This is Nantes really happening, right?

I have somehow managed to fit my entire French life in two 50lbs bags, and one extremely heavy “dear God I hope they don’t weigh this” carry-on. Our goodbyes have been long and drawn out- starting with the German assistant in March at the end of her contract, the departure of another of “les filles”, our English friend on Tuesday morning, and finally myself tomorrow. Both the Spanish assistant and the other English assistant have extended their work contracts until at least the end of May. 

It’s unreal, and it makes my heart hurt, to think that this is really coming to a close. This has been an incredible opportunity that has helped me grow professionally, develop my French language skills, and further piqued my interest in the world and all the wonderful things it has to offer us. I did all the things you do when you first move out on your own and a few more- figured out health insurance, transportation, internet, cell phone, set up a bank account,  housing assistance, immigration, doctor’s visits… and I did it all in a foreign language. A foreign language I will miss dearly… it seems so odd to know that in just a days time I won’t be hearing, or speaking, or joking in French with anyone. I had some wonderful vacations with my family, a dear friend, and my fiancé… having spent time in 9 countries in the past 8 months (if you count France and the United States). I’ve made good friends with people who, had I not studied French, I would never have been able to communicate with and know and love like I do now.

While France and America are both western countries, I’m anticipating a bit of a reverse culture shock. Living here, I understand how and why expats are drawn to life in foreign countries. There are times when being an American here has been a little embarrassing… the time Rush Limbaugh called girls who use birth control sluts, the fact that America is even debating the issue of women’s reproductive rights, Gingrich’s campaign ad criticizing Romney’s ability to speak French, the moment Congress declared the limited amount of tomato sauce in pizza a serving of vegetables for school cafeterias… 

There are a lot of things I have come to strongly identify with concerning French life and culture. I love that for at least a short amount of time I got to live in a country that believes in…

• Access to health care as a basic human right
• Affordable access to education… everyone in the country does not finish their studies with thousands of dollars of debt.
• Buying locally from markets and small bakeries, developing a relationship with the people who are growing and selling one of our greatest necessities,
•  Raising cattle and poultry without the use of hormones or antibiotics
• Proper, well balanced school lunches
• Sundays truly as a day of rest. Without the option of grocery shopping or running errands (as everything is closed), it’s hard to feel guilty about sleeping in and spending the entire day perhaps doing nothing but being with your friends and family.  
• Butter. Sometimes I cringe when I think about what the little old French ladies who buy their butter fresh from the cheese woman at the market would think about our “I can’t believe it’s not butter” substitutes.
• 4+ hour dinner parties, different wines specially chosen for each course, and an entire course devoted to Cheese. 
• Paying a teeny small fee for a plastic bag at the grocery store. After forgetting my reusable grocery bags and paying 15centiemes maybe 3x, I got used to the idea of always taking my own reusable bag. So does everyone else. Save. The. Planet. 
• Reliable public transportation and bike paths. I lived for 8 months here without a car. I can’t imagine doing that in America. It would just be too inconvenient and too difficult.
• Les bises. I have come to expect, and to love, the double kiss on the cheek.
• Teaching foreign languages starting in primary schools. Language learning is so so important…

I am of course looking forward to coming home. I can’t wait to see le boy, my new house and be a normal, not long distance and 6 hour time difference, engaged couple… planning our wedding, showing off my ring, and generally just being together. I know that my Dad will make one of his famous brunches on Sunday. I’ll spend a significant amount of time the following week with my dog and my mom, sitting on the front porch with glasses of wine. I get to see my constantly growing up too fast niece and nephews, and I get to meet my new niece Gia who was born the week after I left. I look forward to eating what is always a delicious meal at the DeLiberato’s house, and spending an evening relaxing and catching up. I hope to sit around a bonfire with my siblings and a few beers. I get to hug all my aunts and grandma who spoiled me with cards and packages while I was here. And visit with all my wonderful friends of course. There is so much to look forward to.

