La vie est belle (aka life is beautiful)

Normally, I would be the first to say that nothing can compete with the hectic lifestyle of a New Yorker, but that's before I immersed in a life as a study abroad student. There's always so much to do and see and I just want to take it all in before my time is up and unfortunately this has caused a delay in my blog. My dear friends, I sincerely apologize, but I think you'll be glad to know there's much to update you on. So here goes…

A few weeks ago I was fortunate enough to see an incredible exhibit at the Grand Palais by Christian Boltanski titled Personnes, a part of Monumenta 2010, an annual exhibit that displays art work which physically requires a large space for display. On a literal level, the exhibit was intended to represent a concentration camp with fluorescent lights hanging above rows of clothes laid out on the ground and a giant pile of clothes standing monumentally at the back. It's hard to put into words the emotional impact of the exhibit, but physically, loud noise echoed through the room (which we learned was a recording of real heartbeats) and a lack of heat (particularly brutal on the coldest day of the season), you could feel the cold in your bones creating a chillingly intense atmosphere. The empty clothes represented the absence of people, but groups of spectators served as evidence that life keeps going as a cycle, rather than simply being a path to death. Above the huge pile of clothes was a tractor with a claw that would pick up clothes and then almost instantly drop them back into the pile. Acting as a representation of the hand of God, it was actually being manipulated by the person sitting behind the control station (quite interesting when you think about it metaphorically). I don't think I've been able to do the exhibit enough justice in words, but simply put, it was an incredible experience.

Moving on to a different type of art, music can be universally appreciated whether you understand the language or not, but it's all the more entertaining when you go to a concert in Paris where all the bands are either American or English-speaking. Fairly well-known among concert-goers here, La Flesh d'Or is the French version of The Knitting Factory or Bowery Ballroom. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary, nor was it lacking in its hip "downtown" venue ambiance, until I started noticing the hipsters holding wine glasses. I was thrown back to reality, the reality of living in France where (as I've mentioned before) wine is consumed like water, no matter the occasion. Cups full of beer were floating around, but mostly because it was the only choice for the free drink voucher that came with the ticket. The bands were alright, but the audience was more interesting. Maybe I'm just tainted by rowdy American youngsters who go crazy at concerts, but the crowd was strangely too mellow. It felt like they were holding back that urge to bob their heads and shake their hips, or maybe I was just judging them with American eyes. Either way, the concert was fun and we got to meet a drummer from one of the bands who was so happy to finally talk to some Americans who understand his humor, clearly the highlight of our (and his) night.

As per usual, I have some sort of story related to food and this time it's all about CUPCAKES! French patisseries are amazing, croissants, éclairs, tarts—they're all amazing, but sometimes your heart desires something a bit more simple. You can imagine the excitement I felt when I fell upon an authentic cupcake shop while wandering the streets. My eyes lit up, my mouth began to water, and not surprisingly, the girl behind the counter looked at me like I was insane. I am all for immersing in another culture, but no one can deny a classic red velvet cupcake!

And then a few days later I was the one judging others as possibly being insane when on a calm Sunday afternoon the streets began to flood with rollerbladers (is that the correct term for those who rollerblade?). Helmets, knee pads, 80s style outfits—you name it, it was being displayed like a runway show, Parisian style. Supposedly it's a weekly thing that slowly attracts more and more members until the spring when walking becomes secondary to rollerblading on Sundays. I am most definitely looking forward to witnessing Paris on rollerblades.

Continuing on our French adventures, my friends and I set out to explore Rouen, a small city in Normandy, known for being the city in which Joan of Arc was burned at the stake. I can't help but mention food again (don't be surprised if I come back home a couple pounds heavier), but lucky us, cheap and delicious food just finds us. This time I was really in for a treat when I came across a Chocolaterie that had chocolate covered macarons (and I don't mean your boring Passover maccarons, but French delicious cookie-like macarons!). I don't think Joan of Arc indulged in macarons very often, but it certainly added a whole new level to my understanding of her bravery and suffering.

While on the topic of suffering, I should talk a little about my visit to Pere Lachaise, the famous cemetery that houses celebrities like Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde, Chopin, etc. Normally, when I think of a cemetery, I get a creepy uncomfortable feeling, but Pere Lachaise transformed the traditional idea of a cemetery. Acting more like a museum than cemetery with street names, barriers, and elevations, I almost felt giddy walking around trying to find my way through the labyrinth of graves. Not to sound disrespectful, but after spending two hours in the maze trying to pinpoint famous people, it felt like I was playing a game rather than walking through a somber and reverent area.

Although, the area surrounding Pere Lachaise is right on the border of Paris and its suburbs, which serves as a perfect viewpoint of the city. After a deliciously home-cooked meal by some friends, we stood on a balcony watching the lights of the Eiffel Tower sparkle on one side, and the church of Sacre Coeur on Montmartre light up on the other, and even after a month of living here I just thought "somebody pinch me, I must be dreaming."

