A Tale of Two Cities

     This past weekend I took a short trip to Amsterdam with Anna and Haley. I'm glad this was my second time visiting the city because we didn't have much time to see everything and I also saw a few new things. Two things I immediately noticed upon exiting Amsterdam Centraal station that I didn't notice in 2006: the city's perfume is weed and everything is about half the price that it is in Paris.

     We dragged ourselves and our luggage across the entire city to our hostel. This was my first hostel experience. We were given three bunks in a six-bed room with three older men. I suppose this is the reality of being a frugal student, but if I could do it over again, I would've booked a different style room. We were only in the room to sleep, so if was fine in the end. I'm just glad we had lockers in the room to store our valuables, because it was not the most settling experience.

     Since we got in pretty late on Friday, we went out for fries and a Heineken- it was Amsterdam, after all- and along the way, a stranger thought it'd be funny to take my hat off and put it on. I was NOT okay with that and I screamed in his face and ripped it off his head. My rage turned into the running joke for the weekend. But seriously, do not touch my hat, especially since it was my dad's from Germany in the 70s. Only slightly special.

With Anna near our hostel

     On Saturday, we went to the Anne Frank House, which was an experience that I was glad to have again, now that I'm six years older. It's surreal to think as you're walking through Anne's bedroom that they had to live here in darkness and silence for such a long time, only to be ratted out by someone they knew. I also never knew that Anne had wanted to become a famous writer and publish a book about her experiences. Her dreams came true.

     The rest of the day we spent at the Van Gogh Museum and the Heineken Brewery, which was one big marketing ploy, but fun to see anyway. That night, we had to run across town to make it to a cocktail cruise on the canals. We had a classy time, floating through the city sipping on mojitos and daiquiries and taking in the lights of the city. Afterwards, we decided to take a walk through the Red Light District, as tourists do. After Anna took a picture of the red lanterns, I decided to take one too. Big mistake. A prostitute came out of her window and onto the street to yell at me to delete my photo immediately or she would call the police. I knew that photos weren't allowed of the people, but apparently you can't even take pictures of the lights. I was terrified. You have never been yelled at until you've been yelled at by a prostitute in Amsterdam. So many lessons learned this weekend!

     On Sunday, we visited the flower market, shopped and had one last Amstel next to the canals. Oh! Here comes another lesson...We lost track of time and realized we had half an hour to get back to the hostel, grab our suitcases and get to the train. We quite literally sprinted across the city, my suitcase flipping over every few feet on the cobblestones and pushing little old ladies without apologies. I almost shouted to the others to go ahead without me, I'd find another train back to Paris, but we made it just in time as it was pulling out of the station. I am five minutes late wherever I go, but this got a little out of hand. 

    Stepping off the train back in Paris felt like coming home. Despite how expensive, crazy and noisy it is, I can't imagine living in any other city. I love Amsterdam, but Paris is much more me. Especially since it's now very much springtime, I almost want to cancel spring break and stay in Paris. Today I had a glass of Chardonnay at a café, basking in the sun and people-watching after my class got out early. What a moment of bliss! I could live this life forever.

Rachel

Paris (And Fontainebleau) When It Drizzles

     Tout à coup, it's springtime in Paris. Last week, it was even warm enough to skip wearing a coat. Everything is coming to life in Paris and I'm so happy to see the sun again. The fountains in the Jardin du Luxembourg are turned on and there are so many runners and tennis players. I can't wait to get my running shoes in the mail so I can run again and maybe find a place to rent a tennis racket. That's what I really hate about winter, being inside all the time. I really just want to lay in the sun all day long with a good book and a croissant, bien sûr. 

     I never really thought about how much I love being in nature until I went to Fontainebleau this weekend. Anna, Anna's friend, Greg and I left early Saturday morning to take the 60-kilometer train ride out to see the château and go hiking in the Forêt de Fontainebleau, which is known for its boulders and rare species of trees. I'm getting really jaded to how beautiful everything is in Europe and I was not really shocked by how insanely lavish the château was. When I come back home, I'll probably be in shock that Target doesn't have frescoes and gilded ceilings.

     Since it was beautiful weather all week, of course it had to drizzle on and off all weekend in Fontainebleau and back in Paris. Despite the cold, it was not really all that bad since we were under the trees during the hike. It was actually really beautiful since the landscape was covered in a layer of light fog. We hiked up to the bluff overlooking the towns of Fontainebleau and Avon, picnicking and having great conversations with wine, baguettes, and croissants on the boulders. It's strange to think as you're walking, silent except for sticks crackling underfoot, that the urban jungle of Paris is just a forty-minute train ride back. I love being in the city- whether it's Minneapolis or Paris- but it's wonderful to get away from the crowds and the noise and be present, in the moment, and actually hear what other people are saying, instead of shouting over ambulance sirens and bumping into every impatient, black suit-wearing Parisian that ever lived.

     I'm now really looking forward to our weekend hiking trip in May that I'm working on planning right now of which our location hasn't been decided yet. Never thought I'd miss the Apennines from last summer this much, but I do.