La Cigale, Nantes, France

But for the moment, I’m spending my last few French moments with our little family here. I so appreciate the opportunity to get to know people from all over Europe and I truly loved being the only American in our little group of friends. Of course we are all so much more than our respective countries’ stereotypes…but I still learned organization and planning skills from the German, the value of a good siesta and the importance of staying out until 6am dancing from time to time from our Spanish friend, countless new vocabulary words from my English friends who I am positive don’t really speak the same language as Americans, every gros-mot in the French language from driving with my French friends… 

Merci  à tous. J’ai des trop bons souvenirs de ma vie ici à cause de vous. Il restera toujours un grand morceau de mon cœur à Nantes. Bisous Bisous

Les temps passent si vite

How fast the time has gone since the April vacations and my last blog post! I’ve tried to profiter bien of my final two weeks in Nantes, spending a significant amount of time hanging out with friends, or alone tacking off all the things I felt I needed to do before I moved from the city. 

Having ended work about a week and a half  before my departure date, I had to say goodbye to all the teachers that have given me rides to school, the English staff, my class of teachers, and of course all my students first. I baked about 200 peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies in my small toaster oven all week. My final teachers class took me out to lunch at our normal class time, and then to one of the teachers’ houses when the expresso given at the restaurant at the end of the meal just wasn’t strong enough to get us through the rest of the working day. I spent an evening at my reference teacher’s house, the same house I spent time at before I was able to move into my foyer… things come full circle. We naturally had a 4hour dinner complete with champagne, mussels for the appetizer, beef/potatoes/veggies, and a crumble dessert made from locally grown strawberries. 

In true French high school fashion, my last class of the year just didn’t show up. I wasn’t surprised… It was odd that I worked one full week and one Monday after the April  vacations. Knowing that it was my last week with all the other classes I think they just thought I wouldn’t be there the following Monday. Except I was. And I took the bus all that way just to clean out my little cubbie and give the cookies meant for the students out to anyone on the staff who didn’t get them the week before. 

Clisson, France

I visited the chateau again to dit au revoir, and to check out the museum there. If you want to know anything about Nantes the Chateau Museum is where to go. You could spend at least half the day learning about Nantes as a port city, Nantes’ huge role in the triangular trade and slavery, Nantes during the wars… I probably should have visited at the beginning of my time here, but better late then never. 

 

Short, solo day trip to Clisson. A pretty little city about a 10 minute train ride away, Clisson is nice to visit for about 3 hours. It’s a pretty sleepy little place but the chateau ruins are neat and they have some beautiful gardens. I ventured there alone and simply walked around, ate a picnic, and read a bit outside in the grass by the chateau. Honestly my morning in Nantes visiting the new baby goats at the Jardin de Plantes near the train station was more thrilling. But it’s always nice to get out of town and see what else the area has to offer.

 Spanish soirée at the foyer, complete with delicious paella, sangria, tapas and salsa dancing. It was one of those nights that was just so good, with good food and good company, that it made me sad to think that those nights here are limited. 

 

8 Mai Market. I visited my lovely local market, the one that makes my heart so happy, for final picnic supplies shopping. I ordered my tranche de mizotte cheese and a moldy goats cheese like a pro from my standard cheese lady. I didn’t have to think too hard about how many grams of prawns I wanted for my dinner that night. I splurged and bought a giant brioche. I will truly miss the market culture that seems to thrive in France. 

My haul from my final visit to the market

 

Strasbourg with the Assistants. My little group of friends originally consisted of 2 English, 1 German, 1 Spanish and myself (which then grew to include the French and another Spanish girl). This small original group, sans the German, decided to spend our last weekend adventuring together to Strasbourg, a city on the German border that historically has been both German and French territory. Our journey began far too early with a 7am train. We stamped our tickets and sleepily climbed aboard only to find 4 people sitting in what were our assigned seats. This happens from time to time and we decided to take the group of 4 seats across the aisle from them, until someone came to claim those seats, and we had to confront the people sitting in ours. The interaction went a little like this…

“Excuse me, but you are in our seats”

“Mais non! These are our seats”

“No. Look at our tickets. You are sitting in our seats”

*they give each other some smug looks, do not take out their own tickets, and do not move from our seats

*my friend happens to see one of their tickets and exclaims

“Excuse me, but those tickets are for yesterday’s train. You are indeed sitting in our seats”

“This must be some kind of confusion. We bought tickets for this train today.” “First come first serve”

*They don’t move from our seats, people whose seats we are sitting in awkwardly hover around until they realize we're not moving and then go to sit in someone else's seats.

