Can't think of a title.

I am officially the worst at taking photos to document my time.  For the past three days I’ve carried my camera with me and not one single photo to show for it.  I did; however, have a wonderful weekend that proved both productive and quite fun.  I got up Saturday at 7 and commenced studying which didn’t end until 11 that night, so needless to say I got a lot done and have made progress in all the books I have to read.
Sunday morning was likewise filled with studying, but at noon I met with Elise up on the northeast side of Paris in the 19th arrondissement.  She had invited me to a brunch at her friends apartment and there ended up being five of us total.  They had fixed eggs Benedict, toast, fruit salad, and one of the guys brought some very good and buttery muffin/cake things.  It was one of those times when you are just expecting something to go wrong because it’s just too perfect.  Her friend lives on the third or fourth floor of a flat overlooking the canal, so we sat there at our little table with the giant windows open looking out at the long riverboats go by.
Everyone there spoke a little English, but our conversations were mostly in French with some very helpful translations from Elise and the others.  They taught me the word for blueberry, la myrtille, and I taught them about Madame Blueberry from Veggie Tales, and they got a kick out of the idea of Jesus looking like a cucumber.  After our brunch we cleaned up and then headed out the door to go visit le Musee de l’Art Moderne.  It was so nice just to slowly roam around with my new Parisian friends, commenting on the art and practicing our language skills back and forth.  I truly didn’t want the day to end, but alas I had to return home and continue my studies.  I seriously hope that we can get together again sometime soon as they are some good and kind people.  I also noticed that I don't have many photos of myself with friends on here, so to prove that they do exist, here are two photos that I stole.

From the Abbey de Fontenay visit in Bourgogne.  

She told us to look thoughtfully at the tree, so we did in all of our awesomeness.

(credits to Mengyun I think...even though she's in the picture)

Our second day here (credits to ?)

      I definitely wouldn't have made it this far without all these great people who have become some great friends.  They never fail to lift my spirits, and I always look forward to seeing them.  Thanks guys!!!  I miss all of yall back home too and feel so grateful to have a good reason to return home.  

Bonne nuit tout le monde!

-Kate Alice

Late Night Moliere

It is the play that never ends.  I've been working my way through l'Ecole des Femmes for quite some time now, and yes, I am still reading it.  The going is slow, but I have a process that seems to work.  1) read passage and look up words I don't know.  2) re-read and look up more words while cross-referencing with English version.  3) re-re-read to synthesize information.  I don't think I've ever researched a piece of literature more than I have this one.  The average page looks a bit like this when I'm through...

Forty minutes of work right there.

      For those wondering what this is, it is "The Maxims of Marriage" or "The Duties of the Married Woman" as read by Agnes from the paper given to her by her suiter/captor/benefactor/wannabe-husband/chauvinist fiance Arnolphe.  He is basically trying to get her to believe that a wife has no rights and must do exactly what her husband says and there is this whole religious, comic, ironic angle, but I won't get started on that seeing as I barely understand it myself.  

      So, as another day closes and my desk lamp burns into the wee morning hours, I can't help but reminisce about the green fields and fresh air of Bourgogne.  That trip seems like years ago but it hasn't even been four weeks.  

Jelyn and myself in the vinyards...sigh

      I would give anything to be walking down that little country lane right about now, or heck, even having a conversation with our awkward busdriver Bernard as we wait for the others to board.  However, tomorrow should be fun as I "teach" a group of 14-year-olds English, Saturday will be spent with Elise at the modern art museum, and Sunday...well, I have no plans for Sunday, but I'm sure it will be great as well!  On that vague and optimistic note, adieu to all!

Much love,

Kate Alice

Day 41

      The delinquent blogger is back after a whole week of radio silence.  This past week was even busier than the week before, but my confidence in my French abilities has been restored as I turned in my first seven page essay yesterday.  I somehow managed to finish it five minutes before I had to leave to go to class; it's a miracle how things always happen like that.  It took roughly fifteen hours of library time and five days of getting up at 6am to finish, but if there is anything that you would like to know about Jean-Francois Millet's L'Angelus just shoot me a line and I can tell you all about it.
      One of the great boons of the program that I am in is the focus on experiencing as many different cultural aspects of the city as possible, and in just the past few days we've had three which has been fun and a good distraction from homework.  On Thursday we went to see Antigone at the Theatre du Vieux-Colombier.  It was a modern take on the old classic, and from the clothing I think was set in the 40's, possibly around WWII to fit in with the wartime theme.  It was, as usual, quite difficult to understand the actors, but just from the visible physicality it was quite good.  The stage was very bare and thus the focal point was a chair.  I guess when I think "theater" I think more along the lines of a production and less of the straight dialog like these past two plays have been.  However, it was a good experience nonetheless and I'm glad I didn't miss it.

