Well, unexpected, confusing, beautiful feelings...end of the journey.

Last Friday night was incredible. Every week for two hours since the beginning of the semester, I've worked with a group of foreign students on creating a theatre performance. This opportunity is one of those offered by the CIREFE for its students. There is also a group for music, a choir and a cinéma group.
I have to admit, that while I enjoyed the experience all the way through, there were days when I was worried, or when I wrote it off as inferior to my experiences doing theatre in the U.S. with people just as serious about a career in the arts as I am.

The performance was about a week away and we were a mess. I began to worry. My main scene in the "spectacle", an extract from Moliere's Les Precieux Ridicules was fine, but not spectacule-ar. The other scenes ranged from ok to disastrous.  But when push came to shove and after several long rehearsals the week of, when everyone was exhausted and stressed from finals and the impending end of the semester, we pulled through.

For the first time, all three of us in the Molière finally came together and acted with the same level of energy - and higher than before. It was a scene of seduction - the premise of the play is that a young genius writer/artist uses two young aristocratic ladies, who dream of holding a grand salon, in order to get ahead. In the scene, the writer recites an "impromptu" and the girls become completely wrapped around his...little finger. Without the right energy and the right level of exaggeration, the scene would fall flat.

But we did it! And the rest of the spectacle came together well.

"Cela n'est pas de refus!"

What a group.

That night I had my first real experience at a discothèque - I have been out many times, but normally in bars or "boites de nuit" - nightclubs - which is slightly different. In Rennes, Bars close at 1, nightclubs at 3 and discothèques at 6 am... The CIREFE reserved the first half of the evening at the legendary "L'Espace", which then opened to the public at midnight. My host mom told me that L'Espace was and still is the gay discotheque - I can affirm that!

It was a blast to dance with my friends and celebrate the success of the spectacle, even if by the end of the night some of my closest friends were off dancing coupled up and I had long lost my french dance partner to the crowd - my fault, I told him I'd be right back. Think that is what girls tend to say when they want to get rid of someone... oh well.  It was a good night, walked home with Stephanie since she lives in the same direction as me just a little further on from the centre-ville. 

Saturday and Sunday were also evenings out - "une verre en ville" with Steph and Elsa, my scene partner. Emil, the guy we played opposite, also above, came too, but later. Sunday was a barbeque in the lovely Parc de Gayuelles. 

Tuesday, after a hellish literature exam, the director of the theatre group, Pascal, invited us over for a potluck at his house. Really lovely man with a lovely house and an even lovelier family. It was great to be all together and to discuss the performance as well as politics, university life in other countries, and our futures. I talked with Pascal about my hopes of pursuing theatre - he was supportive. I wish I had thought to ask his background, I never did. With all of us, as is customary in France, he maintained the "vous" form of address, and while I have come to appreciate that as a form of respect, it is also distancing - interesting how connotations like that can be so complex with varied meanings and how just the nuance between "tu" et "vous" can determine a relationship. 

What vagabonds

Last night was yet another soirée, and while I knew I was doomed to make my sickness, which set in sunday night, last even longer, I felt I had to go out to say goodbye. It was not the best night in the world, and goodbyes were bittersweet. I had already said goodbye to Brinn, my only other close American friend her other than Stephanie, earlier that afternoon, and that was hard. Last night was goodbye - to everyone. I wanted to do it all at once, even if I am in Rennes a few more days.

I wasn't quite expecting that I would find saying goodbye so hard. Two weeks ago, I would have said that these people were just passing through my life. That may or may not be true - most of them I will never see again - some I will make an effort to keep in touch with. Still, they have shared a part of my life, a very critical part of my life, where I have grown and changed and been challenged, found myself a child and a woman all in the same moment, and I suppose that means something, and saying goodbye means saying goodbye to Rennes, to France, to this period of discovery and change. It is rather similar to the feelings I had after high school graduation, saying goodbye to my classmates, many of whom I didn't know well but who had been a presence in my life for many many years. I don't mean my closest friends, but all the faces who made up Pullman High class of 2009 - this feels a bit the same.

Of course, it was harder to say goodbye to certain people... There are those who have touched my life, who have been my best friends here, whether by fate or just by default, and I am lucky to have them.

Leaving sucks. But, gotta keep on dancing, like I did with my girl from Sweden:

Best dance partner/scene partner in all of France

Gotta keep on.

Chamonix

Tried to see Mont Blanc. Couldn't. Stupid weather.

voyage, part 1

A little late in coming, but as I come close to wrapping up my semester and I suppose a blog about my vacation is in order. Coming back was a whirlwind as I was immediately thrown into the rhythm of classes again, but this time with actual work to do (wait, exams?), and blogging has not been very easy.