It’s wonderful to speak both languages in this kind of situation. They heard our accents and thought we couldn’t understand them… uhm yes sir we can hear you, and no, these are reserved seats, so they are not first come first serve. And now we are going to talk about you as much as we want in our own language because you have no idea what we’re saying about you. Unfortunately my friend didn't get to use his prepared "Avec respect Monsieur!" phrase that he had prepared for what we thought would be an inevitable heated debate. The conductor eventually came and made them move from our seats, after some of the other clients rallied with us because they wanted us to move from their own seats.

Tired and in a silly mood, my two friends were reading in French with a dictionary between them to look up unknown vocabulary words. We had a few discussions about some of the words, and were enlightened by a French woman listening in on our conversation. Indeed the word cleavage in French does not mean the same thing as in English…

At this point my friend said “We can only ever be two things here: a novelty, or something that pisses people off. In the last ½ hour we have managed to be both.” That about sums up the train ride. 

Strasbourg is lovely. Really lovely. There are loads of half-timbered houses, cute cafés to grab an expresso (which we had to do often), a river boat cruise, the European Parliament Building, a massive cathedral with a tower you can climb, and German/French food .Some of my favorite foods being the choucroute (sauerkraut) with German sausages I had one night for dinner, loads of gingerbread, and some spaetzle. We also some WILD STORKS. Neat huh.

 

I had the great luck of being in France for the presidential election, which just so happened to pass on our final night in Strasbourg. While walking to dinner we heard the roar of a crowd and entered a large square to see people gathered around a small tower in the middle, dancing and waving flags to celebrate the election of France’s first socialist president in 30 years. We decided then and there to stay and find somewhere to eat within the square in order to enjoy this fun atmosphere… while we were waiting to order the thumping of bass and a large car/truck with balloons rolled up to the tunes of “le changement” which was happily greeted by the crowd in the square. The truck stayed there until about 11:30pm, where the crowd of people danced and sang along, waved their flags, climbed up onto the small tower (at one point we saw a man in just his underwear dancing up there). We of course joined this dance party after dinner. Hands down one of the neatest things I have experienced while living here… a spontaneous street party, complete with a conga line and air horns, to celebrate a presidential election. 

The following morning we had another early train ride home, the last time I was to be “coming home” to my home in Nantes.

I FEEL sLOVEnia

April travels with Megan Part 3: Slovenia 

We made a lot of jokes about Slovenia as the promised land… people will probably hug us as soon as we get off the train clucking “Oh I know where you’ve been”… we’ll cross the border and a Pegasus will fly across a rainbow in the sky etc etc. 

Triple Bridge, Ljubljana

But here’s the thing, it IS a wonderful magical land of happy friendly English speaking people, where you feel nothing but love and warm happy feelings about your life. Outside of my adopted “I wish” homeland of France, it may be my favorite country I have ever visited. In fact, Slovenia’s slogan is I FEEL sLOVEnia. How darling is that? It’s true! You DO feel love there! 

We had ½ day and 1 night in their capitol Ljubljana (pronounce the j’s like y’s and your life is a lot simpler). We walked through the old town and marveled at the pretty architecture. We were stopped outside an Argentinean restaurant where a young man attempted to persuade us to eat there. When we explained it was our first night and we wanted to eat traditional Slovenian he got his friend to translate “we are having a big party here later tonight, come back and you can eat and drink whatever you like!” Then, I kid you not, he gave us a hug and his friend gave us les bises, and they didn’t even try to steal anything from us during the whole exchange. Our joke “Slovenia is so lovely, people just hug strangers on the street to make them feel welcome” turned out to be reality. That evening we had our first hot meal in 3 days and a few glasses of wine. In the film version of our adventures, our mothers were cheering. 

Hungarian Goulash.

 Slovenia is a tiny little country, so if you situate yourself in Ljubljana (dead center) day trips are quite simple. The following morning we checked out of our campsite/hotel and when the man at the desk realized we would miss the complimentary breakfast, he pulled out two packed lunches and asked us if we wanted them. Uhm yes, kindest people on earth, we would love those lunches. Then his coworker, who had helped us out the night before when we had a bit of a problem, offered to take us into town to the train station. Uhm yes, kindest people on earth, thank you for the lift. 

