London Bridge is Safe and Sound

Actually, the real London Bridge was bought by some rich American long ago and it’s now in Arizona or something. They built a new “London Bridge” and it’s very strange and modern looking.

Anyway, I am now in my home away from home: Switzerland! It is so amazing to be here again. It’s been four years since I was last here, and while a lot has changed, this place hasn’t really, which is really nice and comforting. I remember everything and I get these incredibly intense feelings of nostalgia and I love it. But I’ll write about Switzerland later! Here is a recap of the rest of the time in London:

Saturday: My parents and I went to meet Patrick (we all call him Paddy), one of my dad’s best and oldest friends. Paddy normally lives in Exeter, but he’s an actor, and he’s currently in a show here in London (which he got us tickets to, which we went to later that night). Paddy is a wonderful man and I quite like spending time with him. He would still be great if he was American, but his English accent makes him sound so cool. Anyway, we went to lunch at an Indian restaurant that would have been very tasty if I hadn’t been dying (fuck you, supertastebuds). Later that night, we went to Paddy’s play. I can’t really call it a play though, because it was so much more than that. In this HUGE building, there are tons of difference rooms and spaces and the whole place is turned into “the stage,” with everyone walking around everywhere, audience (Paddy says the actors refer to them as ‘punters’) and actors alike. My parents say this style of theater is called ‘environmental theatre’ or something. It’s really hard to explain… the piece is called “Masque of the Red Death,” which is the name of one of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories. The piece itself takes about four different Poe stories and adapts them. Some of them tie into others, and all are being performed simultaneously, in different parts of the building. The whole thing is really quite creepy. When you first get in, you’re given a very creepy white mask that you are supposed to wear at all times (the actors do not wear them, so this makes finding the actors easier. It also enhances the creepy vibe). Then you walk around, exploring. From this moment on, everyone you interact with will be part of the performance. Pretty early on you’re meant to stumble upon a room where a man gives you a velvet cloak. So basically you’ve got hundreds of cloaked, masked people walking around everywhere in dark, misty, creepiness. If you’ve read Poe, you know his stuff is, well, creepy. My point is everything was creepy. But it was also awesome. Paddy had told us what to expect earlier that day, and he said that he suggested splitting up and wandering around by ourselves rather than sticking together, but he also told us that if we wanted to see him do something (there’s no program, no map of the space, etc., so it’s not like we could easily find him whenever we wanted-also the place was seriously HUGE, it was amazing. So many different rooms) then we should go to the “Palais Royal” (this is the only room where you’re allowed to take off your mask and/or talk. It’s got a bar, so you can buy a drink, and there’s like little Vaudeville-esque performances happening on a stage. The people who perform them are actors from the main performance(s), either still in their characters from that, or doing something else, but always still acting) at 8:25 and my dad was the only one with a watch, so we ended up staying together the whole time. Sometimes, actors would do “one on ones” where they’d take a “punter” into a room alone with them and have an interaction with them (I know this because Paddy told us about these, but actually at one point when I was in a room, there were two other people, and the woman looked at one of the others, gasped, and pushed me and the third person out of the room, and slammed the door). Paddy says they can get really aggressive and scary (apparently for his, he tells whomever it is to take of their mask, and thinks that the person is his dead sister or brother, while he’s on an opium trip, and shakes the person’s shoulders and screams at them and stuff. Pretty crazy!) In any case, I could go on and on, but it’s obviously not easy to describe. The important thing is it was unlike anything I’d ever seen, the acting was great, the dancing was great (there was a lot of really strenuous physical activity in the acting, like throwing themselves off balconies and writhing around on drugs and such), and it was, all around, very impressive and cool. I wish I had pictures to show to help explain, but pictures weren’t allowed in the place (no surprise there), but here’s a picture of me and Pops in our masks before going in:




Sunday: We met up with Paddy again around noon, but this time he brought his two brothers along. We all went to Richmond Park, in the Southwest of London. After walking around for a bit, we went to ‘Pembroke Lodge,’ where we ate a lovely meal (including real figgy pudding!). Afterwards the walked in the park to the place where Paddy’s mothers ashes were scattered. London is so huge and has so many parks that most tourists don’t know about, it’s nice to know people who live here that know about the lesser known places. After that, we went to a magical store called ‘Fortnum and Mason’ where Paddy’s friend Sue was reading Christmas stories that she wrote. Sadly we missed the stories, but we got to meet Sue, who is hilarious. We all went to have a drink in a pub, and eventually parted ways.

