Last weekend, we visited four castles (I will post pictures probably tomorrow). The experience was surprisingly mundane. I don't mean that I didn't enjoy wandering through a medieval tower or looking down the grand portrait gallery at a Renaissance palace, but the fact that these buildings were actually created by kings and nobles for the purposes of living, government, protection, etc., and the reality of walking through them meant that for the first time in my life, "castle" was a physical reality, not a setting for a fairy tale. I'm sure many of you who have visited Europe have felt something of the same feeling as you visited the many grand palaces which seem to just pop up like wildflowers over here. At Pierrefonds, the medieval fortress which we visited, I saw a sign advertising the rental of the castle for parties, wedding receptions, or even cocktails ("Cocktails at the castle on Thursday night, my treat"). At Chantilly, a lovely Renaissance castles surrounded by a moat, a bride and groom were taking their photos. In other words, these incredible monuments are simply a beautiful part of the landscape. There is no clear break between the long ago past and the present. But that is what makes these monuments so cool.
I went to go see "Star Trek" with my roommate at a theater which plays American films in English with French subtitles. We both are secretly Trekkies (well, not secretly anymore) and so we took an evening to go to the movies. The theater is in a big shopping mall in the center of Paris. It is pretty much like an American shopping mall, as the theater is pretty much like an American movie theater, and there were so many English-speakers in the audience, you would've thought we were on the West Coast or something. But of course, it's Paris so this movie going experience had to be a little more luxe: the chairs were divinely comfortable.
My love to you all, Susan
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Getting lost and found in Paris
Happy Mother's Day to all of you beautiful mothers, especially to you Mom!
My big story of the week involves getting lost. More specifically, becoming separated from my traveling companion. After class on Thursday morning, as everyone was making plans for the day, my friend and I decided to explore the 16th arrondissement, the ritziest neighborhood in Paris. A big part of our homework involves going on walks all over Paris written by BYU French professors, and this walk happened to be in this arrondissement.
We knew at which stops we were to board and get off the metro. As we walked onto the platform, the next train had already arrived, so, thinking that we would just barely make it, I hopped on the train. My friend tried to hop on just as the doors slammed before her face. Whoosh! Off the train went without her.
The Study Abroad program had furnished us with cellphones to use in these kinds of circumstances. Unfortunately, I had lent mine out to a bunch of students who were planning a weekend trip to the Netherlands just the day before and there were no more minutes on the cellphone. I got off at our appointed stop and waited for the next train. My friend wasn't on it. I tried adding minutes to phone using the toll-free service, but it wouldn't accept my card. Feeling quite alone and rather resentful at the crystalline women's voice on the other end of the line informing me that due to a problème technique, my card was not accepted (how could she do this to me?!), I pondered what to do. I returned to the Institute, but no one was there. Realizing that my friend had probably just gone home, which was probably the safest thing considering that my friend couldn't contact me anyway, I decided to take another walk by myself. Paris is actually a pretty safe place. And it would be really nice to tour the city at my own pace (my friend had just returned home to do homework).
This walk started at the Church of the Madeleine and was themed around the various smells of Paris. These range from the sublime to the horrifying. Luckily, the bulk of the walk was spent training my palette to appreciate the sublime. I stopped into a famous pâtisserie called Ladurée, where the line to try their macarons, a cookie which they invented which you now see all over Paris, filled the entire room. I bought a box of 8, each a different flavor. My favorites were the rose and the caramel. But, as this was an exercise in smell and taste, I sat down on the steps of a church to try sample them carefully. First, the light green pistachio. My mouth first bit into the crispy cookie, made from flour, powdered sugar, eggs and almonds, then came the chewier inner part of the cookie, and then finally, the creamier-than-creamy ganache.
Speaking of things so touristy, this week we're going to the Louvre and Versailles. In church this morning, a sister spoke about the Word of Wisdom and how a healthy diet and exercise are part of obeying that commandment. She said that since she doesn't live very far from them, she had started running every morning in the Versailles gardens. "Wow", it hit me again. "I am really in Paris, France". Taking a jog in the gardens of a 17th century castle just isn't an option in Provo. But that is the beauty of being here.
