I have officially returned to the States and this is officially my last blog entry. My mom and I are driving to Georgia for my cousin’s graduation right now and as I write this, it’s hard for me to fathom that it was simply two years ago that I was graduating and since then, I’ve been to France and back!
The weekend after I returned from Greece, I met Colleen and Clare in Paris. It was my first time to be in the heart of Paris and I fell in love with the city. I trekked from the southern side of the city to the northern side (where our hostel was located) while waiting for the girls to arrive. And as I walked, I fell more and more in love with it. The three of us agreed throughout our weekend that Paris was definitely the most magical city of all those we had visited. It seems to me that we all have this preconceived notion of Europe – it’s beautiful, magical, and luxurious, everything we’ve ever dreamed of seeing. And it is. But it’s nothing like the movies (at least not when you’re backpacking through Europe on a very low budget). So while I’ve enjoyed all the places I’ve visited, I’ve become slightly desensitized to the glory of Europe (unfortunately). However, the minute I began walking through Paris that warm, fuzzy feeling of wonderment returned and Europe was once again magical. Perhaps it’s the fact that Paris is truly the epitome of European culture or perhaps it’s just the fact that the Eiffel Tower really is all that it’s made out to be. Perhaps it’s the chocolate croissants and the beautiful architecture or perhaps it’s because the city’s been overly romanticized. Whatever the reason, we fell in love.
Friday night we made our obligatory visit to the Louvre, which really was awesome (although apparently it would take you months to see everything inside)! We grabbed dinner and then walked back to our hostel. Colleen and Clare were sweet-hearts and allowed me to teach them a lot of the French culture that I have learned. In all honesty, it was fun ordering food for them and asking for directions. And surprisingly, almost every Parisian I talked to responded to me in French! Our hostel was located in an older neighborhood called Montmartre. We had our own room which was absolutely lovely and the people there were sweet. Saturday morning we ate breakfast for free at the hostel and then walked and walked and walked! We saw Sacré-Coeur, the Luxembourg Gardens, ate lunch at a creperie, saw Sorbonne University, the Panthéon, Place de la Concorde, Champs-Elysees, Arc de Triomphe, and the Eiffel Tower by night. We picnicked in our hostel room with baguettes, cheese and wine. Très français. We also went on a wild goose search for chocolate mousse. I have a friend in my program this semester who did a summer program in Paris. So I naturally asked her for some good recommendations. She gave me the address for this restaurant that apparently has the best chocolate mousse ever. I, stupidly, did not write down the directions but simply took a quick glance at the map to see where we were going. We wandered in search of chocolate mousse for close to two hours. At the end of our search, we were deliriously hungry and began running the streets searching for nutella crepe stands. It was quite hysterical (minus our lack of chocolate mousse)! Sunday morning we saw Notre-Dame and then went on another fruitless search for a department store that was, of course, closed on Sundays. Overall, though, we had a very lovely time and it was hard, yet again, to say good-bye to Clare and Colleen. Who knows, though? Perhaps the magic of Paris will lure us back…
The next Friday was a vacation day for all of Paris which meant… no classes! My host family invited me to go to the beach with them (we’re less than an hour from the coast). I of course agreed because who could pass up a tour of the coast? Days with my host family have become somewhat comical for me because I never really know exactly what’s coming. For some reason, I’m never fully clued in on what’s happening. So I was told we were leaving at 10 on Friday morning. It ended up being just my host parents and my host brother, Thibault. My host sisters had a Scouts event (more on that later). We began the day at a little town called Guérande. It used to be a medieval fortress and it had all these cute little shops and creperies. We spent some time perusing a second-hand book shop (one of my favorite things to do) and just walked around taking in the scenery. I would most definitely love to visit it again. We then hit the beach! My host mom had prepared a sweet little picnic with sandwiches, chips, cake, and hot coffee! How very French. Anyway, we had a nice, slightly chilly, time eating. We then made a stop at a rest stop (that was actually more like ONE toilet). I went in and used it and my host mom followed. While she was inside we heard screaming and my host dad went running over to see what the problem was. Apparently, the automatic cleaners had turned on while she was in there and all of these spouts began spraying water everywhere. She came out looking quite damp, but laughing all the same!
They then took me to La Baule, which is evidently Europe’s largest beach. If someone asked me to picture a European beach, I would have pictured this beach exactly. It looked like a little town straight out of California or something. There were some beautiful neighborhoods nearby, though, and I couldn’t help thinking how fun it would be to stay in one of the gorgeous hotels we saw hidden in these neighborhoods and be seconds from the beach. Dreams, dreams, dreams… We then drove a little ways to Préfailles, which is the little beach town my host family stays in when they vacation. It was cute because my host mom turned to look at me and said, “Now when we Skype you and tell you that we were at Préfailles, you’ll be able to picture it in your head.”
After our visit to Préfailles, we went to Pornic – another little town situated right on the coast. There, my host parents offered to take me and Thibault to a creperie for dinner. It was a day and evening I’ll always remember not because of the good food but because of the good company. The whole day had led me to feel much closer to my host parents and to appreciate all they had taught me and shown me during my time in France. After dinner, we headed to the Scouts event where Marie-Emmanuelle, Tiphaine, and Adelaide had been all day. They had a big production in the evening that all the parents were invited to come see. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned French Scouts in any of my previous entries, but the French take Scouts much more seriously than Americans do Girl and Boy Scouts. It’s a very different program (with a greater religious emphasis) that many French students decide to follow for years. Throughout my semester there, I’ve picked up on the various ideals and rituals of French Scouts. That night, however, opened my eyes to a whole new world of this amusing extracurricular activity. If I had to sum up the event in a few words, I might say that it was a Finding Nemo themed talent show gone wrong. Unable to follow what was happening (what with the crazy amount of noise), I was at least able to decipher that three boys dressed up as fish heads (no, I am not kidding – please imagine flashy fish costumes) were on a mission for a giant bottle of nutella (we’re talking human-size bottle). See what I mean? If any of you are interested in ever seeing this, please ask me. I have a video on my computer.
The following Wednesday evening was a reception at IES for all of the students and their host parents. It was an absolute blast introducing my host parents to my friends and meeting the respective host parents of each of my friends. It was so sweet to hear my host parents tell my friends how lucky they’ve been to have a student like me in their house this past semester. I responded by telling them that I was the lucky one! The Friday after that was another vacation day and once again, we were free from classes. IES had planned a trip to a winery/vineyard for us, so I spent the entire day with my IES friends. We picnicked in a little town called Clisson and just enjoyed talking while sitting in the sun. Our trip to the vineyard was beautiful. We tried two different years of wine and learned that 2005 was one of the best years for wine. After our little field trip, we ate at a creperie in Nantes that is operated on a boat. We fondly call it the boat creperie. When I returned home that evening, I discovered that the Roberts had bought a Wii! It was more than amusing to watch my host parents playing Wii tennis and all of my host siblings insisted I try Wii golf. So instead of studying, I spent the evening playing Wii with the host fam…
Saturday dawned bright and early and was (once again) one of those unexpected days with my host family. They had asked me if I wanted to go to an anniversary party for my host dad’s parents. I agreed, reasoning that it would be a good way to spend some last bit of quality time with them. When we left at 9 a.m. that morning, I had no idea we wouldn’t be getting back until close to midnight that night! My host dad’s parents live on the coast so it was a good hour and a half drive out there. After arriving, we immediately started our three-hour lunch that included appetizers, an enormous plate of every kind of seafood, lamb, vegetables, cheese, salad, a three-layer strawberry trifle cake, and coffee. I didn’t think I could possibly eat any more food after that meal. After the meal, the whole party took a walk along the beach. I ended up hanging out with Tiphaine most of the time and we had the best time joking around and conversing in French. Mr. Robert’s brother was a character in every sense of the word. For some reason, he was under the impression that I spoke barely any French. So he felt the need to translate every word he spoke in French (very slowly, mind you) into English. Tiphaine and I got the biggest kick out of this and when she recounted the story later to my entire host family, we all couldn’t stop laughing. It became a great little inside joke between us.
Sunday morning, my host family offered to take me to Talensac, which is a huge outdoor market in Nantes. We spent some time walking through there and then returned home for lunch. After a most delicious lunch, we were awaiting dessert when Madame Robert walked through the door with a huge bowl of strawberries complete with candles, singing “Happy Birthday.” I had told her once that strawberries were one of my favorite kinds of food, so for my “early birthday” celebration, she had bought a huge case of strawberries and put sugar and whipped cream on the table for a most delicious dessert. I blew out my candles and then opened two presents they had given me – a DVD on the history of Nantes and a small porcelain jewelry box that Madame Robert had painted for me. I was incredibly touched by their thought and kindness. They kept telling me how much they had enjoyed the past few months and I told them how much I had enjoyed being a part of their family. It was a sweet afternoon.
The following week was my last week in Nantes, which meant finals and daily runs to the boulangerie for pastries. All of us were feeling the “we-have-to-cram-everything-into-the-last-week” sensation and that of course meant that it was necessary to try every French pastry we hadn’t tried yet. Let’s just say that my stomach is certainly not as flat as it once was! My parents arrived Tuesday afternoon and it was the strangest sensation to see them in the train station in Nantes! But it was wonderful to see them in the flesh as compared to a webcam screen. My host parents met us on the way to the hotel and took us on a quick little tour of Nantes (unfortunately, it was raining pretty hard so that didn’t last too long). We then headed back to my host family’s house for dinner where I proceeded to translate until my brain was fried! Marie-Emmanuelle, Tiphaine, and my host dad were able to understand English pretty well and also speak it with a fair amount of ease. The two youngest and my host mom, though, were pretty lost. So with a little help from my host dad, we did a lot of translating back and forth. My host mom had prepared an enormous meal complete with full-sized fish on the table and all these specialties from the Nantes region. We all enjoyed it but my parents looked like zombies by the end of the night and so we took them back to the hotel room to sleep.
Wednesday, my parents went to Normandy for the day and I ran around doing all the last-minute things I had to do: take a final, buy Harry Potter in French, have tea at La Cigale (one of the fanciest restaurants in town), have drinks with our grammar professor (yes, she invited us over for sangria), and eat one last dinner with my host family. That evening was spent enjoying my last dinner and presenting six Nalgene water bottles (they don’t sell water bottles like those in France) as a parting gift to them. I had also written them a letter which made us all slightly teary-eyed. Thursday was a day of American and French culture mixing at its finest. My host parents and I picked up my parents at the hotel and took them to see the medieval town Guérande and La Baule. My dad loved Guérande and all the history behind it and my mom of course loved the beach. We returned for a very quick lunch before running me to my last final. My parents met me at IES afterwards and were able to meet a lot of my close friends, which was fun for me. I said good-bye to all of them and we then headed out for an afternoon touring the castle and cathedral of Nantes with my host parents. My parents (and I) were astounded by the old history and were impressed with the Roberts’ tour guide skills. That night, we once again dined with my host family and this night went much better than the first. Everyone had loosened up and was acting more themselves and the language barrier seemed to be much less of an issue. My mom and Tiphaine were teaching each other napkin-folding tricks and Thibault and my dad made paper airplanes together. It was one of the best nights I spent in Nantes as my two worlds collided.
Friday morning, we left bright and early for Paris. My host parents took us to the train station and waved and ran alongside the train as we left. It was hard for me to say good-bye because they have come to hold such a special place in my heart. But it was also more than wonderful to leave on the good note that we did. When we got to Paris, someone picked us up from the airport and took us to the apartment we stayed in. This apartment was gorgeous – Parisian, in every way with red and gold décor and classy paintings hanging on the perfectly wall-papered walls. We settled in and then spent the afternoon at the Musée d’Orsay and the Louvre. For dinner that night, we found a cute little restaurant with delicious pasta and wine. Saturday we spent the day seeing Notre-Dame, the Eiffel Tower, Champs-Elysees, and the Arc de Triomphe. I also introduced my parents to the world of crepes. And for dinner that night, we ate at a restaurant that charged us 5 euro for water and 12 euro for our desserts. Let’s just say my dad was none too happy about being ripped off!
Sunday morning my dad left (unfortunately) because he had to be back at work Monday morning. So my mom and I saw him off at the train and the two of us then headed out to the Jewish quarter to find brunch. This was another fruitless search – one restaurant was too expensive, another had a bad atmosphere, and pretty soon we were stumbling through the streets about to pass out from hunger. We eventually came across an American diner that served real American breakfast – eggs, pancakes, potatoes, orange juice, and coffee. We stood in line for close to a half hour in order to get in. But it was well worth it and we both felt much better after. Stomachs full, we walked along St. Germain Boulevard and popped into a few shops. Our final destination was a used bookstore we had read about called “Tea and Tattered Pages.” The place was owned by a little old woman who insisted that we leave our bags with her so we didn’t try to steal anything. The store itself was a little hole in the wall and all of the used books were priced at a higher price than if they were bought new. There was also a crazed orange tabby cat that ran around the store and my mom and I quite enjoyed this quirky little place. That night, we found the restaurant that serves the best chocolate mousse! Because we didn’t have a reservation, we were put at a round table with three others (a Parisian woman, and two older American men). We struck up a conversation with them and all ooh-ed and aah-ed over our food. We ate the most delicious chicken and then our entertaining French waiters brought out the chocolate mousse – in an enormous bowl. The most astonishing thing about the chocolate mousse was that the casserole sized bowl was considered ONE serving. Between my mom and me, we ate about 1/3 of the bowl and that was sharing with one of the guys at our table! This mousse really was the best chocolate mousse we’d ever eaten but it was impossible to eat more than 5 spoonfuls – it was that good. The next day, Monday, we spent the entire day shopping and finishing up all our last-minute errands. And Tuesday, we hopped on a plane and flew home!
Having my parents come to France was beyond amazing. It allowed them to get a taste of my French life. And it was a wonderful transition period for me. I was able to catch up with them and have them to myself for a whole week. It allowed me to slowly fall back into American life. And now I’m home and enjoying life back in the States. They warned us that we might experience culture shock and depression when we return but so far I’ve only felt reminiscent and nostalgic. Overall, I feel beyond blessed and grateful for the past five months. I’ve had some of the most wonderful experiences and that can only be attributed to God’s goodness.
I want to thank each and every one of you for reading this and for supporting me while I’ve been gone. Thank you for your love and your prayers. In France, we say Au Revoir which directly translated means until we see each other again.
So until we see each other again,
Madelyn
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
The Deep Blue of the Caldera Sea
Grab another cup of coffee. Here's the continuation.
A very cold night later, we woke up early to head to the airport. We arrived in Athens around 3 p.m. and had some great views of the countryside and landscape while flying in. Walking into the Greece airport was like walking into a whole new world. From some reason, the fact that the Greek language has its own alphabet had completely slipped my mind. Thus, it was quite a surprise when all around me people were speaking a language I couldn’t understand a word of and there were signs saying things I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. But we managed to make it on a bus that would take us to the city. Let me tell you, though… I was not a happy camper halfway through this bus ride. We had been up since 5 o’clock that morning, traveling all day. I had my hefty backpack strapped on my back and we were packed like sardines into a hot, humid bus full of people… for close to an hour. Alyssa and I both surely looked like we were going to kill someone. The outskirt of Athens was not a pretty-picture sight. But as we got closer to the city, it became nicer and nicer. We quickly found our way to the hostel, a place that I would not readily recommend to someone. It was in a sketchy area, with no shower stall, thin walls, a leaky toilet, and a very uncomfortable bed. However, we only paid 18 euro a night for our own room and bathroom. You can choose which one you’d prefer: money or comfort.
