The Paris Souvenir

The following posts are mass emails (and some random thoughts) written when I studied in Paris for Spring 2004 semester. They've been buried away all this time and never paired with pictures (I didn't know how to send digital pictures back then...it was the dark ages!) I though it was high time they be published and enjoyed, especially with all the new people in my life since 2004. Wow, that seems like forever ago.

I studied Management in an English-speaking business program with about 90 students, including 6 Americans and about two French. The rest of the students came from all over the world. It was one of the hardest and, as it usually goes, most rewarding periods in my life. I grew and learned so much. A quote from Little Women that I always associate with this time: "stepping over the threshold between childhood and all that lay beyond".


January 19, 2004

The Paris Souvenir: 1st Edition

Hey everyone!

Sorry it’s taken me so long to write a real email, but it was really hard to get to a computer lab last week before classes started. In fact, I’m actually writing this on my laptop and transferring it to the lab tomorrow, not so much for lack of time, but because the French keyboard is different (like on the pinky finger letters and punctuation marks) and it’s painstaking to try to type when you’re whole email ends up wrong.

Anyway, so I’m here settled in. I live in a three bedroom apartment with my McK roommate Elizabeth and three girls from Lativia. I haven’t talked to them a whole lot, but they all seem really nice. They all know Latvian, Russian, English, French, and Spanish (a little). They bathe everyday. And they are so tall and pretty. They all smoke, which makes our apartment smell, but I’m dealing with it.

There are six Americans here total. Elizabeth and I, Peter from Monmouth, and Trish, Amy, and Nick from Milikin. Amy’s grandfather died the day after she got here last week, so she had to turn around and go home. She should be back today. I haven’t met her yet. The three Milikin people don’t live in our neighborhood. They live closer to school (like a half hour metro ride away). So Peter, Liz and I have become a little family. We go grocery shopping and sightseeing and stuff together. We’re not best friends for life or anything like that, but it’s amazing how close you can become to someone you just met when circumstances call for it. Neither of his two roommates speaks any English, so he’s even more lost than we are.

A Rarely seen view of Tour Eifel

First (and still fav) view of Tour Eifel

Our neighborhood is so great. By neighborhood, I mean section of Pairs. Its a few square miles. It is actually a Chinatown of sorts. There are tons of Asians and lots of Chinese restaurants. Aside from that, there are three grocery stores within 3 blocks of us, and a bakery on our way from our apartment to the Metro station, where you can get a croissant or sandwich or pastry (yum). If I didn’t walk like 6 or 7 miles a day (no joke…you have to walk a ton just to get around), I’d get so fat while I’m here…lol. Actually, Liz, Peter and I have voluntarily taken longer walks than that. Thursday we rode the metro to the Eiffel Tower and walked across central Paris from there (took about 6 hours…probably about 10 miles). Then Saturday, we walked from the Opera House to Les Halles (a famous underground mall), which took about 7.5 hours. Then we took another 4 hour stroll that night around our neighborhood, just exploring. Altogether that day I think we walked about 13 miles. My feet were definitely feeling it.  All pictures are from our walks.

Liz and I climbed up the Arc de Triumph for a better Paris view.

The Champs Eyeleseys from the Arc de Triumph

My favorite pic of the whole semester.

Today was the first day of classes. ESG isn’t really a campus, but a series of different locations all linked. And there isn’t a campus, there’s five different schools that look like storefronts when you go by them. (then as you go in you can go back and up…it’s bigger than it first appears). It’s weird riding the Metro to class. We have to leave an hour before class begins to get there on time. I like my classes ok so far. Nothing earth shattering. My French class is going to be tough. I’m also taking Intermediate Spanish. When I got here, I was ashamed that I wasn’t at least bilingual (when everyone else knew at least 3 languages), so I signed up for Spanish. I hope the high school classes come back to me, cuz I haven’t had Spanish in almost 3 years.


Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers. Main prayer request at the moment: a fellow Christian to hold me accountable. Not that I’m tempted really…just need someone to understand why I don’t do the things everyone else is doing ALL THE TIME.

I miss everybody! But I’m having a good time. You’re all in my thoughts. Sorry I didn’t respond to each one of your emails personally, but doing this is just easier and I don’t have to write the same things over and over again. Keep them coming though…I enjoy reading them.

Au revior,
Michelle


January 23, 2004

The Paris Souvenir: 2nd Edition

Hey everyone,

I just wanted to let you know that things are going well for the most part. France has its ups and downs and I’m homesick a lot, but hopefully that will go away in time. I love the city and living here is fun. It’s fun to have to leave for class an hour early to catch the Metro. It’s kind of fun riding the Metro by myself too. Everyday presents a new challenge and somehow I find the resources and independence to conquer them. Learning French in itself is my biggest challenge. At this point, I don’t need it so much to talk to people, just to buy stuff at the grocery store. I’ve already mixed up fabric softener and detergent and shampoo and conditioner.

"Our" Metro stop

My classes are awesome. I love most of them. Other than French (sorry Jennah), but I’m sure that even that will get easier. I’m talking Human Resources with a gay American professor…he’s great. Operations Management is with a man with the cutest British accent (Amanda will appreciate that)…and he doesn’t stutter (lol). I’m taking Teams and Leadership with a frumpy Scottish woman. She’s a good professor. And I think my most challenging class will be Business Ethics. Not because of the workload, but because of the professor. Adam, Martin, Amanda, Tom, etc will appreciate this. She’s a raging Feminazi. And not only that, she’s a pronounced Buddhist and spent a good 10 minutes of class bashing Christianity. For those of you that know me well, you know that this will be a challenging class. I am looking forward to the challenge though. I am the only American in that class, so she picks on me for that as well. She and I already had an argument during the first class…lol. But it’s a discussion based Ethics course, so arguing is expected.

The outside of school

The school courtyard

I think my favorite part of these classes is all the different backgrounds that are brought to the discussions. I have kids in my classes from everywhere from China, to Burkina Faso, to Norway, to Mexico, to Argentina, to Austria, to Latvia. More or less, you name a country and they are represented at this school. It’s such a little “slice of the world”. It’s awesome. One of the girls here, Alba from Albania, said she went home over Christmas and was so bored because everyone was Albanian. She said she doesn’t want to do that anymore because she’s bored out of her mind when everyone is from the same country. It does make a conversation much more interesting, that’s for sure.

The courtyard from a different view.

That’s about all I know. Liz is going on a trip to the south of France this weekend with a few people we met this week and I’m staying in Paris to hang out with my Latvian roommates a bit. Should be a fun weekend.

Hope everything is going well. For the FBC people, I’ll be praying for you at the Purity retreat this weekend. McK people hope classes are going well and apartment situations are good (new roommates, etc). For BW theatre people, I have a goal for while I’m here…to find something. 10 points for the first person that can guess what it is (ahem, Bob).



 

Take care everyone. Send me mail!
Hugs, Michelle

January 25, 2004

The Paris Souvenir: 3^rd Edition

Hello everyone!

Hope all is well and good back in good ol’ Illinois.  (Or Texas, or London, or Ireland or wherever you are).  I’m writing because I told my mom this story and she said I had to publish it.  I also thought you might enjoy some of the things I’ve noticed while I’ve been here. 

Here’s my story (copied and pasted from my Journal).  It’s nothing earth shattering, but it does demonstrate some of the cultural difficulties, as well as my own stupidity (which many of you are by this time well accustomed to…lol). :   

Jan 22, 2004. 

“Today I was so frustrated at everything French.  I know in a few days this will be a funny story, but right now I am not amused.  OK, so I ran out of clothing.  So yesterday morning my plan was to do laundry.  I went to Monoprix and bought detergent, then loaded all my clothing into a suitcase and rolled it down to the laundry on the corner by Ed.  I pulled on the door, but it wouldn’t budge.  There were people inside and the window said they were supposed to be open at this time, but the door wouldn’t open when I pulled the handle.  So, I went to the other laundry by Pete’s apartment (the other way).  But when I walked it, I found that it was dry cleaning only, no washing machines.  By this time I just decided to give up for the day, so I went home.  On the way to class this morning, a thought occurred to me.  I went to the first laundry’s door and gave it a firm push.  Yeah.  It opened…sigh.  Today when we got home from class, I went to a laundry the other way (by Monoprix) to see how much it costs.  I actually stood and watched a lady put in a load of laundry so I could see how to do it.  Then I went back and got my suitcase full of dirty clothing and dragged it two blocks to the laundry.  I put the clothes in, put the detergent in, and went to the machine across the room. I found out it was 4 Euros to do a little load and 6 to do a big load. Yikes.  That’s nearly 15 US dollars for a stinking load of laundry.  I didn’t have that many coins on me.  So I left my clothes there in the machines, took the suitcase and went down to Monoprix.  I bought a croissant so they could bust my 50 Euro bill so I could have some change.  I drug the suitcase back and put in the money.  As I watched the clothes wash, I noticed it wasn’t looking soapy like the other machines.  I kind of dismissed it and went dutifully about my French homework.  So, I pulled the laundry out when it was done, only to notice that the spots were all still there.  I have the sinking suspicion I put in fabric softener instead of liquid detergent.  AHH.  Why can’t they have labels in English???  It would make buying things a lot easier.  I’m not about to go about rewashing the clothing, though.  At least it all smells like lavender, even if it is still dirty.  I’ll wear it dirty for another week and a half before I spend another 12 Euros washing and drying two loads of clothing.  Anyway, so that’s my story.  In my family, that would be the nidgit award for the week, that’s for sure.”

So, yeah.  I’m a giant retard.  With dirty clothing that I paid a buttload for.   

Today, I explored Paris on my own.  I thought that I would be terrified to go out by myself, but I had a blast today walking through a museum on my own and going in and out of little shops.  I even accidentally found a beautiful square park and people watched for a while.  It seems to be a popular hobby for people on Sundays.  I watched a mother play a version of “red light, green light” with her two daughters.  I was cute to watch these little girls shout numbers and phrases excitedly in French.  It’s nice to know that even in a different country, people are the same.  They do the same things, play the same games, laugh the same way, cry the same way.  And, as my roommate Ana taught me, chocolate cures all wounds in Latvia, France, and America, and probably through the rest of the world too.  While mostly I feel like I’m on a different planet, sometimes the little things like “Red light, Green Light” and chocolate give me a sense of comfort and a taste of home.

Place de Voges.  "My park"

Thank you so much for your emails and encouraging words.  I miss you all so much!  Keep praying for me as I will for you.  I still have the same prayer request as last time.  Just for an understanding friend to help me get through these four months.

Take care and I hope everyone has a blessed week.

Michelle

Here’s the list that I’ve been compiling since I’ve gotten here.  I’m sure this won’t be the last one you get.

Cultural Differences I’ve noticed:

• They drive completely crazy.  I heard it said that driving in Paris is “One giant game of Chicken”
• I’ve been kissed on both cheeks a lot.  Even men do it to other men if they’re best friends.  I don’t find it weird anymore though. I sometimes find myself being the one to initiate it when I greet or say goodbye to people.
• There are beautiful churches and cathedrals around every corner.  Sad that Paris has one of the highest percentages of atheists in the world.  Seems like such a waste.
• The red lights (at intersections) are crosses or plus signs.  They are also never on overhead poles (just posts across from the driver). 
• There is a large repetition of businesses in small areas.  For example, there might be three pharmacies on one block, two bakeries, and four “Tabacs” (cigarette shop).  I guess they have enough people to support all of them, but it seems odd to me.
• It’s normal to stay out until 4 or 6 am clubbing.  It’s also normal to have a 15 or 20 Euro cover charge to get into one of these places (20 or 25 dollars).
• The metro lines run side by side instead of on top of each other like London.  So some of the stations that service three or more lines will have long tunnels to get between the lines, so they put in walkalators (moving sidewalks) to make the walk shorter.
• The toilets don’t suck the water down when you flush.  Instead, a rush of water comes from the top to push it all down.
• Our shower head isn’t mounted.  So it’s basically a hose coming off the faucet. We’ve learned to shower sitting down, because there’s also no shower curtain, so the floor gets all wet if you don’t sit down.
• Women push/pull around these cart things, which is basically a giant plaid backpack on wheels.  It is also rare to see a man without a bag.  Usually cloth bookbag-like things but sometimes they really do look like purses (reminds me of a Seinfield episode).  None of these people have cars to carry groceries or anything around in, so these are both methods of carrying things.
• Dogs are allowed pretty much anywhere---even in restaurants! They also wear cute rain jackets in the rain.
• You do not have to tip
• It is not uncommon for men and women to share one bathroom in small public places (cafes/ restaurants).
• They clean the streets using this high pressure water hose that comes up from the streets.  Men are nearby with broom things (neon green) to brush away dirt.
• On the Champs Elysees, men drive around zamboni type things to clean the (marble-looking) sidewalks
• They sell fruit/newspapers in the metro stations.  It also smells like urine in most of them…hopefully not human, though I wouldn’t be half surprised because of all the homeless people that live down there.
• Three ring binders have four rings, so they make two ring hole punches (that you have to do twice) instead of three.
• Doors into business push instead of pull.  I’ve had a few embarrassing moments getting used to this one, including thinking the laundry was closed when it was really open and walking home.
• Cheese isn’t a food here…it’s a way of life.  The cheese section takes up almost the whole back wall of any grocery store you go in to.  They also have fromagerias…stores devoted entirely to cheese.
• The fashion is really pointy shoes, usually accompanied by high heels…looks uncomfortable to me!
• There is a fruit store that is open twenty four hours.  The grocery stores close at 7:00 every day and for lunch, but you can get a papaya at 3:00am if you want!  Seems a little crazy to me.

Here's a couple pics of my apartment

Tiny Kitchen

Liz and my bedroom

February 2, 2004

The Paris Souvenir: 4^th Edition

Hey everyone!

I hope you are all well and good.  Paris is good.  I’ve actually seen the sunshine and it’s been semi warm the past couple of days, which is surprising.  Today is Groundhog’s day in the US.  Liz reminded me of that.  It’s kind of weird to know that no one at school was even aware of that and if I would have tried to explain it to them, they would think I was a nutcase.  I’m going to see what my roommates think about it when they get home.  Anyway, it’s little things like that I miss.

The Lapin Agile

I went and found the Lapin Agile this weekend (the 10 points goes to David C for being the first to guess it).  It’s nothing like I expected. It’s a tiny pink house with green shutters and a picture of a dancing rabbit on it (which is what Lapin Agile means: “dancing rabbit”).  I couldn’t even get in because it doesn’t open until 9:00pm.  I was a little disappointed…I had been so excited to go in and drink a cup of coffee.  I guess it’s neat that I found it though.

Michelle at the Lapin Agile...

 

Me standing on the faulty brick

So, I definitely had a Michelle moment today (Monday).  Elizabeth and I were walking across our school’s tiny courtyard after getting out from class.  Everyone had just gotten out, so it was really crowded.  We wound our way around people to get to the door to go back inside to go to the street to go home (the buildings form a square around the courtyard).  The courtyard is made of sand bricks (like the ones that used to be in my backyard).  A lot of these are really loose and just wobble when you stand on them.  I have often stood talking to people, leaning back and forth to keep my balance on the unstable ground (I would do a lot better to put one foot on another brick, but wobbling is kind of fun).  Anyway, Liz and I were walking out and she stepped down on a lose one, causing the other end to go up a couple of inches. I was walking to the side and slightly behind her, and I definitely tripped on it and fell flat on my face in front of everyone.  As not a lot of people knew me so far, I’ll forever be known now as the girl that fell on her face in the courtyard.  (Side note for those of you who aren’t laughing you rear ends off right now:  aside from a skinned knee and scraped up hands and a bruised ego, I’m fine).  Anyway, at least everyone now knows the real Michelle.