I love you all tons and will be back soon with more photos and stories. Au revoir.
My big story of the week involves getting lost. More specifically, becoming separated from my traveling companion. After class on Thursday morning, as everyone was making plans for the day, my friend and I decided to explore the 16th arrondissement, the ritziest neighborhood in Paris. A big part of our homework involves going on walks all over Paris written by BYU French professors, and this walk happened to be in this arrondissement.
We knew at which stops we were to board and get off the metro. As we walked onto the platform, the next train had already arrived, so, thinking that we would just barely make it, I hopped on the train. My friend tried to hop on just as the doors slammed before her face. Whoosh! Off the train went without her.
The Study Abroad program had furnished us with cellphones to use in these kinds of circumstances. Unfortunately, I had lent mine out to a bunch of students who were planning a weekend trip to the Netherlands just the day before and there were no more minutes on the cellphone. I got off at our appointed stop and waited for the next train. My friend wasn't on it. I tried adding minutes to phone using the toll-free service, but it wouldn't accept my card. Feeling quite alone and rather resentful at the crystalline women's voice on the other end of the line informing me that due to a problème technique, my card was not accepted (how could she do this to me?!), I pondered what to do. I returned to the Institute, but no one was there. Realizing that my friend had probably just gone home, which was probably the safest thing considering that my friend couldn't contact me anyway, I decided to take another walk by myself. Paris is actually a pretty safe place. And it would be really nice to tour the city at my own pace (my friend had just returned home to do homework).
This walk started at the Church of the Madeleine and was themed around the various smells of Paris. These range from the sublime to the horrifying. Luckily, the bulk of the walk was spent training my palette to appreciate the sublime. I stopped into a famous pâtisserie called Ladurée, where the line to try their macarons, a cookie which they invented which you now see all over Paris, filled the entire room. I bought a box of 8, each a different flavor. My favorites were the rose and the caramel. But, as this was an exercise in smell and taste, I sat down on the steps of a church to try sample them carefully. First, the light green pistachio. My mouth first bit into the crispy cookie, made from flour, powdered sugar, eggs and almonds, then came the chewier inner part of the cookie, and then finally, the creamier-than-creamy ganache.
To sum up, I've decided to become an epicurean. It might take awhile, but try one of those divine little cookies and you will know that it is worth. The walk finished up in a small but quite interesting perfume museum, where you could sample many scents as well as learn about the history and process of perfume making.
On Friday night, the girls who weren't gone for the weekend decided to go to La Comédie Française, a theater and theater troupe which was officially founded in 1680, and still represents the best of theater in France. The play was an adaptation of Don Quixote by a Portugese playwright, but in French, of course. I was pleasantly surprised at how much of the play I was able to understand. The theater is a very neo-classical building filled with busts and statues of great French playwrights and authors. The inside was glowing and gorgeous, but tastefully so. It was nice to go to something not so touristy, seeing as how everyone there had to at least speak French.Speaking of things so touristy, this week we're going to the Louvre and Versailles. In church this morning, a sister spoke about the Word of Wisdom and how a healthy diet and exercise are part of obeying that commandment. She said that since she doesn't live very far from them, she had started running every morning in the Versailles gardens. "Wow", it hit me again. "I am really in Paris, France". Taking a jog in the gardens of a 17th century castle just isn't an option in Provo. But that is the beauty of being here.
I love you all tons and will be back soon with more photos and stories. Au revoir.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Corrected link
This link should be accessible even to those who don't have Facebook. http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2019923&id=1534560920&l=2b7c240ae9
Photos: Tour Eiffel, Notre Dame, Left Bank, pastries
Salut,
I added all of the photos which I've taken so far, not a small amount, to Facebook. Here's the link:http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2019923&id=1534560920&ref=nf
I'll be back soon!