Once we settled in, we went in search of a guidebook and dinner. Alyssa and I both failed to research what exactly there was to see in Athens, so purchasing a guidebook was touristy and expensive, yet necessary. We found a cheap restaurant in the guidebook and made our way there. Some very brusque Greek men ushered us to a table. I tried a Greek salad which was good (despite the tomatoes – I recently haven’t been a huge fan of those). Because the area by our hostel really was unsafe and because we were two very American-looking girls traveling by ourselves, we decided not to stay out late or to “go out” at all on any given night. So instead, we did the most typical American thing we could have done – we found a Starbucks and plopped there for the evening. :)
After a restless night (I think I mentioned that the walls were very thin), we got up and headed out for our first activity of the day: the changing of the guards in front of the Parliament building. Our guidebook had informed us that at 10:45 every Sunday morning the guards changed complete with military band. So we stood in the crowd with every other tourist to watch a military band followed by Greek soldiers in their entire regalia make a sort of parade in front of Parliament. Their outfits included pom-pom-like fluff balls on their shoes and their marching was a sight to be seen!
We then headed to the Acropolis: the sight-seeing of all sight-seeing in Greece. We were able to see all of the sights for free because of our EU student ID card we received for studying here. Woo-hoo! We spent the next hour seeing the Theatre of Dionysus, what is left of the Temple of Athena Nike, the Propylaia (entrance to the Acropolis), the Erechtheion (temple of Poseidon housing the Caryatids), and of course the Parthenon. The view out over Athens was truly incredible. And to stand on the ground that so many have stood before, that is so ancient and full of history was mind-blowing. Isn’t it amazing to think that some of the oldest architectural structures in the whole entire world are STILL standing?!?!?!
We hiked to a couple “viewpoints” to get some more shots of the Acropolis. We then explored Ancient Agora, an old market/assembly place. Apparently Socrates philosophized and the apostle Paul preached there! We discovered a church there called the Church of the Holy Apostles of Solakis; it is evidently the only remaining Byzantine structure of its time. What I loved about it though was the feel of true antiquity inside; it was as if no human hands have touched it – no restoration, no nothing. The frescoes on the wall were fading and parts of the wall were crumbling, but it was obviously a church used well. Also in Agora is the Temple of Hephaestus, the best-preserved Doric temple in Greece. We also explored a museum located in the Stoa of Attalos, which used to be a shopping arcade. The museum contained many ancient pieces of pottery and artifacts; it’s absolutely fascinating how they can piece all of that back together after an excavation. To continue our sight-seeing day, we visited the Keramikos cemetery – ruins of old tombstones and the location of the Dipylon and Sacred Gates. The Sacred Way also had a path through the grounds – a path that many processions followed in order to get to Agora and the Acropolis. It was definitely an interesting and new part of Greek history that I learned.
At this point in time, we decided to take a break from our touring and hit up an Internet café. So I’m sitting in this dingy little place checking my email and I open one from my mom telling me… surprise! She and my dad are coming to France! A “friend” (of whom I do not know the identity) offered to pay for their entire trip – airfare, hotels, train tickets, etc… basically an all-expense paid trip to come visit me! I found myself tearing up in this hole of a café in Athens, Greece – because God is SO good! And He sends us the most perfect gifts at the most perfect times.
After that wonderful surprise, Alyssa and I took a walk through the National and Zeppeio Gardens. It was a quite beautiful evening and it was nice to just take a break from the day and relax a bit. We then set out on a task to find dinner. We had found a place in the guidebook that seemed promising but we couldn’t for the life of us find it! On our way, however, we were BOMBARDED by Greek waiters showing us their menu. Their speech was always the same: “Ah, American girls… we have a lovely menu for you. Take a look. (They would then proceed to show us the ENTIRE menu.) It’s a great price – just for you. Why don’t you take a seat?” I don’t know how many times we heard the words, “It’s just for you.” Fear not, though, because we didn’t buy it. One guy rambled on and on about how he doesn’t like to bother people but how he doesn’t want to see anybody pass up the greatness of his restaurant. Oh, the Greeks! They drive a hard bargain!
The first menu we were roped into seeing was because Alyssa responded “No, merci” to the waiter’s question. Well he apparently knew French and explained his entire menu to us in French. We told him we’d consider it and possibly come back. After discovering that the restaurant we had initially been searching for was nonexistent, we decided that the “French” guy had been the nicest. And we returned to his restaurant. He was so happy to see us and they brought us two complimentary glasses of wine… on the house! They treated us like honored guests all because we returned. We had a very nice dinner and decided to split a Greek dessert at the end to finish it off. We tried baklava, which both of us came to love! It was a nutty caramel type of cake that was quite delicious. We said goodbye to our friends at the restaurant and headed over to see the Temple of Zeus and Hadrian’s Arch lit up at night. We concluded our day by being an “old couple” – reading in bed and then going to sleep.
The next morning/afternoon we went shopping. There was one main street of famous European clothing stores that we of course visited. But we also spent much of the day in little Greek-owned jewelry and souvenir shops. We were naturally targeted by the vendors and they always had a special price just for us. J The jewelry is really quite pretty, the sandals very Greek-goddess-esque, and the dresses incredibly adorable. But when you’re traveling in Europe on a budget and with a backpack, there’s not a whole lot of room for dresses and sandals! Regardless, window-shopping was fun. The best part was just getting to see more of Athens – the cobblestone streets, the mini shops, the cute restaurants, and the village-feel that it has. So we spent the majority of the day exploring with a quick trip back to Hadrian’s Arch and another to the Lysicatres monument. We picked a restaurant near our “friends’” restaurant that had cute, outdoor seating. Our waiters referred to us as “the girls” and we were, again, treated wonderfully. I had the most delectable Mediterranean pasta with shrimp and we split baklava again for dessert. We made one last trip to Starbucks for a little down time before heading back to Hotel Athinaikon.
Tuesday morning dawned bright and early. The morning began calmly enough but not long after setting out for the day, we began to feel raindrops. We made it over to the Panatheonic Stadium – the first Olympic venue for the games held in 1896. That was really cool to see as the Olympic Games have become such a staple of “world culture,” and you could see the world-wide symbol of the five rings across the way. The stadium was quite small – we’ve evidently come a long way since then! Right after our visit there, it started raining but we decided to plug through it and headed towards Hadrian’s Library. These ruins were cool to see because this once-massive library had housed a courtyard AND a church and you could see the remaining tile mosaics from the floor of the church. It was also possible to see where they had once housed the shelves of books and the English major in me LOVED this tid-bit of knowledge.
After that visit, we went to Roman Athens – a site that was once used as the city civic centre under Roman rule. They had a public latrine with 68 seats – that’s a lot of toilets! Also at this site were a mosque and the Tower of the Winds (an innovative octagonal tower that allowed the ancient civilizations to determine the direction of the wind, among other things). Our last task of the day involved a trek up Filapapoo Hill. We passed the Prison of Socrates along the way, which was cleverly “hidden” inside a hill, among the brush. When we made it to the top, we discovered the most beautiful view of Athens; you could see for miles around – all the way out to the sea – AND you had the most perfect view of the Acropolis. The Filapappos monument was nothing spectacular but our happiness about the view was short-lived because two minutes into our hike down, it started to pour. I was pretty miserable, even with an umbrella. But we made it back and stumbled into an EVEREST, a popular sandwich-and-coffee joint in Greece. I tried my first frappe – a drink very popular among the Greeks. The first day we were there, I noticed how almost everyone I saw was holding a frothy coffee-looking drink in their hand. It turns out that it’s instant Nescafé in frothy form. I now understand why the Greeks love it (it’s quite good) but it’s astonishing to see HOW MANY of them drink it. I’d be interested in knowing how MUCH they make in frappe sales!
After lunch, I was roped into buying a purse. There are these bags in Europe called Longchamp bags that everybody has. I’ve secretly wanted one and this little shop in Athens was selling knock-offs for cheap (usually they’re $60 for the smallest size). The saleswoman put on quite the act telling me that it was vacation and when you’re on vacation, you can spend whatever you’d like. I felt like telling her that I emptied my entire bank account just to get OVER to Greece. But I very happily purchased my bag for much less than it usually costs (we’ll see if it lasts). When I paid with my credit card, the woman behind the counter laughed and said “Ah… you happy now, you pay later.” I guess so!
Alyssa and I then returned to our hotel, grabbed our stuff, caught the metro, and boarded our ferry. I couldn’t help thinking that I was boarding some modern-version of the Titanic – there was an escalator! The ferry ride was interesting but because we bought economy class tickets, it was quite cold. The two girls with whom we shared a table were especially sweet. One was from New Zealand and the other from Nigeria. I just love how NORMAL it is now to meet people from all over the world! The most interesting part of the ride, though, was actually a conversation Alyssa and I had with a Pakistani man named Hasim. He approached us to ask what time the ferry would land and when he discovered we were American, he pulled up a chair to “shoot the breeze,” so to speak.
Hasim, shortly after introductions, brought up an obviously sensitive but equally as important subject. He bluntly asked us why Americans treat Pakistanis like they are all terrorists. We attempted to explain that it’s not right but when people are scared, they find something or someone to blame for their fear. So when the terrorist attacks on the U.S. happened, many U.S. citizens blamed the whole race rather than the terrorists themselves. Hasim seemed to understand this but he still seemed a bit skeptical. He was very vulnerable with us and explained how his travels in Greece have revealed much prejudice toward him and his country.
We began talking about his culture and the differences between our culture and his. He asked us what we think about women in the workplace versus women as “home-makers.” Because in his culture, he explained, it is very dangerous for women to be anywhere BUT the home. Hasim also listened to us as we explained to him our career goals and the plans we have for our lives. Additionally, we talked about arranged marriages. Our new friend explained that there are both “love” marriages AND “arranged” marriages in Pakistan. He asked us what type of marriage we would each prefer and we answered a “love marriage” because that’s the kind of culture we’ve grown up in. But we agreed that had we grown up in his culture, we might also be fine with an arranged marriage.
Hasim was very sweet when he talked of his parents and his country. He still lives at home at the age of 22 but you can see how much he truly loves and respects his parents (something we have in common)! He was also incredibly proud of his culture and his home. He kept saying “I LOVE my country” with a big grin on his face. Overall, it was a wonderfully eye-opening conversation. Hasim, though, kept bringing up the prejudices Americans have and while the words in my mouth reaffirmed that we don’t see him as a terrorist, part of me quite frankly couldn’t help but think, “What if he IS planning to blow up this ferry?” It’s hard to admit that my mind could think that; I like to think that I don’t carry any sort of predisposition toward a certain race of people. But it was humbling to realize that my own heart can be in conflict about the matter and that I still have a long way to go.
Bidding our farewells to Hasim, we got off the ferry (after a VERY long wait), found our hostel pick-up, and headed to Villa Manos. What a great little place! Family-run, the people there were so friendly and helpful. They gave us free glasses of wine upon our arrival and for only 13 euro a night, Alyssa and I had our own room complete with bathroom and mini kitchenette. The place was slightly far away but it had a beautiful pool area, a most delicious breakfast, and a gorgeous building. After our “sketch” room in Athens, we found this place to be a 5-star hotel (and in all reality, it really was that nice)! We went to sleep at about 2:30 a.m. and slept in the next morning.
After breakfast we headed to Fira, the capital of the island. It was a great little city with lots of places to shop around (which is what we did)! We kept seeing signs to go down to the “Old Port,” so we decided why not check it out? When we turned the corner, we were “attacked” by Greek men and their donkeys. I immediately jumped at the chance to ride a donkey, plus it was WAY better than walking up and down flights and flights of stairs to see the view. So we began our donkey ride – what a hoot! It is every bit as bumpy as you may imagine, but also quite a lot of fun. Our donkey guide was a character – when we got to the port, he grabbed two other donkeys, tied them to Alyssa’s donkey, untied me and sent us back up with my donkey leading the way (so much for seeing the old port)! I kept saying, “No, wait! I want to get off” and he just kept replying with some Greek version of “Giddy up!” I felt that the whole thing was a very necessary Greek experience.
We spent the rest of the day exploring. On one road, we met this Greek man who worked at a little café overlooking the sea. He, of course, tried to entice us into eating there, but we told him maybe later. He explained to us that “two verrrrrry bea-ut-if-ul Amerrrrrican girrrls” should stay and have a drink at his café. If I had a dime for every time he called us beautiful or tried to hold our hands, I would be rich! We told him we would come back for the sunset. In the meantime, we grabbed a late lunch/early dinner of chicken souvlaki (more good Greek food) and when we returned for the sunset, our “friend” was evidently very happy. I was soon dubbed “Madelina” and was given a discount on my glass of wine. It was quite the treatment and a pretty good sunset as well. Our Greek man was rather touchy-feely, though, and Alyssa and I both commented that more than once we felt his hand linger longer than we would have liked! He had us pick out a dessert we liked. I chose a banana-chocolate something or other that truly was one of the most scrumptious desserts I’ve ever eaten. However, it was certainly not worth the 10 euro he charged us each for dessert! I wasn’t really upset because despite it being a costly evening, I was quite the happy camper watching the sunset with my 10 euro dessert and a glass of wine. Our friend told us that we had to return every night… I don’t think he realized that we are not made of money!
The next day we decided to “see” the island. Our walk back to the hotel the night before had felt a bit dangerous (no streetlights and no sidewalks) and we quickly realized that Santorini is not a walking island. So we rented a four-wheeler – possibly the best decision I made the entire 2 weeks of vacation. It was FANTASTIC for multiple reasons. First of all, it just felt so good to drive something again. Secondly, it gave us the opportunity to really see everything. We unfortunately didn’t make it around the entire island but that only fuels my desire to go back!
After a few mishaps with Jake (our pet nickname for the four-wheeler) – we left the parking brake on one too many times – we headed to Attiroki, which is one of the red beaches on the island. We hiked up some beautiful red rock and got a most spectacular view. We then drove to the lighthouse on the island, which was also gorgeous. Our next stop was Perissa Beach, a black sand beach. We ate lunch there (free dessert from the restaurant – gotta love the Greeks!) and then lay on the beach for an hour or so. It was a beautiful day and I actually enjoyed the black sand (which is slightly more pebbly) more than regular sand. We found ourselves a bit lost after this and we kept getting detoured (they were doing some sort of construction). So by the time we figured out where we were, it was getting late and we decided to head to Oia (at the northern tip of the island), for sunset.