Dragon Babies

We took a bus for about 1hour to Postojnska Jama and Predjama Castle. Postojnska Jama is a massive cave system, and while a bit touristy, thoroughly enjoyable. We felt it worth every penny of what we paid for the tour. You start out on this little train like you are entering Gringotts to get your wizard gold for Hogwarts. Then you have an hour walking tour of incredible awesome stalagmites and stalactites, ending with an exhibit of blind dragon spawn cave creatures, and a final train ride back to the surface. We then got a taxi the 11km to Predjama Castle (again, our mom’s were cheering for our decision not to hitchhike as is recommended by Rick Steves). 

Spaghetti Hall, because these baby stalactites look like pasta

 Predjama Castle makes my list of one of the Top 5 most Impressive Unbelievable Things I Have Ever Seen in the Entire World. It’s a castle built into a cliff with an extensive cave system underneath. The knight that once lived there was under siege for over a year… instead of dying from starvation as his castle was surrounded he simply used a route within the caves out to a neighboring town, and then returned. He was finally killed when a money-hungry servant signaled to the enemy as the knight went to an exterior portion of the castle to do his business. A cannon was fired into his bathroom and that was that. Now you can scramble all over the castle enjoying the juxtaposition of cliff/cave and living quarters. 

Photo Credit: Megan

 Back on a bus to Ljubljana, where we picked up our packs from the convenient and cheap luggage storage at the train station and hopped on a bus up to Lake Bled for two nights of blissful camping. 1½ hours later we are kindly dropped off at an Alpine Lake surrounded by snow capped mountains, swans, clear blue water, pletna boats… is this real life?

Photo Credit: Megan

 It started sprinkling when we arrived at our campsite and the ever so kind Slovenian working the front desk asked us if we needed a bigger umbrella to set up our site. At dinner that night, I not only got to eat trout with its head still on that I am almost certain came from the very lake I was currently looking at, but we were also treated to free blueberry mead “just to warm you girls up”. Slovenia is seriously home to the nicest people in the world. 

 

Our full day in Bled involved morning cappuccinos on the terrace near the lake, a leisurely stroll, a hike up to a viewpoint near the castle, traditional Slovenia desserts and savory lunchtime pastries, Cockta (the communist era version of Coca-Cola),a bottle of wine said to have healing properties, and a rowboat to an enchanted island where if you ring the church bell 3x it’s said that all your wishes will come true. Quite frankly I'm not sure the people of Slovenia even have any wishes, because they live in the greatest place in the world. We weren’t really ready to leave… ever. 

 

But back to Ljubljana we went for a day of exploration before catching an overnight train to Munich, Germany and then another train onto to Paris, where flights and trains back to the real world were awaiting us. We got rid of all our leftover Croatian Kuna coins making wishes in various fountains throughout the day. My favorite sites in Ljubljana were:

     1.       The Dragon Bridge (a dragon is said to have been slayed near the city so it’s the city mascot. I have no doubt that if magical creatures do/did exist, it was in Slovenia).

    2.       The Library, the only building damaged during WWII from a plane crash. The Slovenians didn’t want to lose their book collection and formed a human chain to save their precious books from the flames. The door handle to enter the library is shaped like a Pegasus head... to soar you into enlightenment. You enchanting little beautiful darling place Slovenia you.

Before our late night train we enjoyed a few communist-era Slovenian Beers and said Hvala for a truly wonderful end of our trip…

Which turned out wasn’t the end of our trip at all, since our overnight train didn’t arrive on time to Munich, making us miss our connection to Paris, making us miss our flights/trains home. It says a lot about a friendship when you can spend 2 straight weeks together, go through a mini transportation crisis, spend the night drinking beers from McDonalds in the Paris airport and pushing chairs together to make a “fort” to sleep in, but still be terribly sad to have to say goodbye the following morning. Nonstop adventures since the ages of Four and Five. 

Champagne Showers

Cou cou! Finally a (series of) blog post(s) of adventures from my final 2 week paid vacation of the year- which involved a visit from a wonderful lifelong friend, during which we naturally made wonderful lifelong memories.  It’s a whopper, so I’ve divided it up for easier reading.

After a lovely American style Easter brunch (during which my French friend tried to eat his English muffin, apparently in England only called a “muffin” with a knife and fork) and chocolate egg hunt chez moi, I jumped on a train for a night in Paris. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t really know what to do with myself in Paris anymore… so I hit up the café in Montmartre, one of my favorite parts of Paris nonetheless, made famous by the film Amèlie, before then wandering out for a solo beer to watch a bit of the Paris Saint-Germaine futball game at a bar. The best part was that no one spoke English to me the entire day, a very small personal victory as big cities are used to tourists and generally switch to English upon hearing an accent. I have a terribly strong accent unfortunately, but at least the Parisians deemed my French competent enough to stomach my American pronunciations of their beautiful language. 