Monday: Christmas Eve and my dad’s birfday. The first thing we did was go to Harrods, where we spent about 3 hours. Harrods is absolutely insane. It is easily the most elaborately decorated and decked out department store I have ever been to (and probably that exists in the world). They have 29 fine dining establishments. They have rooms called “The Egyptian Room,” and “Luxury Room II.” In the Poissonerie, Charcuterie and Fromagerie room they have a sculpture with real fish coming out of it, as well as real pigs and slabs of beef hanging from the ceiling. I’m telling you, it was out of control. Here are a few pictures (see Facebook for more if you want):






After Harrods we went to a play: The Adventures of Tin Tin. You might be familiar with the Tin Tin comic books? They’re French, but they exist in English. My dad really loved them when he was a kid, so Paddy found us tickets to this play. It was a lot of fun! The staging was incredible, and it was a really cute story. After the play my mom and I went on The Eye. The London Eye is London’s version of the giant Ferris wheel in Paris. My dad, who is terrified of heights, opted out, but my mom and I (who love heights) went for it. It’s pretty enormous and you do get incredible views of the city, but it’s no where near as cool as the Ferris wheel in Paris (nor the Ferris wheel in Lyon, nor basically any Ferris wheel come to that, in my opinion) because you’re inside a giant bubble (which is kind of, I guess, shaped like an eye). I prefer being out in the air; it’s more exhilarating and you can see everything more clearly. Plus they fit like 20 people in each “eye” so there are all these tourists running around trying to see the view from all angles, which is kind of annoying. Also, it moves really, really slowly. You only go around once, so I guess they’re trying to give you your money’s worth, but towards the end it’s kind of boring. But I mean, it was still cool. Here's a picture of the eye, and then some of the view from the top of it:





After that, we headed to Leicester Square (this was my favorite part of London when I was fourteen-there’s always a lot going on here, lots of nightlife, lights, etc.) where we had a nice fish n’ chips meal, with spotted dick for desert. (In one of the Harry Potter books they mention “spotted dick.” Having never heard of this before (it’s a traditional English desert) my parents and I thought this was hilarious, obviously. When we saw this on the menu outside at the restaurant, our search for a place to eat was over. We had to get some spotted dick.) Spotted dick is okay, but not delicious. It’s like, a couple of dense cakes with raisins in them with some creamy rum sauce on top. But we had fun making inappropriate jokes about it.



Tuesday: Christmas. None of the tubes were in service so we had a lovely day staying in, reading, playing board games, listening to Christmas music, etc. We also took a stroll through Hyde Park since our flat was just around the corner and that was very nice.

Wednesday: Boxing Day. A big deal in the UK. There wasn’t much open. But we went to St. Paul’s Cathedral, which was pretty impressive. St. Paul’s was founded in 604 AD (wow). The building that exists today is the fifth church on the site and they started building it in 1675. A lot of important shit has happened there: Winston Churchill’s funeral, Charles & Diana’s wedding, etc. Anyway, it’s a pretty beautiful building. Unfortunately you’re not allowed to take pictures inside, but the art and architecture is incredibly impressive. At the top of the building is a big dome, and you can actually walk to the top of it if you climb up 434 steps. We did. Pretty tiring (although I’m pretty used to climbing steps from living in Croix Rousse) but once you’re at the top it’s worth it: there’s a really nice view of London.


We left St. Paul’s for a bit, got a cup of coffee, walked around the area, but we actually went back there later for some sort of Christmas service (Christmas does not end after the 25th in England. Apparently that carol about the 12 days of Christmas is legit; some people actually do observe 12 days of this holiday.) I know nothing about Christianity so I’m not sure exactly what was going on during the service, but it was mostly a choir singing songs with some recounts of Jesus’ life thrown in. It was all very pretty though, and my mom was really into it. We got to sing along during some of the songs and it was kind of fun to hear the priests (?) tell the story of Christmas with their strong English accents.

Later that night we went on a pub crawl! I love pub crawls. I think they’re such a cool way to learn about a city, or part of it at least. The one we went on was called “London on the Thames” or something to that extent. We went to two different pubs (we were supposed to go to three-one at the beginning, one in the middle, and one to end-but the third one was closed due to it being Boxing Day), and in between we stopped at various points of interest to learn about their histories. It was great.

Thursday: We went to Canterbury. For those of you who don’t know, my father the English teacher teaches The Canterbury Tales in his 10th grade American Lit class. Canterbury is about an hour and a half from London and my dad really wanted to go there. Also, another friend of my dad’s from way back when, Peter, is also English and lived in Canterbury for 10 years, so he was happy to show us around the town. I basically remember nothing from the book (sorry Dad), but apparently, even though it’s fictional, there really was a pilgrimage from Southwark to Canterbury and my dad wanted to find the trail they traveled and walk it. After driving around for a while in Peter’s car, popping out to ask the locals if they knew where this trail was (no one did), we (my dad and I) decided to get dropped off at where we thought the closest thing to what we were looking for was, and walk. We were to meet my mom and Peter in town in an hour and a half (2 miles) later. I’m pretty sure we were absolutely not walking the trail my dad was looking for, and it only took us about 25 minutes, but it was a nice walk anyway. After that we all met and just explored the town (it’s very small). After having a traditional English tea at a tea shop we headed back to London.