After changing clothes at the hostel, we headed for Oia. Unknowingly, we took the long way. But, in my opinion, it was well worth the drive. I’m not sure I can even begin to describe to you the beauty of the sea and the mountains. It literally took my breath away. I’ve never seen a sea so blue and it was just the most wonderful feeling whizzing along these country roads through the mountains and seeing spectacular views of the water. Oh, the magic of a Greek island…
When we got to Oia, we ended up following a road all the way to Ammoudi Bay (where a little fisherman’s village is located). We found a little spot on a cliff with a perfect view of the sunset. And it was indeed quite beautiful. I drove on the way home and we decided to take the short way because it was getting chilly. We ended up driving straight through the village of Oia, which I immediately fell in love with. It was the most Greek-looking of all those we had seen thus far and at night, it looked simply magical. I pulled over to get a picture but the police were again blocking off part of the road so we were yelled at to keep moving before I could get a good shot. Poor Alyssa – she probably could have cared less about having a picture. But I drove until we found a parking lot and then I marched us back in order to take the picture. If you see my pictures, I think you’ll know which one I’m referring to – it’s the prettiest of them all. :)
Greece was the first country in which I actually felt like an American girl. While driving the moto, we got whistled at, winked at, smiled at, etc… I’ll admit that it was quite fun to get such attention! Overall, though, the island of Santorini is just such a friendly place. Everybody waves and all the restaurant workers kid around with you and make you feel like their “favorite” (even though they do the same things with everybody)! The moto guy who taught us how to drive the four-wheeler told us how he came to visit Santorini for a week, called his parents, and told them to send his stuff! It’s the kind of place where you feel safe and comfortable immediately. And all the Santorinians are really proud of their island – but not in a bragging, showing-off kind of way. If they ask you whether you like the island or not and you reply (as I did so often) “Why yes! It’s gorgeous…” they just smile at you as if you’ve just been let in on their secret. Can you tell yet that I fell in love with this little Greek island?
Anyway, our drive home that night was semi-terrifying. It was equivalent to driving through the mountains of West Virginia at night on a four-wheeler. Our little four-wheeler could only go so fast and it wasn’t easy for cars to pass us on the curvy roads – all of which made for a tense journey. Back at the hotel, we parked Jake and ordered take-out for dinner. It had been QUITE an exhausting day; we were so frozen from the wind that when I put my hand to my cheek, it felt like my skin was burning!
Friday was our last day in Santorini. We returned the moto, did a little more souvenir shopping, and grabbed lunch. I won’t give away anything I bought but I will fill you in on one of my purchases: worry beads. The Greeks (mostly the men) carry around strands of beads called worry beads. Walking down the street, you see people just playing with these beads! It’s highly amusing. They sell them everywhere, so I picked up some for my brother (as a joke) because he is the last person in the world that would need worry beads!
We spent the afternoon relaxing by the pool at the hotel, which was some much-needed down time. Around 8:30, the hotel drove a bunch of us to the ferry port. Because it was their Easter that weekend and Good Friday celebrations were going on, we had to be dropped off quite early. It was really sad to be leaving the island when such an important event was going on. As we were driving to the port, we could see all these candles lit up around the city and it made me wish to stay another night. Alas, I guess I’ll just have to return to Santorini for Easter one year!
We ate dinner with some other girls from the hostel who were studying in Milan for the semester and then killed time by playing with these puppies and cats that ran loose by the restaurant (for some reason, all the dogs run loose in Greece). They were quite adorable and all the girls were literally cooing over them. Our ferry was right on time and I slept the entire way back to Athens which was great. We spent a couple hours in the Athens airport sleeping and resting and then caught our flight to Paris. Once in Paris, we had a couple hours to kill, so we grabbed lunch/dinner and then headed for the train station. An uneventful train ride later, we were home!
If you’ve finished reading this massively detailed blog entry, I owe you a piece of French chocolate when I get home! In many ways, this blog has become my journal – and so unfortunately, every gory detail gets written down. Thanks to those of you who have plugged through. I hope you feel that you got a little taste of Italy and Greece by reading. :)
A very cold night later, we woke up early to head to the airport. We arrived in Athens around 3 p.m. and had some great views of the countryside and landscape while flying in. Walking into the Greece airport was like walking into a whole new world. From some reason, the fact that the Greek language has its own alphabet had completely slipped my mind. Thus, it was quite a surprise when all around me people were speaking a language I couldn’t understand a word of and there were signs saying things I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. But we managed to make it on a bus that would take us to the city. Let me tell you, though… I was not a happy camper halfway through this bus ride. We had been up since 5 o’clock that morning, traveling all day. I had my hefty backpack strapped on my back and we were packed like sardines into a hot, humid bus full of people… for close to an hour. Alyssa and I both surely looked like we were going to kill someone. The outskirt of Athens was not a pretty-picture sight. But as we got closer to the city, it became nicer and nicer. We quickly found our way to the hostel, a place that I would not readily recommend to someone. It was in a sketchy area, with no shower stall, thin walls, a leaky toilet, and a very uncomfortable bed. However, we only paid 18 euro a night for our own room and bathroom. You can choose which one you’d prefer: money or comfort.
Once we settled in, we went in search of a guidebook and dinner. Alyssa and I both failed to research what exactly there was to see in Athens, so purchasing a guidebook was touristy and expensive, yet necessary. We found a cheap restaurant in the guidebook and made our way there. Some very brusque Greek men ushered us to a table. I tried a Greek salad which was good (despite the tomatoes – I recently haven’t been a huge fan of those). Because the area by our hostel really was unsafe and because we were two very American-looking girls traveling by ourselves, we decided not to stay out late or to “go out” at all on any given night. So instead, we did the most typical American thing we could have done – we found a Starbucks and plopped there for the evening. :)
After a restless night (I think I mentioned that the walls were very thin), we got up and headed out for our first activity of the day: the changing of the guards in front of the Parliament building. Our guidebook had informed us that at 10:45 every Sunday morning the guards changed complete with military band. So we stood in the crowd with every other tourist to watch a military band followed by Greek soldiers in their entire regalia make a sort of parade in front of Parliament. Their outfits included pom-pom-like fluff balls on their shoes and their marching was a sight to be seen!
We then headed to the Acropolis: the sight-seeing of all sight-seeing in Greece. We were able to see all of the sights for free because of our EU student ID card we received for studying here. Woo-hoo! We spent the next hour seeing the Theatre of Dionysus, what is left of the Temple of Athena Nike, the Propylaia (entrance to the Acropolis), the Erechtheion (temple of Poseidon housing the Caryatids), and of course the Parthenon. The view out over Athens was truly incredible. And to stand on the ground that so many have stood before, that is so ancient and full of history was mind-blowing. Isn’t it amazing to think that some of the oldest architectural structures in the whole entire world are STILL standing?!?!?!
We hiked to a couple “viewpoints” to get some more shots of the Acropolis. We then explored Ancient Agora, an old market/assembly place. Apparently Socrates philosophized and the apostle Paul preached there! We discovered a church there called the Church of the Holy Apostles of Solakis; it is evidently the only remaining Byzantine structure of its time. What I loved about it though was the feel of true antiquity inside; it was as if no human hands have touched it – no restoration, no nothing. The frescoes on the wall were fading and parts of the wall were crumbling, but it was obviously a church used well. Also in Agora is the Temple of Hephaestus, the best-preserved Doric temple in Greece. We also explored a museum located in the Stoa of Attalos, which used to be a shopping arcade. The museum contained many ancient pieces of pottery and artifacts; it’s absolutely fascinating how they can piece all of that back together after an excavation. To continue our sight-seeing day, we visited the Keramikos cemetery – ruins of old tombstones and the location of the Dipylon and Sacred Gates. The Sacred Way also had a path through the grounds – a path that many processions followed in order to get to Agora and the Acropolis. It was definitely an interesting and new part of Greek history that I learned.
At this point in time, we decided to take a break from our touring and hit up an Internet café. So I’m sitting in this dingy little place checking my email and I open one from my mom telling me… surprise! She and my dad are coming to France! A “friend” (of whom I do not know the identity) offered to pay for their entire trip – airfare, hotels, train tickets, etc… basically an all-expense paid trip to come visit me! I found myself tearing up in this hole of a café in Athens, Greece – because God is SO good! And He sends us the most perfect gifts at the most perfect times.
After that wonderful surprise, Alyssa and I took a walk through the National and Zeppeio Gardens. It was a quite beautiful evening and it was nice to just take a break from the day and relax a bit. We then set out on a task to find dinner. We had found a place in the guidebook that seemed promising but we couldn’t for the life of us find it! On our way, however, we were BOMBARDED by Greek waiters showing us their menu. Their speech was always the same: “Ah, American girls… we have a lovely menu for you. Take a look. (They would then proceed to show us the ENTIRE menu.) It’s a great price – just for you. Why don’t you take a seat?” I don’t know how many times we heard the words, “It’s just for you.” Fear not, though, because we didn’t buy it. One guy rambled on and on about how he doesn’t like to bother people but how he doesn’t want to see anybody pass up the greatness of his restaurant. Oh, the Greeks! They drive a hard bargain!
The first menu we were roped into seeing was because Alyssa responded “No, merci” to the waiter’s question. Well he apparently knew French and explained his entire menu to us in French. We told him we’d consider it and possibly come back. After discovering that the restaurant we had initially been searching for was nonexistent, we decided that the “French” guy had been the nicest. And we returned to his restaurant. He was so happy to see us and they brought us two complimentary glasses of wine… on the house! They treated us like honored guests all because we returned. We had a very nice dinner and decided to split a Greek dessert at the end to finish it off. We tried baklava, which both of us came to love! It was a nutty caramel type of cake that was quite delicious. We said goodbye to our friends at the restaurant and headed over to see the Temple of Zeus and Hadrian’s Arch lit up at night. We concluded our day by being an “old couple” – reading in bed and then going to sleep.
The next morning/afternoon we went shopping. There was one main street of famous European clothing stores that we of course visited. But we also spent much of the day in little Greek-owned jewelry and souvenir shops. We were naturally targeted by the vendors and they always had a special price just for us. J The jewelry is really quite pretty, the sandals very Greek-goddess-esque, and the dresses incredibly adorable. But when you’re traveling in Europe on a budget and with a backpack, there’s not a whole lot of room for dresses and sandals! Regardless, window-shopping was fun. The best part was just getting to see more of Athens – the cobblestone streets, the mini shops, the cute restaurants, and the village-feel that it has. So we spent the majority of the day exploring with a quick trip back to Hadrian’s Arch and another to the Lysicatres monument. We picked a restaurant near our “friends’” restaurant that had cute, outdoor seating. Our waiters referred to us as “the girls” and we were, again, treated wonderfully. I had the most delectable Mediterranean pasta with shrimp and we split baklava again for dessert. We made one last trip to Starbucks for a little down time before heading back to Hotel Athinaikon.
Tuesday morning dawned bright and early. The morning began calmly enough but not long after setting out for the day, we began to feel raindrops. We made it over to the Panatheonic Stadium – the first Olympic venue for the games held in 1896. That was really cool to see as the Olympic Games have become such a staple of “world culture,” and you could see the world-wide symbol of the five rings across the way. The stadium was quite small – we’ve evidently come a long way since then! Right after our visit there, it started raining but we decided to plug through it and headed towards Hadrian’s Library. These ruins were cool to see because this once-massive library had housed a courtyard AND a church and you could see the remaining tile mosaics from the floor of the church. It was also possible to see where they had once housed the shelves of books and the English major in me LOVED this tid-bit of knowledge.
After that visit, we went to Roman Athens – a site that was once used as the city civic centre under Roman rule. They had a public latrine with 68 seats – that’s a lot of toilets! Also at this site were a mosque and the Tower of the Winds (an innovative octagonal tower that allowed the ancient civilizations to determine the direction of the wind, among other things). Our last task of the day involved a trek up Filapapoo Hill. We passed the Prison of Socrates along the way, which was cleverly “hidden” inside a hill, among the brush. When we made it to the top, we discovered the most beautiful view of Athens; you could see for miles around – all the way out to the sea – AND you had the most perfect view of the Acropolis. The Filapappos monument was nothing spectacular but our happiness about the view was short-lived because two minutes into our hike down, it started to pour. I was pretty miserable, even with an umbrella. But we made it back and stumbled into an EVEREST, a popular sandwich-and-coffee joint in Greece. I tried my first frappe – a drink very popular among the Greeks. The first day we were there, I noticed how almost everyone I saw was holding a frothy coffee-looking drink in their hand. It turns out that it’s instant Nescafé in frothy form. I now understand why the Greeks love it (it’s quite good) but it’s astonishing to see HOW MANY of them drink it. I’d be interested in knowing how MUCH they make in frappe sales!
After lunch, I was roped into buying a purse. There are these bags in Europe called Longchamp bags that everybody has. I’ve secretly wanted one and this little shop in Athens was selling knock-offs for cheap (usually they’re $60 for the smallest size). The saleswoman put on quite the act telling me that it was vacation and when you’re on vacation, you can spend whatever you’d like. I felt like telling her that I emptied my entire bank account just to get OVER to Greece. But I very happily purchased my bag for much less than it usually costs (we’ll see if it lasts). When I paid with my credit card, the woman behind the counter laughed and said “Ah… you happy now, you pay later.” I guess so!
Alyssa and I then returned to our hotel, grabbed our stuff, caught the metro, and boarded our ferry. I couldn’t help thinking that I was boarding some modern-version of the Titanic – there was an escalator! The ferry ride was interesting but because we bought economy class tickets, it was quite cold. The two girls with whom we shared a table were especially sweet. One was from New Zealand and the other from Nigeria. I just love how NORMAL it is now to meet people from all over the world! The most interesting part of the ride, though, was actually a conversation Alyssa and I had with a Pakistani man named Hasim. He approached us to ask what time the ferry would land and when he discovered we were American, he pulled up a chair to “shoot the breeze,” so to speak.
Hasim, shortly after introductions, brought up an obviously sensitive but equally as important subject. He bluntly asked us why Americans treat Pakistanis like they are all terrorists. We attempted to explain that it’s not right but when people are scared, they find something or someone to blame for their fear. So when the terrorist attacks on the U.S. happened, many U.S. citizens blamed the whole race rather than the terrorists themselves. Hasim seemed to understand this but he still seemed a bit skeptical. He was very vulnerable with us and explained how his travels in Greece have revealed much prejudice toward him and his country.
We began talking about his culture and the differences between our culture and his. He asked us what we think about women in the workplace versus women as “home-makers.” Because in his culture, he explained, it is very dangerous for women to be anywhere BUT the home. Hasim also listened to us as we explained to him our career goals and the plans we have for our lives. Additionally, we talked about arranged marriages. Our new friend explained that there are both “love” marriages AND “arranged” marriages in Pakistan. He asked us what type of marriage we would each prefer and we answered a “love marriage” because that’s the kind of culture we’ve grown up in. But we agreed that had we grown up in his culture, we might also be fine with an arranged marriage.