First of all, my voyage of discovery begin with a discovery a little bit sour: Grenoble is not too incredible and it's worse in the rain. I don't even want to write about it, as a city it's too depressing: dirty, dark and lacking charm. However, I did meet some interesting people at the youth hostel. There was a retreat there my last night in Grenoble for future nurses, and there was a party in the hostel's bar. Someone had a guitar and lent it to me, I played for some people and it seemed to go over quite well. Man, was it good to play a decent instrument (I kick myself every day for leaving my guitar at home).

My second full day staying in Grenoble I actually left Grenoble - I took the train to a little city called Chambery, which proved to be rather disappointing in the rain. It was a pretty downtown (there's an elephant fountain?) but since even the castle was closed for renovation and I was drenched and miserable, I wandered around in circles upset and very, very lonely. I actually got my haircut just to get out of the rain. It was very interesting communicate with the hairdresser in french... but in the end, it turned out quite well.

I was incredibly relieved to leave Grenoble, but also tired, worried and incredibly emotional. What was I thinking to travel alone to the Alps in April, and why didn't I at least hop on over to Switzerland? I spent the train ride to Annecy staring at my journal and trying to remember that I have a millions of people who love and support me back home, in Rennes and in the States.

Part two of my voyage découverte, Annecy, was infinitely better, though it started with the same misgivings. I felt like I had been on the cusp of tears for days, and Annecy was enough to completely turn my spirits around.

I got there in mid-afternoon. As usual, pouring rain - in Bretagne, it rains but it rains in cloudbursts. In the mountains, when it rains, it rains and does not stop. From the train station, there was no indication of how this town could be built on a lake and surrounded by mountains. When I finally found my youth hostel I was about ready to burst into tears from fatigue and loneliness, though I was slightly heartened by the fact that there was indeed a lake. The view from the breakfast room was clearly spectacular. While waiting for the reception to open, after realizing that I was attracting attention from the group of middle-aged woman sitting and chatting in the lobby, and not willing to try and explain myself in French, I left my things in the luggage room and dug my rain jacket out of my backpack. A short hop down the same very steep hill I had lugged my baggage up from the bus stop, followed by a longer slip-and-slide down the second part of the hill, and I arrived at the lake-side.

And happened to bump into a marathon. That's right! The Sunday I arrived, April 15th, was the Lake Annecy Marathon. Bemused and suddenly elated at the fact that I was finally seeing a large mass of French people exercising (and man, is that exercising!), I followed the crowd a bit and self-consciously cheered the runners on alongside the race monitors (Allez, les filles!). Even though the weather was cold and wet, these runners were pushing through... I believe I was catching the end of the half-marathon, as the 26.2 milers had started in the late morning.

I then followed alongside the race course down to the old city, nestled in the corner of the lake.

Pure enchantment are the words I wrote in my journal the next day. Even in the rain (and maybe even because of the rain) it was magical - arching bridges over miniature canals, little winding streets, lights reflecting off the water. When you arrive in the old city from the lake, you first are greeted by the big, majestic tour boats who make harbor right before the lake forms into a canal. On one side, there is a beautiful park with benches alongside the water where you can stare out at the water, and on a clear day, the mountains.

You then enter the Old Town, and it's as if you are thrown into another era, another world, even. Little cafés and restaurants along the canals, stone archways spanning narrow streets that are almost tunnels. You are a medieval peasant, knight or a princess of the Savoie, whatever you prefer.

I wandered aimlessly, people-watching and dreaming. Even in the rain, the streets were lively, full of couples young and old walking hand in hand, families on their Sunday afternoon walks. This is a place to come with a lover... After drinking a much-needed coffee, I decided to return to the hostel and check in before seeing about dinner.

When I got to my room, I met my roommates for the night - two lovely English women in their thirties named Sally and Theresa. When I arrived, Sally and I started talking to one another in French before realizing that we were both anglophones! They were passing through Annecy on their way home from Geneva, where they had been visiting friends. They invited me to eat dinner with them, and I was elated at the thought of a real dinner with real conversation. Since I knew the way, I became the guide. We ate in a very lovely restaurant, and all three ordered the "gourmandist" menu, which involved a starter, a main dish and a dessert. I ate gaspacho, salmon, and ice cream - my poor dairy-intolerant stomach! But it was delicious, made even more so by conversation. Finished out with a "nice cup o' tea" as the waiter put it, and headed back up to the hostel. It was fun to talk and giggle late into the night... I went to sleep with a smile.

The next morning when Sally and Theresa left was rather bittersweet - I think we were really kindred spirits, even though they were in thirties, and I'm glad we are keeping in touch on ze facebook. I'll have to get to London one day, it's absolutely necessary that I discover the theatre of the West End.

I spent the day wandering around the city - visiting the Monastery, peeking in the churches, and visiting the Musée-Chateau, which I absolutely loved. Half of it is devoted to art, both historical and cultural art of the region and contemporary art inspired by the mountains and renewable energy, and the other half devoted to the biology and history of lake Annecy itself - the water, the flora and the fauna, the archeological findings - did you know they found mermaid skeletons? I had no idea that there were creatures that resembled this particular folklore - a nice insight into where the myth may have come from, and why so many cultures have a mermaid myth.