 

 Megan arrived the following morning, and we spent the day strolling around a bit of a rainy Paris, checking out the Eiffel Tower, the lovelock bridge and eating my favorite Macarons from la Durée on les Champs-Elsyées, which we paired with a lovely white wine in a small café just off the main drag. 

Nantes Castle Picnic

Back at home I got to see Nantes through the eyes of a tourist, and knock off a lot from my “to-do before I leave” list. The city did not disappoint. Really Nantes is such a neat place with pretty architecture, delicious regional specialties and odd quirky things to discover. We ate pastries every day, visited a small art gallery, bought fresh food and moldy delicious cheese from the market, rode bikes, spent some tranquil moments in the various gardens, enjoyed crepes, RODE THE ELEPHANT, and naturally spent some time walking around the castle, lounging by the moat enjoying a bottle of wine and a picnic lunch. 

We rode the elephant, and then took a million pictures with it

Three beautiful days later we found ourselves on part 2 of our adventures: the Champagne region of France, to the city of Reims (pronounced like “Prince” without the “P”, and with that throaty “R” French is famous for). It’s hard not to feel fancy when visiting Champagne caves, learning about the different types of grapes used to create each type and how the drink is made (1 vine of grapes to make 1 bottle of champagne!) and finally tasting the delicious bubbly beverage ourselves. Champagne can only be considered Champagne if produced from this region; there’s a special chalk in the soil here that makes the grapes extra fancy and magical.

 Reims is also home to the cathedral where the majority of the kings of France were crowned The cathedral is immense, equally impressive as Notre Dame de Paris, and has a stained glass window celebrating the region’s most famous beverage, and others created by one of my absolute favorite artists Marc Chagall. I had started a “Travel Wants” list around New Years with Champagne-Ardenne region as a definite doable at some point this year (unfortunately other cities like Prague and Budapest etc were not so lucky), and I was quite pleased when Megan agreed to the idea to check it out. 

Champagne Stained Glass

As difficult as it was to say au revoir to our fancypants hotel-living Champagne-drinking lifestyle, we continued via train back to Paris to find… the bus stop. The following week was taking us to Croatia and Slovenia, and the culture shock was a slap in the face the minute we stepped onto our eighteen hour bus ride… and no one spoke English, or French. It hit me then just how comfortable I have grown with France in general. It’s always good to be a bit cautious as a traveler, to recognize when you are out of your comfort zone and how it makes you feel, how you can grow from respecting whatever differences you may encounter. But the thing is, travel within France doesn’t give me that nervous anxiety “Oh boy what kind of idea was this?” kind of feeling anymore. It was an odd realization, and it made me feel good about how I’ve integrated into French life. I am truly confident in myself and my explorations within the country. But maybe my general level of comfort in France should have been apparent when I explained to le boy that I was going to Paris for a night alone, and my constantly lovingly worrying about my general well-being fiancé said “Oh I’m not worried about you in Paris (one of the world’s largest cities…) You’re great in Paris”. 

 

But oh my, we weren’t in France anymore. Thankfully, the gesture of tapping someone on the shoulder and holding out a box of cookies is universal, and perhaps one of our greatest ideas… feed these bus drivers treats so they will always make sure we are on the bus before it leaves the rest stop, since we have no idea how many minutes are announced in Croatian at every stop. Overall the bus ride wasn’t terrible, but it was an 18 hour bus ride all the same. We were happy when we finally arrived in Zagreb, Croatia the following morning. Perhaps we celebrated a bit too soon though…

Uhm I can’t even remember which school I go to on Mondays…

A few assistants work at multiple schools- especially those assistants working with little ones. The title of this blog post came straight out of the mouth of one of my friends, as we discussed the ending of the February vacations and the idea of heading back to work on Monday.

So what have I done with a week of zero responsibility in Nantes?