Hasim was very sweet when he talked of his parents and his country. He still lives at home at the age of 22 but you can see how much he truly loves and respects his parents (something we have in common)! He was also incredibly proud of his culture and his home. He kept saying “I LOVE my country” with a big grin on his face. Overall, it was a wonderfully eye-opening conversation. Hasim, though, kept bringing up the prejudices Americans have and while the words in my mouth reaffirmed that we don’t see him as a terrorist, part of me quite frankly couldn’t help but think, “What if he IS planning to blow up this ferry?” It’s hard to admit that my mind could think that; I like to think that I don’t carry any sort of predisposition toward a certain race of people. But it was humbling to realize that my own heart can be in conflict about the matter and that I still have a long way to go.
Bidding our farewells to Hasim, we got off the ferry (after a VERY long wait), found our hostel pick-up, and headed to Villa Manos. What a great little place! Family-run, the people there were so friendly and helpful. They gave us free glasses of wine upon our arrival and for only 13 euro a night, Alyssa and I had our own room complete with bathroom and mini kitchenette. The place was slightly far away but it had a beautiful pool area, a most delicious breakfast, and a gorgeous building. After our “sketch” room in Athens, we found this place to be a 5-star hotel (and in all reality, it really was that nice)! We went to sleep at about 2:30 a.m. and slept in the next morning.
After breakfast we headed to Fira, the capital of the island. It was a great little city with lots of places to shop around (which is what we did)! We kept seeing signs to go down to the “Old Port,” so we decided why not check it out? When we turned the corner, we were “attacked” by Greek men and their donkeys. I immediately jumped at the chance to ride a donkey, plus it was WAY better than walking up and down flights and flights of stairs to see the view. So we began our donkey ride – what a hoot! It is every bit as bumpy as you may imagine, but also quite a lot of fun. Our donkey guide was a character – when we got to the port, he grabbed two other donkeys, tied them to Alyssa’s donkey, untied me and sent us back up with my donkey leading the way (so much for seeing the old port)! I kept saying, “No, wait! I want to get off” and he just kept replying with some Greek version of “Giddy up!” I felt that the whole thing was a very necessary Greek experience.
We spent the rest of the day exploring. On one road, we met this Greek man who worked at a little café overlooking the sea. He, of course, tried to entice us into eating there, but we told him maybe later. He explained to us that “two verrrrrry bea-ut-if-ul Amerrrrrican girrrls” should stay and have a drink at his café. If I had a dime for every time he called us beautiful or tried to hold our hands, I would be rich! We told him we would come back for the sunset. In the meantime, we grabbed a late lunch/early dinner of chicken souvlaki (more good Greek food) and when we returned for the sunset, our “friend” was evidently very happy. I was soon dubbed “Madelina” and was given a discount on my glass of wine. It was quite the treatment and a pretty good sunset as well. Our Greek man was rather touchy-feely, though, and Alyssa and I both commented that more than once we felt his hand linger longer than we would have liked! He had us pick out a dessert we liked. I chose a banana-chocolate something or other that truly was one of the most scrumptious desserts I’ve ever eaten. However, it was certainly not worth the 10 euro he charged us each for dessert! I wasn’t really upset because despite it being a costly evening, I was quite the happy camper watching the sunset with my 10 euro dessert and a glass of wine. Our friend told us that we had to return every night… I don’t think he realized that we are not made of money!
The next day we decided to “see” the island. Our walk back to the hotel the night before had felt a bit dangerous (no streetlights and no sidewalks) and we quickly realized that Santorini is not a walking island. So we rented a four-wheeler – possibly the best decision I made the entire 2 weeks of vacation. It was FANTASTIC for multiple reasons. First of all, it just felt so good to drive something again. Secondly, it gave us the opportunity to really see everything. We unfortunately didn’t make it around the entire island but that only fuels my desire to go back!
After a few mishaps with Jake (our pet nickname for the four-wheeler) – we left the parking brake on one too many times – we headed to Attiroki, which is one of the red beaches on the island. We hiked up some beautiful red rock and got a most spectacular view. We then drove to the lighthouse on the island, which was also gorgeous. Our next stop was Perissa Beach, a black sand beach. We ate lunch there (free dessert from the restaurant – gotta love the Greeks!) and then lay on the beach for an hour or so. It was a beautiful day and I actually enjoyed the black sand (which is slightly more pebbly) more than regular sand. We found ourselves a bit lost after this and we kept getting detoured (they were doing some sort of construction). So by the time we figured out where we were, it was getting late and we decided to head to Oia (at the northern tip of the island), for sunset.
After changing clothes at the hostel, we headed for Oia. Unknowingly, we took the long way. But, in my opinion, it was well worth the drive. I’m not sure I can even begin to describe to you the beauty of the sea and the mountains. It literally took my breath away. I’ve never seen a sea so blue and it was just the most wonderful feeling whizzing along these country roads through the mountains and seeing spectacular views of the water. Oh, the magic of a Greek island…
When we got to Oia, we ended up following a road all the way to Ammoudi Bay (where a little fisherman’s village is located). We found a little spot on a cliff with a perfect view of the sunset. And it was indeed quite beautiful. I drove on the way home and we decided to take the short way because it was getting chilly. We ended up driving straight through the village of Oia, which I immediately fell in love with. It was the most Greek-looking of all those we had seen thus far and at night, it looked simply magical. I pulled over to get a picture but the police were again blocking off part of the road so we were yelled at to keep moving before I could get a good shot. Poor Alyssa – she probably could have cared less about having a picture. But I drove until we found a parking lot and then I marched us back in order to take the picture. If you see my pictures, I think you’ll know which one I’m referring to – it’s the prettiest of them all. :)
Greece was the first country in which I actually felt like an American girl. While driving the moto, we got whistled at, winked at, smiled at, etc… I’ll admit that it was quite fun to get such attention! Overall, though, the island of Santorini is just such a friendly place. Everybody waves and all the restaurant workers kid around with you and make you feel like their “favorite” (even though they do the same things with everybody)! The moto guy who taught us how to drive the four-wheeler told us how he came to visit Santorini for a week, called his parents, and told them to send his stuff! It’s the kind of place where you feel safe and comfortable immediately. And all the Santorinians are really proud of their island – but not in a bragging, showing-off kind of way. If they ask you whether you like the island or not and you reply (as I did so often) “Why yes! It’s gorgeous…” they just smile at you as if you’ve just been let in on their secret. Can you tell yet that I fell in love with this little Greek island?
Anyway, our drive home that night was semi-terrifying. It was equivalent to driving through the mountains of West Virginia at night on a four-wheeler. Our little four-wheeler could only go so fast and it wasn’t easy for cars to pass us on the curvy roads – all of which made for a tense journey. Back at the hotel, we parked Jake and ordered take-out for dinner. It had been QUITE an exhausting day; we were so frozen from the wind that when I put my hand to my cheek, it felt like my skin was burning!
Friday was our last day in Santorini. We returned the moto, did a little more souvenir shopping, and grabbed lunch. I won’t give away anything I bought but I will fill you in on one of my purchases: worry beads. The Greeks (mostly the men) carry around strands of beads called worry beads. Walking down the street, you see people just playing with these beads! It’s highly amusing. They sell them everywhere, so I picked up some for my brother (as a joke) because he is the last person in the world that would need worry beads!
We spent the afternoon relaxing by the pool at the hotel, which was some much-needed down time. Around 8:30, the hotel drove a bunch of us to the ferry port. Because it was their Easter that weekend and Good Friday celebrations were going on, we had to be dropped off quite early. It was really sad to be leaving the island when such an important event was going on. As we were driving to the port, we could see all these candles lit up around the city and it made me wish to stay another night. Alas, I guess I’ll just have to return to Santorini for Easter one year!
We ate dinner with some other girls from the hostel who were studying in Milan for the semester and then killed time by playing with these puppies and cats that ran loose by the restaurant (for some reason, all the dogs run loose in Greece). They were quite adorable and all the girls were literally cooing over them. Our ferry was right on time and I slept the entire way back to Athens which was great. We spent a couple hours in the Athens airport sleeping and resting and then caught our flight to Paris. Once in Paris, we had a couple hours to kill, so we grabbed lunch/dinner and then headed for the train station. An uneventful train ride later, we were home!
If you’ve finished reading this massively detailed blog entry, I owe you a piece of French chocolate when I get home! In many ways, this blog has become my journal – and so unfortunately, every gory detail gets written down. Thanks to those of you who have plugged through. I hope you feel that you got a little taste of Italy and Greece by reading. :)
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The Adventures of Maria, Luigi, and Toadistoola
If you're curious about the title, think back to old-school video games. Mario Kart, anyone? These became our Italian names for the week. And oh, what fun it is imitating the Italian accent! Yes, your long-lost French blog-writer has returned. I've been back in France since last Saturday night.
I've been wondering how in the world I will recount all my stories to you in one blog entry. There's the strategy of my friend Clare: write the highlights. And there's the strategy of my friend Stephanie: write in installments. However, I love words... AND details. So, unfortunately for you, you get neither highlights nor installments. You get the whole kit and kaboodle. Fortunately, however, I have not yet had time to write about Greece. So you'll get one post now about Rome and the next post at the end of the weekend about Greece. I would suggest grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting someplace comfortable. For those who dare, you have a lot of reading ahead of you...
I left Friday morning on a train from Nantes to Paris. I always find myself people-watching on the train- there was the 40-year old man sitting next to me playing video games, the couple across from me eating fruit cake, and the business women chatting in French (a conversation I actually understood)! Arriving at the airport, I discovered that I had plenty of time to spare. I bought an overly priced sandwich for lunch and plopped down to read my newly purchased French version of Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. When it was finally time to check in and go through security, I started to get nervous because not only was everyone’s carry-on bag much smaller than mine, but the airline was making people pay for and check these small bags. As I stepped up to the counter, I thought Please, God… I can’t afford to check my bag! The woman had me weigh the bag and I have to believe that God somehow blinded her vision because she said nothing and handed me my boarding pass. Praise the Lord!
After waiting in a cramped waiting room for an hour and a half, we finally got in line to board the plane. I heard a guy behind me ask, “You’re American, eh?” as he pointed in the direction of my passport. This guy and I began talking and we discovered that we were both studying in France, just in different cities. We began comparing notes regarding American culture and French culture – a conversation that lasted our entire “wait-in-line” time. We agreed to meet after our flight to take the train into Rome together. It was incredibly nice to have a traveling companion because up until that point, I had begun to feel a bit lonely. Finding the train was a process but having Mike there to lead the way was great. Fortunately he was a good conversationalist because we spent the next 30 minutes on the train talking too. He also had a terrible traveling solo experience during his semester abroad and we both agreed that having someone with you is the way to go. When the train arrived at Termini Station in Rome, we parted ways and I went running towards Colleen and Clare (my two friends from Hope who are studying in Spain and with whom I traveled in Rome) who were waiting near the platform. It was the most wonderful sensation to see familiar faces and to hear familiar voices. As we walked towards our lodging, we were like three long-lost friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. We couldn’t catch up fast enough – cutting each other off and telling story after story after story. It was great.
We actually ended up spending most of the week with Clare’s brother, John. He is a grad student studying in Rome this semester. A program through his school facilitates a housing situation – a mini “dorm” of sorts run by a man and his family living in Italy. But there are probably only 15 or so students who live with them, most from John’s school in the States. Anyway, for only 15 euro a night, we could stay in their spare room and eat a free lunch. We didn’t know this until we arrived, though, so Colleen and I had already booked hostels. We were able to cancel all but two nights.
The first night we stayed at John’s. So we settled in and then headed out for some much-needed dinner. John took us to a really cool part of town (after a stop at the Colosseum) for pizza at this really authentic but cheap Italian restaurant. We sat outside eating the most delicious margherita pizza and catching up some more. We spent some time after dinner walking around Rome and a mere half hour later, I had fallen in love with the city. There were restaurants left and right with outdoor seating at cute tables and twinkle lights hanging above. Everything was so historic and picturesque. It was simply quaint.
The next morning Colleen and I headed to our hostel, which was in a city outside of Rome called Ostia. It was quite the trek and we were both thankful we would only have to make it for two days. The hostel was huge and certainly nice but it was too far from the city for my taste. Additionally, on the website they had advertised its location on the beach. The beach, however, was quite dirty and not exactly the definition of serene. Col and I picnicked on the beach that afternoon but it was not exactly “top-notch” despite the fact that we only paid 3 euro each for quite a feast!
That evening we met our roommates, two Belgian girls, who seemed quite nice. After a rousing game of ping-pong (ha!), Colleen and I wandered around Ostia for awhile before finding a cute Italian (of course) restaurant at which to eat. I had a most delicious salmon-fettuccini mix and Colleen tried gnocchi. We learned that in Italy, you must ASK for the bill (after waiting close to an hour for our check) and there is always a service charge/bread charge for sitting down and eating. There was a little girl sitting at the table next to us who was completely enamored by us and our English. She couldn’t stop staring! We also discovered the “flower-sellers” of Italy. The immigrants, unable to find other jobs, wander around selling toys and roses. It wouldn’t be all that unusual except for the fact that they’re allowed to come into the restaurants and bother the customers. We were approached no less than three times during dinner by the same man trying to sell us roses!
When we arrived back at our hostel, we discovered that one of our Belgian roommates was sick (she had the trash can strategically placed at her bedside). Colleen and I reasoned that they must have extra beds somewhere as big as the place was (and neither of us envied getting sick for our first few days in Rome). So we explained the situation to the front desk and they very kindly moved us to our own room! And we were thus able to sleep in peace.
For approximately five hours. We woke up at 5 a.m. to make our hour’s journey back into the city in order to meet Clare, John, and another girl from John’s school named Heidi. Colleen and I had a little bit of trouble finding the train station in Ostia, a challenge that had us making a mad dash in our church dresses after a bus heading in the right direction. If only there had been someone tape-recording us…
We surprisingly made it to our destination on time. The five of us met a friend of John and Heidi’s named Bistra, a Bulgarian woman who has lived in Rome for 5 years. She was a welcome addition to the group and so sweet. We made a quick stop at the most delicious pastry shop for chocolate-lemon pastry gooeyness and a cappuccino. We then headed to Palm Sunday mass with the Pope. The mass was held in Vatican City in front of St. Peter’s Basilica. John managed to get us each a ticket and we made our way through the mob to get some relatively good seats. The mass was one of the most interesting experiences I’ve had. It began with the procession of bishops, cardinals, etc… followed lastly by Pope Benedict himself. We were standing quite close to him at that point, but the procession eventually moved to the front of the basilica. The mass was close to 3 hours long and it was spoken in multiple languages, although the primary language spoken was Italian. Even though I didn’t understand what was being said, I used the mass booklet to compare the language to French. They’re surprisingly similar. Near the end of the mass, the Pope gave a “shout-out” to various countries, speaking in their respective languages. This was the most intriguing part because any people in the crowd from whichever country he was addressing would begin screaming and yelling at the beginning of his discourse. We quickly learned that the Spanish and the Polish were the best represented and consequently, the loudest. Graffiti signs made especially for the pope were held up and a loud chanting of “Viva el Papa!” resounded among the crowd. It was most certainly a very different Palm Sunday from that of Knox Presbyterian.