      The second of our trips was to Versailles on Sunday.  I discovered that I don't really get that excited about 18th century interior decorating, but some of the paintings were quite nice and I even recognized a few from art history class.  There were just so many people that it was hard to appreciate what you were seeing, but our lunch break was quite nice.  About half of us brought sack lunches, so we sat out in the sun in the palace courtyard and feasted.  The great part about having great friends who enjoy good food is that our "sack lunches" always turn into a random potluck of some really eclectic and phenomenal stuff.  I had made a rustic baguette sandwich with St. Moret cheese, turkey, and spinach and brought some apple slices, two cookies, and carrot sticks.  Thankfully I had the foresight to cut my sandwich into four pieces to make sharing easier, and everyone else had done the same, so by the time our meal was over I only ended up eating about a fourth of my lunch and the rest was gleaned other people's.  Good times.  Someone had brought miniature macaroons, so those obviously were the group favorite.  

       After lunch we headed to the gardens and basically walked from 1:30-6:30 with only one or two short breaks.  The guide failed to mention just how incredibly large the gardens are, and by the end we all thought we were going to die of hunger and exhaustion.  However, the gardens were very nice, and I would definitely recommend visiting; just give yourself lots of time and caffeine.    

     I of course love bucolic things so I loved these little cottages that circled a small fish pond, and I was impressed to learn that they are in fact original and not reproductions for the tourists.  Granted a few patches have been needed, but they are still in remarkable condition for their age.

Pity on the man who had to cut those trees!

      Yesterday was yet another spectacle which was a piano concert in the Theatre des Bouffes du Nord.  I would highly suggest googling photos as it was a magical place to have a concert but photography was not allowed.  I was lucky enough to be on the ground floor just three rows back, so basically I sat no more than 6 yards from the musicians and was in such a seat that I could not only see their face as they played but could watch their hands.  It started with Henri Barda playing Ravel's Valses Nobles et Sentimentales followed by Chopin's Preludes op.28.  He was an amazing musician and so fun to watch.  The theater itself is so small already and coupled with sitting so close, I almost felt like I had interrupted him during one of his practice sessions.  You could hear him inhale with each big entrance and see the beads of sweat pop up as he moved faster across the keyboard than I thought possible.
      Followed was several works for two pianos by Mozart, Scriabine, and Ravel with Alexandre Rabinovitch-Barakovsky and HJ Lim playing.  They were likewise very entertaining to watch and really make one realize that playing an instrument like the piano is not just a matter of finger dexterity or pressing the peddles at the right time; it is a full body act.  All of their muscles seemed to be dedicated to making music, and at times I thought they were going to fall off their benches.  It was exhausting just watching but also exhilarating and a drastic change from the doldrums of translation homework and verb conjugations.  

      Rabinovitch also played one of his original pieces which, at the time, was difficult to fully appreciate.  He played it on this little electric piano with the synthesizer turned all the way up and the volume loud enough to make the speakers crackle.  The loudness was a bit distracting, and many people covered their ears which made me feel a bit sorry for the old man.  He seems so eccentric and a bit like a mad savant who keeps company with dusty houseplants, broken typewriters, and piles of yellowing papers covered with random ingenious scribbles.
      His piece was quite different, and it had a hard time gaining much applause.  However, I kept getting the feeling that he was some genius who was ahead of his time and was just waiting for the public ear to catch up.  Later I googled him, and he is actually quite famous and considered by most to be the first minimalist composer.  Learn something new everyday!

And now, it is time for bed.  I am too tired to even proof read this so...

Bonne nuit to all!