I added all of the photos which I've taken so far, not a small amount, to Facebook. Here's the link:http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2019923&id=1534560920&ref=nf
I'll be back soon!
Sunday, May 3, 2009
La vie en rose
Salut! It has been a wonderfully busy week. I've already been to the Eiffel Tower twice (without going to the top- everyone keeps having second thoughts about the €13 that it costs to go to the top), the Arc de Triomphe twice, the Champs-Elysées, the Place de la Concorde, and St-Germain-en-Laye, a charming city only two stops away from our house on the metro, home to beautiful gardens and a castle where Louis XIV was born. But my favorite thing which we have done thus far is to go to church. Croissy-sur-Seine is part of the Versailles ward, a family ward the size of most wards in the States.
I had this strange anxiety that church in France would be... different. And it was, only in the sense that people in different countries are different. But it was Fast and Testimony meeting, and as I listened to everyone bear their testimonies, my soul was filled with the Spirit. Two children were blessed, one whose blessing counseled the little one to stay close to the church, a place where he would be surrounded with love. And I felt that tender love today. I introduced myself to the sister sitting in front of me, and she gave me the phone number of her home teachers so that we might get rides to church, instead of taking the public transportation, which due to the layout of the Metro, as well as our getting lost, took us almost three hours to get to church. This sister also taught me how to "faire la bise", or give a kiss of greeting. There was a ward dinner afterwards where we savored what was easily the best Munch-and-Mingle I've ever eaten- think pork cassoulet, couscous with spiced chicken, spinach omelette, baguettes, fruit salad, chocolate and lemon tarts. Little children were playing, smiling at there parents as they drew nonsense pictures on the gym chalkboard. I even played hide-and-seek with an obliging and really cute toddler girl. Forgive my rose-colored picture, but I don't know if I've ever seen a happier people in my life.
Well, we know that the gospel is true and that it changes life for the better wherever it is lived, but in France everything, including church, seems a little rosier. The morning walk from our house, an 1860 summer vacation cottage near the Seine and in the heart of what is called "Impressionist Country" because those venerable painters realized many of their visions here, is quiet and satisfies the senses: the smell of lilacs, the song of a thousand birds and the green of geometrically trimmed trees which line the little streets. The French try to make sure that everything is beautiful, from the way that they meet people to the way that they eat to the way that they build skyscrapers. And I love it.
I had this strange anxiety that church in France would be... different. And it was, only in the sense that people in different countries are different. But it was Fast and Testimony meeting, and as I listened to everyone bear their testimonies, my soul was filled with the Spirit. Two children were blessed, one whose blessing counseled the little one to stay close to the church, a place where he would be surrounded with love. And I felt that tender love today. I introduced myself to the sister sitting in front of me, and she gave me the phone number of her home teachers so that we might get rides to church, instead of taking the public transportation, which due to the layout of the Metro, as well as our getting lost, took us almost three hours to get to church. This sister also taught me how to "faire la bise", or give a kiss of greeting. There was a ward dinner afterwards where we savored what was easily the best Munch-and-Mingle I've ever eaten- think pork cassoulet, couscous with spiced chicken, spinach omelette, baguettes, fruit salad, chocolate and lemon tarts. Little children were playing, smiling at there parents as they drew nonsense pictures on the gym chalkboard. I even played hide-and-seek with an obliging and really cute toddler girl. Forgive my rose-colored picture, but I don't know if I've ever seen a happier people in my life.
Well, we know that the gospel is true and that it changes life for the better wherever it is lived, but in France everything, including church, seems a little rosier. The morning walk from our house, an 1860 summer vacation cottage near the Seine and in the heart of what is called "Impressionist Country" because those venerable painters realized many of their visions here, is quiet and satisfies the senses: the smell of lilacs, the song of a thousand birds and the green of geometrically trimmed trees which line the little streets. The French try to make sure that everything is beautiful, from the way that they meet people to the way that they eat to the way that they build skyscrapers. And I love it.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)