild, to pick up some herbs. Turns out the Beguins also own and rent the house next to the garden, which they inherited from Mr. Beguin’s family (the house we’re in is from Mme. Beguin’s side). Mme. Beguin chattered for most of the ride, during which I also learned that Jean was dumped by his 17-year-old cousin Josephine and that’s why he’s so sad, and that in her youth, Mme. Beguin once dated Julien’s uncle. Normandy seems like quite the incestuous place. Either M. or Mme. Beguin’s parents also met in Normandy. And everyone gets married in the town church.

After the market we made lunch, and Mme. Beguin tossed together a tart that I’m hoping I can replicate once I get home (tomatoes, black currant mustard, oil, cheese, and some sort of wheat product). And alas after lunch the sun began to peek out, and I decided to go for a run. Mme. Beguin recommended I head out the street and to the left, and I wound up jogging along the Normandy cliffs looking out over the water. It was one of the most beautiful runs I’ve ever taken.

By the time I got home and out of the shower, the sunny was out in full force and it had turned into a beautiful day, just in time for me to head to a museum. Arromanches, the town, was one of the sites of the debarkment of the Ally troops and the “Debarkment Museum” is in the town center. I headed down there along the water and toured the petite museum located right at the edge of the beach. It was an interesting museum, not super captivating, but definitely informative. It took too much effort to follow the tour guide so I gave up on listening after 5 minutes and watched the film instead.

When I returned from my museum excursion and wandering around the town’s main drag (about 8 souvenir shops and 8 touristy restaurants, but super cuter), Jeanne (the cousin) had arrived and was unpacking with her friends in the house next door. I met a bunch of her cousins and friends and an hour later we went to another friend’s house for aperitif. I met at least 20 Frenchies (Jeanne has 15 staying at her house) and I don’t remember a single name, but it was good to sit and listen and try to understand them, and tomorrow I’m going to eat dinner and hang out with them. Jeanne is incredibly nice to me and told me a million times that I’m invited over whenever.

After aperitif I returned home to find that our dinner company had arrived: an Italian man named Paolo and his current girlfriend Martine. Paolo was an absolute riot, and even though his French was fluent, he had an incredibly thick Italian accent. He also had a strange habit of mixing up the genders of his pronouns, and throughout the entire night would refer to his daughters as “he”, until finally Marie called him out on this at the very end (since it was impossible to determine who he was talking about between his female daughters and male dogs). Most of the evening’s entertainment consisted of teasing between Paolo and Mme. Beguin, which led to some very bizarre conversations. One particularly hilarious one was about Miraille, a family friend who has stayed with the Beguins twice since I’ve been there. Mme. Beguin started telling an innocent story about how Miraille went to India and met a nice British man who does yoga and treats her well and now they have a great relationship. Etc, etc. Then Mme. mentions that the problem is that this British man already has a wife and a mistress and children. Miraille wanted to end the relationship when she found out, but Mme. Beguin apparently advised her to live her life, and if she’s having fun, enjoy the moment. Profiter. Alors. A few minutes later it comes out that Miraille also has a husband. A pilot. But he’s not very nice, and I believe they said that he doesn’t put out (always bluntness with the French). Mme. Beguin counseled her friend to find a lover, since the husband thing isn’t a great situation. How bizarre. The conversation then exploded into a vibrant discussion of husbands and lovers and pleasure, and somehow got to a relative who once dated a black man, and wound up with Julien trying to explain the gist of the conversation (which I had actually followed) by busting out the phrase “Once you go black, you never go back.” At this point I burst out laughing, not because I found this expression particularly appropriate or charming, but because it was hilarious hearing Julien bust out with it. I will remember that moment for quite a while. I’ve really come around to Julien since we’ve been in Normany…he’s calmed down and ton and has started teasing Mme. Beguin and being cute instead of argumentative. He’s also been very very nice to me, which I greatly enjoy.