-Kate Alice

Day 34

      Still no real photos to show for this past week, but it has been interesting and I am forever amazed at the random philosophical thoughts that occur when in a place still so foreign.  I have had the pleasure of meeting many new people, and as always, they have turned out to be nothing but kind.  My host family had invited over four of their friends from way back in college and they were quite the mixed group: a museum curator from England, a jovial Scot who lives in Denmark, a Chilean architect, and an elementary school teacher from the Basque country.  They all spoke English and French with several other languages thrown into the mix, and thus my brain was constantly having to switch back and forth and weed out the occasional Spanish phase or something of the like.  They arrived at about 6pm and so we sat down for some drinks and conversation before moving to the table where we stayed until 1am!
      Host-mom really outdid herself with the dinner, and we feasted.  She made her most traditional Algerian dish, what I described earlier in my horror story, but this time with regular portions of meat from lamb, beef, duck, and a few traditional sausages.  We absolutely stuffed ourselves to the brim with Algerian couscous, meats, vegetables, cheeses, wines, salads, breads, spicy peppers, olives, and just when we thought it was over, she brought out the largest tiramisu I have ever seen.  Oh baby!  That was a week ago and I still am not sure that I have recovered!  Eating good food, being surrounded by intelligent people, getting swept up into the debate  of the moment, and all with the sparkling city of Paris laid out behind me through the huge dining room window.  What more could I have asked for?  It was sad to see them go, but I was exhausted and I'm pretty sure my brain was smoking from trying to keep up with the rapid pace of our conversations.
      A few days after that we had another guest when my host father's sister came for a brief overnight stay from Algeria.  She was very kind, and spoke with an incredibly strong accent.  It was a bit bizarre needing a translation from one form of French to the next, but towards the end I was catching on.  For most of the afternoon I was in my room doing homework, but I could overhear her and my host-mom in the kitchen talking.  They sounded like bickering hens going back and forth, talking over each other in sing-song French.  For the first bit I thought they were speaking another language because of the accents, but it turned out it was French as well with a heavy dose of slang and adopted Arabic words.  Had I just met them on the street I would have thought that they were fighting, but I'm pretty sure it's an Algerian thing because every single one I've met since coming here seems to love making everything a heated and passionate debate.  It has nothing to do with hard feelings or actual malice; it is just for the sport!  Anyways, the two of them went on and on and it was quite entertaining to hear them having such a good time.
      Thanks to his sister I have also been formally introduced to the wonderful world of traditional Algerian sweets and pastries.  She is an amazing baker and brought with her tubs of homemade ornate and impeccably crafted little mouthfuls of heaven.  Just google "algerian pastry" and feast with your eyes!  The honey!  The nuts!  The flaky dough!  The dates!  An exclamation point just doesn't do it enough justice.  I was sad to see her go, but it was nice as the morning she left we were able to have breakfast together.  The rest of the family had gone to my host sister's fencing competition so we just sat and talked for a while and she told me all about how she made her pastries and we vented over the increasing number of McDonald's in Paris and how she hopes they don't build one in Algeria.  For some reason it is a bit disturbing to see a KFC or McDonald's packed with the young and the tourists who have no idea what they are missing out on.  There comes a point where globalization infringes upon cultural identity, but I haven't decided where the line is yet, so I won't get on my soapbox just yet.
      This morning was exceptionally good and one of the great highlights of my time here.  I signed up to volunteer at a school teaching English to a classroom full of 12-year-olds, and before I went I was seriously afraid of what I had gotten myself into.  I am so unqualified to teach its almost a joke that they are letting me do this, but I guess if I know the language then that is enough.  There ended up being an accident in the way of the tram, and I was running late with two stops and a six minute walk still to go.  Needless to say, as I was running down the wet sidewalk in my skirt, dodging dog poop, scarf flying, shoes half off, and bag flopping all over the place, I was second guessing all prior decisions.  However, the moment I walked into the school things started going my way.  Everyone I met was so, so kind and grateful that I was there, and the kids where so excited to meet an actual American student.  
      I then spent the next hour being interrogated about everything from my favorite color to the upcoming election.  They got a kick out of my explanation of the animal symbols for the Democrats and Republicans, and all were happy to hear that pizza was popular in the U.S. as well.  The teacher had asked them to prepare some questions, but for the most part we talked about Texas.  I think the thought of cowboys and Indians had them all quite intrigued.  As I was talking about the various symbols and cultural tidbits about Texas, I drew a picture/mural to incorporate each new thing both to help them remember and to explain any vocabulary words.  My moment of glory was when I put the finishing touches on my masterpiece of an armadillo wearing a cowboy hat riding a horse through a field of bluebonnets while eating a taco and holding the flag; the Alamo, an oil derrick, and the San Jacinto monument included in the background.  Their map of Texas had an oil derrick so I of course had to explain it, and one of their questions was "Do Texas has any monuments?" and for some reason the only one I could think of was San Jacinto.  Thank you Mom for making us study Texas history or I never would have survived that class!   
      Anyways, when the teacher returned I think she thought I was a bit crazy, but when she asked the kids what they had learned they not only were able to tell her about the election, basic U.S. government structure, american Halloween traditions, my favorite color, and a host of random things, but they were able to teach her about Texas' independence.  I was so proud :)  I also managed to teach them the "Indian sign-language" from day-camp at Camp Peniel; the one where you hold your thumb up above your head to signal everyone in hunting party to be quiet.  After several attempts at pacifying them near the beginning of the class, I remembered Chief Glen's ingenious trick, and it worked like magic.  After so many years at day-camp it is a natural reaction for me already, so when the teacher was back in the room and they were getting a little loud, I automatically raised my thumb and the room when dead.  Kate: 1  Noise: 0     
      Their English listening comprehension was pretty good and I only had to explain a few things in French along with the help of lots of silly sketches of course.  We all had such a fun time and I cannot wait to go back.  I'm glad that I'll be staying for a year so that hopefully I can stay with the same class for both semesters.  I know being a teacher is really hard work, but I see now why so many of them love their jobs.  I do have it easier though because I still have the aura of newness so everything I do is interesting to them, and I seriously hope it doesn't wear off anytime soon because there are a lot of them and just one me!
      And thus another week has come and gone, and despite all the homework, traffic, and dog poop dodging, I still love Paris!  All my love to family and friends...
-Kate Alice