Outside the Louvre

Anyway, not too much else noteworthy has happened.  We went to the Louvre on Sunday (yeah, while you all were watching the Superbowl, I was seeing the Mona Lisa).  By the way, America is the only place that calls her Mona Lisa; here, she’s known as “the smiling one”.  That place is massive.  It takes up like five blocks and it’s really almost triple that because there are three wings to it and each wing is 3 floors. 

Oh, ladies, a few fashion predictions for America:  Really pointy shoes and boots, fishnet stockings (and other designs), high, skinny heels, off the shoulder sweatshirts (and jackets).  Basically the 80s are back in force.  We’ll see how long it takes these things to get back to St. Louis.  Or you all could be trendsetters and rip the collars out of your sweatshirts and wear them over several tank tops.  Tell everyone it’s the fashion in Paris.

Could you do me a favor and write emails describing your favorite Superbowl commercials?  I really want to hear about some. I know I could see them on the internet, but I can never get on the computer long enough to do anything productive.

I hope everyone has a great week.  Remember to watch out for uneven surfaces.  And here’s another lesson:  Dijon mustard goes on most things, but not on bananas!  Just thought I’d save you the suffering and stop you before you tried it.

Happy Groundhog’s day!

Michelle

PS For those of you who know Paris, I am living in the 19eme arrondissement and I go to school in the 12eme arrondissement.  I know some of you had asked me and I forgot to answer.

February 4, 2004

The Paris Souvenir: 5^th Edition

Hey Everyone!

Hope everyone is doing well.

I ran into a very shocking and distinct cultural difference today that I thought many of you might find interesting.  We are getting to the point in some of my classes when we’re having tests.  An appropriate thing to do at a college, right?  Apparently not.  We’ve known about this test for two weeks.  Yet the kids in the class still tried to talk her out of it.  She didn’t budge, but apparently a lot of European teachers are talked out of tests and papers frequently, so this is a common practice here.  During the test (which was equivalent to a quiz…10 multiple quiz questions), kids on both sides of me leaned over and asked me to tell them the answers. And they were appalled when I refused.  Afterwards I talked to them about it, and apparently it’s completely common practice to pass answers along behind the teacher’s back.  And they couldn’t believe that in the US you can be kicked out of school for cheating.  Later at home I talked to my Russian roommate, who studied in the US for a semester, and she told me that one time her US teacher left the room during a test and she got her book out and started asking other people for answers, and was amazed that no one else was doing this.  She also admitted that she had never really written a paper and doesn’t know how; she just cuts and pastes from the internet, or uses her friends old papers.  Anyway, to these students, the fact that Americans by and large don’t cheat is amazing.  I found it amazing that they don’t see anything wrong with cheating.

On a slightly different note, my roommates laughed when I told them the Justin/Janet Superbowl party.  Nudity is not an issue here, and especially not boobs.  There are naked women on advertisements quite frequently, and it’s not uncommon to see nakedness in commercials and on television during prime time and any other time.  She found it so funny that Americans find nudity taboo.  I can’t believe that they don’t treat the human body with more modesty. Women are such objects here. I honestly cannot make even the slightest eye contact with a guy before I find him talking to me and I have to yell at him and quickly walk away.   I’ve never been much of a feminist, but being here is kind of making me defensive about women.  Now I understand why French women have to look so confident and be so “uppity”.  They have to keep the creeps away.

I’ve always held, and still do, that American morality is on a disgusting decline.  But we look like angels compared to some of the things I’ve seen here.  It seems like right and wrong has no place in Europe.  It is just “Be”.  I think I’m living (or seeing rather) where America is headed and it isn’t a pretty thing.

Anyway, sorry to rant.  I’ve just been appalled at some of the things I’ve seen here and thought you might find them interesting.

Hope all of you are having a good week and have a great, safe weekend.

Au revoir,

Michelle 

February 4, 2005—sent to Christian prayer partners only.

The Paris Souvenir: Special Edition

Greetings!

I just wanted to let you all know how much your prayers have been felt while I’ve been in Paris.  I love being here.  It’s such a beautiful city with such a neat history.  I love my classes and learning not only from the professors, but from the students of other nationalities.  It’s amazing the class discussions we can have when so many cultural differences are brought to the table.  And I’m very much looking forward to taking trips out of Paris.

Inasmuch as I know I’m having the learning experience and opportunity of a lifetime, this has been a very difficult few weeks.  I’ve had a hard time getting adjusted.  As of yet, I have not found another Christian on my campus.    I feel very alone and outnumbered most of the time.  I’m doing my best to be a witness and to talk about Christ when I get the opportunity, but I’m pretty soft-spoken by nature and I do find it difficult when I get ganged up on and whatnot.  I also am dealing with almost daily pressures to go out and “party” as they call it.  People cannot comprehend the concept that someone simply doesn’t drink and has no desire to.  I’ve gotten asked if I’m Morman a lot.  I have “gone out” a few times, but I don’t enjoy myself and find myself taking a cab home by myself in the middle of the night because everyone else stays out until the Metro opens again (5:30 am). So, now, most nights when my roommates are gone, I usually stay home.  In the midst of this, of course, I’m having a very difficult time making friends.  Through all this, I’m spending so much more time in the Word than I have in the past and getting so much out of it.  I love spending time one-on-one with Jesus and getting to know Him better.  And, His friendship is the only thing that has kept me from falling apart in this strange land so far from the places I know and love.  I’ve spent many nights wishing I was back home or in the recesses of my church, places where I’m known and accepted.  But I have come to the realization that God has put me here for a reason, and that I am the only Jesus these people may ever know.  And while I may be uncomfortable, Jesus is by my side and giving me the strength to continue each day.

I wanted to let you know what was going on outside of the funny stories I publish about my stay here, because you all are my prayer support group and I just want to ask for your prayers on staying strong and on finding a Christian friend.  And I wanted to thank you for your prayers the past few weeks and let you know how much I appreciate them.  Knowing that you all are still thinking about me even though I’m “out of sight” means the world to me.  I’m thinking about you all too!  Take care and send me any prayer requests if you have them.  I want to know what’s going on!

Love in Jesus,

Michelle

February 10, 2004

The Paris Souvenir: 6^th Edition

Hello Everyone!

Blessings and Happy Valentine’s Day for those of you celebrating it…lol.

 For those of you that have asked me about Valentine’s Day in Europe, they do celebrate it.  However, it is never stated as anything but “St. Valentine’s Day” (so I’m thinking it might be more of a religious celebration).  I’ve seen a few store window displays with hearts and flowers and candy and stuff, but not nearly to the magnitude of the US.  I do not have access to television, so I am not sure of the angle marketers take for it (commercials, etc.)  And, fortunately, I will not be spending Valentine’s Day in Paris (the City of Love), so I won’t really be able to let you know how it is actually celebrated.  Although, if you look in the streets, on the Metro, in grocery stores (ugh), you’d think it was Valentine’s Day every day in Paris.  PDA is definitely NOT taboo here.

I just got back yesterday from my first trip outside of Paris.  Peter (the Monmouth boy that Liz and I hang out with all the time), Elizabeth, Alba, a girl from Albania (down by Greece), and I went to Strasbourg.  It is a little town on the border between France and Germany, located in France’s Alsace region.  The Alsace region is part of what France and Germany fought over during World War I.  Anyway, Strasbourg is still in France, but has a very prominent German influence.  Elizabeth finally got to put her German minor to use. 

We took the Saturday morning train in.  When we got there we were all worried about how to get around, so we bought maps, sightseeing books, etc.  We decided not to take the above ground Metro system right away, but just go for a walk.  We started walking and came to a massive cathedral.  It made anything else I’ve seen in Pairs look like a gingerbread house.  Anyway, we looked on the map and we had walked all the way across town.  You can walk across Strasbourg in 15 minutes, which is approximately how long it takes me to walk from my school to the nearest Metro station here.  The town was so small.  But so French!  All the streets were cobble stone (the Metro tracks were just embedded in the cobble stone streets).  We were actually surprised when we saw cars…they just looked kind of out of place in a city like that.

The Giant Strasbourg Cathedral...never left our sight

Strasbourg is actually the second most important city in France after Paris.  It holds a lot of consulates of other countries.  The reason for its importance is that it is home to some important European Union centers, such as the European Council, the European Court of Human Rights, and the European Parliament.  All of these buildings were outside of the very French city center.  They looked like they had been dropped from outer space or something.

La Petite France

My favorite part of Strasbourg was “La Petite France.”  It was a little section of town where the river that surrounded the town had cut the land into three or four parallel islands.  The buildings were built over the river and the bottoms let the river flow through them like a dam or something.  Anyway, the sound of the water flowing through the mini dams reminded me of Estas Park, Co, for those of you that know it.  And with the beautiful French buildings in the background, it was so, so neat.  

The only downfall to the weekend was the weather (most of you Midwesterners are going to hate me for the next few sentences).  We had been enjoying weather in the 60s the past week in France, so most of us didn’t come prepared for anything but that (luckily I had brought my coat).  When we got into town, it was raining and very cold.  So we had to put on layers of everything we had brought in order to keep warm while walking around.  Sunday it was still cold, but at least it was sunny.

Alba, Peter, and Liz

We left Strasbourg at midnight Sunday night and took a 6 and a half hour train back to Paris.  I didn’t get hardly any sleep on the train, and neither did the other two girls.  Peter did, but only because he had drank a few, shall was say, sleep enhancers before we got on.  Anyway, I didn’t even go home between the train station and school.  I had put my books at Alba’s apartment (near school), so I went over there and grabbed them.  I then proceeded to sit through six straight hours of class on no sleep.  That was fun (I didn’t succeed in not falling asleep in class by the way).  But it was so worth it. 

I think spending the weekend in such a cute little city renewed my sense of why I love Europe so much.  It was so slow-paced compared to Paris.  I think being here and going to school here has made me forget about Europe (even though I’m here).  Most of the time I’m just concerned with getting through my day and what I have to do next.  I haven’t taken the time to appreciate the fact that I’m here.  Traveling just makes you sit back and realize what an amazing continent you’re on.  Anyway, I’ve made lots of travel plans for the next few weeks.  I don’t plan on being in Paris again for the next three weekends.  So, I’m pretty content right now.  While Strasbourg was only a two day trip, it definitely served a very important purpose.

Anyway, I’m leaving again in two days to go visit my McKendree friend Martin in Belfast, Ireland.  He’s spending the whole year there, so I haven’t spent any time with him since September.  So, I guess you’ll hear from me again when I get back.

Until then, hope you all have a fantastic week and a great weekend. Happy Valentine’s Day.  (Single ladies, just fyi, calories don’t count on Val Day, so grab your girlfriends and go have a hot fudge brownie sundae and know that I’d be right there with ya…lol).

Take care!

Michelle

February 16, 2004

The Paris Souvenir—7^th Edition

To my devoted readers:

Ah, yet another addition of Michelle’s Newsletter.  I need a more creative name.  10 points and a Paris souvenir to the one of you that comes up with the best name for my newsletter.

Funny story before I launch into my weekend in Belfast.  So, there was this hand held mirror that was here when Liz and I moved in.  Our bathroom doesn’t have a mirror, so we brought it in there so we could have a mirror in front of the sink. The normal side has a small chip in it where it must have once been dropped, while the side that magnifies your face is whole and unbroken. For a while, we just had it lying down on the side of the sink.  Sometimes I would notice that it was laying magnified side up, which was odd since the only side we used was the normal side.  One day, I propped it up, normal side out, against the wall.  A few days later, all five of us roommates were sitting in the kitchen.  Renata got a very serious tone in her voice and said, “Girls, whose mirror is that?”  Liz and I looked at each other and said it was here when we got here.  Renata then asked if it was possible we could keep it in our room.  Apparently, all three of them had been practically running out of the bathroom with their head turned away from the sink and washing their hands in the other bathroom because they couldn’t look at this chipped, broken side of the mirror.  In their country to even look into a broken mirror is a curse that is taken very seriously and will bring bad luck on you and your loved ones.  I quickly removed the mirror from the bathroom, of course, but it was hard to hide my laughter from the girls.  Ah, cultural differences!

Ok, so as my weekend in Belfast was full of new words, I’ll try to introduce you to some of them.  This may get a little cheesy, but, hey, I’m entertaining myself so leave me alone.

I arrived in Belfast on Friday afternoon, quite “knackered”.  I had missed my flight Thursday afternoon (after a day full of mishaps) and consequently ended up stranded in London overnight. Thankfully, a very generous uncle saved me from spending the night in the airport and/or paying for a hotel.  And I got a delicious dinner out of the deal.  It was a good time in London, though unexpected.  Who says missing your plane is always a bad thing? (By the way, Amanda, Neo died a few weeks ago.  Just thought I’d let you know.)

I arrived in Belfast to be met by Mr. McGee.  It’s nice to know that some people don’t change no matter what side of the globe they’re on.  He is still very much Martin.  We took the bus to his house.  He stays in the Church of Ireland Christian Center and I got to stay in a room there as well.  I got to meet some of his friends at the center, who were all very “class”. (It was awesome to be in a Christian setting again as well). I was somewhat of a celebrity because I “live” in Paris.  They wanted to know all about it.   I also saw his “uni”, which was beautiful. He goes to a school with 25,000 kids…quite a change from McK.  After chilling for a little bit at the center, we were met by Chuck Sung, who was an exchange student to McKendree last year and a friend of both mine and Martin’s while we were there.  Chuck has lived in Belfast all his life, so I had an authentic tour guide.  The three of us “rolled out” and caught a movie, then Chuck took us to his favourite restaurant in Belfast, a tiny place that served “class” “chicken burgers” and “chips”.  We also drank soda from “al-lu-min-i-um” cans (pronounced syllable by syllable like that…very weird).  After, the three of us went to one of the college bars to go dancing.  “Partying” in Belfast is a little bit more reasonable than in Paris because stuff closes around 1am (instead of staying open all night long like here).  

 Chuck, Martin, and I had a good talk over coffee after dinner.  We talked about how unexpected life is.  At this time last year, the three of us were friends in the states.  The only one of us who knew they would be in Ireland in a year was Chuck.  If someone would have told me a year ago that I would be sitting in a coffee shop with Chuck and Martin in Belfast, Ireland in a year, I would have told them they were insane.  But, there we were.  Life is amazing.  As a very wise woman once stated, “Life should never be boring.  God is too exciting for life to be boring.”  And my life in Paris is daily proof of that.

Belfast City Centre

Saturday was fun.  We went to “City Centre” which was packed with people because of the Valentine’s Day festivities.  We did some shopping with some of Martin’s friends from the Center.  They were at about a 10 minute walk from City Centre, but we all piled into a car and drove there anyway.  This was pretty weird for me considering we do nothing but walk in Paris (well, and take the Metro, but usually only if we have to).  Anyway, it was the first time I had been in a car and not had to pay the driver in over a month, so I enjoyed it.

After shopping , Martin and I went out for “fish-n-chips” which were so good.  I definitely couldn’t live in Ireland for too long…the food is so unhealthy and I love it so much!  Then we went home for a few hours before my favourite part of the weekend…a home cooked meal!  My first one of those in over a month as well.

The Sung kids

We went over to Chuck’s house for “tea”.  His mother had made homemade Chinese food, which was yummy.  I got to meet Chuck’s little brother (14) and sister (9), which was fun. I miss being around kids.  It was also nice to be in a family setting again. It’s amazing what you miss that you never thought about missing.

Anyway, all that aside, after “tea”, Chuck, Martin, and I went out on the town.  I must say, I had the two most handsome Valentine’s dates in Belfast.  Who can resist that Asian Persuasion?  And why limit yourself to one Valentine when you can have two?  Anyway, I got to meet a lot of Chuck’s friends that night.  It was a fun time.

Me with my handsome Valentine's Dates

My time in Ireland was so fun.  It was nice to be with familiar people.  And Belfast is so pretty.  It’s set in beautiful green hills and it is also a port on the ocean.  Sidenote:  It’s claim to fame is the Titanic was built there.  I don’t know if I would really want to publicize that, but they do.