After watching the Pope ride through the crowd in his Pope mobile, we headed in search of gelato. Having mandatory daily gelato became a sort of joke between us throughout the week – but we took this joke VERY seriously. Not a day went by that didn’t contain the wonderfulness of Italian gelato. It was of course necessary to try new flavors and to search for the-best-price-for-the-most-gelato place. This task, though, did not prove to be difficult (how could it?) and we were able to find the most adorable gelato place (as we did all other days) after mass on Sunday. I’m also fairly certain that most all of the Italian words I learned that week revolve around ordering gelato.
After gelato, we stopped for lunch (spaghetti) and then did a little sight-seeing. We saw Piazza Navonna (a little plaza with a bunch of vendors selling their artwork), the Pantheon (the famous “dome” rooftop that apparently keeps most of any rain out despite the open hole at the top of the dome), and the Trevi Fountain (fondly dubbed the “Trygve” fountain by Colleen). We dutifully threw a penny over our shoulders into the fountain which is supposed to signify your return to Rome one day. I can only hope it works!
After a little down-time and a stop at the grocery store for dinner (where an Italian woman so kindly rolled her eyes at us for attempting to buy chicken by speaking Italian), we headed out for the evening. Bistra wanted to take us to a Bavarian bar, so we met up with her and Heidi, and the six of us made the walk across town. On our way, Bistra showed us her “lucky fountain” that she insisted we drink from. These little fountains were all over Rome and I truthfully failed miserable at mastering the art of drinking from them. The Bavarian bar that Bistra took us to was really cool and while I don’t like beer very much, I tried a sort of fruity, sweet beer that I actually enjoyed. It was a fun night with lots of laughter and when Colleen and I returned to our hostel later, we were ready to hit the sack!
The next morning, Col and I checked out of our hostel early only to run into rush-hour metro traffic. Talk about being claustrophobic! We settled in at John’s place and then Clare, Col, and I set out for a morning at the Vatican. Although we made a solid attempt at getting there early, we still ended up waiting in line to the museum for close to an hour. The tour of the Vatican museum was phenomenal – we saw gorgeous painted ceilings, sculptures up the wazoo and the famous sculpture Laocoon, which I remembered learning about in senior year Humanities art history class. Everything was gorgeous and gave me a new appreciation for art and the talent these painters and sculptors must have had! The grand finale was the Sistine Chapel – a masterpiece worth seeing in every way. Michelangelo painted a beautiful chapel and it was amazing standing in a room so historically famous. I especially loved the “hand of God” portion located on the ceiling where Michelangelo paints the hand of God outstretched towards man. I was able to get a few pictures despite the big, balding Italian man who screamed in the most wonderful, big, booming Italian accent “NO PHOTO” and “SILENZIO” at everyone in the room.
For lunch, we ate “pizza by the kilo,” a genius Italian idea. You choose however many kinds of pizza you want, they cut your slices into small squares, weigh the squares, and then you pay “by the kilo.” It’s fantastic and cheap. So after pizza by the kilo, I tried my first canoli (delicious!) and we headed to St. Peter’s Basilica. The church was as beautiful on the inside as it had been on the outside Sunday morning. The famous Pieta is located inside, a most precious sculpture to see. We took turns petting a statue’s foot (which was incredibly worn down by years of human touch) – a traditional thing to do in St. Peter’s in order to symbolize your pilgrimage there. Memorials of various popes were everywhere and we learned later from John that everything in the basilica (even all of the “paintings”) is mosaic. This astounded us and John called each of us a “Doubting Thomas…” Unfortunately, we didn’t know about the tombs of the popes in the basement or the aerial view of Rome from the top of the church, so we missed out on those. I, however, just consider them reason to go back!
That evening, I received a worried call from my mother (who was demanded to call me by my father) in regards to the earthquake in Italy the night before. Ironically, I had woken up during the night to find my bed shaking. I figured I was dreaming and fell back asleep. It wasn’t until the next day that I realized it had indeed been an earthquake. Aquila suffered a large number of deaths and much damage. So to be fair, Dad had some reason to worry. However, we were absolutely fine. After reassuring my parents that I was safe, the three of us girls, John, Heidi, and Mario (another guy from their program) went for gelato and to see the Spanish steps. It was a great gelato place and a slightly unimpressive monument but a fun night to hang out with old and new friends while seeing the beautiful city of Rome at night.
Tuesday was our day trip to Assisi (a little historic town north of Rome). We had all agreed that it would be nice to get out of Rome for a day and it only cost 20 euro for a round-trip ticket. John came with us and acted as leader for the day as he had already been there. On the train, I fell asleep while in the middle of doing a Sudoku puzzle. Evidently, the pencil I was using fell out of my hand after I nodded off. Because a very nice Italian woman getting off the train picked it up and attempted to place it carefully on me while trying not to disturb me. I felt the slightest touch, though, and jumped a foot in the air (apparently believing someone was trying to rob me). The poor woman was quite startled and started apologizing in Italian and saying that she was only picking up my pencil for me. It was quite the interaction – poor thing!
Assisi was such a pretty little town and it was cool to see a bit of the Italian countryside. We began the day with a visit to the Church of St. Francis, one of the most important saints in the Catholic faith. After seeing that church, we hiked down a very scenic path to a little church called St. Damiano. This church was much smaller and located in a very quiet, serene part of the village. The hike back up was quite a task (we did SO much hiking/walking that day) and by the time we got to the next church (St. Clare’s), we were sweaty and exhausted. After seeing the tomb of St. Clare (which was decorated Arabian-style with beautiful azure blue ceilings) and reading some of the famous words spoken by her, we decided to go for lunch. Finally all our hard work would pay off!
Unfortunately, we failed to remember that many restaurants in Italy close at 2:30 and don’t re-open again until 7 or 7:30. John (who we fondly dubbed Giovanni) promised us that they would re-open around 4:00. So we decided to eat our mandatory gelato to tide us over until then. After finishing another yummy gelato, John informed us that after asking some of the locals, it looked pretty unlikely that anything would open until about seven o’clock. Before the three of us could groan and moan, he suggested eating pizza by the kilo for something more substantial than gelato. We quickly agreed. We then made the trek to the top of Assisi where a castle of sorts overlooked the whole city. We had some incredible views of the picturesque village. While climbing down, we made two very important decisions regarding eating. Number one: it would make more sense to take the train back to Rome and eat dinner there rather than to wait in Assisi for two hours in order to get food. Number two: although we were not hungry for dinner, it was probably a good idea to stop at the pastry shop we had passed earlier in order to eat a canoli. We declared this particular day our “fattest” day in Italy.
When we got back to Rome, John took us to a favorite restaurant of his. It was quite lovely (I had tuna spaghetti) and John treated us to wine and a cheese plate. I informed him that such behavior was that of a Frenchman! The waiters at this little restaurant were these cute, old, Italian men who said things like “Gratzi, Bella” and brought you a spoon to eat your spaghetti when you fail with a fork and knife. I liked the place immensely.
Wednesday was my last day in Rome with Clare and Colleen. Our first stop of the day was to a prison were the apostles Peter and Paul had once been imprisoned for preaching the gospel. What a humbling experience. We walked into a pit of sorts that was literally the size of our living room. There was one hole in the ceiling that evidently did nothing but allow the prisoners to hear the laughs and jeers of the guards. Heidi, Mario, and John explained that at any given time there were most likely 50-100 prisoners crammed into the prison – all living in their own feces. It was humbling to see how Christians were persecuted then and yet how strong and persistent the apostles were in their faith. The experience made me once again very grateful for the freedom we have in our country to worship God. However, I was also saddened to think about how many people are still persecuted today for their faith in Jesus.
Our task for this particular morning involved a hunt for a dessert affectionately called “Benedicto cake.” John told us about this to-die-for cake that they had eaten once from a bakery in the Jewish ghetto. The cake is apparently called Benedicto cake because it is most loved by Pope Benedict himself. Therefore we HAD to go searching for it. John, Heidi, and Mario were slightly unsure about where precisely the bakery was located. Heidi went into one that looked promising and asked if they had Benedicto cake. The woman replied that of course they had it and pointed to a cake that bore no resemblance to the real Benedicto cake. But after more searching and no Benedicto cake, we were just as happy to accept a slice of “fake” Benedicto cake. Walking farther down the street later on, we found the location of the bakery, but due to Passover, they weren’t making any unleavened goods and therefore, no Benedicto cake. Such is life... although, on the bright side, we did get a delicious slice of cake and another reason to return to Rome out of the deal.
Wednesday afternoon, John, Mario, and another guy in their program (Brian) took us to St. Paul’s Basilica. Of all the churches we visited, this one was by far my favorite. It was a perfect mixture of simplicity and ornate. The architecture was traditional but the decoration held a lot of meaning. Around the top of the ceiling there were circular portraits running the length of the church. The beginning of the portraits began with Paul and then commenced down the lineage of Popes. Pope Benedict’s portrait was lit up to signify his current service. Above these portraits were paintings that, in order, told the story of Peter and Paul’s discipleship. In the nave there was a large painting of Jesus that people could pay to light up. And in the center of the church was St. Paul’s tomb; above the tomb hung the actual chains that held him in prison. It was a very cool memorial to a truly devoted apostle. Overall the church was lovely and I enjoyed taking some time to just think and pray.
We had every intention of seeing the Catacombs after our visit to St. Paul’s, but by the time we made the trek out there, they had closed for the day. So we took a walk instead… all the way down Appean Way. Appean Way is one of the oldest roads in Rome and the road many (including Peter and Paul) would have used to reach the city back in the day. As the old expression goes, “All roads lead to Rome…” and this one certainly did. It was a neat experience walking the same path that the disciples and other important figures once walked. You could even see the chariot marks in the stones! After taking some pictures and enjoying the most lovely evening weather, we took the bus home (which involved waiting for the bus on a very busy road of cars with drivers who liked to STARE; many a staring contest took place). After relaxing for a bit, we spent our last night in Rome at the cheap little restaurant that we loved so much the first night, eating a most delicious tiramisu AND mandatory gelato (I’m pretty sure I gained ten pounds in Italy), and going to an Irish pub with John, Heidi, Bistra, and Brian.
The next morning was “doomsday” in a sense. I had been dreading the morning of Col and Clare’s departure all day Wednesday. It had been so wonderful to be with old friends and I wasn’t ready yet to say good-bye to familiarity. The poor girls had to get up at the crack of dawn, so I woke up with them… briefly. Attempting to hold back tears (dramatic, I know), I hugged them goodbye and went back to sleep. Thursday was kind of a lonely day. John and Heidi were sweet enough to take me out to coffee after lunch and then pointed me in the direction of shopping. I shopped for a bit and then found a little coffee place where I could sit down and journal (what you’re reading right now)! Normally I yearn to have days to myself and I love spending hours in coffee shops. But for some reason, doing so in a big, foreign city has a different feel – and frankly, it’s just a tad bit lonely. I ended up meeting my friend Alyssa (with whom I traveled to Greece) and her friend for dinner. The night, however, ended there and I headed back to “my room” and hit the sack.
Friday dawned and I spent the morning packing up and bidding my good-byes to John and Heidi. I then met Alyssa for lunch and to do a bit of souvenir shopping. Later on, we made our way out to our hostel – a camping site way outside the city. We picked it because it was cheap and they had an airport transfer service, which we needed to use very early the next morning.
When we first arrived, I thought to myself, what in the world have we gotten ourselves into? We were given a key to a mini log cabin with five beds and told that the bathrooms were not far (TRUE camping). Shortly after we dumped our stuff in our woodsy-scented cabin, a girl walked in who looked to be our age. We introduced ourselves (her name was Grace Ann) and discovered that she was American as well! We then compared our answers to the “Which state are you from?” question and found out she’s from Ohio. What was even more ironic was that she goes to Eastern Michigan University, which is located 25 minutes from my house! I just adore small world connections. We then met a guy named Alex from Minnesota and the four of us decided to have dinner together. We compared study abroad stories (us from France, Grace Ann from Norway, and Alex from England) all throughout dinner. After dinner, we walked along the beach. It was dark and impossible to see hardly anything but the almost-black waters of the Mediterranean Sea. We built sandcastles and dipped our feet in the water and all remarked what an awesome experience the night had been.
YOU’VE MADE IT THROUGH THE FIRST WEEK! Greece to come hopefully Sunday (along with pictures)!
I've been wondering how in the world I will recount all my stories to you in one blog entry. There's the strategy of my friend Clare: write the highlights. And there's the strategy of my friend Stephanie: write in installments. However, I love words... AND details. So, unfortunately for you, you get neither highlights nor installments. You get the whole kit and kaboodle. Fortunately, however, I have not yet had time to write about Greece. So you'll get one post now about Rome and the next post at the end of the weekend about Greece. I would suggest grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting someplace comfortable. For those who dare, you have a lot of reading ahead of you...
I left Friday morning on a train from Nantes to Paris. I always find myself people-watching on the train- there was the 40-year old man sitting next to me playing video games, the couple across from me eating fruit cake, and the business women chatting in French (a conversation I actually understood)! Arriving at the airport, I discovered that I had plenty of time to spare. I bought an overly priced sandwich for lunch and plopped down to read my newly purchased French version of Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. When it was finally time to check in and go through security, I started to get nervous because not only was everyone’s carry-on bag much smaller than mine, but the airline was making people pay for and check these small bags. As I stepped up to the counter, I thought Please, God… I can’t afford to check my bag! The woman had me weigh the bag and I have to believe that God somehow blinded her vision because she said nothing and handed me my boarding pass. Praise the Lord!
After waiting in a cramped waiting room for an hour and a half, we finally got in line to board the plane. I heard a guy behind me ask, “You’re American, eh?” as he pointed in the direction of my passport. This guy and I began talking and we discovered that we were both studying in France, just in different cities. We began comparing notes regarding American culture and French culture – a conversation that lasted our entire “wait-in-line” time. We agreed to meet after our flight to take the train into Rome together. It was incredibly nice to have a traveling companion because up until that point, I had begun to feel a bit lonely. Finding the train was a process but having Mike there to lead the way was great. Fortunately he was a good conversationalist because we spent the next 30 minutes on the train talking too. He also had a terrible traveling solo experience during his semester abroad and we both agreed that having someone with you is the way to go. When the train arrived at Termini Station in Rome, we parted ways and I went running towards Colleen and Clare (my two friends from Hope who are studying in Spain and with whom I traveled in Rome) who were waiting near the platform. It was the most wonderful sensation to see familiar faces and to hear familiar voices. As we walked towards our lodging, we were like three long-lost friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. We couldn’t catch up fast enough – cutting each other off and telling story after story after story. It was great.
We actually ended up spending most of the week with Clare’s brother, John. He is a grad student studying in Rome this semester. A program through his school facilitates a housing situation – a mini “dorm” of sorts run by a man and his family living in Italy. But there are probably only 15 or so students who live with them, most from John’s school in the States. Anyway, for only 15 euro a night, we could stay in their spare room and eat a free lunch. We didn’t know this until we arrived, though, so Colleen and I had already booked hostels. We were able to cancel all but two nights.
