Leaving through London

London was the first place out of the US I ever visited (other than a trip to Canada that I was so young for that I literally do not remember). I went with my family as the first five days of a month long trip around Europe, because my mom wanted us to go somewhere that spoke English for our inaugural voyage. I also flew through London on my way to Aix at the start of this semester, so heading home from London seemed a fitting end to my European adventure.

When we planned our trip, Leah and I knew that London wasn’t the priority. Yet, there’s just so much to do there! Since we were arriving late Friday night and leaving (inexcusably) early Sunday morning, we packed as much as possible into our one full day in London.

After free breakfast at our hostel (which, incidentally, was literally on top of a bar! The most unique place we’ve stayed on our trip), we walked past the London Eye and Big Ben on our way to Westminster Abbey. Unfortunately, you’re not allowed to take pictures inside the Abbey itself, but it was incredible. Although not the largest or even the most beautiful church we’ve visited, Westminster certainly had the most history. Site of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II and the wedding of Will & Kate (among others), it is also the final resting place of what felt like anyone who was ever important to England! William Shakespeare isn’t there, but Sir Issac Newton, Charles Darwin, and Queen Elizabeth I (among other British monarchs) are, and there are tributes to others such as Jane Austen.

We stopped by Buckingham Palace with all of the other London tourists for the classic: the changing of the guard. It was incredibly crowded, but the band played a song by Michael Bublé and a Les Mis melody! I’m a huge fan of both, so I was basically floating on cloud nine after that.

We had fish and chips for lunch before strolling through some gardens on our way to Shakespeare’s Globe. Unfortunately, we were unable to take a tour of the Globe, as it was closed for dress rehearsal, but we were able to walk around the exposition, a sort of museum. It mostly focuses on was theatre was like during Shakespeare’s time, but also has information about props and costumes that the Globe uses (some of which done trying to stay true to what would have been done in Shakespeare’s time), and some general Shakespeare info. It was a really well done museum, and I wish we had time to see a performance!

We hung out a bit in Trafalgar Square before heading to afternoon tea at Fortnum & Mason’s Diamond Jubilee Tea Salon. We had worried a bit about afternoon tea, if we would stick out in our jeans or commit a faux pas while stirring our tea. We needn’t have worried. Tea was a relaxed affair, elegant but casual. We sat around drinking tea for hours as I developed a new love for scones. It was certainly not a cheap treat, but seemed a fitting way to end our trip.

I’ve always loved London, and this brief stop was no different. It certainly helped that it was a bit warmer than it had been in Dublin and Edinburgh, but for me it was just the open, friendly yet elegant feel to the refined city that I’ll hold in my heart. I’m actually literally writing this post from Heathrow Airport, waiting to board my eight hour flight home (I’ve timed this post to post when I land!). It’s been a wonderful two weeks, I’ve seen and learned so much, but I am so, so tired. I’m going to miss all the people who made this semester so incredible, from my program directors to my friends. Extra shout out to Leah for being the perfect travel buddy, always willing to sit down at a cafe with me, going on free tours in cities she’s already been, letting me wear her jeans, and making me feel safe when I left my comfort zone. I’m sad to finally be at the end of my European adventure, but at the same time, I’m ready to go home.

Edinburgh Charm

“Welcome to Edinburgh, where we have two seasons: light grey and dark grey!” This was how my absurdly Scottish (the accent was everything I have ever dreamed of) tour guide introduced the free tour of Edinburgh. And yes, much like Dublin, Edinburgh was freezing and rainy and (dark) grey. Yet, the overall tone of the city was warmer. Edinburgh has brownish brick buildings. Looking at them, it’s hard to tell if they’ve already been rained on or if they’re just that dark brown in color. Probably both, but the overall effect is like a wooden cabin, welcoming against the cold.