That night I had a wonderful conversation with an elderly french man - he told me about his life, living in Germany and Italy. He understood why I feel the need to travel and experience the world; and in addition, why I was traveling solo. I have remarked that many young french people don't understand why I'm traveling, they want to stay in their corner. Not all, but often that is the case. I talked about this phenomenon with the man. It was really a lovely encounter.

The next day, I had a glimmer of hope - the weather forecast predicted sunny, clear skies. I woke up, looked out the window, and saw the sunlight glimmering off the water in the distance... First step, leisurely breakfast, then on y va! I went in search of the bike shop recommended, which meant going into the Old Town, where I ran into an outdoor market. It was beautiful and lively and I decided to make a picnic out of goat cheese, a traditional country baguette, saucisson, and the orange I swiped from the breakfast at the hostel. I chatted with the market vendors - they were incredibly nice. This is one thing I really noted in Annecy, that people were incredibly open to talking to foreigners, and I guess it makes sense since they have so many people passing through from Switzerland, Italy, and apparently the U.K.

The bike ride was incredible, even though the bike I was given was slightly too short between the seat and the pedals. The  mountains were showing their snowy peaks, the sky was blue and the lake turquoise. The paragliders were out and I was far from the only person who though to take out a bicycle and ride along the lake - the trail was crowded, actually. I stopped to eat at the end of the trail, out past the end of the lake, soaking in the mountains around me and watching the paragliders land in the field just beside me.

I couldn't take pictures of myself, so I took pictures of the picnic:

That night I returned happily to the hostel...



Part three of my voyage, Chamonix, is for the next entry!

Normandy

I’m a pretty lucky girl to have fallen into the hands of a host family who takes me to Normandy to a house on the beach for the week-end. It’s incredible to wake up in the morning, climb the stairs, make a pot of coffee and stare out at this stretch of steel blue and green, just past a little white gate.

To my left, you see the remains of part of the British debarquement – hard to believe that such a wild paradise was the site of such terrible carnage. I experienced the same sentiment when I visited the D-day beaches in high school. But if the forces of nature and time bring us a sense of distance, the memory is still very much alive, in the physical evidence and in the people who come to honor the brave men who came to liberate France. If the United States has a negative imagine in many parts of the world and in France, in Normandy, the image will always be positive. My host mother told me the United States (along with the U.K. and Canada) will always be considered the saviors. In a streak of national pride, I cannot say that my heart didn’t warm to hear those words.

A trio of riders on horsebacks just cantered by along the beach. We saw them yesterday as well It’s a pretty sight and it makes my heart ache. I have to try it someday!

Yesterday was Easter Sunday, so of course yesterday afternoon, la petite was rolling in chocolate. Here in France the tradition is similar to the United States. We have the Easter Bunny, they have the Clauche, who hides chocolate and eggs in the gardens of all the little boys and girls. It’s the same thing, though we have hidden baskets and as far as I know, that doesn’t happen here.

It was Elisa’s first Easter where she was old enough to understand what was going on, so of course the amount of chocolate that she found hidden in the garden was particularly astonishing – I wonder if she will receive as much in the years to come. Actually, I’m pretty sure she will. She quickly caught on to the concept of hunting for chocolate, and she wasn’t quite ready to believe that it was over when she had found all the chocolate there was.

What a little minx!

I may have received a visit from the Clauche as well. I’m still a child when it comes to chocolate, so I’m content. Today, though it's monday, was the big Easter luncheon... 

Speaking of food, yesterday morning we went to visit the port town of Bressin, which is really charming. There is an outdoor market and though it was cold and damp and Easter morning, there were plenty of people there. I love the smell of fresh fish and the commotion of vendors selling their wares. I passed several stands selling beautiful, high-quality striped marine sweaters and if there’s one thing I want to buy to take home with me, it’s one of those...

Following the market... I tasted oysters for the first and last time. Here in France, they’re served cold. In my opinion, the experience was similar to taking a gulp of fresh sea-water, followed by the sensation of cold slime sliding down one’s throat. But to each her own. I also tried – are you ready? – sea snails, and I will tell you that the experience is far superior.

Tonight we returned to Rennes, where I will spend two days studying, relaxing, and maybe working off a bit of all this feasting and chocolate, but more importantly,  getting ready to depart on the second leg of my vacation. I am headed to the Rhone Alps, to Grenoble, Annecy, and Chamonix-Mont-Blanc. This will be my first experience traveling solo.

I am nervous and excited and a little disappointed that I don't have a traveling companion. Initially, I tried to convince my friends to come to the Alps with me, but to no avail. I would have loved to share this experience with someone, but it wasn’t high enough on anyone’s priorities, and also a train ride to the Alps costs more than a plane to Barcelona.