Bicloo

Nantes has this neat bike rental system. Bikes are stationed all throughout the city and Frenchies can choose to subscribe for a yearlong membership (29 euros for the year 20 euros if you have a public transportation pass, first 30 minutes of Biking free from any Bicloo station in the city) or one can subscribe for 1-7 days (cost 1-5 euros). The bikes have no locks, but when finished you simply click them into place at any Bicloo station, ready for another Nantais to use as they please.  We’ve obviously seen these Bicloo stations, commented on figuring out how to use them, and finally took advantage of one of our gorgeous February days to rent bikes for the day. 

I had a bike when I lived and studied in Grenoble, but biking in traffic is something to get re-accustomed to. I don’t know if I can speak for all Europeans but the French at least find it quite normal to share the road with cyclists. Bike lanes are all over Nantes, and I’m pretty sure we only broke a few minor traffic laws while determining our paths throughout the day (some terrifying large roundabouts were conquered). 

We are already discussing the endless opportunities these bikes can open up to us. Namely, on Saturday nights when we end up at Hangar Bananes we now won’t have to rush and make the long trek to catch the last tram home… we can instead rent our bikes at the Elephant, and after an uncomfortable ride home on cobblestone, click them into place at 8 Mai. I've suggested that we take a Sunday, when everything is closed and there is nothing to do, to bike to the neighboring town Clisson for a picnic- 1/2 hour train ride away. I have little to no faith that neither of these events will ever happen. But it’s nice to know the possibility is there. 

 

Day Trip: Rennes, France

Meet pretty pretty Rennes. I actually have been to the train station in this city before… two summers ago I had to transfer here as I traveled from Paris to camp, but my bags were too much for me to handle to do any kind of exploring. 

 

Rennes is a beautiful city to walk through. The capitol of Bretagne, it’s famous for galettes/crepes and medieval half-timbered houses. 

Fretting over the fate of my computer

I’ve spent a significant part of this week crying to my mother, worrying about my computer, and running countless scans only to come across a frozen screen. I’ve had some terrifying “failure is imminent” messages pop up. Yikes. The tech-savvy foyer employer took a look at it and it seems to be freezing less now… My computer is my biggest link to America while I’m here. I don’t love the idea of getting a new hard drive, inevitably a French one… although the technology vocabulary I would be forced to learn could greatly enhance my language development. I would prefer it not to crash at all, but if it must, it could do me a big favor and wait 11 weeks until I’m home in America. 

That’s right… 11 weeks. It seems so little when I think about it in weeks. I have mixed feelings about that number. Where has the time gone?  

Back to work on Monday... to wrap up my 3 day work-month.

Bisous, 

Steph

I see London, I see France...

It’s been awhile, but that’s because I’ve been traveling a bit. The title gives it away but read on if you’d like some details.

It’s February, and in France, for those who work in the academic system, that means yet another two week vacation. But I am no ordinary French employee… I am a language assistant with a lighter schedule than your average French teacher, who was also invited on a weeklong school trip to England before vacation started. The total of my working days spent in school this month is a whopping 3… and I’ve already worked one of those days.

This is not to say that the week I spent in England was not work. I’m sure you can imagine what chaperoning 42 French teenagers on the streets of London is like. Hint: it does not involve the enjoyment of English Pub Culture and Fish and Chips. But I got to see some wonderful sights, meet some wonderful people, and get just enough of a glimpse of England to make me eager to visit again someday.

Highlights included a short cruise on the Thames showcasing Big Ben and the London Eye, seeing the Rosetta Stone in The British Museum (a serious chunk of history and enough to make any language person gawk), visiting the Globe Theatre and the London Dungeon (kind of like an American Haunted House, but with some historical value and informational videos as well as some brief amusement-park style rides). I also got to visit Oxford, which truly made me feel like a Muggle who has never received an invitation to Hogwarts until then, and the Cotswalds, which had me glancing every which way for Mr. Darcy to appear out of a Jane Austen style cottage.



Oxford is magically beautiful



We visited a castle, Warwick Castle- which was a little too medieval times for my liking (although  I was deemed most magical of our group and chosen by a man in tights and medieval clothes to lead us on an adventure to speak with a dragon, booyah)… but back on track... I noticed some girls from our group had stopped and were looking into some surrounding trees, cooing about how “mignon” or cute this something was. Being an animal lover of all kinds, especially when I can see animals in natural environments, I asked the girls what they were looking at. It was a squirrel.Wait what? France, you need some wildlife… your people think that squirrels are cute and worth stopping to stare at.