Unfortunately, in Edinburgh, the lack of sleep or running around for 2 weeks finally got the better of Leah, who wasn’t feeling well most of the time. This meant our trip was more relaxed than usual. When we arrived in Edinburgh, we ordered Chinese food and rested in our hostel. The next morning, we went to the National Museum of Scotland, where we took their free tour. At lunch, I tried (and liked) haggis (and yes, I know what it is!), and then Leah headed back to nap at the hostel while I embarked on the customary free walking tour.

I like Edinburgh a lot. Like so many others, it’s a proud city, medieval structures still stare out at you, and stories of national pride are around every corner. We saw the man who inspired the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and the graveyard that gave Lord Voldemort his proper name. I hurried back to the hostel after the tour to escape the cold, and only ventured out again for dinner with cider, but I would love to wander Edinburgh when it’s a bit warmer out.

Friday morning, Leah and I headed to the Edinburgh Castle for some quick pictures (when it wasn’t snowing), and then to the Elephant House. I know, I know, only SOME of the Harry Potter books were written there. But still, some is better than none, they have a signed first edition of the first book, and an excellent coconut cake. Plus, I love elephants, so, basically, I was happy and I know JK Rowling and I are kindred souls. When I write my multimillion bestseller, I’ll be sure to find a similarly quirky, cozy cafe in a similarly charming city.

We strolled up the brightly colored Victoria Street, stopping in any little boutique that caught our eyes, before heading to one last pub for lunch and then, as always, to the airport. Edinburgh was a city that I liked immediately after stepping off of the plane. With the taverns, cafes, and brightly colored streets nestled against the dark bricks, I only wish I had had more time to explore.

Dashing Around Dublin

After sunny Spain and Portugal, Leah and I thought to ourselves “you know what would be fun? Freezing to death at the end of April!” So, we flew from Lisbon to Dublin. To be honest, we were expecting it wouldn’t be quite so cold, as it is almost May, but you know, we’re not bitter or anything. At all. Right.

Dublin is a little ball of energy. The skies were grey and there seemed to be chaos everywhere. We were never quite sure where the appropriate place to cross the street was, which way the cars would be coming, if we had to order our food at the bar or wait to be seated at a table. Dublin has been host to world renowned inhabitants such as James Joyce and Jonathan Swift, and it’s easy to understand where all their energy came from. There was never a shortage of places to go to duck out of the windy cold, and everywhere buzzed.

Our first stop post-hostel was the Guinness Storehouse, for the factory tour and complimentary pint. I’m not really a beer kind of gal, but I cannot recommend the storehouse highly enough. I finally learned what hops are (plants!!!), and my favorite floor was the one dedicated to the advertising world of Guinness. We meandered around the storehouse (shaped like a pint, of course), and enjoyed our complimentary pint of Guinness while enjoying the 360 view of Dublin.

We walked home past St. Patrick’s Cathedral, St. Stephen’s green, and Trinity College, marveling at the beauty of the grey stone and occasionally slipping into Starbucks when we just couldn’t take the cold anymore.

Tuesday morning, we were on a bus before 7am, headed to the Cliffs of Moher. The cliffs are a magnificent natural formation on the complete other side of Ireland, which took all of 3 hours to cross. On the way, we stopped by, I kid you not, Barack Obama plaza! Apparently his ancestral home is in this tiny Irish town, and after he and Mrs. Obama visited a couple of years ago, the small town gets roughly 1,000,000 visitors per year. It kind of made me giggle for the rest of the day.

The cliffs themselves were breathtaking. I wish there was more to say, but we literally just walked around them for a few hours, gazing out over the Atlantic and periodically getting rained on.

On the way back from the cliffs to Dublin, we stopped through a few interesting Irish places, such as a small fishing village in Galloway with colorful buildings, and the Burren, a rock formation smoothed over thousands of years by glaciers. Dublin was a bit grey for my taste, but I can’t get enough of the rolling green hills of the Irish countryside.