Rachel

La vie en rose

     Now that the novelty of riding the métro has long-since worn off, we have a love-hate relationship. I’ve started taking round-about ways of getting around instead of taking the seemingly logical, American straight-shot across town, just to avoid frequents stops at the nightmares known as Montparnasse-Bienvenüe and Châtelet, because most of the time I’d honestly rather waste a half hour on a detour than fight my way through swarms of people who just stand there on the moving sidewalks. I’m also not the biggest admirer of that one person who smells like rotten eggs who always makes an appearance when the train is full and there’s no way out. But despite my gripes with other passengers’ hygiene, I don’t know what I’d do without the métro, because it really is the most convenient way of going anywhere in Paris. What will I do when I go back to Minneapolis and there’s only the Hiawatha line?

     I was asked a few times before coming here if I could imagine living in Paris after my semester and the answer just came to me: Yes. In a heartbeat. I think Americans are always in search of Audrey Hepburn’s Paris; the Paris without lines, pollution, or bad weather. But it really doesn’t exist. Paris is imperfect, it is always raining and no one is singing “Bonjour Paris” throughout town. Tourists are able to avoid being hazed by Paris- they live in hotels, speak their own language and leave before things turn sour. Now that I actually live in Paris, it’s completely different than the memories of Paris I had of my last visit and my ideas of what this would be like. Life is harder than at home, yes, but it's so much more normal here than I expected, too. My frustrations have already peaked and I think I could honestly live with crunchy, line dried towels, room temperature water, and without proper chips and salsa, because I love most everything else and the availability of outrageously good croissants and wine more than makes up for it. Eating breakfast under the Eiffel Tower while on an assignment from my boss, sitting in the sun in the Place des Vosges today at lunch and walking home from the Montparnasse cemetery (10 minute walk) are just a few of the little moments of bliss that I’ve had in the last week that make it hard for me to think about how my days here are numbered. I spent a half hour at my internship looking at jobs in Paris, desperate for a way to stay. I hardly think a semester is long enough to improve my French as much as I want to- I’m still not able to be funny yet. My coworkers must think I’m the most serious person ever.

     But for the time I have left, I’ll just have to profiter au maximum, as they say. 

Rachel

Croissants under the Eiffel Tower. 

Montmartre at dusk

We'll always have Paris

     Coming back to Paris from the south of France felt like coming home. It was nice to come back and know the city and see the familiar sights and sounds again. My internship is starting to pick up and I'm feeling like I'm actually helping for the most part. On Friday, I had to call every three-star hotel in the 10th arrondissement- a whole page- in French and see if they had available rooms. When my boss told me to do it, I thought she was kidding. She wasn't, and I had to make my way down the list. Bonjour, je cherche des chambres pour vingt-cinq personnes...Speaking on the phone isn't as hard as I thought it'd be, even though one person asked me to send a written message instead because he couldn't understand me. I'm busy all day now and I have my croissant-based lunch every day in the Place des Vosges, where I get harassed by fat little pigeons that eat the flakes of croissant that I drop. I also got a chance to draw a little bit, which made me really happy.

View from my bench in the Place des Vosges (I made a sketch of this woman)

My desk!

    It was Elise's birthday on Tuesday, so we went to the top of the Arc de Triomphe at night to take in the view, followed by sitting by the Seine with some wine for the birthday girl. It was so much fun to hang out, be really silly and to take my mind off being sad about missing my grandma's funeral, not being able to see my extended family that I never get to see and not being able to be there for my mom. My mom told me she read my last blog post at the funeral and "there wasn't a dry eye" in the audience and that it was like I was there. Hanging out was also a welcome respite from all the seriousness of having to act professional full-time during the week at work and at school and pretending to be French. And honestly, what's more beautiful than sitting by the river with wine, croissants and good conversation in Paris? I don't think it gets much better than that. Sometimes I forget this is my life.

Happy birthday, Elise!

     This weekend, my boss gave me free tickets to see Avenue Q in French, because she realized that she couldn't take her kids to see it since it's essentially a dirty version of Sesame Street. I'd already seen it a few years ago in Chicago, but I happily took the 40 euro tickets to see it in French. I guess there are a few perks to being a stagiaire!  

     And, just for kicks, here's a funny story: I was in the métro stop Châtelet today and the inevitable happened. I missed a step and landed straight on my knee, which started to bleed and swell. I spent the rest of the day hobbling around the Louvre and the Marais and I'd really prefer not to think about how the bacteria that's growing on every surface in the métro is probably now in my knee. I really need to carry a first aid kit around with me. 

Rachel

C'est la vie

   

      Over the weekend, our group traveled to Marseille and Arles in southern France. We took the TGV- the train à grande vitesse (high speed train)-from the gare de Lyon early Friday morning and it took less time to travel across the entire country of France than to drive to my cabin in northern Minnesota. I've been wanting to see the Mediterranean for years and it was really cool to be able to finally be there. The weather was so warm that some of the people in our group were wearing shorts, while the Marseillais were dressed like they were in danger of frostbite. We got a nice tour of the old part of town, le panier (literally "the basket") that reminded me a lot of the Italian hilltowns. We had the night off to explore the city, but I got sick at the restaurant, so it stayed pretty low-key. In the morning, we got the chance to see the Château d'If, which is a prison that was made famous by Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. I wish I had read it beforehand, but now I have my very own copy that is basically the size of a shoebox.