The first night we stayed at John’s. So we settled in and then headed out for some much-needed dinner. John took us to a really cool part of town (after a stop at the Colosseum) for pizza at this really authentic but cheap Italian restaurant. We sat outside eating the most delicious margherita pizza and catching up some more. We spent some time after dinner walking around Rome and a mere half hour later, I had fallen in love with the city. There were restaurants left and right with outdoor seating at cute tables and twinkle lights hanging above. Everything was so historic and picturesque. It was simply quaint.
The next morning Colleen and I headed to our hostel, which was in a city outside of Rome called Ostia. It was quite the trek and we were both thankful we would only have to make it for two days. The hostel was huge and certainly nice but it was too far from the city for my taste. Additionally, on the website they had advertised its location on the beach. The beach, however, was quite dirty and not exactly the definition of serene. Col and I picnicked on the beach that afternoon but it was not exactly “top-notch” despite the fact that we only paid 3 euro each for quite a feast!
That evening we met our roommates, two Belgian girls, who seemed quite nice. After a rousing game of ping-pong (ha!), Colleen and I wandered around Ostia for awhile before finding a cute Italian (of course) restaurant at which to eat. I had a most delicious salmon-fettuccini mix and Colleen tried gnocchi. We learned that in Italy, you must ASK for the bill (after waiting close to an hour for our check) and there is always a service charge/bread charge for sitting down and eating. There was a little girl sitting at the table next to us who was completely enamored by us and our English. She couldn’t stop staring! We also discovered the “flower-sellers” of Italy. The immigrants, unable to find other jobs, wander around selling toys and roses. It wouldn’t be all that unusual except for the fact that they’re allowed to come into the restaurants and bother the customers. We were approached no less than three times during dinner by the same man trying to sell us roses!
When we arrived back at our hostel, we discovered that one of our Belgian roommates was sick (she had the trash can strategically placed at her bedside). Colleen and I reasoned that they must have extra beds somewhere as big as the place was (and neither of us envied getting sick for our first few days in Rome). So we explained the situation to the front desk and they very kindly moved us to our own room! And we were thus able to sleep in peace.
For approximately five hours. We woke up at 5 a.m. to make our hour’s journey back into the city in order to meet Clare, John, and another girl from John’s school named Heidi. Colleen and I had a little bit of trouble finding the train station in Ostia, a challenge that had us making a mad dash in our church dresses after a bus heading in the right direction. If only there had been someone tape-recording us…
We surprisingly made it to our destination on time. The five of us met a friend of John and Heidi’s named Bistra, a Bulgarian woman who has lived in Rome for 5 years. She was a welcome addition to the group and so sweet. We made a quick stop at the most delicious pastry shop for chocolate-lemon pastry gooeyness and a cappuccino. We then headed to Palm Sunday mass with the Pope. The mass was held in Vatican City in front of St. Peter’s Basilica. John managed to get us each a ticket and we made our way through the mob to get some relatively good seats. The mass was one of the most interesting experiences I’ve had. It began with the procession of bishops, cardinals, etc… followed lastly by Pope Benedict himself. We were standing quite close to him at that point, but the procession eventually moved to the front of the basilica. The mass was close to 3 hours long and it was spoken in multiple languages, although the primary language spoken was Italian. Even though I didn’t understand what was being said, I used the mass booklet to compare the language to French. They’re surprisingly similar. Near the end of the mass, the Pope gave a “shout-out” to various countries, speaking in their respective languages. This was the most intriguing part because any people in the crowd from whichever country he was addressing would begin screaming and yelling at the beginning of his discourse. We quickly learned that the Spanish and the Polish were the best represented and consequently, the loudest. Graffiti signs made especially for the pope were held up and a loud chanting of “Viva el Papa!” resounded among the crowd. It was most certainly a very different Palm Sunday from that of Knox Presbyterian.
After watching the Pope ride through the crowd in his Pope mobile, we headed in search of gelato. Having mandatory daily gelato became a sort of joke between us throughout the week – but we took this joke VERY seriously. Not a day went by that didn’t contain the wonderfulness of Italian gelato. It was of course necessary to try new flavors and to search for the-best-price-for-the-most-gelato place. This task, though, did not prove to be difficult (how could it?) and we were able to find the most adorable gelato place (as we did all other days) after mass on Sunday. I’m also fairly certain that most all of the Italian words I learned that week revolve around ordering gelato.
After gelato, we stopped for lunch (spaghetti) and then did a little sight-seeing. We saw Piazza Navonna (a little plaza with a bunch of vendors selling their artwork), the Pantheon (the famous “dome” rooftop that apparently keeps most of any rain out despite the open hole at the top of the dome), and the Trevi Fountain (fondly dubbed the “Trygve” fountain by Colleen). We dutifully threw a penny over our shoulders into the fountain which is supposed to signify your return to Rome one day. I can only hope it works!
After a little down-time and a stop at the grocery store for dinner (where an Italian woman so kindly rolled her eyes at us for attempting to buy chicken by speaking Italian), we headed out for the evening. Bistra wanted to take us to a Bavarian bar, so we met up with her and Heidi, and the six of us made the walk across town. On our way, Bistra showed us her “lucky fountain” that she insisted we drink from. These little fountains were all over Rome and I truthfully failed miserable at mastering the art of drinking from them. The Bavarian bar that Bistra took us to was really cool and while I don’t like beer very much, I tried a sort of fruity, sweet beer that I actually enjoyed. It was a fun night with lots of laughter and when Colleen and I returned to our hostel later, we were ready to hit the sack!
The next morning, Col and I checked out of our hostel early only to run into rush-hour metro traffic. Talk about being claustrophobic! We settled in at John’s place and then Clare, Col, and I set out for a morning at the Vatican. Although we made a solid attempt at getting there early, we still ended up waiting in line to the museum for close to an hour. The tour of the Vatican museum was phenomenal – we saw gorgeous painted ceilings, sculptures up the wazoo and the famous sculpture Laocoon, which I remembered learning about in senior year Humanities art history class. Everything was gorgeous and gave me a new appreciation for art and the talent these painters and sculptors must have had! The grand finale was the Sistine Chapel – a masterpiece worth seeing in every way. Michelangelo painted a beautiful chapel and it was amazing standing in a room so historically famous. I especially loved the “hand of God” portion located on the ceiling where Michelangelo paints the hand of God outstretched towards man. I was able to get a few pictures despite the big, balding Italian man who screamed in the most wonderful, big, booming Italian accent “NO PHOTO” and “SILENZIO” at everyone in the room.
For lunch, we ate “pizza by the kilo,” a genius Italian idea. You choose however many kinds of pizza you want, they cut your slices into small squares, weigh the squares, and then you pay “by the kilo.” It’s fantastic and cheap. So after pizza by the kilo, I tried my first canoli (delicious!) and we headed to St. Peter’s Basilica. The church was as beautiful on the inside as it had been on the outside Sunday morning. The famous Pieta is located inside, a most precious sculpture to see. We took turns petting a statue’s foot (which was incredibly worn down by years of human touch) – a traditional thing to do in St. Peter’s in order to symbolize your pilgrimage there. Memorials of various popes were everywhere and we learned later from John that everything in the basilica (even all of the “paintings”) is mosaic. This astounded us and John called each of us a “Doubting Thomas…” Unfortunately, we didn’t know about the tombs of the popes in the basement or the aerial view of Rome from the top of the church, so we missed out on those. I, however, just consider them reason to go back!
That evening, I received a worried call from my mother (who was demanded to call me by my father) in regards to the earthquake in Italy the night before. Ironically, I had woken up during the night to find my bed shaking. I figured I was dreaming and fell back asleep. It wasn’t until the next day that I realized it had indeed been an earthquake. Aquila suffered a large number of deaths and much damage. So to be fair, Dad had some reason to worry. However, we were absolutely fine. After reassuring my parents that I was safe, the three of us girls, John, Heidi, and Mario (another guy from their program) went for gelato and to see the Spanish steps. It was a great gelato place and a slightly unimpressive monument but a fun night to hang out with old and new friends while seeing the beautiful city of Rome at night.
Tuesday was our day trip to Assisi (a little historic town north of Rome). We had all agreed that it would be nice to get out of Rome for a day and it only cost 20 euro for a round-trip ticket. John came with us and acted as leader for the day as he had already been there. On the train, I fell asleep while in the middle of doing a Sudoku puzzle. Evidently, the pencil I was using fell out of my hand after I nodded off. Because a very nice Italian woman getting off the train picked it up and attempted to place it carefully on me while trying not to disturb me. I felt the slightest touch, though, and jumped a foot in the air (apparently believing someone was trying to rob me). The poor woman was quite startled and started apologizing in Italian and saying that she was only picking up my pencil for me. It was quite the interaction – poor thing!
Assisi was such a pretty little town and it was cool to see a bit of the Italian countryside. We began the day with a visit to the Church of St. Francis, one of the most important saints in the Catholic faith. After seeing that church, we hiked down a very scenic path to a little church called St. Damiano. This church was much smaller and located in a very quiet, serene part of the village. The hike back up was quite a task (we did SO much hiking/walking that day) and by the time we got to the next church (St. Clare’s), we were sweaty and exhausted. After seeing the tomb of St. Clare (which was decorated Arabian-style with beautiful azure blue ceilings) and reading some of the famous words spoken by her, we decided to go for lunch. Finally all our hard work would pay off!
Unfortunately, we failed to remember that many restaurants in Italy close at 2:30 and don’t re-open again until 7 or 7:30. John (who we fondly dubbed Giovanni) promised us that they would re-open around 4:00. So we decided to eat our mandatory gelato to tide us over until then. After finishing another yummy gelato, John informed us that after asking some of the locals, it looked pretty unlikely that anything would open until about seven o’clock. Before the three of us could groan and moan, he suggested eating pizza by the kilo for something more substantial than gelato. We quickly agreed. We then made the trek to the top of Assisi where a castle of sorts overlooked the whole city. We had some incredible views of the picturesque village. While climbing down, we made two very important decisions regarding eating. Number one: it would make more sense to take the train back to Rome and eat dinner there rather than to wait in Assisi for two hours in order to get food. Number two: although we were not hungry for dinner, it was probably a good idea to stop at the pastry shop we had passed earlier in order to eat a canoli. We declared this particular day our “fattest” day in Italy.
When we got back to Rome, John took us to a favorite restaurant of his. It was quite lovely (I had tuna spaghetti) and John treated us to wine and a cheese plate. I informed him that such behavior was that of a Frenchman! The waiters at this little restaurant were these cute, old, Italian men who said things like “Gratzi, Bella” and brought you a spoon to eat your spaghetti when you fail with a fork and knife. I liked the place immensely.
Wednesday was my last day in Rome with Clare and Colleen. Our first stop of the day was to a prison were the apostles Peter and Paul had once been imprisoned for preaching the gospel. What a humbling experience. We walked into a pit of sorts that was literally the size of our living room. There was one hole in the ceiling that evidently did nothing but allow the prisoners to hear the laughs and jeers of the guards. Heidi, Mario, and John explained that at any given time there were most likely 50-100 prisoners crammed into the prison – all living in their own feces. It was humbling to see how Christians were persecuted then and yet how strong and persistent the apostles were in their faith. The experience made me once again very grateful for the freedom we have in our country to worship God. However, I was also saddened to think about how many people are still persecuted today for their faith in Jesus.
Our task for this particular morning involved a hunt for a dessert affectionately called “Benedicto cake.” John told us about this to-die-for cake that they had eaten once from a bakery in the Jewish ghetto. The cake is apparently called Benedicto cake because it is most loved by Pope Benedict himself. Therefore we HAD to go searching for it. John, Heidi, and Mario were slightly unsure about where precisely the bakery was located. Heidi went into one that looked promising and asked if they had Benedicto cake. The woman replied that of course they had it and pointed to a cake that bore no resemblance to the real Benedicto cake. But after more searching and no Benedicto cake, we were just as happy to accept a slice of “fake” Benedicto cake. Walking farther down the street later on, we found the location of the bakery, but due to Passover, they weren’t making any unleavened goods and therefore, no Benedicto cake. Such is life... although, on the bright side, we did get a delicious slice of cake and another reason to return to Rome out of the deal.
Wednesday afternoon, John, Mario, and another guy in their program (Brian) took us to St. Paul’s Basilica. Of all the churches we visited, this one was by far my favorite. It was a perfect mixture of simplicity and ornate. The architecture was traditional but the decoration held a lot of meaning. Around the top of the ceiling there were circular portraits running the length of the church. The beginning of the portraits began with Paul and then commenced down the lineage of Popes. Pope Benedict’s portrait was lit up to signify his current service. Above these portraits were paintings that, in order, told the story of Peter and Paul’s discipleship. In the nave there was a large painting of Jesus that people could pay to light up. And in the center of the church was St. Paul’s tomb; above the tomb hung the actual chains that held him in prison. It was a very cool memorial to a truly devoted apostle. Overall the church was lovely and I enjoyed taking some time to just think and pray.
We had every intention of seeing the Catacombs after our visit to St. Paul’s, but by the time we made the trek out there, they had closed for the day. So we took a walk instead… all the way down Appean Way. Appean Way is one of the oldest roads in Rome and the road many (including Peter and Paul) would have used to reach the city back in the day. As the old expression goes, “All roads lead to Rome…” and this one certainly did. It was a neat experience walking the same path that the disciples and other important figures once walked. You could even see the chariot marks in the stones! After taking some pictures and enjoying the most lovely evening weather, we took the bus home (which involved waiting for the bus on a very busy road of cars with drivers who liked to STARE; many a staring contest took place). After relaxing for a bit, we spent our last night in Rome at the cheap little restaurant that we loved so much the first night, eating a most delicious tiramisu AND mandatory gelato (I’m pretty sure I gained ten pounds in Italy), and going to an Irish pub with John, Heidi, Bistra, and Brian.
The next morning was “doomsday” in a sense. I had been dreading the morning of Col and Clare’s departure all day Wednesday. It had been so wonderful to be with old friends and I wasn’t ready yet to say good-bye to familiarity. The poor girls had to get up at the crack of dawn, so I woke up with them… briefly. Attempting to hold back tears (dramatic, I know), I hugged them goodbye and went back to sleep. Thursday was kind of a lonely day. John and Heidi were sweet enough to take me out to coffee after lunch and then pointed me in the direction of shopping. I shopped for a bit and then found a little coffee place where I could sit down and journal (what you’re reading right now)! Normally I yearn to have days to myself and I love spending hours in coffee shops. But for some reason, doing so in a big, foreign city has a different feel – and frankly, it’s just a tad bit lonely. I ended up meeting my friend Alyssa (with whom I traveled to Greece) and her friend for dinner. The night, however, ended there and I headed back to “my room” and hit the sack.
Friday dawned and I spent the morning packing up and bidding my good-byes to John and Heidi. I then met Alyssa for lunch and to do a bit of souvenir shopping. Later on, we made our way out to our hostel – a camping site way outside the city. We picked it because it was cheap and they had an airport transfer service, which we needed to use very early the next morning.