That night, we ate in a pub and listened to some Irish singers while sipping on some drinks. Honestly, I was listening to a lot of Once while in Ireland, and this did not disappoint, although I only wish there had been dancers, as well! Finally, on Wednesday, in a surprising turn of events, we ended our Dublin trip with the free tour. We walked around Dublin, the remnants of the town from medieval times, the whole Temple Bar area (filled with pubs), and particularly focused on the 1916 rebellion, the start of the Irish independence movement. We actually happened to be in Dublin on the exact anniversary of the rebellion!

Dublin might not be my favorite place in the world, but the energy was impossible not to pick up. There was so much history nestled into such a beautiful island. I think I’ll have to have another pint of Guinness when it’s a bit warmer out and I have a bit more time, and see if the Emerald Isle doesn’t steal my heart after all.

 

 

Strolling through Lisbon

My two week Euro voyage involves 6 flights (4 Ryanair…), and 1 bus ride. That bus ride happened to be from Sevilla to Lisbon, Portugal! I was a bit apprehensive, because I tend to get a bit motion sick and, in general, despise buses, but we had (questionable) wifi, and, all in all, reached our air b&b in Lisbon without incident on Friday night.

We hadn’t really been sure what we were going to do in Lisbon, everyone we had spoken with who had been talked about the outrageous nightlife and beautiful streets, where buildings were lined with tile. Lisbon was the only city we didn’t plan in advance, but once we started putting an itinerary together, the possibilities seemed endless. Lisbon is as colorful as the tiles on every surface, with a new cafe or scenic vantage point around every corner.

Saturday morning, we headed to Belem, a village a little away from the city center. Belem is famous for it’s ancient defense tower, monastery, and pastel de nata, a traditional Portuguese egg custard. I don’t want to tell you how many of these I had over the weekend, but I thoroughly enjoyed them each and every time!

We stopped by the famous pink street and a food market on our way back for a nap, enjoying the tile work around the city. We checked out the Santa Justa Lift, an elevator with a great view of the city, and then ran home because of the intense winds! Our tour thus far unfortunately hasn’t been as warm as Leah or I had hoped, and it’s only going to get colder as we head into the Dublin/Edinburgh/London week…

Sunday, we walked around the National Azulejo Museum, or tile museum. Leah is pretty obsessed with tiles, and I’m also a huge fan of seeing the different patterns, colors, and works of art made in such a complex process.

We then headed to Sintra, an old royal sanctuary about 40 minutes outside of Lisbon. There are multiple palaces, and my favorite was Pena Palace, a flamboyant complex built by the artistic mind of King Ferdinand II. It’s a primary-colored fairy tale land perched in the mountains with towers, tile works, cloisters, and fantastical shapes. Leah and I kept asking if we were actually in a real place! After walking through part of the park nearby and the local shops in Sintra itself, we headed back to Lisbon to catch the sunset at St. George’s Castle.

Leaving Lisbon, I’m still not sure if it actually happened. The city is so fantastical, it’s like walking around in a dream. From the tile work to the brightly colored buildings, there was a bright surprise around every corner.

 

¡Supermegaguay! Sevilla

*(¡Supermegaguay! means “super cool” in Spanish)

When we got into the center of Sevilla, it was a little past midnight, and right away I loved it. The wide streets, the abundance of plants…my allergies were immediately tickled but so was my curiosity. Seville is more like Aix than Barcelona was; it is smaller and more residential, and walking around it feels quite live able. Yet, it is larger, there are 4 Starbucks (practically within breathing distance of each other), a canal, a bustling nightlife, and of course the Spanish flavor, such as the abundance of cheap and delicious tapas, a bull ring, and other plazas that hearken back to Sevilla’s history.

Wednesday, as per usual, we started with a free walking tour. It was wonderful as always, although we were the youngest people on the tour by at least 20 years, but I was far more excited for what lay after: meeting up with one of my best friends, Emily! Em was my first friend at Muhlenberg, where I spent my first year of college, and we’ve stayed close ever since. She’s studying in Sevilla this semester, and having her guidance was amazing: she translated on our behalf, took us out, and even made us a full itinerary! Having Em was as fun as it was useful, and I can see why she loves Sevilla so much!