The Lives of Others

      In my little room, hunched over a dictionary and L'Ecole des femmes, it is easy to forget that there are other people in the world who live lives just as busy and important as mine.  However, when I look out my window, I can easily see at least 400 apartments and catch a glimpse at the thousands of people who inhabit those spaces.  For some reason, in the light of day it is hard to imagine that each of these huge buildings contain so many people with full lives and personalities of their own, but at night, when it is dark out, each of their windows are lit up like thousands of little TV screens and you can see into their little worlds.
      I have taken to keeping track of which people partake in which activities, which windows are always dark, the types of curtains in the windows, who leaves their windows open and at what times, who smokes, who has kids, and even the color of the walls.  I keep a mental grid of the windows using a number and letter system which, while perhaps a bit creepy and stalkerish, is a source of constant entertainment.

Building 2

For example:
A9: large flat-screen; L shaped couch; TV constantly on; curtains always open; no activity sighted
G3: typically dark; windows open during day; white curtains; smoker
B5: curtains closed during day/open at night; large TV; watches 20h news and action shows; recliner with back to window; head typically visible above top of chair
N2: dark haired male; window open in evenings; much activity; wood floors?; computer next to window
L2: dark haired female; kitchen; daily activity; one blue curtain
B7: one exposed bulb; no activity sighted; plain walls
W2-3: two children; smoker; living room; much activity all hours; tan furniture

      I could go on, but you get the point.  Somehow taking stock of the lives of others, even in such a distant and calculated manner, makes them seem more real.  I can only imagine that the lady in L2 must be a really good cook and rather hardworking for the amount of times that I have seen her busy in the kitchen.  Perhaps she has a big family, or maybe she lives alone but just likes a good meal, and I worry about B5's metal health for the amount of time that he spends watching TV each day.
      Each evening I make sure and stand by my window with my light on for a bit.  Sometimes I make it interesting by doing jumping jacks, pacing with a book, or randomly opening and closing the curtains.  Just in case someone is watching my window and wondering who lives there, I want to give them something interesting to take note of.
      And one final word of wisdom from your local friendly Parisian spy, lights on = clothes on.  So before you strip down to put your clothes in the washing machine (Building 3-J5), do the neighbor a favor and close the blinds, or they just might blog about it.
Bonne nuit Paris!
-Kate Alice

Day 28

      These past few days have been much less stress than the week prior, which has been a blessing.  I have all of my classes ironed out and despite the enormous amount of work due at the end of the semester, I think it will be doable.  I somehow have to pull together a total of 57 pages of college level material by January, which doesn’t sound like much, but that also includes reading 7 books, 4 oral presentations, 16 hours of in-class testing, and 4 hours of one on one oral exams with the professors.  Eeeek!  

      I think that song “I Will Survive” will become my new theme song.  Every overworked and not even paid student deserves an anthem to pull their hair out to; stabbing their textbooks with gnawed on pencils and tearing syllabi limb from limb.  It sounds a bit graphic in the light of day, but at 2am it’s a pretty accurate description.  Not to worry though, the “Three Musketeers” at the APA office have been nothing but supportive, and it is always a joy to see them because they always seem to have the answers.