Oddly enough, it was good to get back to Paris.  As cute as the Irish accent is, it was getting frustrating after a while to decipher what they were saying.  On the way home, I purposely sat on the airplane next to people who were speaking French.  Though I couldn’t understand them, it was strangely familiar.  My life is so backwards!

Anyway, I’m sure you have all had enough of my random rambling.  You’ll get a good newsletter in a couple of weeks I hope.  We’re leaving for Luxembourg on Friday, then onto Salzburg, Austria from next Sunday to next Thursday.  I am so excited about Salzburg that I can hardly contain myself…I’ve wanted to go there my whole life.  At the moment, I don’t have a voice, but hopefully it’ll be back by then so I can annoy Liz with my renditions of “Do-Re-Mi” and “The Sound of Music” for the 10 hour train ride.  Haha.

Cheers! (The Irish word for thank you and goodbye)

Michelle

February 26, 2006

The Paris Souvenir:  8th edition

Hello to all my faithful readers!  And welcome to those of you just subscribing .  Yes, it is that time of the week again.  Time to sit back and relax and read about the adventures of someone you know living half a world away.  Thank you to those of you who participated it my last contest.  I had a lot of great ideas, including “French Dipped” (Laura C), The Peterson Press (Brad), Parisian Whereabouts (Mom), French Toast (Tim & Kim).  The winner of the contest, though, was Briana K, with “Ten Points and a Paris Souvenir”, though I shortened it to just “The Paris Souvenir”.  Unfortunately, though, I can’t spell Souvenir, so spell check is popping up a lot.  You would think I would pick a name I can spell, but that would be too easy.  I’m also really, really tired, so that probably doesn’t help my linguistic skills either. Sorry!

I’ve been quite a few places so far.  In every place I go, we try to ask the locals to tell us a few sights not to miss, and a few foods to try that are unique to the cuisine of that area. Here’s the “contest” of the week.  There won’t be a prize, though.  I just want it to be more of a collective effort and I’ll publish the results next week.  I was asked a very broad question this weekend by my friend Alba from Albania.  She has never been to the US and doesn’t know a lot about the culture.  She does know the politics inside and out, though, which I find amazing, but that’s another story.  Anyway, she asked me the classic questions:  “When I go to the US, what are some things I have to do, and what are some things I have to try?”  I realize going to the US is nothing like going to a European country.  It would take you years to do all the things you “have to” do and at least a few weeks to eat all the foods you “have to” try.  But I attempted to answer her question anyway.  I was just hoping you guys could give me some more feedback to give to her.  And I think it would be interesting to hear some other opinions on things unique to American culture.  So, you tell me.  What are some things Alba “has to do” and “has to eat” when she finally visits the US?  I’m going to try to compile a list of top ten for her and I’ll let you know what they are as well.  Have fun and be creative!

Tapas

Ok, so we were on a one week holiday this week.  I guess for Ash Wednesday.  Weird that my school gives a whole week off for that, but I’m not complaining in the slightest!  So, Friday, Liz, Alba, and I left for Luxembourg.  It was about a 3.5 hour train ride, which is the shortest trip we’ve taken so far.  It was on this train ride that the “what to do in the US” conversation took place.    It was neat to be in a country I’ve never been in before.  Did you know there is a language called Luxembourgish?  Because I didn’t until Friday when I heard it.  It is a strange mix between French and German.  This city used to be used as a fortress, so most of the sightseeing we did involved the old fortress.  Luxembourg is also ruled by a Duke still today, so we saw the Duke’s Palace.  The city is home to a few European Union buildings, such as the Court of Justice, and the EU Official Bank.  We couldn’t find any authentic Luxembourgian (Luxembourgish?) restaurants, so we ended up eating in a “Bar de Tapas” for our “nice” meal of the trip.  For all you Spanish class people out there, chorizo is really yummy.  And I actually tried octopus, and it wasn’t too bad.  I’m definitely being adventurous with food while I am over here.  All in all, I am glad we didn’t spend much more time in the city.  We were definitely done sightseeing about two hours before our train left (6 pm Saturday evening).  Conveniently (and maybe unfortunately), there was and H&M near the train station, where we “waited” for the train by trying on and buying clothes.  Lol.  The best part of my trip by far was after we got back to our hostel after “going out” Friday night.  I was getting ready for bed in the common bathroom and started talking to a girl who was from California.  Turns out she is studying in Paris and lives only 4 metro stops away from me (very very weird in a city as big as Paris).  Anyway, we talked for a long long time (about an hour and a half) after everyone else was asleep.  It turns out her favorite movie is the Sound of Music and she was so jealous that I was going to Salzburg in a couple of days.  She is planning on going there after classes get out for the summer.  Anyway, she has my phone number and we’re supposed to get together to do something in Paris sometime.  Life is so random.

Me, Liz, and Alba on a walk in Luxembourg

I had one night in “my” bed before leaving on a long awaited trip.  I’ve wanted to go to Salzburg, Austria since I was old enough to realize it was a real place.  Those of you that know me well know how much a part of my life The Sound of Music is.  Somehow over the years it has become an obsession of sorts.  I’ve done a research paper on The Trapp Family Singers and done my country report on Austria for International Business strictly based on my love of this movie. During my research, I even got to interview one of the members of the original Trapp family. I’ve read every book I can find about the movie itself and the Trapp Family Singers.  And, being that I only have five DVDs with me here, I’ve watched the Sound of Music several times since I’ve been here and all the commentaries on it.  I even watched it in French when I first got here to help me to learn the language a little bit.  And, our train didn’t leave until almost midnight Sunday night for Salzburg, so Liz and I watched it Sunday night while we packed for the trip. My point is, this trip was a pilgrimage of sorts for me.  I have been excited about it since coming to Paris.  So, now the story of the trip, which didn’t go quite as expected, but was still the amazing realization of a dream that I hoped it would be.

Liz and I were traveling by ourselves this time.  She isn’t a huge fan of the Sound of Music, but she wanted to see where Mozart was born, so she decided to come with me.  I honestly think I would have gone by myself had she not wanted to go, but I didn’t have to make that choice.  Anyway, the ride there was a little rough.  We got separated at the Paris train station (I think we went out different doors from the Metro) and both spent a while looking for each other in the train station, but couldn’t find each other.  I know I was scared that she got kidnapped on the Metro or something, and she was thinking the same thing about me.  Anyway, we both gave up looking and went to the train car we were supposed to be on as a last resort.  And we found each other and boarded the train about 2 minutes before it left.  We are not known for being early arrivers when we have to travel, unfortunately.  Neither of us slept very well in our tiny room which we shared with three other people.  Finally two of the people got off at one of the stops, so the rest of us spread out and got a little sleep.  Liz and I knew we had to get out and switch trains in Stugart, Germany at 6:30 am.  We didn’t realize it was our stop though because we were sleeping.  Finally, Liz realized it just as the train was about to pull away from the platform.  We grabbed all our stuff and ran out of the train just in time.  My shoes weren’t even all the way on and my stuff was all over the place.  We spent about an hour walking around this new city.  There was a layer of snow on the ground, which is the first snow I had seen since coming to Europe (sorry guys!)  Anyway, because it was so early, it was still dark and nothing but bakeries was open so we didn’t feel like we saw the city much at all, but that’s ok.  Surprisingly, we got on our next train fine, but our seats were in different cars.  We had about a four hour ride to Salzburg, which I was hoping was going to be really pretty (mountains, etc).  Unfortunately, it was cloudy and snowing, I didn’t see any mountains the whole time.  Finally, the train arrived in Salzburg and I got out.  I looked around and didn’t see Liz.  I waited and waited, but she still didn’t get out of the train.  Finally, the train pulled away from the platform and still no sign of my roommate.  I walked around the train station a little bit and bought a Salzburg map and asked when the next train was coming in from the last stop we were at.  I sat down in the waiting area and about 30 minutes later Liz showed up.  She had gotten out at the previous stop (like I suspected she had) and had taken the next train in.  By this time, we were thinking it was probably a mistake to have come. Actually, I think it is a mistake for two blonds to travel alone together to be more accurate. So, 14 hours after we had left Paris, we arrived in the city of music. 

We walked toward the hostel where we wanted to stay.  It was snowing pretty heavily and we couldn’t see too far.  I didn’t really see any buildings that I “recognized” because we were in the wrong part of town.  We finally got to the hostel.  We stood for a long time and talked to the attendant, who was a young Austrian male eager to show us his knowledge of the town.  I asked him where the mountains were (because we couldn’t seem anything because of the snow) and he responded with “There are none.  They made it all up.”  My other favorite quote of his was when we were paying for our two nights at the hostel.  He told us it was “10 Euro extra to have boys in your room.  15 Euro if you want to choose which boys.”

So, after that, we dropped out stuff off, changed, and went to walk around the center of town.  I probably drove Liz nuts with: “I wonder if this was where ______ was filmed?”  and  “Where is the ______ where the ______ was filmed?”  etc. etc.  Anyway, we went to go see Mozart’s birthplace then went out to an Austrian dinner.  Yummy!

Mozart's birthplace

We went back to attempt to go to bed at about 8pm, but we found we had a roommate.  So, about 2 hours later after a great talk about Australian politics of all things (she was from Tasmania),  and a brief modeling show (she had bought a traditional Austrian dress and wanted to model it for us) we finally got to go to bed.  We were exhausted, but it was worth it to get to talk to another new person.  I’ve decided that is by far my favorite part of traveling…meeting new people and hearing their stories.

Tuesday was a little bit clearer.  I could see a vague outline of some mountains, so I figured out that they didn’t make it all up!  We climbed the fortress overlooking the town. We got to go inside it too to see the former living quarters of the Archbishop.  We also got to climb to the highest tower of the fortress, and it was an amazing view of the city, even though we couldn’t really see the Alps. 

One of many pics of the fortress

View from fortress

Liz and I at the top of the fortress

Tuesday night for dinner I had Schnitel!  It wasn’t with noodles, but with French fries, so it wasn’t completely authentic.  But I was pretty excited to have Schnitel in Salzburg! The other interesting thing about Tuesday was that it was “carnival” (what we would call Mardi Gras).  People here actually get dressed up like Halloween for this holiday.  I saw witch costumes, punk costumes, togas, Egyptians, you name it.  And even if a person didn’t have a full costume on, usually their hair was a bright color.  It was so weird.  Liz and I also went to a club that night and it looked like costume party.  Wednesday night before the club I had talked for about an hour and a half to another person from Australia.  Between Katie from the night before and Josh from that night, I definitely want to go to Australia now (though obviously they both wanted to get out).

Thursday was quite possibly one of the coolest days of my life.  I know for some of you this next description is going to make me sound like a lunatic, but tough luck.  At least 6 or 8 of you will appreciate this story.  I definitely squealed more than Elizabeth did that day.  Ok, so Thursday dawned absolutely beautiful.  I saw the mountains clear as a bell.  We had a great view from our hotel room and I didn’t realize it before.  I woke up early and packed and checked out of the hostel and put my luggage in the locker room downstairs.  At 8:45 am, the van came to pick me up for the Sound of Music tour.  Liz had opted not to go because she wanted to save money, but I wasn’t going to miss it for the world.  So I went by myself, but ended up making friends (I seem to do that a lot).  There were only two other couples on the tour: an older couple from Ireland and a young couple from Singapore.  The Singapore couple was on a 10 week honeymoon backpacking through Europe!  Can you imagine?!?!  

So the tour took about 4 hours.  I was hoping it would be a little more technical (like telling us exactly where they filmed most of the scenes in the city).  But they only took us to the two palaces used for the filming of the Villa (one for the front and one for the back), neither of which we could get close to or go in, and to where the gazebo had been moved to (it wasn’t at the original palace anymore).  I definitely started singing “Sixteen going on Seventeen” at the gazebo when my picture was being taken.  These two older ladies (not part of our group) were walking by when I stopped.  They told me to keep going…so I did.  I’m so lucky none of these people knew me.  I also knew more about the movie itself than the tour guide, so people were asking me questions about the film…lol.  The guide knew a lot about the history of the city and some of the legends of the locals and stuff, so he was interesting to listen to as well.  The best part was when they took us to the Lake District, which was about a half hour drive up a mountain from Salzburg.  On the way up, the guide played the Sound of Music soundtrack.  So I was going up a beautiful mountain overlooking the city Salzburg listening to “Do A Deer” and “Lonely Goatherd”.  It was amazing. I think I can die happy now.  Anyway, in the Lake District, we went to two towns.  One was where Mozart’s mother was born and the other was where the church was where the filmed the wedding scene.  I, of course, walked down the aisle and up the stairs just like Maria.  Grace (the bride from Singapore) was making fun of me about getting married for real as we were walking out the door of the church.  In the middle of my reply, a big chunk of ice fell off the building right in front of us (we were still in the doorway).  I told her that is what she got for making me talk about marriage.  We almost died…lol.  Needless to say, the topic was not brought up again. 

  Anyway, the rest of the tour was pretty uneventful.  We got dropped off at Maribelle Palace instead of at our hostel, so I had to find my way back by myself.  I had give Liz the map for the morning, so I had to go off instincts and what I knew about the city so far to get back.  I made it in just over 20 minutes.  I was so proud of myself. Thursday afternoon, Liz and I climbed a small mountain and walked along the trail that went around it.  We got to see another town on the other side of the mountain.  Best, though, were the amazing views of the mountains.  It was so beautiful I can’t even describe it.  But you probably don’t want me to, seeing as how this got really long really fast and you’re probably eager to get to the end.  Tough luck though because I still have another story.  A story that a few of you might even appreciate. 

So our train didn’t leave until midnight that night, so we had plenty of time to waste.  Liz and I ate dinner at the hostel because it was cheaper.  We ate with a Chemistry teacher (probably about 25 years old) from New Zealand.  Later that evening, I met another two girls from Australia.  The comforting thing about all these kids from “Down Under” was that they were language impaired just like us.  They knew English and that was it, unlike pretty much anyone you meet in Europe.  But, yeah, five Aussies/New Zealanders in 3 days makes me want to go Down Under!  We’ll save that trip for another time.

After dinner, they played a movie.  Can you guess which one?  The Sound of Music!!  I have never watched it with more than one or two other people before.  But here I was, watching it with about a dozen other people who loved it too.  Surprisingly, the men outnumbered the women.  Liz had gone “out”, so it was just me with the people I had just met.  Throughout the movie (in the rare moments when we had quit talking to each other and were paying attention), everyone interjected comments like:  “I was there today!” or “I know where that is!” or “Where was that filmed at?”  We even had a map of Salzburg out and were pointing out where scenes took place at.  You also have to keep in mind that not all of these people were completely sober, so the comments got a little questionable at times.  I got to hear plenty of comments about Maria in a wet dress.  The Canadian guy up front also occasionally belted out “Everybody!”, so we all sang along with “Do Re Me” and “Eidelweiss” and parts of “Lonely Goatherd”.  I loved every second of that night. Watching my favorite movie with people that understood the obsession in the town where it was filmed and getting to sing along.  I know only about one of you reading this (Betsy) truly appreciates this story, but it was one of the coolest nights EVER!  When Liz came back I did not want to leave.  It was so hard walking back to the train station.  I could have stayed in Salzburg at least a couple of weeks.  I kept joking that I’m going to marry an Austrian so I can move there.  Or maybe I wasn’t joking…

But, here I am back in Paris.  Which, to me, is the “real world” even though it’s really not.  It was so weird introducing myself as, “Hi.  I’m Michelle.  I’m from Illinois, but I live in Paris.”  I live in Paris.  I live in Paris.  Still so weird.

Thank you for reading this if you made it this far.  I’m sorry I rambled, but I wanted to be able to share my amazing experience with you, because no one around here really appreciates it.