When we first arrived, I thought to myself, what in the world have we gotten ourselves into? We were given a key to a mini log cabin with five beds and told that the bathrooms were not far (TRUE camping). Shortly after we dumped our stuff in our woodsy-scented cabin, a girl walked in who looked to be our age. We introduced ourselves (her name was Grace Ann) and discovered that she was American as well! We then compared our answers to the “Which state are you from?” question and found out she’s from Ohio. What was even more ironic was that she goes to Eastern Michigan University, which is located 25 minutes from my house! I just adore small world connections. We then met a guy named Alex from Minnesota and the four of us decided to have dinner together. We compared study abroad stories (us from France, Grace Ann from Norway, and Alex from England) all throughout dinner. After dinner, we walked along the beach. It was dark and impossible to see hardly anything but the almost-black waters of the Mediterranean Sea. We built sandcastles and dipped our feet in the water and all remarked what an awesome experience the night had been.
YOU’VE MADE IT THROUGH THE FIRST WEEK! Greece to come hopefully Sunday (along with pictures)!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
The Capital of Madeleines and French Family Fun
After spending the last ten hours at my host family’s family reunion, I have come to the conclusion that families are crazy and quirky all over the world. If any of you were wondering whether or not your family is especially strange or bizarre, the answer is no. They are not. I am now fully convinced that there are more similarities than differences among families across the world. Take for example this family reunion I attended. There was the grandmother who passes around pictures, the grandfather who tells jokes and anecdotes, the aunts who all look alike and laugh alike, the uncles who talk movies and politics amongst each other, the cousins who sit together awkwardly until somebody breaks the ice and everyone begins to laugh, and the newborn grandkids who add the worldwide noise of a baby to the hustle and bustle of it all. It was a French-style Lewis family reunion – with one exception. Usually after a family reunion chez moi, my head feels perfectly fine. However, right now… my head literally hurts. Halfway through the afternoon I excused myself to use the bathroom where I rummaged in my purse for two Advil. I don’t think my brain has ever worked itself that hard. I had yet to be in a situation of that sort – where conversations cross in all directions and my brain has to work twice as hard not only to keep up with who is talking, but to also keep up with what each person is saying! But I survived and feel much more competent in French than I did this morning. Ten hours of a language will do that to you.
Overall, I had a lovely day being part of a French family. The “reunion” was held at my host mom’s parent’s house and we had a most delicious lunch with naturally sugared wine and the most delectable cake for dessert. I did a lot of sitting and observing and often felt quite awkward. However, I managed to hold my own and to carry a handful of conversations in French throughout the day. Everyone was incredibly kind and supportive. The best part of the afternoon was when my host mom (who rarely gives compliments) began bragging to everyone about how much I’ve improved with my French and how my written French is practically flawless. Needless to say, I felt quite good about that!
Upon being introduced as the “American,” I am usually asked questions about American culture or Barak Obama. Today proved to be no different. At one point, we were discussing the French lifestyle versus that of America. One of the uncles began comparing the ritualistic nature of the French family dinner (eating together EVERY night) against the very inconsistent nature of the American family dinner. One of the “cousin-in-laws” chuckled to himself and said, “Yeah, the only time American families eat together is at Thanksgiving.” Now usually when these stereotypical comments are made, I just smile and nod. However, when the Thanksgiving comment made its way to the table, I snapped. In an icy sort of tone I said, “I think we eat as a family a little bit more than that.” It was amusing, at least to me, because the look on his face was one of surprise and shame. I really wasn’t upset and I think my tone only came from being tired. But I decided to let him think it had offended me. Because even though we do have inconsistent family time, we still value its importance and Thanksgiving is only one of MANY meals we share together!
One last noteworthy story to share… I was sitting at the dinner table (doing some more observing) and all of a sudden one of the great-grandkids ran up to me. This little boy couldn’t have been more than three or four years old. He looked me straight in the eye and says (in French), “It’s time for you to give me a kiss now because I’m about to leave.” Even the littlest know the importance of the bisous!
I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve updated here. The past couple weeks have been rather stressful planning for vacation and writing 6 page papers in French! Sometimes I forget that I’m here to do school because the workload is much lighter than it is at home. But this past week especially I have been reminded that school is school and I must buckle down and finish my work!
Last weekend we visited Normandy. We woke up really early Saturday morning and made our way to Caen. Caen is this cute little city where the huge memorial is located. It is also the capital of Madeleines! Madeleines are these petit little muffin type cakes. They’re baked in a particular shape and are made with a very specific recipe. When I first saw them at the local grocery store, I just had to try them because my name was on t
he bag! Since then they’ve become a favorite part of French food and I will be quite sad to say good-bye to the Madeleines when I leave. Caen is evidently the creator of this deliciousness and so I now have one too many a picture of me in front of the Madeleine store. We spent the rest of our time in Caen picnicking and enjoying the beautiful sun. If any of you make a trip to Normandy one day, I highly recommend staying in Caen – it was the cutest little town AND you may just get to try a Madeleine!
We then made our way to Pont du Hoc. This part of the coast was a German station. Part of the American’s initial attack involved bombing this station. Their goal was to rid of the weapons supposedly hidden there. However, the weapons were moved before the bombing and it ended up being a lost mission. What is left of the station today, though, is a sight to see. There are actual holes in the ground where the bombs exploded – holes the size of my bedroom! We were able to explore some of the remains of the German bunkers. Interesting fact about Pont du Hoc: apparently about twelve years ago, a group of tourists was exploring Pont du Hoc (as thousands do every year) and a man stepped on the grass only to have is foot blown off! Evidently, when they opened up the Pont to the public, they made sure that all the German mines had been cleared out. It seems, though, that they perhaps didn’t see one! Our trip concluded with a visit to Haras du Pin, a famous horse farm. Normandy is famous for its horses and these horses have won million dollar prizes!
I’ll go ahead and sign off now… this has been more of a novel than I expected!
If possible, I’ll try to update one more time before I leave Friday morning. If not, though, I’ll update with a legitimate novel when I return. I covet your prayers for safe and smooth travel. I leave for Rome this Friday and Athens the following Saturday. I’ll be back on Saturday, April 18.
Overall, I had a lovely day being part of a French family. The “reunion” was held at my host mom’s parent’s house and we had a most delicious lunch with naturally sugared wine and the most delectable cake for dessert. I did a lot of sitting and observing and often felt quite awkward. However, I managed to hold my own and to carry a handful of conversations in French throughout the day. Everyone was incredibly kind and supportive. The best part of the afternoon was when my host mom (who rarely gives compliments) began bragging to everyone about how much I’ve improved with my French and how my written French is practically flawless. Needless to say, I felt quite good about that!
Upon being introduced as the “American,” I am usually asked questions about American culture or Barak Obama. Today proved to be no different. At one point, we were discussing the French lifestyle versus that of America. One of the uncles began comparing the ritualistic nature of the French family dinner (eating together EVERY night) against the very inconsistent nature of the American family dinner. One of the “cousin-in-laws” chuckled to himself and said, “Yeah, the only time American families eat together is at Thanksgiving.” Now usually when these stereotypical comments are made, I just smile and nod. However, when the Thanksgiving comment made its way to the table, I snapped. In an icy sort of tone I said, “I think we eat as a family a little bit more than that.” It was amusing, at least to me, because the look on his face was one of surprise and shame. I really wasn’t upset and I think my tone only came from being tired. But I decided to let him think it had offended me. Because even though we do have inconsistent family time, we still value its importance and Thanksgiving is only one of MANY meals we share together!
One last noteworthy story to share… I was sitting at the dinner table (doing some more observing) and all of a sudden one of the great-grandkids ran up to me. This little boy couldn’t have been more than three or four years old. He looked me straight in the eye and says (in French), “It’s time for you to give me a kiss now because I’m about to leave.” Even the littlest know the importance of the bisous!
I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve updated here. The past couple weeks have been rather stressful planning for vacation and writing 6 page papers in French! Sometimes I forget that I’m here to do school because the workload is much lighter than it is at home. But this past week especially I have been reminded that school is school and I must buckle down and finish my work!
Last weekend we visited Normandy. We woke up really early Saturday morning and made our way to Caen. Caen is this cute little city where the huge memorial is located. It is also the capital of Madeleines! Madeleines are these petit little muffin type cakes. They’re baked in a particular shape and are made with a very specific recipe. When I first saw them at the local grocery store, I just had to try them because my name was on t
he bag! Since then they’ve become a favorite part of French food and I will be quite sad to say good-bye to the Madeleines when I leave. Caen is evidently the creator of this deliciousness and so I now have one too many a picture of me in front of the Madeleine store. We spent the rest of our time in Caen picnicking and enjoying the beautiful sun. If any of you make a trip to Normandy one day, I highly recommend staying in Caen – it was the cutest little town AND you may just get to try a Madeleine!After our lunch, we spent the afternoon at the memorial. The first part of the memorial is a “spiral into Hell” – basically all the steps each country took after World War I to get us to World War II. The second part of the memorial showed how Germany slowly but surely took over. It was an incredibly interesting and powerful memorial. We certainly didn’t have enough time to see it all! We then watched a film that was literally just footage of what happened in Normandy. They showed flashes of the American soldiers charging up Omaha Beach followed by a shot of the calm, peaceful beach today. What a moving contrast. The first film was followed by a second film with the word “hope” in its title. As the film began, I sat there wondering to myself how in the world this film could be about hope. It was basically a summary of all the major disastrous events that have occurred in the world over the past 100 years. However, while it showed the turmoil, it also showed the positive outcome of so many of these situations. And to see, even though we are still in conflict today, the great progress we have made was incredibly hopeful.
Dinner at our hotel followed the memorial. That night, ten of us girls just hung out in our room playing cards and talking. It was a wonderfully relaxing, laughter-filled night.
Sunday morning began with a trip to the American cemetery. I could have spent hours walking through the grave markers and looking at all the different names. It is an absolutely beautiful cemetery. And the soil used to make the memorial is actual American soil. So for just a few minutes I was standing on American soil again. Walking around that cemetery listening to the American anthem, I found my heart swelling with American pride. I know that as a powerful country whose borders needed protecting, it was the right step to debark upon the beaches of Normandy and to begin the fight against all that was evil and wrong. But it was such a sacrifice for so many of those men and their families. They weren’t technically fighting for their own loved ones. They were fighting for justice and for all those being persecuted. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve never been more proud of America than I was that Sunday morning. We also walked down to Omaha Beach and again, the contrast between what I know once took place there and what it looks like today was very powerful.
We then made our way to Pont du Hoc. This part of the coast was a German station. Part of the American’s initial attack involved bombing this station. Their goal was to rid of the weapons supposedly hidden there. However, the weapons were moved before the bombing and it ended up being a lost mission. What is left of the station today, though, is a sight to see. There are actual holes in the ground where the bombs exploded – holes the size of my bedroom! We were able to explore some of the remains of the German bunkers. Interesting fact about Pont du Hoc: apparently about twelve years ago, a group of tourists was exploring Pont du Hoc (as thousands do every year) and a man stepped on the grass only to have is foot blown off! Evidently, when they opened up the Pont to the public, they made sure that all the German mines had been cleared out. It seems, though, that they perhaps didn’t see one! Our trip concluded with a visit to Haras du Pin, a famous horse farm. Normandy is famous for its horses and these horses have won million dollar prizes!
I’ll go ahead and sign off now… this has been more of a novel than I expected!If possible, I’ll try to update one more time before I leave Friday morning. If not, though, I’ll update with a legitimate novel when I return. I covet your prayers for safe and smooth travel. I leave for Rome this Friday and Athens the following Saturday. I’ll be back on Saturday, April 18.
Best wishes to all of you as you jump into April… you’re all in my thoughts and prayers!
Gros bisous,
Madelyn
Gros bisous,
Madelyn
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Dancing "le Rock"
Pictures from the birthday party (left: the whole family minus my host brother, right: Adelaide, Tiphaine, Marie-Emmanuelle, and moi)I never in my wildest dreams imagined that I would actually come to love the French language. However, there are just some expressions in French that are just better said than they are in English. And I'm feeling rather sentimental about the fact that my French-speaking time is more than halfway over. I am still often very frustrated by the language barrier, however I have a feeling I'm going to miss speaking my "second language" when I get home (I put this in quotations because I am still nowhere near fluent!).
Friday was an unusually great day (not that my days here are usually bad, but this day was just particulary wonderful). On Tuesdays and Thursdays during lunch, a Hope graduate, who studied in Nantes two years ago and who now lives in Nantes, eats lunch with us so that we can practice our French in a more relaxed setting but with someone who knows the language better than we do. A group of us (specifically us three Hope girls) have gotten to know Brianne through these lunches and so she invited us over to her apartment Friday afternoon for dessert and conversation. It was a beautiful day Friday and we spent the afternoon eating delicious homemade apple pie and chocolate raspberry cake, drinking tea, and talking. The apartment that Brianne shares with one of her best friends was so cute - they have a mish-mash of furniture and things that people have loaned them. But for some reason, all put together, it makes for a very chic French apartment. It was lovely just sitting and talking while the sun streamed through the windows. Brianne has inspired me to first of all, learn how to make apple pie (it was so delicious) and second of all, live in a foreign country with an apartment like hers. In all seriousness though, I'm starting to give some thought to a year off inbetween graduating from Hope and either going to grad school or getting a job. I had always planned on just leaping right into my first teaching job. But sometimes I wonder if I should give myself the chance to see more of the world before I become a "real" adult. :)
After our afternoon chez Brianne, we went to my friend Michelle's house to celebrate her birthday. We made dinner for us and her host hom and then we watched a French movie called "Comme t'y es belle." Michelle's host mom was so hospitable and welcoming and spent the entire dinner asking each of us about ourselves. It was very kind of her to have us and watching a movie while eating hazelnut ice cream was a sweet finish to a great day.
The next day (Saturday) was THE day that I have had marked on my calendar for weeks. It was the birthday party day. My two oldest host sisters, Marie-Emmanuelle (19) and Tiphaine (17), decided a few weeks ago to have a shared birthday party to celebrate their 20th and 18th birthdays. I was naturally invited and RSVPed yes. I woke up Saturday morning kind of nervous for what was to come. But I spent the day buying and making birthday presents and catching up on some work. When 6:30 rolled around, I started to get ready and by 7:30, I was dressed, presents in hand, ready to tackle a real French party. I headed upstairs to find my three host sisters and one other guest (the rest had yet to arrive). Marie-Emmanuelle introduced me to her friend Mathilde, who was incredibly sweet to me the entire night. We spent a lot of time talking and having a "you-have-to-make-small-talk" kind of conversation in French was a great experience for me. By the time everybody had arrived and had done the bisous with everybody else (and when I say EVERYBODY, I mean EVERYBODY), it was already 8:30. My host parents served everyone a small glass of kir and appetizers. The food was quite yummy. I got to meet quite a few of the girls' friends, all of whom were very nice and fun to be around. I was always introduced as "our American student" and some people took that and ran with it. Everyone wanted to practice their English! I met a French girl who has spent the past two summers working at a sports camp in North Carolina. She spoke English very well and it was fun to talk with her (even though we had to make sure my host parents were out of earshot)! She and I taught the "Cha Cha Slide" to thirty French people that night (for those of you unfamiliar with popular dance songs, the Cha Cha Slide is almost always played at a school dance and the dance itself is a bit like a line dance). The group there had never done it before and it was quite surreal teaching this very famous American song to all these random French people!