      Since I last wrote a few interesting things have happened.  Nothing on the scale of Bourgogne, but good nonetheless.  This past Thursday we all went to see the play Dom Juan at the Comedie Française which was interesting.  I was quite tired so I spent most of my time trying not to fall asleep, but what I did hear was good, and you could tell that the actors were really engaged.  Sganarelle was by far my favorite as he added much of the comedy to this odd play.  I’ve never heard of a comedy where the main character dies at the end, but I guess since Juan wasn’t exactly the protagonist that it is not a tragedy.  

      Before the play, however, was quite fun.  We had all had class together near the city center two hours before, and I knew that I would just have to turn right back around if I went home, so another girl in the program and I took to walking in the direction of the Comedie looking for a place to find some dinner.  We finally settled on this one panini stand across from the Louvre where all the tourist shops are and took our sandwiches to Le Jardin du Tuileries.  We found a bench under a tree and sat there for an hour watching the sunset go down over debatably one of the most picturesque areas of Paris.  It was a great spot to watch the last straggling groups of tourists taking cheesy photos in front of the statues and always walking much slower than I’m sure they started out in the morning.

      I can’t even remember what I did Friday, but Saturday night was the Nuit Blanche.  Nuit Blanche is basically an all night celebration of art where all of the museums and galleries are open for free and little tents pop up with bits of music, performance art, and live demonstrations.  I ended up grouping with three other students and we walked around aimlessly looking for stuff to see.  However, the rain and rather strong winds had put a damper on all but the museums, at least that we could see, so our Nuit Blanche ended around 1am and basically was comprised of walking along the Seine and visiting the Eiffel Tower.  We got there twenty minutes too late to go up to the top, but it was still really pretty at night.  We may not have seen much, but it was still fun to just walk and talk for four hours.  

blurry, but nice :)

       Another highlight of my week was getting to have lunch with Elise from AC.  We met up at a metro stop and she took me to one of her favorite cafés for a sandwich and an exquisitely good chocolate mousse cake thing.  It was good to catch up and see a familiar face for the first time since being here.  I hope to be able to see her again soon and make lunch together a weekly occurrence.  Also, a world shout out of kudos to Elise for doing unbelievably and fantastically well on her masters dissertation that she worked so hard on.  I’m so proud :)  

      Though a bit under the weather with a cold, my classes so far this week have been a success, and I think my art history teacher is finally warming to me and coming to a full understanding of what “I’ve only had 4 semesters of French” really means.  I have also made a new friend in my Fondations de l’Islam class and we have planned to grab a coffee after class next week.  I have been wondering these past few classes why she is so hard to understand, and yesterday when I heard her speak English, I realized that she has a speech impediment.  Yeah, that’s why.  

     And now I'm here, another day almost finished and time keeps flying by.  Grammar homework and L'Ecole des femmes are calling so I must go bury my head in a dictionary once again.  Much love to all!

-Kate Alice

Bourgogne: Day 3

      Day three started with an even earlier walk before the sun had come up.  The moon was even bigger and brighter, the wind even colder, and the fields somehow even more beautiful.  It was kind of sad in that I knew that it would be the last day, but I also knew that another good day was ahead.  I walked further than before and had the sense to take more pictures even though there wasn’t much light.  

sunflowers

Your's truly in the wind

     Okay, I gotta say, I'm pretty proud of this photo.  Not that it's exceptionally nice, but at first glance, it looks like this could be a pond or at least some very large puddle.  However, this little puddle probably had a surface area of about 9x9in. to be generous, and yet in the photo it looks huge!  Just gotta say...

      After returning to the gîte, I warmed up with two bowls of coffee and more bread with strawberry jam.  Should I ever settle down and retire in the country, I would hope that every day would start off with a short walk, a bowl of coffee, and strawberry jam.  It really is the perfect combination.  However, these days I need all the sleep I can get and the country is pretty far away, so I think for now I will settle for cereal and the metro.
      Once loaded on the bus, we headed for Vezelay which took us through more fields and into some extremely green and lush forests.  I so badly wanted to stop and walk barefoot through the woods on the moss covered ground, but Bernard sped along and soon we were at our destination.  Our first stop in Vezelay was the Musée Zervos where once again we found an amazing collection of modern artists in another out of the way place.  Hidden along the main road in an old apartment, it showcased artists like Kandinsky, Giacometti, Miró, Picasso, and Léger in small rooms with creaky, wood floors and all natural lighting from the many windows.  It was a close second to the Dalí museum the day before, and yet another place to put down on your list of must-sees.
      Almost as soon as we finished the museum it was time for lunch, so we walked over to our restaurant for what ended up being two hours of some really good food.  The French really know how to make their cheese tartes, and even though I typically don’t like my chicken with skin or bone, I ate my plate clean.  Dessert was a rather interesting pear mousse/cake thing that went nicely with a touch of red wine and an espresso.
      Completely stuffed, we somehow managed to walk up a long, steep hill to the Basilique Saint-Madeleine.  Our guide was a young red-headed nun who seemed quite nice, but it was hard to tell because we were in a large group surrounded by other groups in a place where loud noises were forbidden so she was basically whispering.  In other words, I didn’t hear a thing she said the entire 60min. tour, but at least it gave me the time to look at every detail of what she was showing us.
      It really is a nice church, but I most liked the lawns out back with their amazing view of the countryside.  We were pretty high up on a hill so we could see for miles, and the vines around the bordering wall were attracting tons of bees that didn’t seem to mind if I interrupted their harvesting trying to take pictures.  I had a picture in mind that I wanted, and this one is the closest I came before we had to head back to the bus.