Dinner was tasty, as per usual, and as per usual with Normandy meals, I got to try new and interesting but frightening French cuisine. Today at lunch we started off with sardines, which they insisted I tasted. I played this one off quite well, casually saying I’d never had one before, taking one, watching Mr. B show me how to eat it, getting it down, and then distracting myself with bread and water to avoid eating another nasty fish. Mme. Beguin asked what I thought, and all I could say was “fishy.” I think it’s really the only appropriate adjective. No one understood what this meant, and I tried to explain in French, and finally I said “feeshy” and suddenly they got it. The miracles of accents. At dinner we started out with oysters, which I have already tried and already decided I dislike. Mme. Beguin knows this, but she begged me to try another anyways, promising me these ones tasted different and I would grow into the taste. So I had to swallow two slimy, lemony oysters. I’ll admit that now I’m used to the taste, as in I had swallow it without gagging. But I definitely don’t enjoy it. The final new taste of tonight was the after-dinner drink, some sort of Italian liquor that tasted like Dimetapp. That was my response to trying it, but none of the French know what Dimetapp is, so I just sat moving my tongue around trying to clear out the bitter taste. And now I am going to bed, because tomorrow probably will be the day when everyone is up and active early and the “petite américaine” shows up late for breakfast.

Normandy

Hello from Normandy, from a quaint little house about 50 feet from the beach where the troops landed 50-someodd years ago. We left Paris this afternoon around 3:30, after planning to leave around 1, and after two stops to pick up forgotten items, a sandwich stop, a long detour to avoid the traffic from the presidential inauguration, traffic traffic traffic, a stop in Caen to pick up M. Beguin, and two stops in search of dinner, we arrived at the house around 7. The town is absolutely adorable, right out of a picture book. It’s small and quaint and filled with green wildlife and little houses and cute stores. Right before we arrived at the house someone realized we needed dinner, and in a situation where almost any American family would have gone straight to the house and cooked up some pasta, we drove to three markets in search of fresh seafood. We finally stopped at some man’s house who brought us into his garage where he had tanks of freshly fished crabs and lobsters. He pulled a few kilos of crabs out of the tank for us, and I got to ride home with live crustaceans on my feet. And then we had to stop for bread, because what would dinner be without fresh bread.

When we arrived at the house, the baby began to cry hysterically, so Marie and I took a short walk along the beach and through the neighborhood with him. She showed me the houses of her childhood friends, and people she’s still friends with, and relatives. She also told me that Julien, her boyfriend/father of her child has a house here, and apparently they’ve known each other since childhood. She then proceeded to point out the house of the boy she dated for almost ten years, another childhood friend of both her and Julien, and said that it was a little awkward between the three of them when she and Julien started dating. I also discovered that Julien’s parents, like the Beguins, met here as children. As did other Beguin relatives. Apparently Normandy is the place to go to meet future spouses.

After our walk we all sat down in front of the fireplace (cute but also very practical b/c there is no heat and it was freezing) and watched lots and lots of news. Today was the presidential inauguration, and I have seen the clips of Sarko and Chirac shaking hands, Sarko kissing his somewhat estranged wife, and Sarko embracing Angela Merkel at least four times. Sarko had the whole family assembled for the big day…his two sons from his first marriage, his wife’s two daughters from her first marriage, and their 10-year-old son. The French reporters kept repeating over and over, “Wow look at the blended family.” They are all very pretty and smiled nice for the camera. The funniest part, which Marie pointed out to me, was when he reached over to stroke the wife’s cheek and she half turned her head away. I feel so American commenting on the personal life of the nouveau prez instead of his politics, but there’s not much to say there and his personal life is quite interesting. Mme. Beguin spent the whole time gushing about how she thinks he’ll be such a competent, great president. Then the whole family kept laughing imagining if Segolene and Francois Hollande were doing the inauguration scene. It would have been funny to see a first man up there, but also very cool.

After news/politics hour(s), we made it to dinner. Somehow it didn’t quite strike me when the man pulled the crabs out of the water, that they would later be sitting in front of me lifeless and waiting to be pulled apart. I was a little intimidated. Luckily M. Beguin was being absolutely adorable tonight and he picked up a crab and showed me step-by-step how to pull it apart and eat it, and then proceeded to undo a crab for me. It was very cute and fatherly, and somehow I made it through the entire meal without having to break the whole thing apart myself. It was a very interesting experience, though I must admit that it’s way to much work for me for the tiny little bit of meat that you get. I really enjoyed the salad and asparagus. It was a very entertaining meal overall. M. Beguin was in fine form tonight and Julien wasn’t very argumentative and Marie is slightly crazy, probably because of the baby, and it was a great show for me. I miss half of what they’re saying and the jokes mostly go over my head (I think there were some sexual ones at some point…something to do with Mme. Beguin and her yoga instructor twisting her in weird positions…all I heard was that Kristen doesn’t understand…which I didn’t). I’m looking forward to the next few days of Beguin family entertainment.