Next on the agenda, some crazy adventures in the land of Spaniards…

A tour of Tours

Unquestionably, Paris is special in a way words can't fully describe it, but this weekend was all about the wonderful charm of a small town away from the busy city. A few of my friends and I trekked (on a comfortable hour long train ride) to Tours in the Loire Valley, having heard of the beautiful castles we could gawk at.

With the TGV train going at lightning speed and our ears popping every few minutes, my friends and I began the trip with an on-the-go picnic full of baguettes, cheese, yogurt, snack bars, oranges, and of course some more cheese (we quickly adapted to the French way of eating). Simply eating French food does not, however, assimilate you with the people as we quickly found out that masses of food on a train at 8 am screams AMERICAN. You'd think that a culture that puts such focus into gastronomy would appreciate it at any hour of the day, but the only person who smiled at us was a toddler, and I'm pretty sure she was just laughing at our mess.

Leaving Paris and the rain behind us, Tours was like a magical land bursting with sunshine—seeing as our eyes had forgotten what sun looks like in Paris with all its gray and rainy days, this was miraculous. After walking through the empty streets and sitting at a café, we were most impressed (almost shocked) at the cheap prices for food and coffee. 10 croissants for 3 euros! 6 beignets for 1 euro! Cappuccino for 3 euros! Our eyes were going crazy wanting to buy everything in bulk simply because in Paris one croissant is at least 1 euro and a cappuccino is at least 5. And what could be more satisfying than a good deal on delicious food?! Sitting on the steps of the Hotel de Ville (City Hall) with the sun beaming down and a sparkling fountain across from us, we were in a state of total serenity and satisfaction. That was, of course, until we were disturbed by obnoxious ice cream truck music coming from several passing cars with large animal figurines on the back. Quite the strange image to wake you from a trance, though we found out later that a zoo was in town and this was their way to promote it rather than through traditional advertising. They definitely got points for creativity.

This trip had the potential of being fairly normal with some travelling involved, sightseeing, and staying at a hotel, but that wasn't good enough for us. We decided to spice it up a little and save some money by taking part in a wonderful thing called Couch Surfing. Explanation: There are genuinely nice people in this world who understand the needs of students like us wanting to explore as much as we can on a tight budget and as a result, we stayed in an apartment in the center of town with some entertaining locals for absolutely no cost. You may be thinking, isn't that a little shady (or as we say in French, très louche)? Turns out it was one of the brightest ideas we had because there were no strings attached and our hosts were just as eager to chill with some Americans as we were to meet French people. Our lovely host even prepared lunch for us, helping start off an impressive list of free things we received throughout the weekend (particularly impressive in our minds because it is so rare to get anything for free in Paris).

Hospitality is ingrained in French culture, but the people of Tours took it to a whole new level for us. Going off a recommendation from my friend's host mom, we went to a bar/café where the owner was more than happy to accommodate us with free champagne after realizing we knew him through a friend of a friend of a friend. Meeting his cousins then lead to more giving which lead us to a creperie where we not only stuffed our faces with nutella and bananas, but were introduced to some Jewish French Algerians who talked up a storm about politics and religion till our ears hurt. (Turned out to be worth our patience when we came back for free crepes the following night).

We did make our way out of Tours to a town called Chenonceau, known for its 16^th century Renaissance-styled castle built on the water. Its purpose was mainly a housing for mistresses, which explains the impressive beauty. I'd like to imagine the women living there were fairly satisfied with the large embellished rooms, luxurious gardens, and elaborate kitchens (again, food has always been a priority in this culture). Each room, decorated with elaborate tapestries, large beds with canopies, and extravagant flower arrangements accommodated the needs of each woman (probably the reason for the castle being so popular among mistresses). Catherine de Medici, one of the castle's inhabitants, used it as a work place and left her mark as a fortified woman (unlike the others, of course). And as if straight out of a story book or movie, there's a labyrinth garden in the woods with a gazebo in the center marking the authenticity of the chateau.

Back in Tours we continued to make friends with locals and the best part about it was how great we felt to be speaking French. This may sound bizarre given that we are students studying French and it should be normal for us to speak the language we are learning, but the responses we got from people in Tours was contrary to what we'd become used to hearing and feeling in Paris. I must admit there are plenty of Parisians who are welcoming and helpful in improving our French, but unfortunately, there are many who upon hearing our American accent often resort to speaking English (making us feel dumb) or simply look at us strangely (as if we actually are dumb). But in Tours, all was different. People appreciated our effort to speak their language and saw English as a barrier for them. At the end of the weekend, we just felt special (a comforting feeling when you're in a foreign country).

In addition to making friends who bought us rounds of coffee (very valuable after a long night), neglecting to see other neighboring castles, eating tons of chocolate and baguettes, feeling old at a club filled with 15-year-olds, perfecting the art of using self-timers on cameras, learning about adopt-a-mec.com (check it out), and playing Kings with French people…I dreamt in French! I promise you this is a huge accomplishment that may seem trivial, but among us study abroad students this is monumental! The content of the dream was uneventful, but take my word for it—this is a good sign for the future!