And besides, what’s wrong with going alone?  I think it’s something important. Will I be lonely? Yes, maybe I will be. Will it be hard? It’s likely to be at times. Have I maybe taken too many days to travel? Yes, I worry about that, will I be bored? There are a lot of hours in the day. But I can also do what I want, when I want, on my own schedule. I can see a part of France that I’ve dreamed of seeing for months. So it's like that. 

Come april...

I've got the traveling bug, and it is eating me alive. I want to hop on a train and sit in the window seat, my hand on the glass and a world whirling by me. I want to go somewhere hot, and dry, different from here, which is always slightly damp. I want mountains, and canyons, but I also want cities and sunsets.

Soon, Siri-bug, soon. Ne t'inquiete pas.

I am going to go here:

And here...

and here: 

I can't wait.

La Pelouse: Interdite

Today I spent a lovely afternoon in the Jardin du Thabour, a very beautiful park in the heart of Rennes. It's a favorite hang-out for my friends and I after class, and it's also a great place to run, if you don't mind make a few circuits.

I should note, this is one of the few public parks where in certain areas one is allowed to sit and walk on the grass - it's unfortunately quite common to see a sign marked "Pelouse interdite. " What is it there for, I ask you, if I can't walk on it? And why are your trees shaped like little inverted ice-cream cones? But I digress. This blog entry was not meant to be a rant about the French and their relationship to nature...

Before returning to my prior train of thought, I also think it relevant to say that I have found myself speaking english more and more frequently these past few weeks. I speak French with my international friends and usually with my american friends as well, and of course with my host family, my professors... but at night, when I'm in my room on my computer, I'm in English-mode, even if much of the time I find myself thinking primarily in French and translating to English. I converse with my friends and family back home in english, I browse the web in a mixture of the two languages, and I may watch a few american TV shows as well...  There are days that are better than others, where my french flows rapidly and I have extensive discussions with my friends, and even a little with my host mom as well. And then there are days when I wake up in all-american girl mode, whatever that means. Usually, that means the day is lost. I can't explain why this happens.

Anyway, today was a day of the mother language. But I think it was something that I needed. There are some things that you can't express, and therefore cannot fully comprehend, until you speak frankly in your own tongue.

At the Thabour, it ended up that it was just Stephanie and another american girl, Brynn, who is here in Rennes with her home university of Nazareth College. While we lounged happily on a patch of grass that ended up being forbidden, we found ourselves on the topic of cultural differences, the future, our dreams, and our newly evolving visions of own country. One of us (I forget who) posed the question, "Could you envision yourself settling down and building your life in France, or another foreign country?" The answer was communal - "hard to imagine, now that I am here"

It's funny, because before, it was a dream: When I grow up, I am going to leave the States and move to Europe. A romantic vision, to be sure. Possible for all of us - we have the means, the language, the independence, the resourcefulness. But is it really what you think it will be (even if you convince yourself that you accept that reality will not be your fantasy)? No. You picture the stereotypes, the good things. But you don't have an idea of what it will really be like - the nuances, the bad side of all the good, and the incredible homesickness that will inevitably come. You don't have any way to gauge beforehand what will bother you, what will strike you, or what will capture you, in a new country.

There is so much beauty here. For example, as Stephanie pointed out today, the French have a verb: profiter. It translates to "profit from" and while we can understand this, I don't think there exists an equivalent in English. Profit from the day, profit from your experiences, profit from your friends, profit from the sun. I do think this reflects the French way of life. For example, today in the sun, the whole world was out on the street and in the park. It's as simple as that... content to be, to take advantage of what is there. Along the same line, it is clear that the bonds between families are something highly valued in this country (and yet, that I know of, there is little talk of so-called-threats to "family values"... hmm....), and I love to see families out together on an afternoon walk. I love how clear it is that parents cherish their time with their children. In the States, on the other hand, I often see frazzled, overworked mothers dragging their children through the supermarket line, clearly annoyed, as if taking their child with them  shopping is a chore, and not an opportunity to spend time together.

But there is also so much that I think would ultimately deter me from a life here. Notably, on a very explicit level, the amount of cigarette smoke! I blame my lingering bronchitis infection on this - I don't get to breathe clean air when I go to the park, for example. Meanwhile, Americans get criticized the amount of fat and sugar that we consume, which is certainly a gross problem, but I ask you, where do the Europeans get off on a derogatory outlook, when their children start smoking at 14 years old? Not my children. They will also be able to go to the park and run on the grass... I am speaking here of the physical, the evident: these are truths that are easily perceived and could be written off as just superficial differences that aren't significant to the culture, but in fact I think that these phenomena reflect a deeper cultural nuance that is inherently different from my own, even if I can't quite find the means to explain it (perhaps this will be the subject of another blog post).

On another note, I have also found that being in Europe makes me just as eager to return to the United States and explore my own country. After all, there is such a diversity to be found. We have fifty states - someone said today, it's as if we have fifty mini-countries, each with its own identity, its own past and its own future. I feel a need to get to know my own country - there are so many of us who never leave our own respective states of birth, and how can we call ourselves Americans if we don't make an effort to understand one anther, to learn the history of our own country, to explore the land and discover all there is that makes up the soul of our country - a vast patchwork of identities, of histories, and of terrain.