I hope everyone is doing well. Email me with what is going on in your lives!!  I know I don’t always have time for individual responses, but I love reading your emails!!

Take care of yourselves! 

Tune into the next edition of The Paris Souvenir, because you never know where I’ll be next!

Michelle

March 8, 2004

The Paris Souvenir:  9^th Edition

Dear Devoted Readers:

So, is life in your neck of the woods a little boring?  Do you need something to spice it up? Do you need something to read that is on-the-edge-of-your-seat-hold-your-breath-can’t-wait-to-turn-the-page-exciting? Well, you have come to the wrong place.  You have, however, found The Paris Souvenir, a news letter devoted to random thoughts and goings on of a girl you know or are related to or used to know or maybe want to know.  Ok, the end.

Just a random note:  I am now typing the wrong keys on this keyboard because I have gotten used to the French keyboard.  Remember how the first week I was complaining about that?  Funny how things change.

Now for the interactive portion of the newsletter.  Thank you to those of you who participated in last week’s survey. If a person goes to the States, name some things they have to do and have to eat while they are there. Now the results, in random order:  Fourth of July picnic and fireworks; state fair and cotton candy; baseball game (I don’t know why you said it had to be in New York, Deanna…I think St. Louis is the best place) and hot dog; Hawaii and Disney World (good luck doing  both of those in one trip, Kim), football game.  My own additions to this were:  Yellowstone National Park, Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, Washington DC, NASCAR race (either on TV or in person), and country line dancing.  The widest response I got was “it depends on what part”.  That was kind of the point.  I never thought how big the US was until I was asked that question.  It is amazing how living over here has made the world seem smaller, but made my country seem bigger. So backwards. 

So this weekend was kind of different.  We had vaguely talked about plans last weekend, but made no definite plans until Wednesday, so it was way spur of the moment.  (Something that continues to drive me insane, as some of you well know.  I am such a planner and that does not really work if you want to live in Paris.)  Anyway, we rented a car and took a road trip to northwest France.  By “we” I mean a guy from St. Martin (in the Caribbean), and two girls from Argentina, one of which I just met Friday morning when we met to rent the car. The guy and one of the girls and I are in a team for a class, so we had worked together on a couple projects before, but not spent any time together outside of the two projects and the time in class. Relationship wise, the trip was interesting.  It is not easy to take a road trip with people you barely know or don’t know at all (and all of us except the two Argentinean girls were pretty much complete strangers to the rest). 

Anyway, the aim of the trip was to go to Mont St. Michel and to the Normandy dismemberment beaches. Once we had rented the car (a little Peugeot, for those of you interested), it took about an hour to get out of Paris.  We got to Mont St. Michel about 3 hours after that (early Friday afternoon).  By the way, I am now more familiar with kilometers.  Fifty kilos, for example, is about a half hour drive.  It was super hard to switch over from the miles mentality, but I got used to it after awhile.  (Side note:  I actually like to weigh myself over here because I weigh just over half of what I would in the States because scales are measured in kilograms).

Mont St. Michel

Jean Marc and me on our way to Mont. St. Michel

Anyway, we reached Mont St. Michel by early afternoon so we could spend most of the day there.  It was so weird.  The thing about this place is that is a huge convent type thing built on a rock in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by a few houses, which are now, of course, souvenir shops and restaurants.  It was started in the 800s and completed in the 1400s.  When we got there, the tide was out, so the rock was surrounded by flat sand.  The tide is so strong that we could not even see the ocean, even when we were on top of the rock.  Apparently, there is like five miles difference between high and low tides, which makes it one of the strongest tides in the world.  When the tide does come in though, it comes in at one meter per second, so you have to watch out.  The strong tide was pretty consistent in all the beaches we visited throughout the trip.  Anyway, when we walked up on the mount, I remarked that it was like a real life version of Disney World.  Walking up with all the shops and restaurants and snack bars on either side of the street reminded me of a narrow, hilly, curvy version of Main Street, USA and when you reached the end of the street (and climbed a bunch of stairs), you got to a castle (that is what the abbey looked like).  I did not feel very fairy -tailish by the time the climbing was done, though.

We took a guided tour through the abbey.  It was, of course, in French, with an incredibly animated tour guide.  I was amazed at how much of it I picked up, both through understanding random words and numbers in French, and his body language.  I guess my French is improving even though I am not really noticing it in class (there, Jennah, happy?).  I actually practiced my Spanish a lot this weekend with the two girls, but that is beside the point. 

St. Michel church

Vale and me in the meditation garden

The meditation garden

 Anyway, we ended the tour and went and sat in a garden on the mount to watch the tide come in and the sun set.  Though the sunset was not very pretty, the tide coming in was so neat.  It didn’t come all the way in, but by the time we left a thin layer of water covered most of the vast desert of sand that we had seen when we first got there. I sat and watched it by myself for a while.  I love to be by myself here.  I snuck away on the tour to too to go look out the window while the guy talked.  I think the longer I am not around people all the time, the harder it is when I am supposed to be around them.  I am even having trouble staying through two classes in a row because I just get so agitated by all the people.  The tour guide told us it would come in the rest of the way the following day.  Anyway, we were going to grab something to eat and buy our souvenirs on the way down.  It was about 5:55 and everyone was closing up shop.  So I bought my souvenirs in a hurry and we did without food because no one would serve us. 

Vale and me chillin in the garden

Jean Marc, Maria, and me overlooking the tide coming in

Watching the tide coming in

The tide coming around the Mont...incredible

  I guess that was the main difference between this place and Disney World—the fact that stuff closes down when people actually want to use it.  Actually, that is a main difference between anything European and anything American.  The European stuff does not stay open for anything.  I actually cannot go grocery shopping between 1 and 3 in the afternoon because the grocery store closes down for lunch.  Anyway, I digress.  We also found out through a few rude encounters that the rudeness typical of Parisians (which I have closely encountered several times in the past week), did in fact extend outside the Paris borders.  The tour guide actually told Maria (one of the Argentineans I was with) in rude French that I should not go on the tour because I did not speak perfect French and therefore would get nothing out of it, and told her she would not be allowed to translate for me because that would be disruptive to the rest of the group.  And Valeria (the other one) was refused a second sugar cube with her cup of coffee.  Sigh.  The French…that is all I can say.

We said goodbye to Mont St. Michel and drove about 50 km to a nearby town where we knew of a hostel.  We checked in, and then went to explore the town of St. Malo.  We perceived it was more or less a beach resort town.  It also had an older part with a couple of old forts and a beautiful city wall and cathedral. 

 We ate dinner at a traditional “Bretagne” restaurant.  Bretagne is the name of the state we were in at the time (Normandie is also the name of a French state).  For dinner, I kind of took a shot in the dark.  I ended up with a wheat pancake (Crepe) covered in cinnamon apples topped with a bratwurst.  Okay…  JeanMarc (the Caribbean guy) got it even worse.  He ended up with the wheat pancake topped with apples, pork rounds, and a scoop of ice cream on top.  He ended up getting something else.  That is what we got for being adventurous!  

Our adventurous dinner

The following day we spent the morning and early afternoon exploring the city and walking along the beach, which was so much fun.  The weather was beautiful and the sea was gorgeous and the beach was deserted because no one comes in March.  I absolutely loved it.  My only odd story is that the garbage system in St. Malo is in the form of a little train, complete with engine and caboose (like a carnival or something).  We saw it driving around the streets carrying the trash.  I guess big industrial garbage trucks do not have a place in a town like that.

Fun fact: This was my first FB profile pic circa 2005

We left mid afternoon in the midst of a rain shower and headed north, toward the famous beaches of Normandie.  It took about an hour and a half to get there.  We went to this town where the St. Malo office told us there would be a hotel we could stay in.  Well, this being Europe and the French being, well, French, the hotel was closed on Saturdays.  Every Saturday, they just did not open for business. I could see a Monday or a Tuesday or a Wednesday being closed, but SATURDAY?  Maybe it was a winter thing, but I am still shaking my head at that one.  Anyway, we asked someone if they knew of a hotel, and they pointed us back in the direction we had just came.  There ended up being a hotel in between the two towns, in the middle of nothing.  Like, the hotel was the only thing on either side for miles.  It kind of freaked me out, but we stayed there anyway.  We actually drove into the nearest town for dinner, which was totally dead for a Saturday night. It was so quiet that it was like out of the twilight zone or something. We finally found a Pizza place open and ate something before returning to our hotel.  It is weird going from Paris to a place like that and trying to remember that it is even the same country.  I suppose it is comparable to small towns in the US and New York.  Same country, but practically different planets.  At the hotel, I actually got to channel surf on cable for a few minutes.  That was the weirdest feeling.  I have barely encountered television in nearly two months and when I have it was just in passing and rarely in English.  But this TV had some English channels, including CNN. I rarely watch CNN at home, but I was so drawn to it at the hotel.  It is like I am starved for news and for any contact with the English speaking world.  I must have been glued to the TV for 30 minutes, just reveling in the news.  And to actually have the power to change the channel…wow…I did not realize how much I miss things until I had a taste of them.  I got to radio channel surf in the car took, which was really weird too.  Anyway, again I digress.

Sunday morning, we drove a short distance to the village of Arromanche.  It was a beautiful beach village in Normandy where the British soldiers created an artificial port by dropping blocks of concrete into the water.  Many of them are still there and I actually went down on the beach while everyone else was shopping and touched one.  We watched an Omnimax type film of images of the Normandy invasion and battle.  It was designed to make you cry (and it pretty much worked).  There were memorials and maps all over the place.  There was also an invasion museum which we did not go into.  Jean Marc described the whole scene as “saccharin”.  I can’t say I disagreed with him.  That is, until I walked into a souvenir shop and they were selling toy soldiers and key chains with soldiers on them and little guns and cannons and pretty much anything else you can think of.  I did buy some postcards, but I didn’t buy the keychain that I usually do in every new town I go to.  For some reason, the whole concept of selling the battle just seemed wrong to me.  Like, all these thousands of men died at this very spot.  People lost their husbands, their sons, their children.  And some company is trying to sell me a squeaky toy to celebrate that I came to see it.  They even had a shop right outside the theater (as you walked out).  Cry and buy, I suppose was the strategy. Anyway, I wasn’t surprised by the whole scene, but I was disappointed nonetheless.

Me overlooking Arromanche beach

Love this Arromanche pic!

Docks from WWII

Vale and me on the Arromanche wall

All of us on the overlook

Well, my father would be proud of me for what I did next.  I convinced my team to backtrack 20 km to the American cemetery. I remember when I used to complain about him dragging us to war sights and battle grounds when we would take road trips when I was a kid and now I am doing it voluntarily.  And paying for it no less! Anyway, the cemetery.  Talk about making you cry.  Thousands upon thousands of crosses, all numbered, no names.  Every once in a while they were interrupted by a Star of David.  I think there were over 9000 in all.  There was a memorial at one end of the cemetery that simply said: “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord”.  The whole scene just over whelmed me. Especially since this was AMERICAN.  Arromanche was British, and it was still emotional, but I felt more patriotic here.  There was also the American flag flying over the cemetery, which was a sight for sore eyes, as they say.  It is so weird to always see the French flag everywhere, so this was refreshing.   I walked down the long, windy trail from the cemetery down to Omaha Beach, which lay below.  My group didn’t go, but I couldn’t resist being this close and not going down to the beach.   This was the bloodiest beach of the Normandy invasion, the place where the majority of the Americans in the cemetery above lost their lives.  I know it was sappy, but I felt somehow connected to history or something…being in this place I had read about all my life.  I felt really patriotic.  When the French mumble stuff about stupid Americans and are so rude to us, I want to retort that they would be speaking German if it wasn’t for “stupid Americans.”  Anyway, that was my Normandy experience.  It wasn’t life shattering, but it definitely made me pensive.

Map of Landing Beaches

Trail down to the beach

Long solo walk down to the beach

On the beach; I took a rock as a Souvenir :)

We ended the trip with a brief visit to another city by the beach.  We basically just parked and played on the beach for a while and watched a storm roll in from the sea.  Absolutely gorgeous. We left and made it back to Paris in about two hours (then it took about another hour to get to the place we had rented the car from). 

This weekend was interesting both in the historical aspect and the people aspect.  I spend three solid days with people I had barely talked to before.  Two of them were incredibly into politics, and both very left wing.  So, of course, I had to defend my President right and left.  I do that a lot here.  Everyone is so against Bush and I am not super knowledgeable about politics, so I struggle to argue with them in defense of Bush.  But I’m trying to expand my knowledge of the situations on the rare occasions I get a chance to surf the internet to help me back up my arguments.  Anyway, it is exhausting.  I also got a chance to learn about the Argentinean culture.  It is a “developing country that took a break” according to the girls.  We talked about their unstable government and economy, and the implications it has had on them personally and on society in general.  I also learned about what it was like to grow up a local in a town on a Caribbean island supported by tourism alone.  Jean Marc said when he was little, he would befriend the men that rent out jet skis and help them repair them in exchange for free rides.  In this way, he has become pretty mechanical and a good jet skier. 

We also discussed the importance of family in those cultures, both immediate and extended.  This is becoming a more and more thought of issue in my mind as I realize that the Parisians have very little family orientation.  I think that is true for Europeans in general.  Last summer in France, over 10,000 people died because of the heat.  Most of these people were, of course, elderly.  And a major reason they died is that their kids had long ago abandoned them and left Paris and did not bother to check on them.  I heard that when the kids found out about their parents’ death, they did not even claim kinship so they would not have to pay the final expenses (the government took care of it).  Anyway, family does not have a place in this culture, which might be some of the reasons for the lack of morality I ranted about in a previous email.  I guess I am just realizing how important it is to stay close to where you grew up.  And if you have to go away, so be it, but it is so important to not abandon your family.   I am realizing that the core of morality is a family support group and remaining close to them is the only way to achieve that.  All of the people I was with this weekend lived within a stone’s throw of their uncles and aunts and grandparents, which is very common in Latino cultures.  I think the US is in between these two cultures; we look after our parents by putting them in a home instead of letting them live with us.  We don’t move next door to our parents, but within reasonable driving distance (instead of moving to another country like the Europeans).  I just hope we don’t get to the point of the Europeans and be so self motivated in both career planning and just plain boredom/thirst for adventure that we abandon our families and lose the structure that our country is based on.

Anyway, I told you I get pensive over here.  I think have too much time to just walk and think.  Lol…but that is ok.  Maybe I will come home a bit wiser.

Keep the emails coming y’all.  Sorry I did not have a survey this week, but my creative juices were just not flowing.  Must have been all the pensive thinking.

Take care of yourself and go call your Mother!  (Or kids or brothers or sisters…whoever you haven’t talked to in a while).  Then send me some mail.

Michelle

March 16, 2004

The Paris Souvenir: 10^th Edition

Hello to all of my devoted readers!  And welcome to the new “subscribers”.  I think the popularity of the Paris Souvenir is growing, or at least the number of readers is expanding,  though I cannot figure out why.  Must be because I am so pretty ;).  Lol.

A few random things I learned this week.

Parisians work 35 hours a week and get 5 weeks of vacations every year.  Seven weeks if you are higher up on the corporate ladder.  Despite this, they are still the world’s fourth largest economic power.  I think hour for hour they are more productive than the US.

The French are not really into sports.  Like, at all.  They are hosting the European Cup her in late June, and I have heard a bit about that, but from the people I have talked to, sports are not a big part of the culture.  They like “football” but are not fanatic about it like the Spanish and Italians.  They don’t get into rugby like the Irish and British either.  If I ever mention baseball, I just get a pair of eyes rolled at me like “typical American”.  I think they are too busy “sitting in cafes looking French” to bother to follow sports.  My French teacher did mention a place where Formula One races are held in the south of France, so there is probably some fan base for that.  Also, in contrast to the general build of the American man (bigger and muscular), European men are thin as rails.  I don’t know if this is connected to the lack of sports in this country or not, but it could be.  (Like, they don’t lift weights in high school to prepare for their respective sport or something.  It could also be because they don’t spend Sundays sitting in front of the television with a bag of potato chips.)  At any rate, they look different. 