a bee and the campagne

      Vezelay was our last stop and as we settled in for the 4hr. drive back to Paris it began to sink in that we had to go back to life, back to our classes, back to the busy, and away from the beautiful campagne.  Most of us talked the entire way back which ended up being even longer due to traffic.  I didn’t get home till almost 10pm, and even though I wanted to be back on that little country road looking at the setting moon, I was happy to be in my own bed.  Thus ended my wonderful weekend in Bourgogne, and I cannot wait for the next weekend trip to see what new adventures and sights are in store for us.  

Au revoir Bourgogne!  

Bourgogne: Day 2

      I rose earlier than all the rest at around 7h20 the next morning and quickly got dressed so that I wouldn’t miss the sunrise.  It was a magical time to be up and about by oneself, and I set off down the nearest muddy road wrapped up in my scarf and my hands stuffed into my pockets to protect them from the cold wind.  The moon was a day away from being full and so it was huge and very bright.  I tried to take a picture of it, but as always seems to be the case, it looks rather unimpressive in the photos.  

      I didn’t go too far as I had to be back for breakfast, but nonetheless it was a cathartic start to my second day in Bourgogne.  After a breakfast of chocolate cereal, orange juice, baguette with strawberry jam, and my new favorite, a bowl of coffee, we “headed to the bus” and made our way to Beaune.

      While there were many tourists, this was by far my favorite stop.  We had five hours to explore and eat lunch, and each of us was set on using every minute.  We started with an tour of l’Hôtel Dieu des Hospices Civils de Beaune which was very interesting.  It was basically a very nice, very old hospital of sorts run by a duke and tended by nuns.  The main hall looked like the nave of a church that was lined on either side with a solid row of partitioned beds in little niches of dark wood with red wool curtains on either side and each set up with warm blankets, a chair, and a small dinner set.  At the far end of the hall was the chapel with a huge stained glass window and the whole placed was quite well illuminated because of it.  Should I ever become sick, I wouldn’t mind staying in a place like that with nuns in big hats bringing me soup and bread.  However, I have a feeling that back in the Middle Ages and Renaissance it was not quite as sanitary or hospitable as it may appear to be now.   

      We each had our own audio guide, and though given the option to listen in English, we all chose French and were ecstatic that towards the end of the tour our ears were accustomed enough to be able to follow along quite well.  There was some rather difficult and specific vocabulary, but thankfully there were a lot of cognates that made it easier.  We all agreed at the end of the weekend that this had been one of our favorite stops, and I would suggest it to anyone visiting the area.

  

      The town of Beaune itself is so picturesque and beautiful that we all just wanted to stay and live there forever.  We were lucky enough to be there on a Saturday morning when all sorts of vendors brought their wares and goods out onto the streets for a market day.  There was tons of fresh produce, cheeses, breads, local honeys, sweets, wines, and street food for sale along with everything from socks to handmade baskets.  We all got a bit separated from each other in the busy market, but I think we were all too enthralled to notice.  After much wandering we somehow found each other again on a street corner and all set off on a group hunt to find a scarf for one of the guys in the group.  He really wanted a scarf, but it is surprisingly hard to find scarves for men and we were unsuccessful.  It was getting around lunch time and so most of us went in search of a café.  Three of us including myself, however, had seen a small sign for a Salvador Dali museum and were interested in seeing it first.  