The three of us had paella for lunch, and stopped by Em’s home stay before going to Las Setas, a wooden mushroom-shaped structure with views of the city. A bit random, but it felt like walking around a roller coaster. We then fawned over flamenco dresses and took a siesta at the hostel. For dinner, we met with Emily’s friends for pinchos, small sandwiches, before heading out to a club for a bit of dancing. It wasn’t as crazy as our night out in Barcelona, but we still had a good time!

Thursday, Leah and I went to a museum and then Sevilla’s cathedral while Emily was in class. Sevilla’s cathedral used to be a mosque, and is classic in such that there are different additions from different time periods all mashed together, although the most obvious from the outside is gothic (complete with bats…). It’s remarkable for hosting Christopher Colombus’ tomb, a grove of orange trees, and the tower, which has been renovated several times, and offers great views of the entire city.

We got lunch with Em, and headed to Plaza de Espana, which was built for the Ibero-American Exposition of 1929. I’m not sure I’ve ever enjoyed a plaza more, in addition to the beauty of the plaza, we just had so much fun, rowing boats in the canal, playing with giant bubbles, and of course having a photoshoot. I was seriously considering just laying down in the Plaza and never leaving.

After tapas for dinner and trying some of Sevilla’s favorite orange wine, Em and her friend Gabi took Leah and I to see what Sevilla is famous for- flamenco! Flamenco tells of love in the grandest terms with four central elements: guitar, voice, clapping, and dance. We watched two rounds of the show, and I have the strongest urge to sign up for a class when I get home. The passion of the performers, the pain in the singers voice or the sharp movements of the dancer were so captivating.

We went out again that night and met more of Em’s friends, and in the morning got brunch after a good night’s rest. Finally, I had to say goodbye to Em, since Leah and I had a bus to catch. I could easily have stayed in Sevilla for days, weeks, or months. I’m pleased with the amount of local culture we were able to see in such a short amount of time, including toastadas and tintos and flamenco. I hope it won’t be too long until I can get to Sevilla, or see Em, again.

The Mosaic of Barcelona

Saturday, Leah and I, and several of my friends from Aix, flew to Barcelona. Leaving Aix was a bit surreal, but having Leah with me made it feel like just another adventure, not an actual goodbye (yet).

We got into Barcelona and settled into our AirBnb, immediately enjoying the warm sunshine. Barcelona is such a lively city. There is energy in the air; it feels like everyone is trying to express themselves, from the old gothic architecture, standing stately and true, to the magnificent Gaudi buildings, unique and colorful. The whole city is a mosaic of different times and architectures; a million different little pieces that together make a beautiful work of art.

After dropping off our bags, Leah and I headed to Mercado de La Boqueria, the food market in Barcelona. We had 2 euro sangria, fudge, and enjoyed walking through the endless stalls.

We reached the water and spent time just wandering back to our accommodations, picking rights and lefts at random to just get a feel for the city. Later, after tasty (and cheap) burgers, we attended the Florence + the Machine concert. Florence was such an inspiring performer, twirling on stage and preaching a message of love. She gave so much heart and soul into her music, and we danced and sang at the top of our lungs as we tried with mild success to get closer to the stage.

Sunday we started off with a free general walking tour, which we always use to get an overview of the city. After some paella, we bit off more than we could chew, and decided to do another free walking tour, this time dedicated to Gaudi and other modernist works throughout the city. I’m so happy about all the information we learned and sights we saw, but by the time we got home, we passed out for the rest of the night.

On Monday morning, we made the two hour train ride to Montserrat, an ancient monastery with views overlooking Spain. We did a bit of hiking and literally just sat on the edge enjoying the views.