I’ve also had a few conversations on the topic of monogamy.  Apparently, it is basically nonexistent in France.  It is perfectly acceptable for men to cheat on their wives or girlfriends or whatever.  I don’t know about the standards for females, but I don’t think it is a big deal for them to cheat either.  Married men usually have mistresses, and, from what I gather, the wives just pretend to not know about it.  I don’t know what the divorce rate is here (it would seem that this would lower it), but I think it is about the same as the US.  This topic came about because one of my Latvian roommates is dating a French guy that is in Latvia at her home school at the moment. (It’s complicated).  Anyway, his friends do not believe either him or her that they are not cheating on each other.  I guess this is just unheard of.  But she jokes that since he is friends with all of her friends back home, she would know.  Anyway, I thought I would share with you some of the views on relationships.  I think it is so sad how casually they are treated. 

So the next soapbox I am going to get on is pretty closely related.  I have told you about French men.  How if you accidentally look them in they eye, they will think you are interested in them and come over and come on to you.  So, the solution is to always look at the ground.  Liz jokes that this helps you avoid stepping in dog poop too.  When I see a French man with a woman, I wonder how she could ever have gone for him.  I guess they must not have very high standards.  Anyway, I went to Brussels, Belgium last weekend and after being around their “men”, it makes the French men look like gentlemen.  Most of the population in Brussels we encountered were Arabic immigrants, which might have been the problem.  Anyway, you would think these “men” (I use the word loosely because I consider that term a sign of respect) had never seen a woman before.  Liz and I were walking with our eyes to the ground (and not dressed that wonderful or anything…jeans and sweaters) as we were accustomed to, so we did not provoke this at all.  But about every guy we passed in the neighborhood of our hostel made a comment to us. (“Bonjour ladies”  “Can I buy you a drink?”  “Hello…ladies.”(animaniacs style)).  For some reason they knew we spoke English just by looking at us.  When we were in the touristy sections, we had men banging on the glass at us from cafes, and whistling at us from the shops where they were working.  And when we were walking along any street with cars, we got so many honks it was ridiculous.  If these men to this to every girl they meet, you would think they would get exhausted after a while.  I was exhausted after two days of ignoring them.  I was just so disgusted with them that I was tempted to go put on the headpiece and robes that Arabic women wear just so they would leave me alone.  Maybe that was why we got so much attention…because all of their women cover themselves up so well.  Frankly, I don’t blame them.  It was a relief to get back to Paris and only have to worry about not looking up.  Man, I tell you what…as much as I sometimes complain about American boys, I am learning to appreciate them more and more.  At least they pretend to have a little respect for women, even if they don’t.  And they keep their distance when it is appropriate. 

So, the longer I am here, I definitely realize that America is by far one of the most “moral” Westernized countries (again, I use the word loosely because I don’t think we are moral at all).  We are the last one left that enforces the drinking age and the smoking age.  We don’t display nudity on public posters and or play porn on network television after midnight.  It is unacceptable to cheat on your wife (though obviously not unheard of).  A woman doesn’t have to cover herself to hide from the disgusting men.  The only thing the people comment on about America when I make these observations to them is that we have a lot of violence on television that would be unacceptable here.  And it is the truth.  Violence is taboo here, both on television and in real life.  I know that I don’t have to worry about getting shot or stabbed in the streets of Paris because it simply does not happen.  A guy was shot in Paris a month or two before I got here and it was all over the news for weeks.  That would barely make the news in the States.  So, the biggest thing I have to worry about here is creepy men, which is a lot better than worrying about surviving walking down the street, which is the case in the big American cities.  What a trade-off… 

Anyway, a short narrative on my Brussels weekend.  Brussels is a lot bigger than I thought it would be.  It is about a third the size of Paris.  There were some beautiful buildings and churches.  And we walked to the European Parliament, which is the most important EU building in the system.  We did a lot of walking!!  And in our hostel, we met a woman who was about sixty from Australia. She had gone back school at home and was in Europe on an exchange program just like us.  She had six weeks off between her two semesters, and was “backpacking” around Europe by herself (she had a rolley suitcase).  She had seven children back in Australia.  My guess was she went back to school after she was widowed or something.  Anyway, I thought she was so neat and we talked about all the places she had been and her impressions.  It makes me realize that life is not over after a person gets married and has a job and all that.  There is always time to do what you have always wanted; you just have to capitalize on the opportunity.

Grand Palace

City Center

EU Headquarters...the reason we went to Brussels

EU Flags

Clock we watched for a long time while waiting for the train

 The best part about Brussels was the food!  The waffles were amazing (I think I had three in the two days we were there).  They are just sold on the street (mostly in the tourist areas, of course).  And Belgium is the home of the fry.  (I still can’t figure out why we call it a French fry), so they are sold on the street as well.  For our nice dinner, we had mussels and fries, which is the most famous dish in Belgium.  We got these huge tubs of mussels (about a kilogram…a little more than I bargained for), but I ate it anyway.  They are actually quite yummy.  And, of course, the Belgian chocolate…so good!!  I still have some that I bought.  I have been rationing one every other day because I only got six pieces…lol.  Make it last.

Mmmm....waffles

Our mussel and frites dinner

Anyway, that was our trip…no good stories, except that we underestimated the length from our hotel to the train station and missed our train out of Belgium.  That seems to be becoming a habit...  Luckily, they had another one in an hour and switched our tickets.

So, I assume everyone knows what happened in Madrid last Thursday.  If it was the Basque rebels, France has problems with them too, though not quite as bad.  (Apparently the Spanish Basques are a lot stronger than the French Basques…and I will resist the urge to make the comment about the French lack of will to fight in general, but I have thought it.)  But anyway, France in on red terror alert (the color system has been in Europe for eleven or twelve years already).  And, being on red terror alert means that men are standing around with machine guns in the train stations and the airports (I’ve heard) and some of the larger metro stations.  All the metal trash cans are gone from the Metro stops, so there is even more litter around than usual.  Is the terror alert risen back there?

Ok, so, this has been another edition of the Paris Souvenir.  I will let you all get back to your regularly scheduled lives now.  Thanks for reading!  And, for a final word, a big thank you to the gentlemen out there who are not creepy.  Because if you were, I would be used to it and would not have written the majority of this email. And, ladies, they may be jerks sometimes, but at least they are not frightening, so appreciate them every once in a while.  God Bless the USA!!

Ciao,

Michelle

March 29, 2004

The Paris Souvenir:  11^th edition

Hello.  I know this is a week off, but I took a little journalistic hiatus.  For those of you that use these for entertainment during classes, sorry you didn’t get it last week.  And for those of you that groan every time one of these is in you inbox because you don’t feel like muddling through three pages of stuff you really don’t care about to begin with, my present to you for the Spring Equinox.  But, to be honest, I have stayed in Paris for the past two weekends, and didn’t have a whole lot to write about.  Though, I am sure that as I write, I will come up with something.   So, today, you will get to read about two weeks worth of events and thoughts in the life of Michelle.  Enjoy!

So, I have stayed in Paris for the past two weekends and just walked around and gone sightseeing.  It has finally gotten a little bit warmer, so I have enjoyed a lot of the city on foot.  I tend to have this habit of going on walks and I just walk around different parts of the city for 3.5 hours or so, usually by myself, but sometimes with another person.  And I have done a few things that are off the beaten tourist path, which, to be honest, basically consisted of seeing a lot of graves.  And, I think it is kind of cool that I haven’t taken a camera on any of these walks.  It makes me feel like I am not really a tourist; that I can come see this stuff again any time I want.  Of course, I probably won’t, but it seems weird to me that living in Paris is feeling normal.  I know the streets and the districts, and I have been to most or all of them.  Walking now is just a matter of exploring further.  It seems kind of mundane now, because I feel like I know the city so well, but there are just some buildings I haven’t gone into yet and some parks I haven’t explored.  So, I have spent some time doing this the past weeks.

I will start with last weekend.  Thursday after class, I took a walk by myself through the Jewish quarter of Paris, which was really neat.  I stumbled upon a Jewish history museum.  I love stumbling upon things, because it makes them that much more special and that much more mine.  Even if I later find them on a map and realize that it was a tourist site, I still feel like I made this great discovery because I found it before I was looking for it on a map.  And that is the way I felt all day Thursday.  I couldn’t stop walking (when it is so pretty outside, you cannot force yourself into those nasty Metro stations), and three and a half hours later I had found my way to my apartment.  It was probably only an hour and a half walk or so, but I somehow manage to find weird things on the map that I want to go find, so it takes me a lot longer.  But that is what I love to do.

Friday night I went out for Argentinean food with about 30 people from school for a girl from Argentina’s birthday.  Argentina food basically consists of steak, steak, and more steak.  It was good.  It should also be noted that people in France eat way later.  Like, a normal time to meet for dinner is 9:00pm, and you usually get out about 11:30 or midnight.  After that, we were walking around, and in the process, one of my friends got hit by a car in the arm.  She immediately went down just from the pain, but the guy didn’t stop at all.   I think over a week later her arm is still numb.  Lesson:  always walk on the sidewalks.  So, needless to say, we were a bit shaken, but we still had fun the rest of the night.  (More or less…let’s just say that certain French men are really full of themselves and VERY forward.)

Girl's at Vale's bday party: Me, Rocio, Vale, and Alba

Saturday was interesting.  At the insistence of my best friend from home, I got a group together and went to St. Denis, the birthplace of gothic architecture.  This church is in a suburb outside Paris, but we still rode the Metro there.  The suburb is a known “bad area”, which is why I went on a Saturday with a group of people.  Unfortunately, it was all girls, which made us a vulnerable target, I guess.  Anyway, the church was gorgeous, but was most known for its crypts.  It contained, among other things, a mass grave of 800 kings, and the graves of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI (and a bunch of other Louises).  As we were exiting the church, we were taking pictures of it.  As one of the girls was taking a picture, there was a commotion right in front of her.  An older guy of maybe 55 or 60 grabbed a young guy by the sweatshirt.  The young guy wiggled out of his sweatshirt and ran away, joined by anther guy.  Right before the man grabbed him, the younger guy had touched Trish’s hand, trying to grab her camera.  I guess the man had watched these two guys getting ready to go after the camera and got to Trish at the same time the mugger did to defend her.  We thanked him, but he just shrugged like it was no big deal.  It WAS a big deal to us though.  For that moment, I had a renewed spark of faith in humanity, mixed with a sense of dread of the people in the town we were in.  Anyway, we were pretty freaked out, but we just secured our belongings a bit more and pressed on.  We walked to the Stade de France, a new stadium built in 1994 where the big soccer matches are held.  I think the European Cup championships will be there in June, just after I leave.  We took turns taking pictures of the stadium and keeping watch.  Though, frankly, I don’t know what any of us would do to a mugger besides put our hands up and hand them our stuff.  Anyway, we left that area and agreed not to come back.  And also to rag on the boys for not coming with us, because I don’t think it would have happened had there been guys with us.  

Stade de France

Original Gothic cathedral

Sunday, I woke up early and went to the American Church of Paris, which was interesting.  It was in this huge cathedral, but there was only maybe 60 people in the service.  It was nice to hear people talk about God in English.  Nothing was particularly striking or mind probing in the service, but just sitting in a pew listening to a preacher preach from a pulpit brought a sense of familiarity that I hadn’t felt in a long time.  I went to Sunday school, too.  It was taught by a Filipino, and contained three Americans, a Vietnamese girl, a French girl, and an Italian. It was good and I made some friends and got some phone numbers and I am going to start going to Tuesday night college age Bible study there.  After this, I went to the street market by our flat.  It is only on Sundays, and is massive.  They set up tents and sell everything from clothes to meat to veggies to cheese for cheaper than the stores.  And, of course, everyone is shouting what they have to sell and trying to beat each other’s deals.  It reminds me of a small village or something, right inside Paris. After that, I went to the Jewish museum I had found earlier.  It was neat, although it was all in French so I didn’t get everything out of it that I was supposed to.  I did read all the little things in French though and understood a lot of them.  I was so proud of myself.  My French is improving, even if it doesn’t really show up in my class.
 

This week, I took a few more long walks.  One to the Latin Quarter, where I went to the Pantheon, basically an indoor cemetery.  It holds Victor Hugo and Alexander Dumas and Marie Currie (discoverer of radium).  Another walk was to this amazingly huge cemetery called Pere Lachase.  The graves are all huge with elaborate carvings.  And they are all right next to each other.  Tons of famous people are buried there.  My favorite grave was Oscar Wilde’s (he wrote the Picture of Dorian Grey).  His grave was covered in lipstick marks from kisses.  Jim Morrison’s grave is also there, and people actually make pilgrimages to it (or so I read in my guide book).  I went and kind of saw it.  It was hard because of the crowd of weird-hair-colored-and-styled people around it (rasta style mostly).  Anyway, it is covered in cheap flowers and cigarette butts.

Pantheon

La Bastille

This past Friday night, a group of six girls went to eat fondue, which was really fun.  For those of you that watched Real World Paris, it was the same place they went to.  It was so crowded and so hot, and people were climbing on top of the tables because there were only two long tables, so if you were on the inside and you wanted to get in or out, you had to step on the table.  We also drank drinks out of baby bottles, which is their trademark.  It was crazy, but fun.

Fondue on Montmarte

Saturday, Peter and I just went for a walk down to the Eiffel Tower (Tour Eiffel).  We stood for a long time and watched roller bladders and skate boarders show off on the ramps in the plaza near the Eiffel Tower.  There were some little kids riding their bikes and playing ball with their parents.  Somehow, it all seemed so normal.  Being in the shadow of one of the most famous structures in the world and just playing ball with your kids or watching them ride their bikes.  How weird to grow up under the Eiffel Tower!  I guess it is normal to them.  Oddly enough, it is becoming normal to me to, seeing it almost every day.  Saturday night, I actually went dancing.  I hadn’t done that since I got here, so it was a new experience.  We went to this club called Barrio Latino, known for its Latin dancing music (like Salsa). I was amazed at the size of it.  The dance floor and the bar were on the first floor but, on the dance floor, you could look up to four more floors of tables and bars.  We actually danced mostly on the steps going up because you couldn’t fit any more people on the dance floor.  The not fun part is trying to get home in the middle of the night after the Metro stops running.  They have a night bus system set up, but it is slow.  We ended up walking a long way to the bus stop, then waiting for forever for one to come.  We definitely could have walked home in the time it took, but oh well.  We made it home in one piece, which is all that matters.

Tour Eiffel at night

Today, Peter and I took another massively long walk, but this time at night.  We walked basically the same route that we walked the first day, along the Seine for about 3 hours.  It is gorgeous at night.  I just enjoyed the way the buildings were lit up.  I also walked in the park near our house this afternoon and discovered waterfalls which I didn’t knew existed.

Peter and me on Pont Neuf

My roommate’s family is in town this week, so we have six extra people milling about our apartment.  Four of them are staying at a hotel down the street, but it is still a madhouse around here.  It is fun though.  I like seeing their reactions to Paris. 

My mom is coming on Saturday and I can’t wait to see Paris through her eyes.  Like I said, I have kind of gotten used to it, and it will be exciting to get excited about it again with her.  Anyway, needless to say, I cannot wait.

Time changed last night, which is a week earlier than you all.  I thought that was weird.

Here is some more random things I have complied for your pleasure and enjoyment, or to enhance your boredom.