So that was pretty much it. Yesterday we said goodbye to the Brits and hello to the chocolate, cheese and cows. I feel like the week in London was busy but also pretty relaxing at the same time. Also, I didn’t feel like I didn’t have enough time there, which almost always happens when I travel. It was nice. That is, sadly, not going to happen here. I only have three days and way too much I want to do. But it is awesome being back here. And that is a post for another day.

From Mandy's to Goldie's

Last Sunday night, I returned to Lyon from a five-day stint in Heidelberg, Germany. While the trip was quite dramatic and relatively stressful for various reasons, it was also great to get out of Lyon for a bit, and to see a new town, and Braden, and meet some more of his friends.

The first couple days we were there we hung out with, among others, Benny and Giovanni (two of Braden’s best friends in Heidelberg). Benny is German, hates fascists, likes weed, and is awesome. Giovanni (called Gio, pronounced Joe) is Italian (but often pretends he’s French), speaks four languages quite well (Italian, German, French and English), plays both basketball and the drums amazingly (apparently), loves Blink 182, and is hilarious. He spends most of his time going on the German version of Facebook and hitting on girls. He’s pretty successful in getting them. We all had a great time in Braden’s room one night having singalongs to Blink 182 and Bob Dylan songs played by another guy named Nick on the guitar. Gio says a lot of ridiculous things, but one of my favorite expressions of his is, “Hey: go take a look in the mirror,” which he seems to say for no reason whatsoever.

On Thursday morning, Ruby, Braden, Benny and I went to a magical place called Mandy’s. Mandy’s is a “typical American diner,” which I shouldn’t even put in quotes, because, it is. Aside from the fact that they overdo it a bit on the tin plate 50s advertising on the walls, it’s essentially your average Mel’s Diner. Evidently, there is an American army base in Heidelberg, and so there’s a lot of American stuff. Because there is absolutely nothing like this in Lyon, I went all out: bacon cheeseburger (it was enormous), fries, iced tea and a raspberry milkshake. I ate it all (not surprising, as those of you who know me well know that if I can do anything, I can eat), and it was all delicious. Here was the craziest part about Mandy’s, though: you could either pay in euros, OR AMERICAN DOLLARS. I’m telling you, I might as well have been in the US for a day, that’s how convincing this place was.

On Friday, Benny and Gio left town for home near Stuttgart and Berlin, respectively, so from Friday to Sunday, Ruby, Braden and I spent a lot of time on our own. We tooled around Heidelberg, did a tiny bit of shopping (they had an American Apparel, COME ON LYON, GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER), and admired the very impressive street art. We also walked around the castle in Heidelberg at night, which was incredible. The castle, which I’m sure has a name but I simply do not know what it is, was beautiful, and the view from it was even more so.



As usual, these pictures don't do it justice. The first one is taken from inside the castle grounds, and the second is taken of the castle and some of the view from a different part of the castle.
All in all, it was a nice trip.

So, now, this Sunday night, I am in London: my favorite city in the world. I’ve only been here since Friday, but it’s been such an eventful weekend that it feels like much longer (which is great; usually the time goes by far too quickly). Also, I am here with my parents, whom I haven’t seen in four months! As I flew from Lyon to Stansted on Friday afternoon, and then took a 45-minute train ride from Stansted to Liverpool Street, and then took the Underground from Liverpool Street to Paddington Station… it never really hit me that I was about to see my parents. It was such a huge build up, it seemed like it was taking forever to get to them, and that was once I was already in London! But it never really hit me until I saw them, which is, I think, because this Winter Break really doesn’t feel like Winter Break at all. I’m not going home by any means, I’m not seeing anyone in my family besides my parents, there were no menorahs or dreidels and there are no Christmas tree, stockings, or presents (the older I get, the less I care about presents, and my parents meeting me in London was present enough). It’s just so completely different from every other Winter Break I’ve ever had, that it’s all a bit surreal.

But I digress. So after meeting up with my parents, I assumed we’d be going back to our flat to chat and relax-maybe play a board game or two (boy oh boy do the Barankins play board games). I was very wrong. We stopped by the flat for about 5 minutes to drop off my luggage and then we were off to Goldie’s house for Shabbat dinner.

Goldie is a good friend of my Mom’s from way back when. She is an amazing woman. She’s basically about half my height (definitely at least a foot shorter), has a voice/accent that should narrate for books on tape, and you’d want to hug her just looking at her, even if you’d never met her before. My parents and I stayed at Goldie’s the last two times we were in London. She lives with her husband, Alan, in a beautiful house in Golders Green (a largely Jewish community in North London). She is truly one of my favorite people, and I wish I could see her more often. Anyway, Goldie and Alan are Orthodox Jews and Shabbat is a much more extravagant evening in their house than it’s ever been in ours. After schmoozing for a bit, we did the prayers for Shabbat, the wine, and the bread (we ate the best challah I have ever had in my life, seriously. I don’t know why, but it was ridiculously good) and dinner was underway. Another thing to add to the list of amazing things about Goldie is that she is an incredible cook. But not only is the food delectable, it’s always presented very artistically and beautifully. I don’t even want to try to do the meal justice by describing everything we ate, so I won’t, but there were basically 4 to 5 courses and it was all amazing, and pretty, and it may be the fullest I’ve ever been. Okay, I don’t know if that’s true, but I couldn’t finish my food (I took it home, because it was too good to not eat), and I truly felt like I was going to explode. The only downside to the entire evening was that I was literally falling asleep at the table by the end of the main course. I don’t really know why, because I wasn’t jetlagged, and I’d gotten plenty of sleep the night before, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I think there’s just something about traveling in general, no matter where or how far you go, that makes you tired. I actually had to leave the table and go to the couch (I told my dad to wake me up when it was time for desert). By the time we’d finished eating everything it was nearly midnight (at which point all the lights in the house turn off automatically, for Shabbat).