I am beginning to see so many positive traits of my own culture and my own country that make me thankful and proud to be what I am - an American who has taken the time to learn a new culture, to reflect upon her own roots, and to allow herself to renew her perspective.

bouger, c'est chouette! (and sweat!)

(February 26, 2012)
Today I woke up out of sorts, the regrets of a vacation week rather wasted and the frustrations of an extended illness, coupled with the recurring homesickness, gnawing at my heart a little. In retrospect, not traveling may have been for the best, for I've felt too crummy the past couple nights to imagine spending a night in a hostel or going out and experiencing a new city, but the hunger to travel, to see mountains and to meet new people is taking hold of me.

It's true that I did not take enough initiative in planning much travel for the February vacation, aside from the weekend in Nantes that I spent with Stephanie and Anastasia, which was last minute. Tentative plans to go to Normandy fell through. But before all that, by the time I really knew what I wanted to do, money was an issue. But in truth, it was more that I was without a traveling companion and I could not imagine traveling all alone to the places I really want to visit - the Alps, for example. I need an adventuring buddy for that. Someone willing to get off the beaten track a little. Come April, these adventures will happen, or maybe even a weekend in March! I cannot wait, and I will do whatever I can to get out there and travel.

But even my rationalizing couldn't totally keep the disappointment at bay, and the homesickness also  caught me unawares. (Funny how I long to travel but also want to crawl back into my own cocoon. Never satisfied, Siri?) So this morning and early afternoon, I tried my best to hide the fact that I was a mess from my host mom, and tried to read L'Amant by Marguerite Duras. How French. How not helpful.

However, I am feeling better. Why? Because I dragged my sedentary-and-slightly-sickly-self out for a run this afternoon. I always seem to let slide the fact that being active is absolutely essential. Without it, I'm useless. We as humans are not made to sit around! I, Siri Marias, am made to move, to do dance, to sing, to dream, to breathe fresh air, and to know the feeling of the wind in my hair and a working heart as the world turns under my pounding feet. I am not made to sit in front of my computer, or to lie around all day, at least most days. Moving is living. Setting aside time each day to be active is a part of taking care of myself; I need to respect that more.

Today, once I finally realized this fundamental problem, I ran along the river, on a route known as the Rive Gauche, and once again discovered that Rennes is actually a very beautiful city. There are times when it seems too gritty and industrial, too claustrophobic, to be beautiful, but this spot was open and tranquil and touched by nature. I enjoyed to the sight of the trees and the sky reflecting on the water and little river boats tied up along the sides. the The 50 degree weather meant that I was not alone. Sunday in France means family time, or couple time - and this was the first really beautiful day in quite a while. I shared the path with families on bicycles, elderly couples, dogs (I miss Mariko...), young couples, and of course, other joggers. Yes, I believe I'm going to be fine.

bouger, c'est chouette! (and sweat!)

(February 26, 2012)
Today I woke up out of sorts, the regrets of a vacation week rather wasted and the frustrations of an extended illness, coupled with the recurring homesickness, gnawing at my heart a little. In retrospect, not traveling may have been for the best, for I've felt too crummy the past couple nights to imagine spending a night in a hostel or going out and experiencing a new city, but the hunger to travel, to see mountains and to meet new people is taking hold of me.

It's true that I did not take enough initiative in planning much travel for the February vacation, aside from the weekend in Nantes that I spent with Stephanie and Anastasia, which was last minute. Tentative plans to go to Normandy fell through. But before all that, by the time I really knew what I wanted to do, money was an issue. But in truth, it was more that I was without a traveling companion and I could not imagine traveling all alone to the places I really want to visit - the Alps, for example. I need an adventuring buddy for that. Someone willing to get off the beaten track a little. Come April, these adventures will happen, or maybe even a weekend in March! I cannot wait, and I will do whatever I can to get out there and travel.

But even my rationalizing couldn't totally keep the disappointment at bay, and the homesickness also  caught me unawares. (Funny how I long to travel but also want to crawl back into my own cocoon. Never satisfied, Siri?) So this morning and early afternoon, I tried my best to hide the fact that I was a mess from my host mom, and tried to read L'Amant by Marguerite Duras. How French. How not helpful.

However, I am feeling better. Why? Because I dragged my sedentary-and-slightly-sickly-self out for a run this afternoon. I always seem to let slide the fact that being active is absolutely essential. Without it, I'm useless. We as humans are not made to sit around! I, Siri Marias, am made to move, to do dance, to sing, to dream, to breathe fresh air, and to know the feeling of the wind in my hair and a working heart as the world turns under my pounding feet. I am not made to sit in front of my computer, or to lie around all day, at least most days. Moving is living. Setting aside time each day to be active is a part of taking care of myself; I need to respect that more.