• Right now between me and my roommates, we have 25 kinds of cheese in the refrigerator; I actually ate sheep cheese and liked it
• It is difficult to find a car in good condition.  Most have banged up sides or fenders because fender benders are a daily occurrence for most people. Being a “car nut” is definitely an American thing.  Cars are a function only thing here, not a means of pride.  Ironically, they have Mercedes taxicabs.
• Salt gets out red wine stains.
• You cannot get macaroni and cheese in the grocery store (thanks Mom and Janelle for the cheese packets!)
• The toilets in Australia do not swirl the other way because they do not swirl at all.  Water in the sink and the bathtubs, however, does swirl the other way.  The girls that I was talking to about this were actually frightened of American toilets because they were afraid they were going to get sucked down, they were shocked how the pot filled itself back up.  Apparently, we are the only country that uses suction plumbing; everyone else has high pressure water coming from above that pushes the old water down and fills up the pot at the same time.  (Just the fact that I wrote this paragraph tells you that I’m a plumber’s daughter)
• You cannot buy a Euro rail pass in Europe.  You can buy them in Australia or the US.
• It is .9 Euros for a stamp, or $1.17.  Actually, that is for overseas stamps, so it just seems expensive to me.  I don’t know what a local stamp is honestly.

Alright, I am done now.  I told you I would find something to write about.  I hope you are all enjoying your beautiful spring weather.  I am still waiting for Paris to catch up.  Some say it never will get really warm, but I am hoping they are wrong.  Thank you all for you emails and mails.  I love hearing from you!

Au revoir et bon soir,

Michelle

 

April 11, 2004

The Paris Souvenir:  12^th edition

To my Midwestern friends (more or less) enjoying springtime:

I hope this edition finds everyone doing wonderful. Happy Easter!  Today is Easter Sunday, though I don’t know if I will send this letter out until next week because of lack of internet cafes open.  So, if you are reading this and it is next week, I apologize for being in the past.

I put Mom on a plane this morning (or rather left her at security).  She spent the last week exploring Paris and Nice with me.  I think she enjoyed it, though the weather was definitely not what I would have planned for her stay.  I think it rained every day but Sunday, and we spent most of Sunday in the Louvre, so we really didn’t get to enjoy the sunny (but cold) weather. 

Monday, we went to a few parks and cemeteries, and Mom’s favorite place, Ste. Chapelle. It was a church that looked like the walls were made almost entirely out of stained glass windows.  It was so beautiful, especially with the sun shining in (for the short time when it was not raining).  We also saw British Union Jack flags all over the place, and I finally stopped and asked someone what was going on, and we found out the queen was coming to Paris, which was a big event.  We never did see her, but we noticed the hyped up security for her arrival.

St. Chappelle windows--Mom's fave

Mom with the thumb at La Defense

Jim Morrison's grave at Pere La Chase (cemetery)

"Kissing" Oscar Wilde's grave

Tuesday, we went to Chateau de Versailles, where the home of the kings was since the 1400s I think. It was about a 40 minute train ride outside Paris. Its gardens at one point covered an area bigger than the present area of Paris itself.  Unfortunately, we didn’t get the full majesty of the palace that we should have gotten.  We arrived on the palace grounds at about 11am.  We stood in line for almost two hours to get in, in the cold and in the rain.  We found out that the hold up was that they only had one security check-in, and one person could hold it up for five minutes if they beeped.   They had some definitely crowd control issues, to say the least.   The need to take lessons from Disney World!  Then, I wanted to get the audio thingy so I could know what each room was about, but they wouldn’t give it to me with out my passport or 100 Euros as a deposit, which I didn’t feel like giving to them at that point.  So, I had a sour view of the palace right from the start.  We took the tour of the inside, which was okay, except a lady giving an English tour shooed us out of one of the rooms for listening for a second, which I thought was rude.  We then got to the Hall of Mirrors, the most famous and beautiful room in the palace.  Lo and behold, it was under construction.  The floors were ripped up, the mirrors covered in dust, and the chandeliers replaced with construction lamps.  Don’t worry, it kept getting better.  After our tour of the inside, we started for the gardens.  They are huge, and probably the main draw to visit the palace.  Beforehand, I wanted to use the ladies room, but the line for it was almost as long as the line to get in the palace.  The only had two toilets in the whole palace for use by both men and women.  (At least the men got to see what it was like waiting in line for hours to go to the bathroom…haha).

So, I didn’t go to the bathroom, but went to get in line to take the tram around the gardens, so we could see a little bit more of them than just walking (even still, we only saw a tiny fraction of them).   The fountains are supposedly one of the most beautiful parts of the gardens, but of course they were not turned on. We got on the tram and began our tour, and it started raining harder.  At the first stop, where they would let us out, it began sleeting and icing!  Poor Mom hadn’t even brought her winter coat, so she was wearing my windbreaker.  Anyway, it stopped long enough for us to get out at the final stop, but as soon as we got back on the tiny tram, it started sleeting again.  At this point, we were ready to go home!  Which we did (although, as Mom pointed out, “home” is a loose word around here).  Versailles was not a pleasant experience to say the least.  I plan on going back to visit at least the gardens on a nice day before I leave because I have heard so many good things about it and I don’t want to leave with a bad image of it in my mind.  But anyway, that is my Versailles story.

Line to get into Versailles

The Versailles Hall of Mirrors

Mom and me in the Versailles gardens

At the back of Versailles

Me in the Versailles gardens

Mom at the Grand Canal

Leaving Versailles...not too soon :)

We went up in the Eiffel Tower Wednesday evening, which I enjoyed because I could see landmarks I knew well, but Mom didn’t enjoy so much because it was so cold and rainy.  Beforehand, we had gone on a river cruise.  Thankfully, it was a glass-topped boat, because it poured on us!  But it was a nice view of Paris nonetheless.

Mom at the Tour Eifel

At the top of Tour Eifel

Thursday morning, we left for Nice, a city in the French Riviera.  Of course, it was sunny this day, where we spent six hours on a train.  We got into Nice in early afternoon, and explored a little.  It was much colder than we expected, but we dealt with it.  We took a bus tour of the city, and I got to see the cemetery where Henry Matisse was buried (for my Picasso at the Lapin Agile people out there).  We stayed in a hotel room that we could only call “girly”.  Pick flowers, ruffles, the works.  It was cute.

Girly hotel room

  Friday was our one full day in Nice.  And, surprise, it was raining.  All.  Day. Long.  We spent a lot of time in shops, just to get out of the rain.  We did a little sight seeing, climbing a bunch of stairs to see some ruins of something or other.  I just remember ducking into a phone booth to call my brother to get out of the rain for a minute.  But we felt like we had to sightsee a little since it was our only day.  I liked the shopping part of it though!  Nice reminded me a lot of Venice.  Italian style architecture, Italian food, and a lot of Italians.  Not surprising as it is very close to the Italian border.  

Mom and I at Old Nice at the overlook

Saturday was bright and sunny, which figured since we only got to spend a few hours in town before our train left.  We spent some time at the beach, which was all rocks and no sand, but the water was blue and gorgeous! They have a neat boardwalk type thing, which we walked down while watching roller bladers perform daring stunts.

Mom and me on the Nice beach

We got back late last night and I put her on a plane this morning and now I am writing this quickly before packing to got to Italy for 9 days.  We have the next two weeks off of class for spring break and there are five of us leaving for Italy tonight.  We are doing the backpacking thing because all we have is a plane ticket there (into Milan) and a plane ticket back (out of Rome).  We have no hotel reservations and no train tickets in between as of yet, so it should be an interesting trip.  I am going with Liz, my friend Valeria from Argentina, her friend (and Liz’s) Luis from Mexico, and Luis’s brother, whom none of us has met yet.  This should be an interesting trip to say the least.  At this point, I will be happy to make it back in one piece.

When I return, I will have three and one half weeks before coming HOME (in the true sense of the word).  I think I am one of the few people around here looking forward to going home.  Not that I am not having a good time, but there is a time for everything under the sun, and my time living abroad is coming to a close and I realize that.  I made a list of the things I will miss most about here in my journal.  Of course, my roommates and some of the people I met here are at the top of it.  Aside from that, boulangeries comes in at number one (the bakeries where I get croissants, baguettes, éclairs, etc).  Secondly, walking.  I have gotten so used to walking everywhere that I cannot imagine driving to the store or the library or something like that, especially if it is close.  That will be so weird.  Thirdly, hearing French (and Russian and Spanish and Italian).  I used to hate it that no one spoke my language, but now I am getting used to French, and even understanding a lot of it and getting better at speaking it.  It is a beautiful language and it will be so weird to go back to hearing only English all the time.  Fourthly, Orangina (for those of you that know me well, that speaks for itself)!  Fifth, fromage (cheeses).  I have gotten so used to trying new cheeses and eating them with baguettes that it will be hard to go back to the good ol’ Colby jack that we all know and love.

I also made a list of things I won’t miss, such as:  our landlords (they are awful and they hate us, especially the landlady);  stepping around dog poop every five steps; the smell of urine in the metro;  my dirty apartment, doing laundry in the bathtub when I can’t afford to pay $15 dollars a load at the laundry mat; the permanent smell of smoke in my clothes; and showering sitting down.

I highly doubt I will send this out yet today, so basically, I am off to Italy and you will get to read the story of Italy right after this.  I wish I knew right now what my next edition would read, because I am getting more apprehensive by the minute.  Good thing you all won’t have to go through that!

Anyway, happy (belated) Easter.  I hope you took time to remember the Reason for the Season.  If not, take a minute right now to that God for His amazing gift. 

Well, I am off to begin packing for what will undoubtedly be the most interesting 10 days of my stay in Europe.  Wish me bon voyage!

Au revoir et bon journée,

Michelle

April 21, 2004

 The Paris Souvenir: 13^th edition

Dear loyal receivers of this fine newsletter:

I trust you are doing well.  It feels like forever since I have written one of these.  So, I might be a little rusty.  You might not even get the full five pages.  But I doubt you will be that lucky, so don’t get your hopes up.  Especially since I am writing about 9 days worth of backpacking through Italy.  Yes, I’d say this might push five pages. Sorry (not really)!

I went to Italy with my roommate Liz, Valeria, a thirty-three year old exchange student from Argentina (same one I went to Normandy with), Luis, an exchange student from Mexico, and Luis’s  brother Carlos, a nineteen year old cinematography student in Mexico City.  The count:  Three Spanish speakers and two Americans.  And, being that the Spanish speaking group contained the guys, they were the leaders and we were the followers.  Cultural differences abounded, but I think we all learned something from each other.  More about that later.

Sunday night we left Paris at 9:00, getting into Milan airport at a little past 11:00.  Since we had no hotel reservations and didn’t feel like walking around in a city we didn’t know at night looking for a hostel, we (well, Luis) decided we would stay in the airport until morning.  So, we tried to make ourselves comfortable on banks of chairs, with spread out free newspapers protecting us from the cold surfaces.  At about 2:00am, just when I was starting to drift off, we got kicked off of the chairs because the janitors wanted to clean or something.  So, we walked groggily to another bank of chairs, but they were all being used by other “refugees” (it was kind of like a giant sleepover of strangers), so we had to spread our newspaper “mattresses” on the floor and try to sleep.  I think the others succeed, but I did not.  After about a half hour of trying, I gave up and started talking to a guy from Britain who had also given up.  And I did this for the rest of the night until the others started stirring.  It was a pleasant night, but I regretted during our tour of Milan the next day, that is for sure!  

Vale on her newspaper bed

We took the first bus into Milan (about an hour away), dropped our stuff off at the train station, and headed out to explore our first Italian city.  We just kept squealing “We’re in Italy!”  We enjoyed the multitude of marketplaces, both for the locals and for tourists.  There was not a lot to see in Milan (it was basically a big city), but we did see a few sights, such as an incredible church in the middle of the city, a castle, a pretty park, and the church where Leonardo DaVinci’s famous “Last Supper” Fresco is painted.  Unfortunately, we did not get to see the fresco itself because you had to have reservations, but it was still neat to be in the church.  At 5:00pm, we hopped on a three hour train to Venice.  Needless to say, we all slept all the way there.

The Milano Duremo

Pic with an Italian fountain: Me, Carlos, and Luis

In this building, The Last Supper Dwells

The first night in Venice was not exactly pleasant, as we did not have reservations and all the youth hostels we knew about were completely full.  It was raining hard and we were wandering aimlessly about the streets, and we were about to give up and go sleep in the train station.  We stopped for pizza and the pizza girl let us use the phone to call some places, and we finally found one.  Thank goodness, because I don’t think my neck could have taken another night resting on my backpack!  And the place was great…probably the best place we stayed in the whole trip.  The only problem was the 12:30 am curfew (a lot of hostels will lock you out after a certain time, I think so you don’t come back trashed).

The next morning, we hit the road to go sightseeing.  We spent a lot of time shopping in the market place (Valeria is what one could only call a shopaholic, so we seemed to be watching her shop an awful lot). We took a gondola ride (of course…you have to in Venice), which was fun  (and the gondolier was one of the best sights we saw…lol).

Vale and me on the gondola

The cute gondolier

We finally made our way to St. Marco Square and went in St. Mark’s Cathedral.  Of all the churches we saw on the trip (8 or 10 or something like that), this one was by far the most impressive.  All the walls and ceilings were covered in gold mosaics.  It was insane how much gold this building had in it.  After this, we walked around for the rest of the day until it was time to go meet our friend Simone at the train station.  He goes to our school and lives near Venice and he had arranged to come meet us and hang out.  We went to a nice dinner with him, which we though would be relatively inexpensive, but we found out that Italian restaurants tack on hidden charges like for the bread, and for the service, and for a place at the table (like a cover charge).  So, dinner wiped us all out of money, especially since places in Italy tend not to take credit cards (it was a little bizarre).  After dinner, the Latinos and I went back to the hotel room and Liz and Simone went out.  It ended up being kind of a mess, because Liz got back after curfew and the hostel wouldn’t let her in.  We thought that if she called us, we could go open the door for her, but Luis tried and they wouldn’t let him.  So, Liz and Simone had to go find another hotel room.  The met up with us about noon the next day.  Simone tried to get her money back from our hostel, but to no avail.  

Me on the Realto

Dinner with Simone

St. Marco Square

All six of us (w/Simone) in St. Marco square

Waiting for the Train to Florence

 

We left Venice midafternoon and took the train to Florence.  It was hard to say goodbye to such a unique and beautiful city.  There were no cars at all…you got around by boat or by foot (it wasn’t really that big) or by ferry (if you wanted to go out to the outer islands).  The gondolier told us that there were 120 churches in Venice, and the ones we saw were absolutely spectacular (the smaller ones were made of all marble).  Venice was definitely charming and it is so hard to compare it to any other city I have ever been to.  We also loved some of the people there (like the pizza girl who helped us to find a hotel).  Italians are so nice compared to French people.  We found ourselves the rude ones because we have learned to be callous to the rudeness of the Parisians, so we are skeptical when someone is kind to us.  Isn’t that awful?  But after being in Italy for a few days, we learned how to relate to them better.  And, then, of course, I suffered another mini culture shock today when I was out running errands in Paris at how rude the people were to me.  But anyway, we had to leave Venice behind and head out for Florence, the birthplace of the Renaissance and, most importantly, the gelato capital of the world.