Cours de cuisine

Today I quasi-participated in my first cooking class chez Mme. Beguin. I've been meaning to do it all semester, just haven't seemed to get around to it yet. Tonight my friends from Midd were doing their final course, so I figured I might as well participate. They were a group of 5, minus one this evening, plus Mme. Beguin invited another boy from Sunday night's class to join. In addition, my friend Emily, who spent the semester abroad in Madagascar and arrived in Paris this morning, was there as well. Thus we were a crowd of seven in the kitchen.

From the beginning I figured that I wasn't going to be a full participant, and after Mme. Beguin realized she needed more eggs five minutes into the course, she sent me to fetch some at the market down the street. By the time I returned the chefs were already in full force so I took on the observer role. I tried to make myself useful by unloading the dishwasher and setting the table, so I wasn't just a mere observer. However my contact with the food was extremely limited.

Calamari a l'americain was on the menu tonight and it was delicious. I am no longer scared of calamari and would even consider buying it and cooking it, since I was there for the cooking of the calamari portion of the program. Mme. Beguin made us all gather around and listen very carefully as she cooked the calamari. It was quite a precise process...we had to wait until exactly the right moment to drop them into the pan, then saute them for the right time, add white wine, add a touch of oil, add the last bit of saffron at the very last second. She even added a bit of apple liquor and proceeded to set the concoction on fire...I'm not sure whether this affected the taste or whether it was just for show, but it was quite the surprise when all of a sudden a two foot flame jumped out of the pan. Watching the precision with which she sauted this calamari was a very good example of what differentiates a decent cook from a great one...all those little details like saving a pinch of saffron until the very end that make the food taste that much better.

Along with the calamari we made a sauce a l'americain...fresh tomatoes, cream, and some other ingredients I missed, sauted and then pureed in the blender. When it came out of the blender it tasted like a decent tomato sauce, but when added to the calamari it was delicious. On the side we had some sort of strange rice...an experimental batch according to Mme. Beguin...that was violet-colored. Aside from the very bizarre color, it was very tasty.

Finally for dessert, we made profiteroles. And then Mme. Beguin realized that the boy had already made profiteroles, so she decided to whip up a few creme brulees on the side. And then she decided to make little almond cookies...very very thin wafer-like cookies to dip in the creme. Absolutely amazing way to end a meal.

Haircut

In honor of finishing my Parisian schoolwork this afternoon after handing in my dissertation on the European Union (French version of exams – one question, 2 hours, one essay), I celebrated by getting my first Parisian haircut. I went to a “salon” near school…the Parisian version of Cost Cutters. It’s called Tchip (pronounced “cheap”) and I figured it was easier to go to a chain than try to decide between the hundreds of salons I pass by every day. I had stopped by a week ago hoping to get a haircut, and after chilling for 45 minutes I decided I’d be better off coming back.

So this afternoon I returned, equipped with class evaluations to pass the time, and asked for a haircut. The woman told me it would only be a “small half-hour” wait so I took a seat. In general in life I get frustrated with the slow, chatty pace of hair salons, so multiplying that by the slow pace of Paris in general made this an exercise in patience. After about half an hour the woman started washing my hair. She promptly told me that the cut would be six euros more expensive because my hair was long. While washing my hair she walked away at least 3 times to chat with other customers or fellow hairdressers. When we finally made it to the chair, it took ten mores minutes to start cutting itself, which became a stop-and-go process as customers walked in, kisses were exchanged, phones rang, and some woman showed up with flowers that needed a vase. Overall it was quite the Parisian experience. The haircut turned out pretty typical Parisian…I’ll try to post a picture soon. She cut off a good five centimeters and my head is significantly lighter. Usually I leave haircuts thinking I should have gone shorter or more stylish, but I’m quite satisfied with this one.

