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.