      The bizarre thing about France so far, is that tucked into the smallest, most out of the way places are some of the finest collections of great artists that I have ever seen.  This little museum that appeared to only get a handful of visitors a day, had more than 180 original works by Dali ranging from preliminary sketches to sculptures, photos, tapestries, paintings, lithographs, personal documents, and dishware.  It was such a wonderful museum and we all knew the moment we walked in that it was worth the 5€ admission.  Most of the really large and famous art museums that I have been to have 3-4 works by Dali, but there we were in this tiny town, and it almost looked like they were running out of space to put the sheer number of objects. 

      Pretty soon after entering, Dali became one of my new favorite artists and now I wish I could take a class just on Dali this semester.  Alas, I don’t think that will happen.  Seeing one artist’s works in mass makes one realize that that is the only way to really get a grasp for an artist.  Sure we all know the melting clocks painting, but Dali was so much more than that, and I hadn’t realized it before because every time I had studied him in school, I had studied two or three that were basically the same.  However, when you see one piece after the other you begin to spot trends in subject and form across different mediums and you get a much more intimate look at the artist’s thought process.  

      Take Piet Mondrian for example.  Having had to study his life’s work this past spring I became quite familiar with his “style”.  Google his name and up pops thousands of pictures of his geometric black and white lines filled with spots of primary colors.  However, those works that he is most known for make up a rather small percentage of his paintings and in reality he started off as a rather traditional Dutch landscape painter.  Just seeing his most famous works from the very end of his life, one cannot understand them fully without having a prior knowledge of his evolution from sunflowers and windmills to absolute abstraction.  Well, enough of that…

      After the museum, we split up for lunch.  Me and this other girl were the only ones who wanted to eat at the market, so the rest went to a café for a sit-down meal.  We figured that it would be way more fun, less money, and a better French experience if we bought a few things from the market and then found a bench with a spot in the sun.  We decided that bread, cheese, and fruit were the way to go, so we walked around until we found the perfect loaf of crusty bread, a round of fresh goat cheese the size of a biscuit, a pear, and a peach.  We wandered around looking for the perfect spot and found one on a bench under a huge mossy tree next to the main church.  It was so relaxing and we sat there for an hour just eating and talking and helping the random lost tourist who thought that we were locals.  As far as cost-benefit goes, we hit the jackpot.  For a total of €1.40 each, we feasted.

 Dead fly on church door

More verdant things

      Back on the bus we headed in the direction of Dijon to drive the Route des Grands Crus, a tour of some of the most beautiful wine country; just field after field of vines as far as the eye could see.  We were fortunate enough to be their during one the 3-4 weeks in the year when they harvest the grapes and many of the fields were speckled with groups of field workers, their backs loaded down with huge baskets of grapes.  It was very cool.  The even cooler part was that at one point, Bernard stopped the bus by a field of vines and we all got off and were basically told that we could walk wherever we wanted and taste the grapes along the way.  After our initial hesitation, we all spread out amongst the vines munching on grapes and taking pictures.  It was very cool as well.  

Yours truly

      On our way back to the gîte we stopped at a winery for a tasting of the Crémant de Bourgogne.  While most of the bubbly is made up in Champagne, this one winery made a bubbly of sorts that was very good and supposedly quite rare as well.  Four wines later we hopped back on the bus and headed…for our second tasting.  Keep in mind that we ate lunch around 12h30, the first tasting was around 16h30, and this second one was at around 19h.  Not only had it been a long day, but we were all starving and these tastings were not the kind where you spit out the wine into the little bucket.  I’ll let you fill in the rest.
      The second tasting was by far my favorite at it took place in an ancient cave/wine cellar.  Blandine and François Rocault were the 17th generation of wine makers and their family had been in Bourgogne since the XIII century, so who knows how long this cellar had been in use.  They were such a nice couple, knew so much about their craft, and were excited to share it with us.  I know so little about wines that I felt bad attempting to appreciate them, but François was very philosophical about how everyone’s palettes are different and thus there are no right or wrong answers or opinions.  He kept grabbing new bottles for us to sample and I lost count around nine, but after the first one, I settled for one sip of each followed by a lot of swirling and sniffing before pouring the rest in the little bucket.  One other girl did the same, but the rest were a bit red in the face and quite happy by the time we left.
      It was a cool night, the moon was huge, and our gîte was only about ten minutes away on top of the hill, so we decided to walk back which felt good but left us even more hungry than before.  A warm dinner led to a warm shower and finally collapsing into bed around midnight.  Sorry this is such a long post, but it was a really good day.
-Kate Alice

Bourgogne: Day 1

     Where to begin.  This past weekend was a much needed respite from the hustle of the city, but I didn’t realize how much I needed it until I was out in the countryside with the fields and animals and quiet.  Friday morning started off early with a four hour drive on the bus with the group of us students anxious to get out of the city and see the marvels of Bourgogne.  It was so nice just to sit on the bus for a while and look out the window at all of the ravens in the fields.  The moment you see a raven walk, you know exactly why it can fly, and it was quite amusing to watch them strut with their necks jerking in every direction with each wobbly step.  