That was Friday, and much happened on both Saturday and today, but I think I’ll have to save it for another post. Which will most likely be up tomorrow. (I am really taking advantage of this internet thing… still none at the apartment in Lyon).

This Light Looks Good On You

Written on Thursday, December 6th:

I can’t believe it’s already been almost a week since this happened, but last weekend was overflowing with wine: specifically, le nouveau Beaujolais (the new Beaujolais). Apparently every fall, the Beaujolais region of France (which is about an hour away from Lyon) comes out with a new wine, and it’s a big deal. There are many different variations of the wine, because there are many different vineyards/wine makers, but they’re essentially all the same. As I recall, the nouveau Beaujolais hit stores in Lyon at the end of October, but it was discussed and worthy of parties for the entire month of November.

Last Friday, November 30th, Ruby and I went to “une soirée vin et fromage” (a wine and cheese evening party) that was put on by “Lyon International,” an group that organizes events for international students in Lyon. We got there embarrassingly early; there was practically no one there and they were still setting everything up. Fortunately, soon after, some of Ruby’s friends from her class showed up, as did Trevor, Morgan, and Rachel (friends from our program), as did a lot of others, and the wine tasting began. There were many different wine makers there were their version of the nouveau Beaujolais, as well as those with some other kinds of wine. I tried them all.

We also got to eat a bunch of cheese, which is always great. As we were drinking our wine and eating our cheese, various different people/families associated with Lyon International came up to us to get to know us. This was the other purpose of the event: you get to talk to different French families in the hopes that at the end of the night, they’ll like enough to invite you to their house for dinner. I think I spent too much time dancing to the tunes of the “rockabilly band” they hired for the night and not enough time talking to the families to get invited, but I did have some good conversations with some of them. But I actually did end up getting invited to dinner by association through Ruby, who was laying on the charm all night. All in all, it was a really fun evening, hanging out with friends and meeting new ones, and drinking lots and lots (too much, it turned out) of wine.

The next day, we had a program trip to the Beaujolais region to be guests at a family vineyard, and taste more… you guessed it, nouveau Beaujolais. Well, I’d had quite a bit of nouveau Beaujolais the night before, as did Ruby, Morgan and Rachel. As we were seated at the lovely wooden tables in their guest dining room, surrounded by the beautiful French countryside, as the wife of the family, Marie, was cooking us a enormous and delicious French lunch and her husband, Ludovic, was instructing us on how to observe, smell, and finally taste the wine correctly… I was trying not to vomit all over lavender and sunflower Provencal tablecloth. The mere smell of this wine was almost too much to handle. Which was so sad, because I love wine, and I really didn’t want Marie and Ludovic to mistake the look on my face for disgust at their proudly finished product. The four of us that shared the challenge of stomaching the wine kept stealing glances at each other from across the table in moral support.

After a while, though, happily, it was much easier to handle to smell, and even taste, of the wine. Also, the fresh baked bread, endive salad, and beef stew over rice that we ate not long after the wine tasting helped quite a bit. We even got home baked chocolate chip cookies (among many other things) for desert. I hadn’t had a chocolate chip cookie since I’d left America.

After lunch was finished, we headed over to the bread baking furnace room. (There’s probably a better way of saying this, but, you know). Marie demonstrated to us how to make bread from complete scratch, from mixing the flour, water, and yeast together right down to taking the fully baked bread out of the oven. It was really cool to watch, and the best part was, she made a loaf for each of us! We got to take home freshly baked bread, right out of the oven, that we saw made from scratch. And let me tell you, it was unbelievably good.

Since the Weekend of Wine, things have been much busier than weeks prior, mainly because the school strike is over! Phew. So yes, I’m back in school. Also, anticipation and eagerness has been in the air all week because this weekend is the Fête des Lumières (the Festival of Lights). This is very exciting: the main day of the event is Saturday the 8th, but it’s technically from the 6th (today!) until Sunday the 9th. Basically the entire city of Lyon turns into an artistically mesmerizing spectacle of lights. There are different “stations,” as in different things happening with lights, at various places in Lyon. There are 80 stations in all, spread out around the entire city. Friday and Saturday nights are some of the only nights of the year that the metros run all night long (and, of course, as a consequence, there’s a transportation strike today because the metro drivers are pissed that they have to work all night long on these other nights. Typical France…) I think our plan as of now is to buy some bottles of wine and walk around the city looking at all the lights. Why take the metro when you’re bound to miss something if you do?