Then we finally visited Park Guell, my favorite of any of Gaudi’s works. We sauntered around, enjoying the tile work and taking pictures. I know we were in Spain, but we honestly heard so much French in Barcelona! I asked some French girls to take our picture in Park Guell, and I’m pleased to report my French skills are still up to snuff (3 days later…).

That night, we did a tapas tour before going out in Barcelona. We had such a good time at both! All of the tapas we’ve had have been delicious, from the patatas (potatoes, served in a variety of fashions), to my favorite, pan con tomate, which is literally just tomatoes on bread. Tuesday morning, after an American brunch (I’ve missed pancakes so much), we headed to the big one: La Sagrada Familia. The outside is absurdly intricate, with hidden details everywhere you look, but it was the inside that captivated me. I’ve honestly never seen such vibrant stained glass.

The pictures don’t do it justice; the light coming through the windows hit the columns and floor with such vibrancy your entire person was bathed in the colorful light. Obviously, the church isn’t yet finished, and neither is all the stained glass work. We had a wonderful start to our adventure roaming around Barcelona, and but we didn’t even nearly have time to do everything, and there will never be time to eat enough tapas. As we boarded our next plain, I was left thinking that I’ll just have to schedule another trip in sometime…maybe when Sagrada Familia is finally finished!

 

An American in Aix

There is a notion I’ve noticed among my peers of study abroad, both in Aix and simply around: the desire to disassociate from the United States. We swear by the lifestyle of the European communities that have adopted us, we attempt to speak quietly or in another language, and hide those things that make us so American. The realized dream of studying abroad encourages us to look harder at all that we have left behind, and all that we have brought with us. Separated from our responsibilities, enabled to reap all the benefits (often) without dealing with the bureaucracy or social ills, there is the temptation to demonize the United States; our value system, our food products, our tone of voice.

Perhaps it is the American Studies major in me, but I have no desire to disassociate myself from the star spangled banner.

That is not to say that there will not be things I miss when I return home; I will entirely miss my fresh bread, and walking through centuries of history on my way to class. Should I give birth while being a working woman in the states, I will think with jealousy of my European peers and their maternity leave, as I already do with their nearly and/or free college educations. It is also not to say that I have ignored all local customs and traditions in favor of my native ones, nor that I advocate for such behavior.

It is simply to say that the United States of America is not just a wasteland of corruption and pesticides. Neither my beloved France nor my homeland are perfect entities, and, as with anything problematic in this world, the value may still be extracted when contextualization is applied.

Being American means I am loud. I am passionate. I hug my friends when I see them, and I smile at strangers on the street. I could pet the dogs of people I’ve never met all day, and I can barely contain myself from putting on a show when, really, any song I know comes on the radio or speakers of a store. I wear whatever color I feel like, and I have been raised in a country that has encouraged my unique voice to be raised whenever I please.

This is not to speak for everyone. I had a nearly idyllic, entirely privileged upbringing, and the US told me as it has not told every one of it’s citizens that I can be (nearly) anything I choose. Being so far from home for so long with minimal responsibilities and seemingly endless opportunities, the most important thing I took through every uncomfortable situation, broken French conversation, excruciatingly early flight, and wonderful memory was myself.

I am my constant in life. And so I learned about myself through all the ways I got by in less than ideal situations this semester. I struggled in the attempt to fit into French society, and I realized that not only was this an impossible dream, but one I did not want to pursue. So much of who I am is because I am a loud, obnoxious, happy American. And I love that about myself. I love France and will miss it dearly, but I could never fully turn my back on my (imperfect) homeland, because it made me who I am. And I trust myself, and I am proud of myself. I learned to fly.