      The first stop was for lunch and a short walk around in Semur-en-Auxois.  

        The narrow stone streets and bucolic atmosphere was so serene and absolutely European.  We were given two hours to do whatever we wanted, so we split into a few groups and became hopelessly confounded by the terrible tourist maps.  I have become convinced that either no one in France knows how to draw a map, or it is a national pastime to watch tourists go in circles with their nose in a brochure trying to figure out which Rue St. Bernard they are on.  When in doubt, you are on a Rue St. Bernard and in order to get where you are going, you need to take the third left onto Rue St. Bernard.  Always.  It’s either that or choose between the five different Rue St. Michels.  Anyways, my group of four chose a small café for lunch where I had a surprisingly good goat cheese tarte and salad.  

       Back on the bus we next stopped at the Abbey de Fontenay where Mme. Suraqui was our guide once again as she knows a surprising amount about the places we visit and the architecture.  It is turning fall here and all of the vines that covered the stone buildings were turning red and being both a private residence and a UNESCO world heritage site, the grounds were perfectly manicured.  

        The nuns and monks that used to live here were part of the Cistercian order and were know for being exceptionally stoic, silent, and sworn to a life of poverty, hard work, and simplicity.  This abbey, built in 1098, was the first of its order.  On a side note, the Cistercians are also called the Bernardines which only goes to prove that everything in France is named after a Bernard.  I found the church rather exceptional in that it was completely striped down to the absolute fundamentals in a Romanesque-Gothic hybrid.  

       As with the majority of the abbeys of that order, the buildings formed a square around a courtyard with a covered porch walkway used for walking in circles around the courtyard reciting prayers and meditating.  As we all took a symbolic walk around ourselves, it was interesting to think of all of the hundreds of thousands of times that various nuns had walked the exact same circle on the same stones and of how well they must have known each one. 

        The nuns at this abbey did a lot of copying of texts and were supposedly known for their calligraphy in illuminated manuscripts.  This practice, however, clashed with their stoic resolve of having no heated rooms whatsoever because the writers’ hands would become so cold that they could no longer write and would be afflicted with all sorts of joint problems.  So, the only heated room besides the kitchen of course, was the writers’ room.  However, I have a feeling that their idea of a “heated” room was one in which the ink didn’t freeze.  It was also interesting to learn that the abbey’s foundry was the birthplace of the hydraulic powered hammer, operated by a large watermill just outside.

The Three Musketeers (program directors) as we like to call them

Absolutely everything here is covered in thick moss and lichen

After about an hour’s tour of the main building from Mme. Suraqui, we all collapsed on the soft grass to rest our feet and take in some sun, but soon we headed off to the bus.  When I say “head to the bus” I really mean, “take twenty minutes to gather everyone, use to the restroom, take silly pictures, and peruse the gift shop,” so it was a while before we were once again speeding along narrow roads and fitting through places I didn’t think a huge tour bus could fit.  Our dear and sort of sad driver Bernard (yes, everything is named Bernard) was an absolute magician behind the wheel and many times he got cheers and applauds from us for making an exceptionally sharp turn next to a cliff or squeezing around a corner with only inches to give on each side.  We loved Bernard and tried to be extra nice to him, and hopefully he enjoyed the trip as well.
      More bucolic and stunning countryside later, we arrived at our gîte (between a hostel and a bed and breakfast) La Combe d'été which was positioned high on a hill near a large and steep falaise (cliff) that had a breathtaking view of the Bourgogne countryside.  We took a short walk up the road a bit and then across on a small trail to the very edge of la falaise which was one of my favorite bits of the trip.

Pictures just don't do justice.

      Being in the country and walking down a quiet dirt road with fields and birds and blackberry vines smothering the fences was so incredibly enjoyable, and I felt high off of the fresh air.  I didn’t realize how dominating the smell of Paris was until we stopped and slowed down for a while in la campagne (countryside).  It’s like comparing a south Louisiana mechanic shop in July with the top of a Colorado mountain in the fall.  They’re just so different and have a surprising affect on one’s overall state of mind even if unconsciously.  The evening ended with wine and a sing along of all of the French songs that we knew until we stumbled off to bed, exhausted from the busy day.