Additionally, there’s a Ferris wheel set up in Bellecour right now, and it is enormous, and Morgan and Sarah and I went on it last night. From the top, you can see the entire city, and even without all the lights set up, it was incredible. Lyon really is an amazing city, and no one even realizes it because it’s so overshadowed by Paris. But it’s really beautiful. Also, a couple of the light exhibits had been started to be set up which we saw from the Ferris wheel, which just made us even more excited for the actual festival. I can’t wait to go on the Ferris wheel again.

I’ll definitely take pictures and post them on my next blog post so you can see what I’m talking about. It’s pretty hard to explain and might be worth looking up online, if you’re interested, and I’m sure my pictures won’t do it justice. In any case, expect to hear about a lot of lights next time.


Written on Sunday, December 9th:

The festival of lights is incredible and it's made me realize that I genuinely love Lyon. I finally feel at home here, and I love this city. Last night was completely out of control, there were more people in the streets of Lyon than I have ever seen before, I mean truly packed, everywhere. It was because it was the "biggest" night of the Fête des Lumières, the metros were running all night long and they left the lights on all night, which they hadn't done the past two nights. I didn't take pictures, but I have friends who did and I'll post them at some point. I couldn't have taken pictures if I wanted to, because my camera is out of commission, but I'm kind of glad I didn't. You can't really capture the magic of it all, and it was nice just looking at everything and taking it in.

After walking around and looking at the lights, Sarah, Patrick, Nathan and a friend visiting from Grenoble, Charlotte, went to a club where there was a live drum&bass show. Nathan and Patrick (and Charlotte actually too, which didn't surprise me because she's British) love Drum&Bass music, and I'm actually getting pretty into it. Some of it is really, really good, and a lot of fun to dance to. After that little show, we ended up going to, of course, La Marquise. It was PACKED, the busiest I've ever seen it, but once we got inside it was a lot of fun, and they kept playing Drum&Bass there too! We danced until 5:00am for the third night in a row, and finally called it a night (morning). This weekend has been incredibly nocturnal, but if there's any weekend where it'd make sense to become a night crawler, it's this one (lights, lights, lights).

Tonight, I will not be staying out until the wee hours, but I am going to go walk around and try to see some more lights, ones I haven't seen already. And I'd also like to go on the Ferris wheel again, with all the lights out this time.

Excusez-moi, Madame?

I’m starting to think I look kind of French. I don’t mean that I look French in the stereotypical kind of way; I’m not super skinny with pointy, chiseled features. I don’t walk around with a cigarette in my hand at all times. Though, I do wear a lot of black, and I do have pretty short hair. Okay, I guess what I mean to say is, I’m starting to think I can pass for French. And here’s why:

Lately, almost every day, someone comes up to me either on the street or in the metro station and asks me for directions. For those of you who know me well, this probably sounds hilarious to you. Yeah, yeah, yeah… But they often ask me for directions that I actually know how to give! For example: how to get to the metro station in a certain direction. I’ve been getting that one a lot lately. And not only do I know what to say, but when I’m done, it appears that they have no idea that I’m not actually French. And that makes me feel awesome.

Something that I do find strange, though, is that I more often than not get addressed as “Madame,” rather than “Mademoiselle.” I thought “Madame” was for people who look at least 27. I hope I don’t look like I’m 27. But maybe Mademoiselle has become more of a “young lady” type moniker, one reserved for preteens and teenagers that wish they looked older than they do. Maybe I should be flattered that I’m a “Madame.”

Speaking of “Madames” I am also called this by my students. For those of you who don’t know, I’ve been working as an English assistant in a vocational high school in Croix Rousse (only a two minute walk from my apartment, which is amazing) for the past three weeks. I was so happy to get this job, and it’s been going really well. Not only is it a really good experience in general (mainly because I kind of think, deep down, that I want to be a teacher), but it’s also so incredibly interesting for me. Because it’s a vocational school, the students are there to learn a specific trade/profession, which means their general education level is lower than students their age in other schools (so their English is at a pretty low level). The students are very unmotivated, and pretty disrespectful (this isn’t quite the right word, but for lack of a better one) during class; they’ll talk to each other, even answer their cell phones sometimes, and they often flat out refuse to do something if they don’t want to do it, which is usually speak in English. Also, I think out of the six to eight classes that I teach, I have about 4 or 5 white kids, and some of the students I have are my age, a couple are even older than me. I found this all out during my first week.