Florence was my favorite city that we visited.  The buildings were beautiful.  There were amazing churches that came out of nowhere; palaces that looked like there were from a storybook; narrow, cobblestone streets; beautiful plazas (piazzas, as they say in Italy); cute little gelaterrias,; and a beautiful river that ran down from a mountain range; which you could see in the distance.  It was gorgeous.  I felt like I was in a fairy tale.  When I was in Florence three years ago, I fell in love with the Duemo there (cathedral).  For the past three years, I have joked that I was going to get married there.  And though I saw some cathedrals that were prettier on this trip, for some reason, the Florence Duemo still casts a spell over me.  I just love looking at it.  It is all marble on the outside, with statues carved into the marble.  It is most impressive for its massive size.  (It is amazing the difference between Northern European churches and Italian Duemos.  With the northern ones, it is all gothic style, with dark halls, spires, and gargoyles, and circular stained glass windows, and made out of stone.  The Italian churches are similar in size, but that is about it.  They are made of marble, are open and bright, with domes in the center and more concentrated on the decorations of the ceilings and walls rather than the stained glass.  Both types are beautiful, but they are in striking contrast with each other.)  In Florence, we also saw Michelangelo’s famous David statue.  It took a while for us to find it.  There is a fake copy of it in front of the palace, where it used to really be.   At that time, we thought the palace was the art museum where the original was, so we paid the money to go in.  We looked around the palace, seeing lots of statues and works of art, so we thought it must be a museum.  The only weird thing was they works of art weren’t labeled like they would be in a museum.  So we finally asked a worker where the David was.  He laughed and told us we were in a palace, not an art museum, and told us where the art museum was.  After we had explored the palace, we walked to the art museum.  We checked to be sure we were at the right place this time before we paid our money to go in.  The statue was incredible.  It was massive.  The statue is of David after he won his fight with Goliath, but the piece of marble it was carved out of was much bigger than Goliath himself.  It was perfect.  And I bought the postcard of it (no pictures allowed), but it doesn’t do it justice.  I have seen it so many times in pictures, but to see it in person…wow.  I wish you guys could have been there.    We wandered around the museum a little more and saw some of Michelangelo’s unfinished sculptures, as well as some other works by other very good artists I’m sure.  But it was hard to be impressed after seeing the David.   Later that evening, we walked down to the river, which was beautiful.  We walked across it and wandered around the other side of the river, away from all the tourists, which was neat. I like seeing how the people of a city live, and we got to see what Luis called “working class Florence”.  We were walking back to our hostel that night (a different one from the first night) and noticed a bunch of people going into the baptistery of my Duemo.  (The Baptistery is a little round building in front of the Duemo; a lot of churches had one, though I don’t know exactly what purpose they served.  Maybe there was not room enough in the regular Duemo to baptize babies…haha).  Anyway, we asked the guy what was going on and he told us there was a free concert put on by the Florence opera society.  So we went in and listened to Italian opera and instrumentalists for about an hour.  To hear an opera in such a magical city was so awesome.

"My" Duermo

Enjoying the moment...Vale had taken away my watch...

"Fake" David outside the Vecchio Palace

Me with Luis, Carlos, and Vale chilling on a bridge

All of us on Pont Neuf

Pont Neuf

The best part of Florence: Gelato!

The following day, we took a day trip from Florence to Pisa and Siena.  Pisa was so neat.  I got to see one of the Seven Wonders of the World…the leaning tower of Pisa.  That was basically all there was in that town, and the cathedral that I think it belonged to (it was right next to it).  And, yes, it really is leaning, and leans 1mm more each year or something like that.  We could have gone up it if we wanted, but it costs 15 Euro and that was a lot of stairs to climb.  So, we paid to go in the Duemo instead. (Italy usually makes you pay to go inside churches, unlike Northern Europe).  Admittedly, we went into the Duemo to get out of the pouring rain. It was beautiful, but I liked looking at the tower better.  After we left the church, we went to go get pizza (pizza in Pisa..hehe). 

Pizza in Pisa

We took a train to Siena, which ended up being way longer than we anticipated, and it was almost dark by the time we got there.  We were all wet and miserable and wanted to go back to the hotel, but we ventured out into the rain to look around while we were there.  The town was gorgeous, even in the rain.  The Duemo there was I think the favorite of all of us.  The outside was all made of marble and even more intricate and colorful than “mine” in Florence.  Siena also has a cobblestone horse racetrack used once a year that doubles as a piazza the rest of the time.  The town was just so cute.  And it was on the side of a mountain, so it was all hilly and on different levels.  I wish we could have seen it more in the daylight and not in the rain. 

Sienna Duermo

City Centre; racetrack

The palace

We took a bus back to Florence, and got back at about 10pm.   Liz and I went out to dinner because she wanted to try a special kind of steak that Florence is known for.  The only difference I could see was that it was huge.  But she enjoyed it.  And the waiter gave me free dessert, which was nice. (I love Italians!)

We spent the next morning in Florence shopping and such, then took an afternoon train to Rome.  We all loved it.  Rome is a city that is hard not to fall in love with.  It is just so old.  We walked through the Forum, which dates back to 80.  Not 1980 or 1880 or even 1780.  But 80 AD.  How weird is that?  I sat and ate lunch on pillars (yes, they let you do that) that were made around the same time Jesus was on Earth.  That is just hard to wrap my mind around sometimes.  

The Saturday night we got in, we found our place to stay, which was awesome.  It was a two bedroom apartment, with a living room, a dining room and a kitchen.  All for only 20 Euros a night each.  Admittedly, it was run down and dirty, but it was still cool to have our own apartment after having to bunk up with other people in Florence.  We even had a TV for the first time, though all we got was four channels and it was all in Italian.  But the Spanish speakers understood Italian, and the Italians could understand them.  Some words are different and the pronunciation is totally different, but the languages are incredibly similar.  So, that was how we got around in Italy.  Sidenote:  I picked up a ton of Spanish on this trip.  I pretty much understood what they were saying and Valeria made me speak to her in my rusty Spanish the whole way back from Siena.  I was telling stories and explaining things and she helped me where I got stuck.  I was so proud of myself.  I really want to relearn Spanish when I get home because I realize now how important other languages are.

Our first night in Rome, Liz met a guy from St. Louis, which was cool.  He talked to her because she was wearing her Cardinals cap.  He was studying in Rome and thought it was awesome that we were studying in Paris.  The two of them talked for a little while.  All because of the baseball cap.  Go Cards!!

On Sunday, we got to see the Pope at the Vatican.  He spoke from his window at noon to a crowd that had gathered in the Vatican square.  I haven’t the foggiest idea what he said, but we clapped a lot.  Luis said he spoke in Italian and Polish and Czech, but even our Spanish friends could not understand his quiet, mumbled Italian.  Regardless, it was neat to see him.  Valeria was very excited about it, because it has always been a dream of hers to see the Pope.  So, we were happy for her.

Waiting for the Pope

Finally!  The Pope (John Paul II)

After this, we went into St. Peter’s Cathedral, which is the capstone of all cathedrals in the world.  It is amazing.  I cannot even describe the size and beauty and grandeur and splendor if this building.  Among the many sculptures in it was Michelangelo’s most famous Pieta, where Mary is holding the body of Jesus. And the basilica is built supposedly where Peter is buried, and he is one of my favorite people in the Bible, so I thought that was pretty neat.   We didn’t see the Sistine chapel until the following day.  And I didn’t see it because I had seen it the last time I was there.  They charged adults 12 Euros to get in to see it (students were 8).  We all thought that was a little obscene for something that was meant to be a place of worship.  But, they know they can get the money, so they charge it anyway.  Such is life, I suppose.  I didn’t go into the Coliseum for the same reason (and the same price).  Instead, I walked down the street to the Circus Maximus and just chilled and people-watched.

The main hall of St. Peter's

The Pieta

Me with the Tiber and St. Peter's in the background

The Colosseum

Just a word on my thoughts on the churches:  we saw so many in the past week.  By the end, I was getting to the point where I wasn’t impressed anymore.  But they were all so elaborate that it seemed each builder was trying to outdo the last, both with the size and the decorations.  They are beautiful today, but more used for tourist attractions than for places of worship (though there is one little chapel off to the side that always says “for prayer”…I don’t get that, but whatever).  I just think it is kind of sad that churches are supposed to be used for worship, but the ones we saw were obviously used for showing off money and architectural skills.   I just think that the builders lost sight of why they were building the churches in the first place.  I could be wrong, but that is just a thought.  And it also bothered me that the Italians charged to get into most of these “places of worship”.

Our last night in Rome was so much fun.  And yes, I know I am approaching five pages, but I have another story to tell, so just deal with it.  It is a good story and it makes me happy to tell you so just keep reading and humor me.  Okay, I suppose the story starts the first night in Rome when Valeria asked for towels from the lady who checked us in.  She said she didn’t have the key to the closet so we should ask the night manager.  On our way in that night, Valeria asked him for the towels and he told us that we didn’t get towels with the hostel rate we were paying.  To get towels, he said, would be another 4 Euro apiece.  Well, Valeria didn’t like that at all.  She argued that she didn’t have that kind of money and kept saying that the women had said earlier that we would get towels.  The man kept saying that he couldn’t go wake the woman up to ask her and that he couldn’t give us towels.  This went on for like five minutes.  We could see that Valeria wasn’t getting anywhere with this guy and we pulled her away from him.  Outside, we talked about what a jerk he was.  So, the next morning, we talked to the girl again (we made friends with her, actually) and we had her write a note to the night manager to tell him to give us towels.  She did and left it right on the computer where he would see it.  Well, our second night in Rome were too tired to go downstairs (we were on the fifth floor and there was no elevator) to get the towels, so we just forgot about it.

So, then, the last night in Rome (and of our trip), we went out to a nice Italian dinner.  I had salad, and spaghetti, and gelato for dessert, in case you care.  And Valeria got pretty drunk with the wine, which is the pivotal point in the story.  She had the boys buy roses for the girls at the next table, and the two Italian girls came and sat with us for dessert.  The three of us girls left and the four of them went out.  We told the boys to call us when they got back and we would come let them in.  So, we walked back to the hotel. On the way, we had a run in with a couple of creepymen who wanted us to meet them at a bar.  We were all pretty hyper and/or drunk so we told them to meet us at the bar at 2:30am that morning and just to wait for us there, knowing full well we wouldn’t be there.  We were all still giggling from that when we walked into the hotel front desk to get our key.  Well, the jerky night manager was on duty, and, before we asked about our key, a very drunk Valeria began asking for the towels.  She launched into a story about how she hadn’t showered for days and she was dirty.  She told him she was a destitute college student and complained about the poverty in Argentina and told him she didn’t even have enough money to eat and that Liz and I bought all her food.  She had him look all over for the note Marta (the day girl) had left him.  And he was arguing back with her.  They were nose to nose and both banging their fists on the counter to make a point.  Liz and I were off to the side doubled over in laughter.  And you could tell the manager was trying not to smile.  He kept asking us what Valeria had been drinking.  This argument lasted for a full 15 minutes.   Suddenly, he walked out of the hotel for a minute or two.  He came back and took a deep breath and told us to go sit in the bar and that he would give us something sweet and wouldn’t charge us.  So, we obeyed orders.  He walked in several minutes later carrying a huge Colombo cake, which is an orange flavored cake typical in Italy.  He set it down and went and got a bottle of wine.  We pulled up four chairs to the tiny table and he told us to dig in.  He sat with us and ate cake with us and the four of us talked for over two hours.  He told us about his life and how he used to be a film producer and how his fiancée died.  He even gave Valeria advice on love when she asked him about her current boy problems.  Antonio (the guy’s name) spoke 8 languages and he told us how he originally came from Holland, had lived in Paris for a while, and had ended up in Italy.  He told us about his failed business because his business partner had died and how he took this job as night manager to make ends meet.  So, basically, this jerk of an old man was just lonely and wanted someone to talk to in the middle of the night.  And he was so nice at giving us the food (and I am ashamed to say that during the course of the two hour talk, we ate the entire cake…I was definitely feeling sick to my stomach the next morning).  The boys came in to use the phone to call us at about 2 am, and were shocked to still find us in the lobby.  I think we had way more fun than they did with their Italian girls.   But, alas, we still did not get the illusive towels.

Our last Italian Dinner

The boys and their girls/roses

Liz and Vale and the Columbo Cake

The girls with Antonio

                                            

Our last day in Rome was picture perfect.  The sky looked like it was from a painting.  We finished up our sightseeing and had one last gelato.  It was so hard to leave it.  

Chillin' in the Forum

Love this pic of the Forum!

My mom when she was here asked me why I love Europe so much.  I have been thinking about that and I think I love the atmospheres of the cities and the differences between them.  Every city you go to has a different feel to it.  It is known for different things and the people have a different attitude than the previous city.  The city has its own personality, and it seems its own heartbeat sometimes (especially when you are sitting on a bench and you feel the Metro underneath you).  We use the term “falling in love” a lot with respect to cities.  I wondered at that, but when I thought about it, I realized why a city can be compared to a lover.   The excitement of it can take your breath away and make your heart beat faster.  When you are walking along a beautiful river at night and see a lighted church and realize where you are, your knees go weak.  It is such an emotional bond. And, in some cities, you feel safe, like in the arms of a lover, and others make you feel vulnerable.   And you know immediately when you don’t like a city, and you want to get away as soon as possible, but it is so easy to know when a city will be “the one.”  Though, it is hard not to fall in love with more than one city when you visit so many.  I fell head over heels in love with Florence, and I loved Rome as well.  And, it is difficult not to fall in love with Paris, especially when you walk along the river at night.  It is a feeling that can only be described as magic.  And that is why I love Europe so much.  I suppose you can get the different atmospheres with cities in the US, but I don’t think one gets the feel of “magic” like over here.    

I think I learned a lot from my 9 days in Italy.  I was so worried beforehand because we didn’t have anything planned out.  And I am definitely a bit compulsive about that.  But everything seemed to work out anyway (for the most part).  The Latinos that we traveled with were so relaxed about everything and concentrated on enjoying the moment.  That is a huge difference between our cultures.  And I know that I was getting on their nerves and cramping their style because I was always worried about what was going to happen next (Liz was too).  At one point, Valeria took away my watch from me.  I think I started to get better about it in Florence, and by Rome, I really didn’t care what was going to happen next.  We didn’t get to see everything I wanted to see everyday, but we hit the high points and looking back I realize that it wasn’t about how many sights you could cram into a day, but about the experiences you had at the moment and the opportunities you took advantage of (like the boys buying the roses for the Italian girls).  I know I will always be a planner, but I think now I can better cope with not knowing.  Europe in general has helped me with that, because we tend to plan our trips on about Thursday and leave on Friday.  Other cultural difference bothered me (like them walking off and not telling us where they were going all the time), but this one I learned to appreciate.

Ok, I will stop here and let you get back to your regularly scheduled lives now.  Thank you for listening to me, and tune in again next week for another edition of the Paris Souvenir.  You never know where I will turn up next.

Peace,

Michelle

May 4, 2004

The Paris Souvenir:  14^th edition

Bonjour aux Etats Unis:

This newsletter is quickly winding down.  I guess this would be my second to last edition.  So bittersweet.

Well, being back in Paris feels so much like home after being on the run in Italy.  I love that I can sleep in “my” bed and that my phone works and that I am back with old friends lost and forgotten over the break (not really).  The only shock was actually having to go back to classes after such a long time off.  But I think I can handle that.  We had one week back and this week we more or less have off to “study” for finals (and to allow for teachers to have make up classes).  So, the shock was not too great to say the least. 

So, I spent my last few days of break just being a tourist in Paris.  And, even with the resuming of classes, I have not stopped.  It seems there are too many things I still “have to” do and too many things I must do “one last time” before I leave.  And there is not enough time to do them all. 

I have a story (surprise!).   Ok, first off, you must know that Paris is a city of 2 million people.  I freak out if I run into someone I know on the Metro or at the mall.  It is not unheard of, but it doesn’t happen daily like in a smaller town.  So, the Tuesday night we got back from Rome, we had to take a bus back from the airport to the city.  The particular airport that we flew into is not connected to the Metro system at all, so they run a shuttle service to port just inside the Northwest part of Paris.  We got off the bus and I saw a mother and daughter wandering around looking a bit lost.  The were American from Clevland.  I asked them if they were ok, and they asked me where we were and how to get into Paris.  So, I led them to the Metro, bought their Metro tickets for them (in perfect French J), and showed them how to work the Metro and helped them find the stop to their hotel in southwest Paris.  We said goodbye and that was that.  Well, three days later, I decided to take a book down to a chateau I had never been to before just southeast of Paris.  It is not a famous tourist attraction by any means, and I just wanted to see what it was.  So, I am wandering around this chateau and I see the mother-daughter pair.  We started talking and we all though it was so bizarre that we had run into one another on the complete opposite side of town (especially considering none of were staying anywhere near that area).  I gave them some tourist information and some good parks to go to and we talked about Paris.  I told them to have a good trip, and we both went on our way.  That same night,  I was walking down at the Eiffel tower with my friend (something I rarely do…I think it is the second time I have been there at night).  I had told my friend the story about the chance meeting and commented that I would freak out if I saw them again.  Well, about twenty minutes later as we were walking to the Metro station, guess who I saw.  We all three freaked out, and took a picture together and exchanged email address.  Now I have a place to stay in Cleveland if I ever need it…lol.  My friend Amy joked that it had to be God…maybe they have a relative I am supposed to marry…lol.