Today, once I finally realized this fundamental problem, I ran along the river, on a route known as the Rive Gauche, and once again discovered that Rennes is actually a very beautiful city. There are times when it seems too gritty and industrial, too claustrophobic, to be beautiful, but this spot was open and tranquil and touched by nature. I enjoyed to the sight of the trees and the sky reflecting on the water and little river boats tied up along the sides. the The 50 degree weather meant that I was not alone. Sunday in France means family time, or couple time - and this was the first really beautiful day in quite a while. I shared the path with families on bicycles, elderly couples, dogs (I miss Mariko...), young couples, and of course, other joggers. Yes, I believe I'm going to be fine.

a note home

I miss you, U.S.A.

I miss you, Montana, with your big sky and your mountains, and the poetry that you inspire in my heart. I miss you also, precious father who is living in Montana. And I miss you, Washington State, with your newly passed Gay Marriage Approval, and your own mountains, and your Palouse region with the beautiful hills and the wheat fields and my precious mother, and your Seattle, where I would find my big brother. I miss you, Minnesota, with your cold and your fields and your Minneapolis, and your lakes and your Lutherans, and a big chunk of my family, and my college, and my friends. I miss you, New Mexico, even though I was too young to really know you – I will find my way back to you. I miss you, Painted Valley of North Dakota. I miss you, Chicago. I even miss you, North Idaho, because you have lake Coeur d’Alene, and that is not something every state can claim. 

It’s being gone that makes me appreciate how beautiful my country really is.

Settling In

I knew, or at least, I thought I knew, that the first few weeks would not come easily here in Rennes. Other students from Saint Olaf who studied here had warned us that it would take time ; still I wasn’t really prepared for the tidal waves of strange emotion and the generally unsettling feelings that come with being thrown into a new place, at a new university, with a new family and only one established friend, and all in another language. That, and living far away from those things previously taken for granted – those things from which one has (perhaps unknowingly) drawn comfort for most of one’s life. In brief, I speak here of high expectations from parents and professors, of being insanely occupied all day long, and my guitar, among other things.

Indeed, the first few days, even until this week, I think I hated the student aspect of my séjour à Rennes. I still have my qualms about it, perhaps. Here at the CIREFE, and maybe at the Faculty as well, there is not always the same work ethic among my fellow students that I find at Saint Olaf, for example. Here in my language classes, if there is a homework assignment – a worksheet that would take five minutes, for example – there is a 95% chance that nobody will do it until the day it is due, and then in class. I’m guilty of this myself. That behavior would never fly in junior high in the states, let alone in a university class, but my professors here do not seem to care. It’s a rather unsettling atmosphere for those of us who come from a rigorous background in education.

This is not to say that students are not motivated – many of the international students who come to study here in Rennes are here to gain a diploma from the CIREFE that will permit them to find work or continue their education at a university in France, or simply to learn french so that they can live with their significant other and make their life here. Each student is here for a different reason, and I find it fascinating. And then there’s me – and what am I doing here?

First major question, first major emotional obstacle that has confronted me in the past few weeks. I came here with no idea of what I would find. I’m not here to gain credit for my french major. I don’t have a french major, nor will I, because that interest came too late. I’m  not directly pursuing my theatrical aspirations (aside from a club for theatre Tuesday nights) at the CIREFE, anyway.

These were the scruples.. but in the end, I’ve decided to come to terms with my decision to blindly blunder into this beautiful, messy, and uncertain adventure. I don’t know what I’m going to come away with, but I’m already, at least, making daily discoveries about myself and what I really think about the world, and what I really find important. And that is enough, right now. I’m starting to find my way around here. I am firmly committed now to finding opportunities: to pursue my musical interests, my theatrical interests, my dreams of traveling, and my wish to simply enjoy life with new friends and profiter de la vie.

For those first two goals, I have my host mother to thank for that. When she discovered that I sing (and that I have a pretty voice), she insisted that I try and get out a little in the town and ask in bars if there’s an opportunity for me to perform a little, for example. I’m really going to try (first step, find a decent guitar to borrow, and then ....)

Sometimes, I need that push.

And as for the rest – well, travel plans are finally starting to happen. I didn’t have big plans for this week’s vacation, but Stephanie, myself, and a girl from Indonesia, Anastasia, spent the weekend in Nantes. We visited the chateau there, saw the mechanical elephant, and went out on the town Saturday night. Sunday brought us less fruitful occupation, but we returned to the chateau and ended up spending two hours in the museum there and learning all about the history of Nantes and its development as a major port city and a cultural center of Bretagne. We also had a little photoshoot – pictures to come.

The last few days I’ve spent hanging out at home with my host family, and I really cherish this time with them, though it’s not the most exciting occupation. Elisa has really started to warm up to me, and I’ve found that it already hurts to think of leaving this family at the end of May. What a special experience.

Famille d'accueil

Bonjour from Rennes! 

I've moved into my new home and begun to set up my courses for the semester. It's absolutely crazy to finally be living this dream. It's real and it's not real at the same time.