After the haircut I hit up the gym and returned home at nine to find my host sister calling me to dinner. Never in my time here have we ever eaten before at least 9:15 and usually it’s after 9:30, but apparently Mme. Beguin was hungry earlier tonight. We had an Italian style meal with pasta in marinated tomatoes, ham, salad with parmesan cheese, and olive bread. We finished the meal with an unusual cheese (a purchase from this weekend’s salon)…a sheep cheese soaked in rosemary. I wasn’t a big fan…I know now that I’m not a huge rosemary fan. But the olive bread was fantastic and we finished with delicious yellow apricots.

Super Soirée

In the interest of celebrating the end of our language class and one exam left until school's out, a bunch of Middkids went out to dinner tonight near Montmartre. We went to a restaurant acclaimed by many for having the best salads in Paris and they lived up to their reputation. Every salad is topped with garlic potatos and full of other yummy things. Mine was smoked ham, lettuce, tomato, cheese, and onions. Very delicious. I wonder how many of my posts have been on the topic of food...........

After dinner I went to a soirée chez Sahar, the girl who stayed with our family four summers ago. I was nervous about going to a French-only evening and I couldn't convince a friend to go with me, and then I got lost on the way in an unfamiliar neighborhood. I was so flustered when I finally arrived in the elevator that I didn't realize that it was Jasmine (Sahar's sister), who came to meet me until we got to the appartment. The first half-hour was super-duper awkward, as is the usual at parties and particularly those where you know no one and don't speak the language. However things got easier quickly, and I found a few people to make awkward conversation with. In a rare situation in Paris, I was the only anglophone in a room full of Frenchies, so they all made awkward comments in English and then said they couldn't possibly speak it, they were so terrible in English (I imagine that at least half of their English is better than my French). One guy made a great comment about speaking a foreign language...he said when he speaks English it's like hearing a conversation with subtitles because the anglophones repeat back everything he says word for word except gramatically correct and with the proper accent. Another guy chimed it that it's like when Africans or Canadians try to speak French and the French need subtitles. I promised there would be no repeating of words on my part, but the English didn't come. Oh well. It was fun to meet some French peeps and some of Sahar's friends, including her boyfriend and Jasmine's boyfriend (both cute and nice). Sahar's apartment is adorable and she's a great hostess. It's unfortunate she leaves for Iran on Saturday, but I made plans to spend time with Jasmine after her exams end.

Midd reception

Tonight was the Middlebury year-end reception at the Centre Madeleine. Finally we got to taste where all our tuition money is headed... fancy catered cocktail receptions. The reception was for students (grad and undergrad), host families, and professors, so the center was packed with people. And food. For starters, the caterers just kept pouring out champagne. Not cheap stuff either. Tasty champagne, although in short, round glasses that made them super-susceptible to spillage (I and 3 of my friends were victims). Midd also offered us lots and lots of hors d'oeuvres, including a mushroom made entirely of salami, lots of finger foods (including FISH EYES which I dared to taste...very salty and not much to my liking), and yummy yummy merengues and minipastries. The room was mostly filled with grad students and elderly women, so us Midd juniors spent a lot of time near the food. Well worth it.

I went to the reception with Mme. Beguin...I'm not sure what time she planned on leaving, but she said she wanted to go early to go to a store nearby. The Center is about a 15-20 minute drive, so I showed up in her room at 5:30 (6 o'clock reception) to find her half-dressed with the baby lying on the bed. She looked up at me surprised, said the baby was still there and asked what time I was thinking about leaving. Then she put a white shirt over her dark green bra and asked me some questions which I can only assume had to do with the fact that you could see everything through the shirt, but I have no idea. So she changed. And the baby cried. And then she decided to call the mama, to encourage her to get over to the appt. so we could leave. We left quite late, but I got to hold the baby for a while, so I wasn't disappointed. Gaspard has grown so so much and he looks like a little prince now in his button down shirts and hand-knit sweaters. Apparently he's developping a personality now, and Mme. Beguin used the adjectives impatient and mischievous to describe him. Unfortunately she talks so fast when she talks about him that I have trouble following. I also don't know much baby vocabulary, so trying to say that he can now hold his head up on his own (a development since last time I saw him) was nearly impossible to communicate.