Port of Marseille

At the Château d'If

     Marseille felt like a small town- 800,000 people feels small to me now- and it was nice to get out of Paris and feel like I could breathe again, and also in Arles, which actually is quite small with about 70,000 people. Saturday afternoon, we took another train to Arles. I wish we had more time there because I think I would've really enjoyed learning more about the city, but we were definitely rushed. We got to see the Roman ruins and ampitheatre that still exist in the center of town, which looks like a mini-Rome. The mistral, the wind that comes up off the Mediterranean, was absolutely insane. On Saturday night, we walked down to see the Rhône that runs through Arles and the wind was so strong I couldn't walk straight.

     I got to sit in first class on the way back, which would have been great to sleep in, but there was too much conversation going on. It was really great to have everyone together and I'm pretty sure I laughed the entire weekend. After having so much fun, I came home to Paris to find out my grandma had died an hour earlier. She had Alzheimer's for twelve years, so I'm happy she can finally be free. I don't know if there's a worse way out in life. Though I knew this was coming, I still can't really believe that she's gone and that I can't be there. It's really tragic that I never got to know her as an adult since she hasn't recognized me for five years. She was everything that I think really matters in life- to be kind-hearted, modest, determined, loving and always up for a laugh, even till the end. Now when I think about her, I picture her from my older memories instead- in her golfing clothes, her bright pink lipstick, forcing seconds on everyone at the table and giving such good hugs that they hurt.

    This week has been a little off. I'm exhausted and a little sick and I think I might have ordered a sandwich au japon today instead of a sandwich au jambon. I got lost on the way home from my internship today on the line that I take every single day. I could really use a hug from my mom, whose hugs are comparable to Grandma's. Mais c'est la vie, n'est-ce pas?

Rachel

I first came to Paris...one month ago...

     As of today, one month has passed since I arrived in Paris. I feel like I've lived here all my life, but I also feel like  it's all just beginning, which is probably because I started my internship this week at French Travel Partners and my classes at the Catholic Institute of Paris.

    This is how you can tell I've been here a month: 

First week of school- it's so pretty!

      I get recognized at our favorite bars and restaurants. I take the metro most days without even looking at a map. I cook most of my meals at home, with dinner at 8 pm at the earliest. I've figured out how to do laundry (it's awful here). I read books in French during my daily commute (An hour to my internship! Yuck!). I get asked questions everywhere I go about where to find things (But I usually just say je ne sais pas). I'm starting to get picky about my bread and fruit. I sometimes have trouble speaking in English and I certainly can't spell in it anymore (Which is a shame because I was once the 4th place winner in my school spelling bee. I used to really be somebody.)

     My school is so gorgeous and I'm actually really excited that classes have started despite my "not a morning person" attitude I usually have until about noon. My classes are each 3 hours long, but they meet once a week. I'm in class Tuesday and Thursday and at my internship Monday, Wednesday and Friday for a grand total of 12 hours of class time per week and 21 at my internship. I can already tell my French has improved so much in the past month and I can't wait to see how good I'll be at the end of the semester. But actually I can wait, because I don't want this to end.

Off to the south of France tomorrow! 

Bisous,

Rachel

"When good Americans die, they go to Paris." -Oscar Wilde

     This weekend was really centered around death. I got to see the Père-Lachaise and Montparnasse cemeteries, of which the first one is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. Père-Lachaise is full of mossy tombs, statues and gravestones that date from all different eras and mark so many famous names, it's truly amazing. I made it to the graves of Edith Piaf, Sarah Bernhardt, Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde (which has the tradition of being kissed) and Chopin. Even though it's a 45 minute commute, I really want to go back and find others that I missed, like Gertrude Stein and just read a book there or something. 

Kissing Oscar Wilde

     Today was not a good day. I started my internship at 9 AM, which I tried to be positive about, but it really gets old when you feel like a two-year-old all day long. I wasn't given a lot of work to do, but it was hard to understand and be understood entirely in French, especially with tourism industry-specialized words, like pax, which apparently is internationally recognized as "persons." For lunch, which is from 1-2 pm in France, it was interesting to see all the other working French go out and get their lunch to-go, as in a sandwich at a boulangerie or various hot made-from-scratch meals. What a different experience lunch during work is here. During my summer job, I speed away from work in my car to the nearest fast-food place, throw a burger in my mouth, scatter fries all over the floor while probably driving with a knee or two and then I still show up late. I'm definitely liking the lunch scene better over here. By 6 PM, I was almost nodding off and my boss thankfully let me go home. (I took myself shopping on the Champs-Élysées instead.)

     To continue my fun, I decided to do laundry. Joy! I had heard that the American who lived in my room last semester got her clothes stuck in the washing machine for three days. I put on a brave face tonight, put my coins in and hoped for the best. Guess whose clothes are stuck this semester? This girl.

    Can't wait to get away to Arles and Marseille this weekend.

Rachel