I'm very happy to be with my host family. I have two teenage brothers, Valentin and Guillaume, and a very little sister, Alisa. She is adopted from Russia. She will have her third birthday in February and it will be a "grande fête" because this year will be her first birthday celebrated in France. Her mother (my host mom) is a single mom. It's a very close family and they love to do things together, and I feel very welcome. Of course I can't understand a word that my host-brothers say because they speak french so quickly, but that will get better (one hopes.)

The house itself is really cute - three stories, tall and thin, in a building with other establishments on both sides. It's in one of the older neighborhoods in Rennes. There is a little garden out back, where the family rabbit and the cat live. My room is at the top of the house, essentially what one would call the loft, and it's essentially my domain. We are right next to a beautiful old church and I can hear the bells toll the hour. I do need to explore this neighborhood a bit more. It's quiet but picturesque. 

Right now, all is new, and I am fearful of being a bad guest! But I will try to make life as easy as possible for everyone, and to not stress so much.  I know life will become more comfortable as I learn the ropes. 

This friday we are all going to hear my host-mom's brother play in his hard-rock band! 

À tout à l'heure!

À bientot, Paris!?

01/21/12

It’s my last night in Paris, and I could be out dancing , losing my self in the hazy light of a club and the heartbeat of the crowd, but instead I have spent the evening mostly alone in the room I share with Stephanie, packing, reflecting, and procrastinating on the academic tasks that still remain. I will depart tomorrow at 2:14 pm to begin my semester in Rennes and leave behind this three-week state of limbo, half in a world of academics, half living in this world of comme-vous-voulez that is Paris; here I am half in the moment, half thinking ahead to what is going to be when I start the next stage of this voyage étrangère.

I did seek a late-night gelato with Stephanie and another girl in our class, Chloe. This was in place of earlier plans to go to a discothèque with some other girls in the group;  I was very much intending to go, resigned to the fact that I wanted to experience more Paris nightlife, and this was my last chance for a while, though I do hope to return in the spring. I didn’t make it up the Eiffel tower or to Édith Pìaf’s grave, after all, or Montmartre! But I digress. Tonight, my mind wanted to go on this excursion, but I think in truth, my soul and my body were sounding a huge resounding no. I’m tired – these last few weeks have taken a lot out of me.

 In truth, I am not entirely happy with this course and its requirements, simply because the number of required sites we must see on our own is so extensive. One begins the day with a light step and a spark of curiosity, and finishes the day’s visits with all the life sapped out of them. This is not the Parisian way. One goes as one pleases ; we go too many places. As such one begins to see in tunnel vision, without the opportunity to really take in and process what one has seen. One museum a day, I can do. Two? Maybe, if the two go well together, such as L’Orangérie, devoted to the Impressionists, and the Musée d’Orsay, art of the 19^th century. Actually, something like that, I’ll be in heaven (I was.) Three? Centre Pompidou (and modern art) at the end of a five-hour excursion? Jamais dans la vie! You cannot ask me to look at a solid blue canvas and accept it as art if I have been walking and riding the metro for hours after a three-hour course in the morning, and I haven’t had coffee since before that class...

But that being said, I really can’t complain. I only regret not having more time to take in this beautiful city. I love to walk along the Seine, to sit on a bridge and be a voyeur... I still have an irrational fear of ordering a coffee by myself, and entering a store that’s not filled with people causes me a bit of pain, if it’s just me and the cashier. Still, I think I have a natural tendency to go through my days independently and Paris has allowed me that. I can navigate the metro myself, and get lost in the street without panicking... I can wander and pass as a french girl if I don’t talk to anyone.

I wonder often what the next stage will be -  will I have friends, will I be able to talk to my host family, will they accept me, will I be happy in the end? I don't have expectations of immediately being comfortable. It will take time. And I'm ready. 

Demain, on ira à Rennes! À tout à l’heure!

Les Invalides (a post better titled "Les Morts")

No words.

The museum there is dedicated to the history of warfare - from  the middle ages until the present. I think could have spent all day in the sections devoted to the history of the World Wars. Who knew? It was rather emotionally exhausting to even try to comprehend that all that passed during my grandparents' lifetime.

And Napoleon's tomb...

What a spectacle. What a man. Also, the fact that one of his horses is preserved in the museum... A little weird.

Also, today I visited the Panthéon and saw the tombs of Marie Curie, Rosseau, Voltaire, Dumas, and Victor Hugo... and a lot of other dead people.

Premières impressions...

Bonjour de Paris!

It’s hard to find time while I’m here to write a blog and each time I try, I end up  getting too overwhelmed thinking about everything I’ve seen and have yet to see, and how to begin, and besides, I’d rather be out exploring and spending time with my classmates in this incredible city than sitting on my computer, but it’s Sunday and for once, I have a few minutes to myself to do as I like and I say that it time to write my first real blog! Not that the internet ever works in our hotel.