Mme. Beguin spent the first few minutes of the car ride babbling about the baby, then proceeded to politics. I would have thought that she'd be excited and content for once, but Paris hasn't stopped rioting since the elections and another manifestation was planned for this evening, so she went crazy ranting about the left in France, how they can't get themselves together and how people should be allowed to work and to make as much money as they'd like. She looked over at me at this point and noted, "We wouldn't want a situation like the United States, but people have the right to work hard and earn big salaries and buy yachts if they wish." This whole rant was provoked by the fact that the French press has had nothing to talk about during this lame-duck period, and they've been all over Sarkozy for taking a secret few day vacation on a friend's yacht in Corsica (as far as I can tell from my 10 minutes of news I watch daily while working out). Sadly for France Sarkozy's vacation has been the headline since the election ended. That and some drama about a swimmer. Alors. I also got some family gossip in the car ride...Jean (my host brother) and Josephine (his cousin/17 yr. old girlfriend) broke up. And from the way she put it, it sounded like she broke things off. Quel drama! Apparently Jean is quite sad, since he lives at his university and coming home to visit her was one of the highlights of his sad, boarding life. I can't figure that kid out...he is moodier than a teenager (he basically is one though, since French boys don't grow up). He snaps at his family, then sulks, then says something nice, then goes back to sulking and sighing. Alors.

Sarko-Sego final round

Today was election day in France. I woke up this morning at Becky's apartment in Poitiers and on our way down the stairs her 8-year-old host brother said, "Aujourd'hui, c'est le jour de vote!" (Today is voting day!). It was adorable and quite telling about French political engagement. Today was basically a national holiday. When I walked home from the gym around 6:45, an hour before the results, there was practically no one on the streets, which is very bizarre for a Sunday evening.

I figured I would watch the results with my host family, and around 7:45 I went into the living room. To my surprise, there were no host parents, but my host brother Jean and six of his friends. I was super intimidated, as I barely know Jean, but I really wanted to watch the results so I asked if I could sit down. The response was a chorus of yeses, and Jean had gotten me a glass of wine before I had found I chair. I quickly discovered I was in a room full of young conservatives (to be expected, since I knew the political leanings of the Beguins). Naturally Jean asked me who I supported, and I timidly said I was hoping for Royal to win. Luckily the girl next to me was the single Royaliste in the room. I found out later, as the mayor of Paris was speaking on TV, that this girl was the mayor's god-daughter. She was quite disappointed with the results.

Waiting for the results was like waiting for the ball to drop in Times Square on New Year's. There was a countdown along the bottom of the screen. As we got down to the 10 second mark, tiny images kept flying into the screen and as the timer went from 01 to 00 the images came together to form Sarkozy's face with a big 53% underneath. Quite the dramatic way to announce. And the room exploded. Everyone hugged and kissed and shouted and Jean busted out the champagne. He must have anticipated victory, as he had three bottles chilling in the fridge. Apparently two of the boys come from the town where Sarko started his political career as mayor, so they were ecstatic.

After the announcement we watched Sego and Sarko's speeches, typical rhetorical promise-filled discourses that both ended with "Vive la Republique, Vive la France" Alors. The cameras also showed the places around the country where the supporters were gathered, particularly Place de la Concorde, which resembled Times Square packed with people. After her speech, Royal went there to speak again. Sarko gave his speech from the presidential palace, then headed out to another Parisian square near his headquarters. At this point Jean and his friends decided to join the festivities. They invited me to come along, and I agreed, but unfortunately while I was in my room getting my coat and things, they left without me. Oops. Alors, still a fun night. Besides the result.

On a final note, here's a spoof of Sarkozy's campaign poster that I adore. His slogan is "Ensemble tout devient possible" Together everything is possible. This one reads "Together...without the poor, the foreigners, welfare recipients, extreme left, communists, homosexuals, HIV positives, blacks, arabs (and so it continues with lots of culturally specific references) and ends with "the guy who swiped my wife" hahaha (Sarko's wife cheated on him about 3 years back...they are still married but she said she doesn't want to live in the palace, didn't vote with him, and didn't ride in the car with him...actually wasn't around him at all tonight) America's press would have an absolute field day with these candidates (Sego has a civil union and four kids with the head of her party and her political rival, who also said he wouldn't live in the palace). The French are super good about keeping private lives private though (I read most of this in the NY Times). Alors, we've still got legislative elections in a month to see how well Sarko's grand plans will be put into action. 'til then, vive la republique, vive la france!