During the first week, I was with all the students and the teacher (I work with two different teachers, three of their classes each), and they just had the students ask me questions, discussion style. In each class, there were only about 4 kids who actually asked me questions. Many of them who wouldn’t directly talk to me would ask one of these kids a question in French and have the representative translate and ask me in English. Some of them would translate everything I said kind of to themselves, kind of to everyone into French immediately after I said it. In any case, being from California scored me some serious popularity points, as did my Nike Dunks. In every class, someone asked me about: celebrities, and which ones I knew; whether or not I liked Bush; if I had a boyfriend; if everyone in America eats McDonalds; and which is better, France or America? Some of them asked me if I smoked weed, some of them asked me how much money I was making for doing this (I didn’t respond to these ones, don’t worry Dad). There were way more guys than girls; a couple of the classes were only guys. Basically, this was/is the complete opposite of my high school.

But I love it. Some of the kids are hilarious. We have a lot of discussions about rap music (they all love it), and once after class, during which we discussed Soulja Boy, one of the students played the song on his cell phone and we did the dance together.

Since that first week, I’ve done some other things with the students besides talk about California and rap music. We’ve done some worksheets, had some grammar lessons. Usually, now, the teacher gives me half the class and we go into a separate room, so it’s just me and the kids. We’ll see how it progresses, but so far I’m really enjoying it.

No School For You

Here’s something I’ve been meaning to write about: strikes in France.
If you don’t already know, both transportation and student strikes are very popular in France; on average they happen about every 3 months. In October, there was a TCL strike (TCL represents all the metros, trams, and buses in Lyon, maybe everywhere in France for that matter, but that I don’t know). Not all of the metros, trams and buses were included in the strike, but some were, meaning they either came significantly less frequently or they didn’t come at all. This happened when I was living in St-Genis-Laval, and the only possible way I could get to school/into town was the 10 bus, and the 10 bus was on strike. That was only for one day.

About a week and a half ago, SNCF (which represents all the trains in France) decided to go on strike. It was virtually impossible to get a train anywhere in or out of the country. This was the case for a few days. Since then it’s gotten better, but it’s not over.

The same time that the SNCF strike started up, so did a student strike. In a nutshell, Lyon decided to privatize the university system, so the tuition to attend Université Lumière Lyon 2 (my school) is going up from basically free (200 euros a year) to 500 euros a year for French students. I know: 500 euros a year. I wish these students could spend a day in the shoes of almost everyone I know attending a four year university in the States, I really do. To pay 500 euros a year would be amazing, a cause for celebration, but evidently it couldn’t be farther from that for the French. So anyway, as a result, the students at my University, all last week and so far this week as well, have been literally blockading my school. They have literally been putting tables and chairs in front of all the entrances to the school and standing around them in huge groups, not letting anybody in. Professors, students… everyone. And as a result of this, I have not had school for the past week and a half. I couldn’t go to class if I wanted to. It is insane. And apparently it’s entirely NORMAL for this to happen here! It’s really quite amazing; this could never ever ever happen in the States! And not that I don’t enjoy having the free time, but I’m getting a bit bored, and more importantly, I’m starting to worry even more about being able to pass my classes if there’s bound to be so much catching up to do. Also, I don’t really agree with what the students are doing here. It’s one thing to go on strike and say that you’re not going to attend class as a form of protest, but it’s another to stop everyone else from going to classes if they want to. Yesterday, our program director wasn’t entirely sure if classes wouldn’t be going on so Amanda and I decided to try and go to our (horrible) 19th century French Lit class. We had to walk all the way around the building to secretly enter a side door because of course all the main entrances were blocked. On our way there, we ran into our professor for the class. We asked her if we had class today and she seemed baffled that we would even ask such a thing. As if she wanted to say, “Of course not you silly Americans, haven’t you ever been in a student blockading strike before?” Instead she said, “Ben… non.” Which is the equivalent of “Well uh… no,” and she told us that she wasn’t sure when we’d have it again.

After that, I needed to go to Centre Oregon to use the internet (the reason I do not yet have it in my apartment is long and unimportant for the purposes of this blog, but I WILL have it within the next week and a half, for sure). I had to go through a mass of protesters to get there. This was NOT easy. There were actually people physically blocking other people from going through this outdoor archway. One guy tried to jump over a table and a protester grabbed him and shoved him back. I was so frustrated, and honestly somewhat scared, so I just yelled, in English. “I’m not trying to go to class, I just want to go to my FUCKING program office, let me THROUGH!” The bad news is a lot of people turned to look at me and it was pretty embarrassing. But the good news is it totally worked! Someone even kind of helped me weave through everyone. And today, on my way to Centre Oregon, there were much less people (actually only about 5) blocking the way, and all I had to say was “Hi, I’m American.” I started to say “Can I go?” after that, but I didn’t even need to, they immediately moved aside and said “Ah oui oui, oui oui oui…” They even looked kind of NERVOUS about it, like I was some kind of authority figure (not that they give a shit about any actual authority figures here). This will probably be one of the only times, if not the only, where “American” is the magic word.