On the other hand, they taught me quite a lot that night too. I learned how to danse "le rock," a very traditional French dance that involves lots of twirling. These "soirees" or birthday parties that French students have are rather modest and traditional (or at least they are with conservative French families). And therefore the dancing is as well. "Le Rock" is a little bit like swing dancing but rather something straight out of a movie made in the 80's. The girls typically wear dresses, the guys must ask the girl to dance, and the dance itself follows this very bouncy, old-fashioned pattern. I was asked to dance three times and each time I was terrible. The first guy I danced with gave me a basic lesson but I don't think I improved very much, even though everybody was kind enough to lie to me and tell me that i was quite good for never having danced "le Rock" before. Anyway, the dancing was an absolute blast and it's nice because the boys try to ask all the girls to dance multiple times so no one feels left out. For those of you who want a demonstration of "le Rock," remind me when I see you this summer!
After everybody had left (around 2:30 A.M.), Marie-Emmanuelle and Tiphanie opened their gifts from me (scarves, jewelry, and a homemade CD). And then we went to bed. It was a long night but one I will always remember. It was one of the more French nights I've had and I loved it.
The best part about the whole evening was when Marie-Emmanuelle told me how happy she was that I was there. I finally felt more a part of the family!
I slept in for quite some time Sunday morning and then spent the late afternoon taking a walk in a gorgeous park nearby with my host family. This week has been rather stressful with schoolwork and vacation plans. But this weekend we are going to Normandy with our program and it will be a welcome break from life.
Love to all,
Madelyn
Friday, March 13, 2009
Bisous and Flowers
Bonjour, tout le monde!
A few days ago, my host family invited me to watch the news with them (as they do most nights) but this night in particular, the recording machine wasn't working and so we ended up watching a very different news channel. It was quite interesting but a good 15 minutes of the program was titled the "100 jours de (100 days of) Barack Obama," which amused me. I realize that the United States plays a very large role in globalization these days, but I feel like sometimes I hear more about Barack Obama than I do about Nicolas Sarkozy (the French President)!
On Tuesday, we had Conversation Club again. Beforehand, I met a new friend named Aude (I'm having trouble remembering if I've mentioned her before) for coffee. Aude is a French student studying at the University of Nantes. However, next year, she will be at Hope... with me! She's going to be the TA (student assistant) to the French department next year. We met last week at Conversation Club and so we planned to get coffee this week. We had a lovely time discussing life, TV shows, Hope, and next year. I'm really excited to have a friend here who will return with me in the fall. We're already planning nights with crepes, Grey's Anatomy, and French-speaking!
When Conversation Club begins, there are always lots of bisous (kisses). I knew that the "kiss on the cheek" thing was a French custom but I did not realize (until coming here) how much it is truly a part of their everyday life. I see it everywhere! And I ALWAYS forget. For example, two guys who I've talked with before at Conversation Club approached me on Tuesday and before I could squeak out a hello, one of them stuck his face next to mine, waiting to be kissed on the cheek! I looked at him with a confused expression and asked him why he was sticking his face near mine and his response (bisous), of course, restored any confusion I had! My friend from Hope here always jokes that when she sees me next year she's going to do bisous. However, I have a feeling this custom would come across as quite strange in the United States (even though it's evidently EXPECTED here in France)!
I ate at my first French McDonald's the other day. Let me just say that the McDonald's here are WAY better than the McDonald's in the States (it's ironic, to say the least). They have WAY more dessert options (i.e. chocolate mousse). When I ordered my "McFlurry," the guy behind the counter smiled at me when I tried to spin a French accent on the word "McFlurry." This is a pretty common theme here. I attempt to sound French and then get smiled at because I apparently sound so very American. Maybe by the end of the semester, I can say something and have someone believe I'm French. I've been asked for directions a few times so at least I LOOK like a local!
Riding the bus is like a social "people-watching" experiment. I love to watch people's behaviors on the bus. Recently, though, everybody on the bus reminds me of someone back home. I saw a guy this morning who closely ressembled a 15-year old version of my cousin Cameron. I've definitely done many a double-take here. Perhaps everyone I know has a French twin (but perhaps not)!
I walked out of my house this morning and it was as if all the plants decided "Hey, we're going to bloom today." It was beautiful! There are lilac trees and magnolia bushes and little flowers popping up. I'm actually slightly sad that I won't be here for spring break in April because it's sure to be beautiful. Anyway, I fully intend on enjoying this beautiful day. I'm going to go eat lunch and then take a walk! It's sunny and supposed to be 60 degrees today. I love Spring.
That's all my news for now. I'm attempting to make plans for Spring Break (Italy for sure and possibly Greece). If anyone has friends in Rome, let me know! It's Holy Week and most of the hostels are booked and rather expensive.
Bon weekend! Bisous :)
A few days ago, my host family invited me to watch the news with them (as they do most nights) but this night in particular, the recording machine wasn't working and so we ended up watching a very different news channel. It was quite interesting but a good 15 minutes of the program was titled the "100 jours de (100 days of) Barack Obama," which amused me. I realize that the United States plays a very large role in globalization these days, but I feel like sometimes I hear more about Barack Obama than I do about Nicolas Sarkozy (the French President)!
On Tuesday, we had Conversation Club again. Beforehand, I met a new friend named Aude (I'm having trouble remembering if I've mentioned her before) for coffee. Aude is a French student studying at the University of Nantes. However, next year, she will be at Hope... with me! She's going to be the TA (student assistant) to the French department next year. We met last week at Conversation Club and so we planned to get coffee this week. We had a lovely time discussing life, TV shows, Hope, and next year. I'm really excited to have a friend here who will return with me in the fall. We're already planning nights with crepes, Grey's Anatomy, and French-speaking!
When Conversation Club begins, there are always lots of bisous (kisses). I knew that the "kiss on the cheek" thing was a French custom but I did not realize (until coming here) how much it is truly a part of their everyday life. I see it everywhere! And I ALWAYS forget. For example, two guys who I've talked with before at Conversation Club approached me on Tuesday and before I could squeak out a hello, one of them stuck his face next to mine, waiting to be kissed on the cheek! I looked at him with a confused expression and asked him why he was sticking his face near mine and his response (bisous), of course, restored any confusion I had! My friend from Hope here always jokes that when she sees me next year she's going to do bisous. However, I have a feeling this custom would come across as quite strange in the United States (even though it's evidently EXPECTED here in France)!
I ate at my first French McDonald's the other day. Let me just say that the McDonald's here are WAY better than the McDonald's in the States (it's ironic, to say the least). They have WAY more dessert options (i.e. chocolate mousse). When I ordered my "McFlurry," the guy behind the counter smiled at me when I tried to spin a French accent on the word "McFlurry." This is a pretty common theme here. I attempt to sound French and then get smiled at because I apparently sound so very American. Maybe by the end of the semester, I can say something and have someone believe I'm French. I've been asked for directions a few times so at least I LOOK like a local!
Riding the bus is like a social "people-watching" experiment. I love to watch people's behaviors on the bus. Recently, though, everybody on the bus reminds me of someone back home. I saw a guy this morning who closely ressembled a 15-year old version of my cousin Cameron. I've definitely done many a double-take here. Perhaps everyone I know has a French twin (but perhaps not)!
I walked out of my house this morning and it was as if all the plants decided "Hey, we're going to bloom today." It was beautiful! There are lilac trees and magnolia bushes and little flowers popping up. I'm actually slightly sad that I won't be here for spring break in April because it's sure to be beautiful. Anyway, I fully intend on enjoying this beautiful day. I'm going to go eat lunch and then take a walk! It's sunny and supposed to be 60 degrees today. I love Spring.
That's all my news for now. I'm attempting to make plans for Spring Break (Italy for sure and possibly Greece). If anyone has friends in Rome, let me know! It's Holy Week and most of the hostels are booked and rather expensive.
Bon weekend! Bisous :)
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Everyday Life
A friend of mine asked me the other day to update my blog and for a second I wondered, "But what will I write about? I haven't been galavanting around any new countries recently!" Needless to say, this entry might be slightly less exciting than the last.
After returning to Nantes, I was immediately thrown into SCHOOL. I've had three midterms over the course of the past two weeks and two out of three have been successful (I haven't gotten the third one back yet). The grading system here is a bit different than at home. Everything is "out of 20." A 16 or more is an A, a 15 is an A-, a 14 is a B+, and so on... Strangely enough a 10 out of 20 (which would be failing by our grading system) is a C here. Imagine that. The next few weeks will be busy writing papers and studying. However, it will be nice to get it all done before vacation in April.
Last weekend, we went to see "He's just Not that Into You" in French (Ce que pensent les hommes). I was pleasantly suprised to find that I could understand most of it - although it was slightly weird hearing French voices in place of the actors' normal voices. I think slowly but surely my comprehension of the language is getting better. I'm finally starting to pick up on certain French catchphrases and mannerisms that will hopefully allow me to improve in my own speaking.
Last Sunday, my "host" grandparents came over for the day. At first I was really nervous that I would sound stupid speaking in front of them, but they were more than forgiving! The grandpa kept reminding the grandma to speak slower for me and the grandma told me that she thought I had a "belle accent" (beautiful accent). We had a really interesting discussion about culture in the United States and the whole family regaled me with stories. The grandpa shared a bit of his family history (his mother comes from Greece) which was interesting to hear. All in all, it was a nice day with my host family and what I thought would be scary ended up being a good experience!
The strike at the university continues. Fortunately, the one university class I have is a class with many IES students. So our professor came to IES on Monday so we wouldn't get behind. I feel bad for other students in my program who are taking a lot of classes at the university because they're stressed about getting enough credits for the semester, etc... It's just a sad situation for students (like my host sister) who WANT to learn and who would do anything to have classes again. I think it's been almost 4 or 5 weeks now.
While I was in London, I received an email from a French student who is studying in Nantes right now and who is going to be the new assistant to the French department at Hope next year! Her name is Aude and she came to Conversation Club with us on Tuesday. She seems like a sweetheart and we're getting together for coffee this week so that we can each practice our "second" language. I'm happy that we put the connection together because she'll be a French friend I can take with me to the U.S.!
This weekend I spent a lot of time with my host siblings because my host parents were gone for the weekend. It was nice to bond with them. We watched a huge French charity concert. If you take every famous French entertainer, every popular French or American song, add wacky crazy costumes, and a ginormous audience you will have a French charity concert. It was certainly entertaining to watch. The style of French performers is very different from that of American performers. There was one particular song in which a man was dressed up as Snow White and his background singers wore fake dwarfs on their backs. Strange, no? Anyway, I feel slightly more enlightened to the world of French entertainment now.
I did a little bit of shopping yesterday. I've been pretty good about not spending money on clothes whenever I feel like it. But I think that's because IF I did that, I would be buying whole stores. The clothes here are so cute, but of course rather expensive. So we did more window shopping than anything. I wish I could have a one thousand-dollar shopping spree in France! Of course, if I were given one thousand dollars, I don't think I'd spend it on clothes but rather on a plane ticket for my parents to come visit me!
I think that's all for now. Frankly, today's been a bit of a lonely day. Sometimes the language barrier really gets to me and I find myself wishing more than anything that I could be back in the States in the presence of people who really know me. But then again I don't want to wish away my time here because I'm never going to get it back! Always a rollercoaster ride, this adventure of mine. :)
After returning to Nantes, I was immediately thrown into SCHOOL. I've had three midterms over the course of the past two weeks and two out of three have been successful (I haven't gotten the third one back yet). The grading system here is a bit different than at home. Everything is "out of 20." A 16 or more is an A, a 15 is an A-, a 14 is a B+, and so on... Strangely enough a 10 out of 20 (which would be failing by our grading system) is a C here. Imagine that. The next few weeks will be busy writing papers and studying. However, it will be nice to get it all done before vacation in April.
Last weekend, we went to see "He's just Not that Into You" in French (Ce que pensent les hommes). I was pleasantly suprised to find that I could understand most of it - although it was slightly weird hearing French voices in place of the actors' normal voices. I think slowly but surely my comprehension of the language is getting better. I'm finally starting to pick up on certain French catchphrases and mannerisms that will hopefully allow me to improve in my own speaking.
Last Sunday, my "host" grandparents came over for the day. At first I was really nervous that I would sound stupid speaking in front of them, but they were more than forgiving! The grandpa kept reminding the grandma to speak slower for me and the grandma told me that she thought I had a "belle accent" (beautiful accent). We had a really interesting discussion about culture in the United States and the whole family regaled me with stories. The grandpa shared a bit of his family history (his mother comes from Greece) which was interesting to hear. All in all, it was a nice day with my host family and what I thought would be scary ended up being a good experience!
The strike at the university continues. Fortunately, the one university class I have is a class with many IES students. So our professor came to IES on Monday so we wouldn't get behind. I feel bad for other students in my program who are taking a lot of classes at the university because they're stressed about getting enough credits for the semester, etc... It's just a sad situation for students (like my host sister) who WANT to learn and who would do anything to have classes again. I think it's been almost 4 or 5 weeks now.
While I was in London, I received an email from a French student who is studying in Nantes right now and who is going to be the new assistant to the French department at Hope next year! Her name is Aude and she came to Conversation Club with us on Tuesday. She seems like a sweetheart and we're getting together for coffee this week so that we can each practice our "second" language. I'm happy that we put the connection together because she'll be a French friend I can take with me to the U.S.!
This weekend I spent a lot of time with my host siblings because my host parents were gone for the weekend. It was nice to bond with them. We watched a huge French charity concert. If you take every famous French entertainer, every popular French or American song, add wacky crazy costumes, and a ginormous audience you will have a French charity concert. It was certainly entertaining to watch. The style of French performers is very different from that of American performers. There was one particular song in which a man was dressed up as Snow White and his background singers wore fake dwarfs on their backs. Strange, no? Anyway, I feel slightly more enlightened to the world of French entertainment now.
I did a little bit of shopping yesterday. I've been pretty good about not spending money on clothes whenever I feel like it. But I think that's because IF I did that, I would be buying whole stores. The clothes here are so cute, but of course rather expensive. So we did more window shopping than anything. I wish I could have a one thousand-dollar shopping spree in France! Of course, if I were given one thousand dollars, I don't think I'd spend it on clothes but rather on a plane ticket for my parents to come visit me!
I think that's all for now. Frankly, today's been a bit of a lonely day. Sometimes the language barrier really gets to me and I find myself wishing more than anything that I could be back in the States in the presence of people who really know me. But then again I don't want to wish away my time here because I'm never going to get it back! Always a rollercoaster ride, this adventure of mine. :)
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