Poitiers!

This weekend I took the train out to Poitiers, a small French city about an hour and a half south-west of Paris where the other Middlebury program is located. My friend Becky studies there, and Friday was her birthday, so I went down to surprise her. Another friend from Midd, Amanda, picked me up at the train station and had made plans with Becky for that evening. I had called Becky earlier to wish her a happy birthday, so she had absolutely no idea I was coming.

After Amanda picked me up at the train station, we had a few hours to kill before meeting Becky. We dropped my stuff off at Amanda’s and ate dinner with her family. Amanda has absolutely the crème de la crème of host families. Her host mom, Annette, is a bubbly little French housewife who tells Amanda constantly to make herself at home, invite friends over, live her life, etc. She was incredibly nice to me and very hospitable. Visiting Amanda’s house was like a dream vacation to the French countryside…staying in a cute little house with a cute little French family and cats and yummy French food. Dinner was standard French fare: meat, potatoes, and a salad plate, plus fruit, yogurt, and cheese for dessert. And of course red wine and baguette.

After dinner Amanda and I headed to the apartment of another American student where we planned to meet Becky. I hid in the hallway while Amanda told Becky she had a birthday surprise for her. I then walked in and the look on Becky’s face was priceless. The surprise was absolutely amazing and she was shocked and we were all very, very pleased. Then we ate a delicious chocolate cake made by Becky’s friend Luke, and we were even more pleased. Luke only had six candles, so we did four rounds of blowing them out, each accompanied by a different song (happy birthday, joyeux anniversaire, a clapping song Amanda knows, and “We didn’t start the fire”). We finished off the night in a cute little Irish bar, knowing more birthday celebration would follow tomorrow.

To celebrate Becky’s birthday, Steph’s leaving, and to spend time with Amanda’s friends, Amanda’s host mom Annette decided to host a luncheon on Saturday, called La Fête des Filles. The trip to Poitiers itself was great, but this lunch made it absolutely amazing. Annette and Amanda planned a full French meal and had started planning courses and food weeks ago. Friday night Annette spent hours in the kitchen baking cakes and preparing food. Saturday morning we rose bright and early (well Amanda rose bright and early, and eventually I arose) to continue preparations. I’m sure anyone who knows me is wondering what use I could possibly be in preparing a French meal, and I warned Annette of my inexperience in the kitchen, but she put me straight to work. I arranged flowers, helped set the table, scooped out the macaroons, and helped arrange the entrée plates, all while wearing a precious pink apron.

Half-past noon the fête started with champagne and an apéritif in the salon. We were a group of ten, including 4 Midd girls, 2 University of Poitiers students, a Polish nun studying French in Poitiers (a friend of Annette), Annette, her son Olivier and his friend Bertrand. Originally the lunch was going to be only girls, but Olivier was around and Amanda invited him. He insisted on bringing a friend for support in a room full of foreign girls. He and his friend were both lively and adorable, and we definitely enjoyed having them there. Sister Monica was a Polish nun who came to Poitiers to learn French before heading on a missionary trip for 2 years in Cameroon. She spoke French with a thick Polish accent and was very interesting to talk to (my first conversation with a nun).

After the apéritif, we went into the dining room and started the meal. It began with a starter of crudités and two cakes that Annette had thrown together the night before: cucumber with goat cheese and feta, sun dried tomatoes and basil. Very delicious. Next up was the main course, roasted chicken, green beans and a potato pie. We had a bit of time to breathe then before melted goat cheese on baguette. And finally dessert of chocolate birthday cake, English cream and homemade macaroons. Overall an incredibly delicious meal. All the girls were absolutely stuffed after that. The French boys boasted proudly that they could continue easily.

After our feast, Becky and I wandered back through Poitiers to her apartment, where we collapsed on her bed and talked for a few hours. Later that night we went out to dinner with some American friends at an Italian restaurant, then, in honor of Becky’s birthday, we watched High School Musical. And ate the ice cream that we were too full to eat after lunch.

Although I'm very pleased with my decision to study in Paris, I definitely would have enjoyed life in Poitiers and I'm glad I got to experience it for a weekend.