I’ve only been here for five days and I really can’t believe all the things I’ve seen and experienced. The medieval part of the Louvre. The Musée du Moyen-age (museum of the middle ages) on La Rue de Cluny. La Sorbonne. L’École des beaux-arts de Paris. Saint-Chappelle. Several other beautiful and churches in our neighborhood (more about that later!) European bars. The Metro. An excursion by train to visit the cathedral of Chartres and receive a lecture-tour there led by Malcolm Miller himself, the premier scholar of Chartres in the world (I can’t even describe how amazing that was, and I didn’t even know that the guy was Malcolm Miller until after the tour. This morning, mass at Notre-Dame de Paris.

That doesn’t even come close to a comprehensive description of what I’ve done, but I hope it’s enough.

A lot of the sites we’ve visited (in small groups as we please) are very close to where we live:  the Latin quarter. This section of Paris got its name because it was the site of the first universities in Paris, and the language of study at the time was Latin). It’s still a center of learning – our  hotel, L’hotel Claude-Bernard is located on the Rue des écoles and you can walk just a little west and find the Rue de la Sorbonne, where one can find – yep, you guessed it, La Sorbonnne, probably the most celebrated center of learning in France! Also, we’re just a few blocks south of the Seine and on the other side is Notre-Dame de Paris.

And just to brag a little bit, because I have a French student visa, I get free admission to most museums (like the Louvre) that ordinarily you would pay a sizable sum of money to go to. Even an international student I.D. card doesn’t always get you in for free, we’ve found.

I love this neighborhood. It’s picturesque (although, really, it’s Paris. Everywhere you go is beautiful.) it’s lively during the day and just a few blocks away, there’s an area for good nightlife – restaurants, crêperies, bars, cafés, greek food, whatever you want, really, and importantly, it’s not always too expensive, although we quickly realized that the cost of living, at least day to day here is much higher than in the United States, but then again, that’s probably because of a key cultural difference. In America, we spend money on things to put in our houses and entertain us at home, and in Paris one goes out and spends money on actually living – eating, drinking, spending time with family and friends! It’s just what you do. Il faut.

If my writing on this blog is a little clumsy, I apologize. It’s hard to type and think in English. We’re speaking French for the majority of the time, and slipping into English isn’t as easy as you might expect. After a day of speaking french all the time, one ends up speaking a weird mix of the two -  the other night several of us went out and we ended up meeting two boys from Holland who only spoke a little French but could converse in English, but for me it was almost impossible to maintain a conversation without unconsciously slipping into French. The boys didn’t understand me most of the time, but I don’t think anyone minded.

It’s a relief to learn that I can function here. I make mistakes all the time, particularly when trying to buy something, and I know it’s painfully obvious that I’m an American, but people here are surprisingly patient, for the most part, and helpful – and they do respond to me in french, at least most of the time, and I can understand. Sometimes if I have to ask for clarification, they quickly resort to English, and that’s frustrating, but it’s not as bad as people had warned me – that no one would speak French with me at all. Granted, the interactions are almost always brief transactions, but I think that people here are much more willing to respect the fact that you are trying to communicate with them in their language and behave as they do (which is more than I can say for the other american students who are also staying in our hotel). Also, I guess that at least some of the time, when I walk by myself, I blend in – some french woman asked me for directions the other night, and of course I didn’t know, but It must mean I’m at least dressing reasonably well – although having seen the french girls, I think I have a long way to go before I can even come close to achieving their style. I didn’t bring enough scarves – just two, and not the ones I should have brought - and if you know me, that doesn’t make any sense. What was I thinking? Luckily, they’re pretty easy to find around here.   

I’m also learning the metro system, and I absolutely love it – you can go anywhere, and if you make a mistake you can just backtrack. And the possibilities are endless - what a change from Northfield, Minnesota, where there’s no where to go.

I think I’m in the right place. 

Tu ferras quoi???

(Written on 01/03/12, without internet until now, 01/11/12 )

I'm sitting in Sea-Tac airport about to board my plane to Chicago, where I will get on another plane and hopefully end up in Paris, of all places.  After over six months of anticipation, the day has finally come, and I can't help thinking that I'm un peu folle. But I'm prepared! One suitcase, one backpack, one worn-out leather neck pouch for my identification documents, seven years of french study, one me.

Of course, in spite of my best efforts to pack lightly, my suitcase is barely under the 50 lb weight limit (I blame the gift for my host family! It's heavy!) and I'm wondering what possessed me to put on the combination of clothes that I pulled on my sleep-deprived body this morning at 5:20 am. My coffee tastes bitter in my mouth and I realized I forgot to brush my teeth at the hotel, oh well, sorry neighbor! I'll try not to breathe on you for the next three hours, sorry about that.

In case you're wondering, I will be spending three weeks in Paris with nine students from Saint Olaf College, and then moving on to study in Rennes, which is located in Bretagne (Brittany), the northwest provence of France. The program is language-intensive and organized through CIEE, and you can find more information about it here.

À bientot!