The Final Aixcellent Weekend

It’s all wrapping up now…I’m done with finals, and this Saturday, I leave my Aix for a 2 week adventure with my good friend Leah before finally returning home. But for my last weekend in France (I can’t actually believe I just typed that), I had some classic day trips Aixploring Provence…

Friday, we had a CEA trip to Château La Coste, a vineyard not too far from Aix. We all had a picnic lunch before seeing where the wine was made, enjoying a wine tasting (of course), and doing a walking tour around the grounds. Château La Coste invited many artists to come visit the large vineyard grounds and make whatever kind of art wherever they wanted, wherever the land spoke to them. There were statues of wolves, an interactive almost playground exhibition, and a cave made from oak trees. It was a charming way to spend a sunny afternoon.

Saturday, we were up bright and early for our last CEA trip! We headed to Les Baux-de-Provence, a medieval fortress. The views were incredible, but they don’t capture the hell that was the wind up there. Les Baux is famous for its wind, and I’m not kidding when I say there were tears (wind-induced, of course).

 

After, we headed to Carrières de Lumières, a multimedia art show set to music, housed in an old quarry. It is difficult to explain how wonderfully amazing this was. The exposition this time (it changes every year) was centered around the works of Chagall. There were 12 “chapters” over the 40 min sequence, and one, for example, was centered around the ceilings he painted at the Paris Opera House. This piece that you would have to go to Paris to see ordinarily was literally projected on to the ceilings, which were, you know, 30 feet above your head. Meanwhile, opera music is playing over the speakers, and images of the seats are projected onto the walls, and then larger images of the ceiling paintings are on the walls, and they are animated so they move, and you feel so small, and around every corner you look there is a difference facet of the work being explored. It was being immersed in the art itself, up close, personally, as if you were swimming around in Chagall’s brain when he was considering how to make his works. It was stunning.

After, we headed to Mas (which means “farm” in the Provençal regional dialect) de la Pyramide, owned by 91 year old Lolo, whose family has owned the farm since the time of Louis the XIV; he still has the original deed with the stamp of the sun king! Lunch was a three hour affair, with ratatouille, cheese, plenty of bread, pâtés, and, of course, rosé wine. It was a bit sentimental, as our farewell lunch as a group, and afterwords we wandered around the farm, annoying chickens and geese.

Finally, we visited Mausole St Paul, the asylum where Van Gogh voluntarily interned himself for the last few years of his life and painted over 200 paintings, including my personal favorite of all time, Starry Night.

And on Sunday, we were up early yet again. Megan, Matt, and I, had decided to visit the Camargue, the area a little south of Aix, know for the wildlife. Camargue touches the Mediterranean sea, but is better known for its national park, a swamp land. We had the great pleasure of being guided by a former CEA student who showed us the bulls, birds, flamingos, and classic white Camargue horses. The wildlife was amazing and surprising, as one just never really associates swamps with France.

In the center of town, Saintes–Maries-de-la-Mer, we had lunch in the sun, picked up some gelato, and walked around on top of a church with a stone roof. Then we attended the Course Camarguaise, bull fighting games where around 12 men attempt to rip a string off that has been tied around the bull’s horns. The bulls are not killed at the end, and for our part we didn’t see any men hurt at all, either. The course is a well-loved event in Camargue, and people follow the bulls from arena to arena based on which is the craziest! We had a fantastic time, but being in the front row gave me a bit of anxiety when one of the bulls escaped the arena (don’t worry, all of the seating area was built high above and barred against the games…).

My CEA group has been traveling so much, particularly since spring break. I’ve certainly been far from home myself, so enjoying our last weekend together felt like coming full circle, the first time we had all spent a weekend together in months. Studying abroad has been a tremendous time of personal growth for me, and I have cultivated a sense of independence, but I have so enjoyed the company that has surrounded me: getting lunches in the park, drinking wine and watching movies, or running around France until we’re exhausted. None of my aixperiences would’ve been the same without the 17 other crazy people I have come to love in such a short amount of time, and I’m already sentimental that time is nearly over.