Anyway, no one is sure when this will end. And it’s not like I could travel anywhere with all this free time because of the SNCF strike! Apparently two years ago, they had one of these that lasted for an entire month. People say that this one will probably be over after this week, but who knows. C’est la vie, I suppose…

Not Exactly Thanksgiving

Thursday, November 22nd was a big day for America. Not so much for France. But we Americans here in Lyon did get something. Centre Oregon (our exchange program) funded a big Thanksgiving meal for us at a very fancy restaurant called “Institut Vatel.” From the moment I walked in the door, I knew this was going to be completely unlike any Thanksgiving I’d ever had, and most likely will ever have in my life: there were attendants waiting to take our coats and purses.
There were 50 to 60 of us total; we were allowed to invite friends, host family members, etc (Ruby and I brought Julia). After schmoozing for a while, we seated ourselves at one of the fancy round tables that sat about 10 people each. We were immediately given bread and wine. Soon after, the first course followed (yes, we were served our Thanksgiving meal in courses). This was a salad that included lots of different kinds of vegetables. I thoroughly enjoyed it, but I also realized that I’d never eaten salad (traditional salad) on Thanksgiving before, and everyone else around the table said the same (except for Julia, who of course, had never had a Thanksgiving before). Then it was time for the main course. Before it was served, though, the head chef brought out the turkey. A real turkey, picture perfect. He walked around the entire room with it on a platter, showing everyone. We all clapped. Besides the turkey, the main course was pretty unThanksgiving-esque. No mashed potatoes (sigh), no stuffing, no gravy, no cranberry sauce (bigger sigh). But it was still a lot of fun. We all laughed about how different everything was, and reminisced about our respective Thanksgivings at home. We also explained various aspects of Thanksgiving to the three French people at our table (Julia, and Morgan’s-a friend from the program-host parents). Morgan’s host parents were hilarious, especially the dad. He’s one of the most sarcastically dry people I’ve ever meant and seriously just doesn’t give a fuck about what he says. You really had to have been there to understand exactly what I mean, but he was pretty entertaining.
Finally it was time for desert, which included two “pies” (as well as a tray of cookies and stuff). One of the pies was this chocolate caramel thing that was verrrrry delicious. The other was a sorry attempt at pumpkin. It really didn’t taste anything like actual pumpkin pie. But, I appreciate their effort. And, I mean, I ate it of course.
All in all, it was a very different holiday than we were all used to, but I think we made the most of it. When I talked to my family later that night, I got really sad and homesick, because I missed my Thanksgiving at home. But later on, Ruby and I had a long discussion about homesickness, and decided we’re done with it. It was hard talking to everyone in the moment, but I realized that this is one Thanksgiving out of so many, and I really just need to enjoy my time in France while I’m here. So that’s what I’m going to from now on: enjoy this French life to the fullest.
And hey, even though it was so different, this Thanksgiving did share something in common with every other Thanksgiving I’ve had: I was VERY full after the meal. : )

A Barcelona Birfday

I’ve claimed London to be my favorite city in the entire world ever since I first went there when I was 14 years old. And this stayed true for a while: 7 years in fact. But after going to Barcelona, I’m no longer so sure.

After a very, very exciting night, Ruby, Molly and I hopped on our Easyjet plane on the morning of Friday, November 9th, and landed in a truly amazing place. Even just walking through the city to our hostel was awesome; everything was colorful, and beautiful, and WARM! (Lyon is unbearably freezing cold at the moment. Last Thursday I honestly think was the coldest weather I have ever experienced in my life. It snowed (nothing exciting, just flakes, no sticking) at night, but there was this face biting, ice making wind that was going strong throughout the day. Truly, so, SO cold). About 5 minutes after we got to our hostel (which was really cool: lots of art (graffiti and otherwise) all over the walls, everyone was our age and all smiles, all around just a really relaxed, fun place), Braden and Jake walked in the door! They’d already been at the hostel for two nights, and had nothing but great things to say about Barcelona.

After getting settled, we made our way to Las Ramblas, the main street in the downtown area. There, we met many strange street performers. I guess they’re there everyday. But they were the weirdest street performers I’d ever seen. Sure, there were the standard ones that stay perfectly still until you put money in their tin, upon which they do something. But there was also: a man dressed as an enormous fat woman. A woman covered in fruits and vegetables. A real creepy guy perched on a metallic chair who stealthily used one of his arms to move around a head (no body), who appeared to be his domestic pet, best friend, and lover all in one. And best (as in strangest) of all: an upside down table, with a hole cut out of it in the middle, with a pillow blocking what’s underneath, with fake legs attached to the top of the table, and when someone puts money in the jar, this guy, face painted in all white wearing a baseball cap, pops his head out of the hole, sticks his arms out of the sides of this upside down table, and sort of rocks back and forth in a little dance for about 10 seconds. That’s really the only way I know how to describe it. It was one of the weirdest things I’ve ever seen.

Eventually we went over to Mercat de la Boqueria, which is this huge market that sells all kinds of food, on Las Ramblas. Here, we met Karyn and Betsy. It was a really magical reunion. Molly and I bought a fresh squeezed strawberry banana juice at the Market, and we were off. For the rest of the day, we mainly just explored the city. For dinner, we went to a bar called L’Oveja Negra (or something), which means Black Sheep. It was a cool place, kind of like an old tavern. We were nearly the only people there, though, since it was something like 9:00, and shit doesn’t even get started until around 1:00am apparently. But it was still fun, we all just talked and reminisced and relaxed. We called it an early night because we were all so exhausted.