The next night, Saturday,  my uncle Paul from London and his girlfriend came down to Paris to take me out to dinner.  (Well, they came down for the whole weekend, but we had arranged to meet on Saturday night.)  I brought a friend and he took us both out to eat at Buddha Bar, which was so nice. I guess it was a Japanese-type restaurant, and we all got seafood (cooked or uncooked).   Afterwards, my roommate and her father who was staying with us for a long weekend, met us and we hung out at the bar part of the restaurant.  As always, it was nice to see Uncle Paul.  He’s so great.

Alba and me at the Budda Bar

Paul and Allison

One day after class last week, I decided to take a walk to find this awesome park that is north of my apartment.  I had been there once before, but I had someone with me to show me where it was, and I wanted to find it on my own.  The “park” actually reminds me of a huge version of our Science Center. It has an amazingly cool playground, complete with an air filled trampoline-like pathway and so many other toys geared toward learning.  It makes me want to be a kid again.  I wish so badly I could take “my” CDC kids there…how about funding a field trip to Paris, Brother Larry?  But it also has awesome fountains all over, and buildings dedicated to the arts and sciences.  I absolutely love this place.  But my story is that when I was going there, I got lost.  My map doesn’t go this far north, so I was just going by instinct (and mine are not very good).  All of the sudden, I came to the highway that surrounds Paris and marks the city from the suburbs.  For a second I freaked out, feeling out of my comfort zone.  It reminded me of the feeling I used to get when I would be riding my bike around my neighborhood when I was a kid and would accidentally come to the forbidden highway.  I would panic and turn around, then feel safe.  So, here I was in Paris totally lost.  I panicked when I reached the autoroute.  So I turned around and headed back into Paris, still totally lost, but I felt so much safer.  I suppose Paris is beginning to feel like home to me.  Anyway, I laughed at myself and how silly my logic was.  And I suppose you have to live here to understand that story because my friends appreciated it and agreed with me.  (I did eventually find the park, by the way, in case you are wondering, and had a wonderful day there reading. Minus, of course, the occasional necessary move to get away from creepyboys trying to talk to me.)

Peter and Jurgis at the park

This weekend is an example of how I have grown while I have been here.  For weeks, I had been making plans for Sunday.  It is the first Sunday of the month, where everything is free in Paris.  These are few and treasured by us students.  I had made plans on which museums I was going to go to that I still “had to” see.  Must milk the free day in Paris.  Well, about midnight Saturday night, I talk to Peter and he tells me that he and his roommate are going to take the train about two hours south of Paris to visit some of the chateaus of the Loire river valley the next day.  They didn’t really have a plan, nor did they have train tickets.  They were just going to make things up as they went.  And they invited me to go with them.  I think had it been three months ago, I would have said no because I had plans already.  But, the following day I found myself in Orleans, about an hour and a half south of Paris, having a picnic by the Loire river bed of baguettes and fromage (cheese) and chocolate.  All very French.  And the river was so beautiful.  Orleans had a really pretty cathedral as well.  We took another train to Blois, where we hoped to catch a bus to one of the most famous chateaus in this area, but we missed the bus by about five minutes.  So, we stayed and explored a beautiful chateau in Blois, once home to Henry III and Cathrine de Medici.  (In accordance with “free day”, it was also free to get into.)  We explored the town quite a bit and had a nice dinner there before we left Blois at about 9:00pm, getting back to Paris around 11:00pm.  It was such a random day and totally unplanned, but it was so much fun.  And I wasn’t at all upset that we didn’t get to go to the chateau we had wanted to because the day was so spontaneous to begin with that anywhere we went was bonus for me.

Picnic by the Loire

Orleans Main St

Peter and me at the Chateau; famous staircase

The coolest clock ever

Monday (yesterday), I had my French final that I have been worried about since the day I realized that French was hard to learn.  Well, as of about Saturday night I quit being worried about it and said “que sera, sera” (whatever will be, will be).  So, I took it, and I think I passed it (hopefully).  I amazingly had no plans whatsoever for the rest of the day, so I went shopping with a friend when he asked me to as we were walking out of school.  On the bus on the way to the mall we encountered a funny French man that was asking everyone where they were from.  We found that none of us in the back of the bus were French except for him.  When he got off, we continued talking to some south American girls who were studying in Paris as well.  We all ended up getting off at the same stop and exchanged phone numbers and might hang out this weekend.  All because of one friendly old man.  I wish every Metro or bus ride could be like that in Paris…it was so fun.  Right after we got off the bus, Abed (my friend, who is half Polish and half Lebanese by the way) noticed an elderly couple looking at a map, obviously lost.  We started talking to them and helped them find their hotel and walked them there.  The couple was from Minnesota and had actually been to Belleville.  How weird is that?  Anyway, as we were shaking hands goodbye, the old man dropped about 4 Euros in change into my hand and told me to “buy us some sodies”.  I protested, but I finally took the change and thanked him.  It was so cute.  And we did use the money to help buy crepes…lol.  And we ended up finally coming home after our day at about 9:30pm…all for a day with nothing planned.  I love it!

So, the moral of this letter is to befriend lost people.  I got half a free crepe and a fictitious Cleveland husband out of the deal…haha.  And now I have the rest of the week to “study” for my “finals” next week.  Have I mentioned that I love going to school in Paris?

I had a request to name things I missed from the United States.  I made this list and looked at it and realized most of it has to do with my barren apartment.  I could get most of what I miss here if I had a real apartment and money.  But, anyway, here goes:  laying on a couch (we don’t have one), watching TV and channel surfing (don’t have a TV), listening to the radio and station surfing while driving, driving itself (and my car), Internet access (must go to cafes or labs here), a washing machine (that is definitely what I miss most), a microwave (we don’t have one of those) an ironing board (I don’t have one of those either), free refills on soda, kids (mostly “my” church kids…it is weird not to interact with them), hearing English in public places and having English on signs,  baseball, the McK fountain and my Barnett tree that blooms pink in the spring, Bearcat baseball and working concession stand, and playing pool and tennis.   Of course, there are bigger things too, like my family and friends, the McK students and teachers, and of course my church and fellowship.  And if you would have asked me this question a few weeks ago, I would have probably started crying and told you “everything”.  But now I am getting used to the French culture and way of life, and, aside from the barren apartment that I live in, this city is starting to feel like home. I don’t even miss certain things that much, like television and a microwave or driving.  These are things you can get used to living without.  (Washing machine and a couch…not so much.)    I also don’t use ice anymore, which is something you have to pick up quickly upon arriving in Europe and you can gradually get used to drinking room temperature things.   I even missed hearing French when I was in Italy and was relieved to get back to it, even though I don’t understand a lot of it.  Too bad I get this feeling with less than two weeks more to live here.  It was so hard at first to be a part of this, and now it is going to be hard to leave it.  And hard to leave some of the people I have met here.  It is going to be so weird to go back and only hear English (of the non accented variety) and only hear about American culture.  One of the main topics of conversations here is “How do you do such and such in your country?”  I have learned about celebrations of birthdays, Christmas, Easter, Valentine’s Day, weddings, etc in so many different cultures.  It will be so weird not to have that anymore.   

Anyway, I have less than two weeks here (12 days to be exact), and I am going to make the most of them.  So, off I go to do just that.  Today will be another day of spontaneous walking I think.  I hope you all have a wonderful week and I wish you the best on finals, on graduation, and on moving home and such.

I will talk to you semaine prochaine!   

Au revoir a belle Paris,

Michelle

May 19, 2004

The Paris Souvenir: 15^th Edition

To my beloved readers:

Sadly, this is my last edition of the Paris Souvenir.  At this moment, I am safely back in the good ol’ US of A.  But I thought I would catch you up on the last week of life in Paris.

Last Sunday, my friend Amy and I took another day trip to Champagne.  As the name suggests, all the Champagne in the world comes from this region.  So we spent the day exploring the capital of the region, a city called Reims.  I loved the church there.  (Side note: The number of churches that I have been in since I got here is 29…it is really hard to be impressed anymore.) But the most interesting thing we did was touring the Champagne cellar.  We got a complete one hour tour to see how it was made, along with a sampling.  It was really interesting and a lot of fun.

Reims Hotel de Ville

Reim's Cathedral

Cheers!

I loved this fountain!

Amy and me at our yummy dinner

The rest of last week was just a whirlwind of studying for and taking finals.  I cannot remember a whole lot about it except my roommates kept asking me if I had started packing yet and Liz kept saying “Don’t say the ‘P’ word!!”

This weekend was one long string of saying goodbye.  Friday night, the school had a little goodbye ceremony for the seniors (and us exchange students).  We had a little reception at the school afterwards.  They even hired a DJ and had it catered.  Then the police showed up and told us we had to leave because the neighbors were complaining.  So we all went to this club in the Latin Quarter, including the teachers and the dean, which was so strange.  Some left early, but my French teacher was still there when I left (about 4:00am).  

Roommates Anna and Renata at the Farewell Party

Saturday night was our “official” last night in our extended group of friends.  It was also Peter’s real last night, and one other guy.  So we all got together at one of our friend’s flats, then went to another club. Liz and I got home at about 5:15am or so.  After brushing my teeth, I plopped into bed, and somehow three of the springboards fell out of the bottom of my bed.  So Liz and I spent a half hour trying to put my bed back together before we could finally go to sleep.  Lol…and, of course, the sun was almost up by that time. 

Sunday, I planned a picnic in the park for us to say goodbye to the girls in our group whom we have gotten close to.  We were supposed to meet in Luxembourg gardens at 2:00.  At about 12:00, all of my roommates and I went down to the market to buy food for both the picnic and for dinner that night.  The previous week, Karina had lost her keys, so we had to have a new lock put on the door.  And it is still a little sensitive, I guess.  So, when we got back at about 1:15, we couldn’t get the door open.  We all kept trying and trying, but to no avail.  I finally went over and got the boys to see if they could help.  They, of course, couldn’t get the door open either, but Anna had thankfully left her window open (and we are on the second floor), so Peter hoisted Jurgis into her window.  But, unfortunately, you have to use the key from both sides of the door, so he couldn’t get the window open either.  After about 10 minutes of trying, Liz and I noticed that it was 2:00.  She and I are not generally late, so we asked Jurgis to find all this stuff for our picnic, and drop it down from the window to us.  It was funny trying to describe where stuff is to someone who doesn’t know our apartment, but he did good.  And we were only 40 minutes late to our picnic.  The girls finally got into the apartment, I think by asking the neighbors across the hall to let them into the garden and crawling into mine and Liz’s bedroom through the garden windows, then they somehow got the door unlocked.  The whole situation was so funny.

But our picnic was perfect.  Besides the girls that had been invited, about 12 other people were at this same park from our school.  It was really weird.  It is a park that is a favorite of students, but I couldn’t believe how many from our school showed up.  It was a beautiful day and we had such fun, munching on baguettes, cheese, fruit, etc (anything that we didn’t have to cook).  Then we had to say goodbye for good, which was so difficult.  I mean, I wasn’t superclose to any of these girls, but they were people who had been my basic social circle for four months, and it was difficult knowing I won’t see the majority of them again.  After this, Liz and I went for a final walk along the Seine.  It was a walk I had made dozens of times before, but knowing it was the “last” time was so weird.  I think I had a harder time saying goodbye to the places than to the people.  I mean, I guess it depends on the place and on the person, but I got super attached to some of the places in Paris.  They were just great places to go and sit and people watch or read or just think.  I will miss them so much.

After our goodbye picnic

Rubbing Point Zero...I will be back to Paris

Rocio and me in front of the Notre Dame

Sunday night we had decided just to spend with our roommates at home.  We had made a nice spread for dinner.  Then we just sat and listened to our roommates’ friend Elliya play Russian songs on the guitar.  He has done this several times for us before and we love it.  Elizabeth and I asked him to play this one song we like, where the lyrics are in Russian but the chorus is in English, called “Goodbye America”.  And he didn’t play it for us that night.  

At 10:00 pm, I left for a while to take Peter to the train station.  He is going to travel for a couple of weeks before he comes home.  So Jurgis, our friend Vera, and I went with him to the train station to see him off.  That was so weird…it was easily my hardest goodbye, I guess since he has been my best friend of sorts since day one.  We were all three dead silent on the way back.  The end of an era, I suppose.  Jurgis and I went back to my flat and ate some more and all of us just talked and traded digital pictures until about 1:00 am. 

Jurgis, me, and Peter

At this point, our roommates started reprimanding Liz and I for not having started packing.  We were leaving at 10:00 am that morning and had not really started.  So, we spent the next two hours or so getting our stuff in order.  The we talked until about 5 am or so.  We all went to bed for a few hours.  Right before we left for the airport the next morning, they sat Liz and I down on a bed and Elliya got his guitar and they all started singing “Goodbye America” to us.  I think a few tears were shed.  They all rode with us to the RER, and we said our goodbyes on the RER platform (the train that takes you to the airport).  As we were on the train and they were on the platform, they all started singing “Goodbye America” again.  This time, everyone was crying.  It was kind of like out of a movie.  The doors slid shut and the train rolled away, and they were gone.  And so was Paris.

At that point, we settled in for a looong day of traveling.  We flew from Paris to London, and London to Chicago.  Liz’s parents were meeting her in Chicago, but I was going to take a flight from Chicago to St. Louis.  I couldn’t wait to get home.  After customs in Chicago, I said goodbye to Liz and she went to go meet her parents and I went to go recheck my bags for my next flight.  I got to the counter, and I was told my flight was canceled due to weather and there wouldn’t be a flight out until the next morning.  I definitely started crying.  It was so frustrating because I was so close to home and just couldn’t get there.  Needless to say my family and friends were not too thrilled either.  And Liz and her parents were long gone by that time.  I ended up staying the night in a hotel.  And I got home the following morning, when my best friend and her fiancée picked me up from the airport because my parents couldn’t get off work.

So, now I am back.  I miss my friends from Paris a lot, but it is good to see my family and friends here.  It is so weird not to kiss people on the cheeks (it is almost like an impulse to me now.)  Being here almost seems surreal.  Like I am dreaming.  I know that will pass with time.  I know Paris has changed me.  It is impossible to have an experience like that and not be changed.  I know I will be way more interested in current events and world news, because so many countries that were once just dots on a map now have faces to them.  I know people from all over the world, so news becomes more relevant.  I also think I am a bit more laid back than I used to be, as I have talked about in previous emails.  I have better priorities where people are concerned (like I will take time to spend with a person before I do something that I know needs to be done).  What other influence Paris had on me remains to be seen.  For now, I am trying to readjust to the “real” world after having been on a virtual vacation for four months.  Jadah calls it reentry shock. 

Thank you all for being interested in my life over the past four months.  Or at least pretending to be.  I loved writing these emails because sharing stories is half the fun of having weird stuff happen to you.  I enjoyed your feedback.  It meant a lot to me to know that people were thinking about me and praying for me back home. 

Anyway, my cell phone has been released back to me and is now in my control, so feel free to call it if you want to say hello. 

Au revoir a chez moi,

Michelle