French Idiosyncrasies and Cultural Norms

This is kind of a part 1/2 post about being an American in France. This is just my perspective, and later in the week I’ll be talking about what it’s like specifically being American, but right now I want to talk about how the French live…

Society here functions in a manner such that you are expected to conform to society, it will not adjust for you. It is expected that you will eventually adapt to the French way of life, as a good citizen. This is seen in the children who learn by error, and dogs who not only never bark at strangers or other dogs, but don’t even need to be kept on a leash.The French don’t care for your foreign ways, and they live in a world that is not about drawing attention to oneself. As a bold girl from a culture that has always praised me for standing out, this was a bit of a shock at first.

French life is not about being the best (except perhaps when it comes to food). In terms of beauty and fashion, American women in general strive to stand out, to be a perfected version of themselves. Hair perfectly in place, outfit on trend, full face of makeup. The French women dress in neutral colors (yes, a lot of black), and you’d be hard-pressed to find a woman in full foundation. That isn’t to say that French women don’t care about how they look, but the beauty emphasis is on highlighting your favorite things about yourself, like for example with a bold lipstick, rather than covering up your own perceived imperfections.

Socially, the people of France are impersonal, not rude. They see hugging as a whole lot of physical contact, but even the men kiss each other in greeting here. It is flat out disrespectful to enter or exit a shop without saying hello and goodbye directly to the shopkeeper or server, and they will in turn wish you a good day. There is an attitude of complaining built in to the culture; the most stereotypical Frenchman i can think of is the sassy waiter who gives you a hard time, but all in good fun. There is a guarded barrier of controlled facial expressions, but once you strike up a conversation (admittedly a bit difficult), French people are eager to share their thoughts.

There is no understanding of the concept of lines here. This was incredibly frustrating when I arrived and sometimes still gets to me. French people here just kind of all stand around the thing they want, and it is up to the vendor to decide whose turn it is next, since everyone just kind of keeps butting in. They also just let their dogs poop wherever they want, and oh, yes, you are also pretty much expected never to pet a stranger’s dog. It’s not that they would yell at you or anything, but someone on the street would be quite confused as to why you would want to pet their dog at all! This has been a constant sadness.

This must just be a South of France thing, but the people have a different concept of cold. It will be 60 degrees out, and my fellow Americans and I will be wearing perhaps just a light jacket, or maybe no jacket at all. The French? Oh, they’ll be in their puffy winter coats. It boggles my mind every time, and I wonder how they don’t melt. I assume I’ll see them in coats until I depart, and we have had many days that have reached 70 degrees over here! This must be a matter of being spoiled by the Provence sun.

There are of course aspects I don’t enjoy about living here. The men are obnoxious; I have been the victim of street harassment more here than anywhere else in my life, and while I would feel safe walking around at night alone physically, I always avoid it because I don’t want strange men hitting on me from afar. And there is of course the smoking. Whether these are French problems specifically or just side effects of city life is hard to say, but it is part of my life living here.

Another thing: TIME! Time is a lie here. Nothing is open past, oh, 8 or 9 pm, nothing is open before 9 or 10 am, and nothing NOTHING is open on Sundays. Except, well, Monoprix. Which is basically Walmart, and is only open until 1pm anyway. There are also some (many) places that are just closed for lunch, such as the post office. To-go coffee/food also really doesn’t exist, unless it’s an ice cream cone. This fits in with the way of life where you enjoy your time with your loved ones and don’t work constantly, but I am forever frustrated by this restriction.

The Provençal life, in my opinion, is best expressed by the word savor. In a general way, life is not rushed here. We sit in cafés for hours on end, literally watching people just walk by, and the waiter never bothers you after you’ve been served; instead it’s in your hands to ask for the check. There is a general appreciation for life, for long evenings spent with friends around a dinner table, or a conversation at the market. The food quality is impeccable and something I will miss greatly when I return, I understand the value of a fluffy croissant hot from the oven or fresh strawberries and baguettes that really are stale the next day. The focus is on the simple, on the today.  The pleasure of doing something in the moment that you’re interested in, whether that be buying tulips to brighten up your home or taking a stroll around town.