Bourton on the Water, in the Cotswalds



The trend of many of my travels seems to be the enjoyment of connecting with different people, and relaxing at the dinner table with our host family was always a wonderful part of our day. The group of teachers was placed with a family whose hospitality and love of sharing and discovering new cultures seemed simply a way of life.

I was spoiled and got to speak English for four days… but the problem is that its second nature now, when speaking with strangers in restaurants, public places etc, to answer in French. Oh boy. So I said “Merci” in response to being told to mind my step when hopping onto the boat for our little cruise. I smiled and said “Bonjour” when a waiter appeared. I was listening and speaking French all day with the teachers and the students, but expected to speak English in public settings. It was mentally exhausting, but a delightful mélange.



All the coffee in France is little. You have no idea how wonderful it felt to actually hold a big cup of coffee again



 I took the greatest nap of my life when I finally returned home to my little room in the foyer.

Back in la France, my friends and I celebrated Love’s greatest holiday in style... crepes for lunch (pictured below is dessert- chestnut and whipped cream crepe) and later that evening some wine, heart shaped cheese and a French movie called “Les Petits Mouchoirs” literally translated: the little tissues.

And then I ventured to Paris. I’ve been to Paris… well, many times. I was invited to stay with a friend at her family friend’s apartment for a few days, making my only costs transportation and the cost of groceries instead of restaurants, so I figured why not? Plus, I live two hours away from Paris by train at the moment and I’m pretty sure that this will not be the case later on in life. And call me a snob, but I like to buy French perfume and what I like is sold in Paris… and I needed more of it.

 

It had to be done



Having visited Paris and many of the tourist sites multiple times, we decided that this time around we would focus on some of Paris’ lesser known gems. I finally got to see the Rodin Museum which has been on my list for quite awhile now. Unfortunately the permanent collection was closed, but the gardens were still open and we took advantage of the whole being under 26 free entry that was offered.

We also visited Pere LaChaise cemetery, historic, old, eerie, and beautiful in a quiet and odd kind of way. One can find the graves of many famous people here, ranging from Chopin to Jim Morrison. The cemetery features other graves with green ivy or moss covering the surfaces, making names unreadable, cracked and crumbling headstones… an interesting visual of the passing of time. I love the moss covered sculpture in the picture to your right.



One of the most striking monuments, for the Jews killed of Auschwitz III



Do we do this in America?

There is a beautiful area devoted to the victims of concentration camps, with not just one monument for the camps in general, but separate monuments for each camp, with signs mentioning that below the stones lies an urn of ashes collected from each particular site. We also saw a lawn that was meant for cremated ashes with roses strewn sporadically throughout, and a small sign asking us not to step on the grass out of respect. I’d never seen anything like that before in my life… do we do that in America? 



 

So much American goodness



The next day I spent on my own as my friend wasn’t feeling very well. I had my first Hamburger since September at dinner the night before (Paris… big city. Big options.) and I decided that a day walking around a park was just what I wanted/needed. I spent the majority of the day walking around the most romantic park I have ever visited, with waterfalls, a grotto, a lake, an island. Les Buttes Chaumont was seriously a beaut to see, and I was seriously missing my own  cheri by the end of the afternoon.

   I ended my day alone waiting in line for 30 minutes at a pastry shop on the Champs Elysées to get my weekly Macaron fix. I enjoyed the most delicious, delicate, perfect macarons (pistachio- always a staple, chestnut and pear- to die for, and the valentine’s special grapefruit and vanilla). While walking down one of the world’s famous and expensive avenues, shamelessly eating some treats, a man approached me and asked if he could walk with me and talk to me. I’m not sure why French men see women alone and assume they want some company (as this is not the first time something like this has happened), perhaps they have seen too many movies where American girls swoon over their accents… I politely told him that non, I did not want to talk, as I was hoping to “profiter” from my macaron experience. He left, I checked to make sure he somehow had not stolen my wallet from my purse, and then I did profiter from my macarons.





You know that song that goes something like "love the one you're with"? I am having a serious foreign  love affair with the baked goods here.



And alas, I find myself back in Nantes, with yet another week of vacation time. I bought a baguette on my way home from the train station, and when the woman handed it to me I was pleasantly surprised to find it was fresh from the oven and still warm. This is the life, my friends. Utter contentment.





I couldn't give you a Paris post without her non?



Bisous,

Steph