The culture is different, and while that is neither good nor bad itself, it is something I have come to enjoy. It isn’t for everyone, but I’ve personally grown from an anxious perfectionist to a more relaxed person who doesn’t mind waking up a bit earlier to have a fresh croissant from the local bakery, or walks slowly home from school rather than rushing from activity to activity. The people here savor life. They aren’t so stressed, and in living here for a short time, I have embraced the French way of blending in; I have come to savor life, imperfections, idiosyncrasies, and all.

There are many things I have forgotten, and I just found this YouTube video that hits on a few of the things I’ve missed: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQqniPw6PzM

Impressions of Giverny

A few years ago when I visited Paris, we had the option of going to Giverny, AKA the town which houses impressionist painter Claude Monet’s house and gardens, but we passed it up in favor of other things closer to city center. We also tried to visit the palace of Versailles, but were deterred by the long lines (never go on a Sunday in June, folks), and explored the gardens rather than seeing the interior of the castle. That trip was once in a lifetime and I absolutely loved it, but in the interval years between then and now, I have explored my love for all things beautiful, notably including palaces and flowers.

So finally on Friday, myself and two of my friends boarded a train for the weekend trip I was perhaps most excited for this entire duration; righting those previous misjudgments of my youthful self. It was the first time I had taken the TVG (high speed) train from Aix, and even though we left the station at the ungodly hour of 6:37 AM, it was lovely. There’s just something so pleasant about watching the countryside roll by and not worrying if all your liquids will fit in 3oz containers!

First up was Versailles, which we were able to enter for free, thanks to being resident young people in the EU. I have to say, this has been a remarkable thing. So many times in my trips I’ve gotten free or reduced admission to museums or other cultural sights because of my residency in the EU and my age (under 26!). Now, of course some of my favorite museums in the US are the Smithsonian museums, which are of course free to all, but the student/young person discounts in the EU have come in handy many many times, and I am extremely grateful.

Versailles was on my list because at almost every other palace I’ve seen this semester, somewhere along the lines there has been the comment that that palace was modeled after Versailles. It is the palace of palaces! Yet, I was almost…unimpressed. Versailles was lovely, and I adored the famous Hall of Mirrors, but I ultimately felt as though there were not as many rooms available as there have been in other palaces that I have visited. Yet,  the sun shined on us in the beautiful (and vast) gardens.

After what felt like 19 more train rides, we finally arrived in the town of Vernon, about 30 minutes away from Giverny by bus. We kept referring to Vernon as the “Snow White village”, due to the Germanic architecture in the old buildings. Placed along the Seine, Vernon was just so charming! We had lovely meals and an overall calm weekend, ambling down the streets from medieval times and strolling through the quiet town.

Yet, it was Giverny that took my heart. I know, I know, it’s hardly even spring, and it’s true, there were flowers missing. But oh. my. goodness. Monet’s garden is a dream. Flowers sprawling everywhere you look, in each hue blessed by the sun. Arches, rows, bushes, rivers, just the natural beauty everywhere you look. Walking around the garden, I, too, had the desire to paint! And seeing famous sights from paintings I adore…well, there’s just nothing like standing on the famous Japanese bridge that Monet painted in his very own garden.

And then there’s the house itself. Monet and I are clearly kindred spirits, because it was just so colorful. The dining room, entirely yellow, the blue porcelain kitchen…I wanted to pack it all up and take it home with me. The overall vibe of Giverny was peaceful inspiration, with joy radiating from each vibrant color. Life is abundant in Giverny, and I was refreshed with the desire to create. I ended up buying five prints for myself…I guess you could say Monet’s house made quite an impression on me!

It was a peaceful weekend filled with beauty and charm. It seems as though with every corner of France I explore, I love it a bit more. I was sad upon leaving Giverny, but I know I’ll be back someday to see the flowers in full bloom.