The next day was Saturday, and also my birthday. Also, Courtney had now joined us, making our party complete! The first thing we did was a 4-hour bike tour of the city. This was wonderful. We started out in the Old City, where we saw a lot of old, historical buildings and learned about a lot of Barcelona’s history, which was quite interesting. Next, we headed to a really cool park (that I unfortunately do not remember the name of), but it was really beautiful. It was filled with palm trees, and was equipped with a lagoon full of paddleboats, as well as a really beautiful statue that kind of reminded me of the statue in Place Terraux here in Lyon. Additionally, next to the park was Barcelona’s very own Arc de Triomphe. Seriously, it’s even called that (Spanish style). It looks a lot like the French one too. I think Chris, our tour guide, said something about how the Spaniards liked the French one so much that they built their own. I must admit, it made me sort of proud. Anyway, biking through the park was lovely. Then we headed to La Sagrada Familia, Gaudi’s lifelong project that he was working on up until his death. It is an ENORMOUS Catholic church that is unlike anything else in the entire world. Standing right there before it honestly blew me away. It’s the most detailed architecture I’ve ever seen! They’re working to finish what Gaudi started, and have been doing so since his death, so it’s constantly under construction, which is kind of too bad, but I barely even noticed it, the building is just that impressive. They expect it to be finished within 40 years. The reason it’s taking so long is now that they’ve finished everything from the plans for it Gaudi left, they’re trying to finished it based on exactly how they think Gaudi would have wanted it. It’s already so tall, but they’re going to build one extra tall tower in the middle of it, which will be 115 meters high! Huge. Anyway, it was really amazing.

Ah, also, while at the La Sagrada Familia, our American tour guide Chris got in a fight with a passing tour guide. Basically, Fat Tire bike tours are not sponsored by the city, or something, and this city sponsored tour guide passed us and said, in English, “DO NOT LISTEN TO THIS MAN, THIS MAN IS A LIAR!” when Chris was talking to us about La Sagrada Familia. As she was walking away, Chris yelled after her, “And that’s a BITCH who doesn’t know what the FUCK she’s talking about!” He also said something about how “real tour guides don’t need microphones” …I guess she was wearing one. It was a bit disconcerting, and while Chris tried to play it off afterward, he kept bringing it up at various points throughout the tour. I think he has some anger issues.

Next we headed to the beach where we stopped for some snacks and drinks, and admired the beauty, and eventually headed back into Old Town. While many Catalonians were less than happy about the gang of bikes weaving through the streets, and even though Chris was kind of a tool, it was a really fun time, and a really cool way to see a lot of the city. Later on, back at the hostel, Braden and Jake gave me two things: first, a glass full of pomegranate absinthe. Second, my birthday present: my very own grill. It is incredible. I got a whole top diamond and sapphire. I wore it for the rest of the day and night. My mouf was lookin sumthin like a disco bawl. (Mom, since you already read Courtney’s post and have since asked me what a grill is, it’s an apparatus that you insert into your mouth that goes over your teeth to pimp them out, which means make them look cool. They generally involve jewels, like diamonds). After continuing our absinthe party at the fly honey hostel, and eating some very delicious soup, we bought a lot of cheap wine and headed to Park Guel. This is the huge Gaudi park in Barcelona (back in the day, Gaudi built two houses in this area, each for a wealthy Catalonian family. The families didn’t like them, so Gaudi turned the area into a park and gave it to the city). When we went there Saturday night it was dark, so we didn’t do much exploring around the park. But we did find a little cove with a view of the entire city, and it was too beautiful. Sitting there, eating cheese and drinking wine and laughing, I looked around at everyone there and felt so incredibly lucky. Here I was, in (maybe) the most amazing city I’d ever been to, with some of the people that matter to me most in this world, and there was just so much love, and I was just so happy. Maybe I didn’t get to have a big 21st birthday in America, and there are some other people I would have loved to spend it with, but, in the end, I really couldn’t have asked for anything better.

We drank all the wine. We had some ridiculous photo shoots. We took in the breathtaking view. Happy Birthday was sung. Then Betsy had us all do something really cool: a kind of cinnamon roll type hug. Everyone holds hands in a circle, and since it was my birthday, I was in the middle. I stay stationary, and then everyone else runs in a circle around me until we’re all wrapped up super tight. It was great. We did a bunch of them.

Finally, after spending a significant amount of time in this amazing park, we decided to hit up tha club. I really wanted to go to this place called Razzmatazz (a club with five floors, with a different type of music happening on each), but it was kind of far out and, well, I don’t really know why we didn’t go there in the end, but we went to somewhere called Catwalk. There were two floors at this one: the bottom was electro (but, sadly, shitty electro), and the top was hip hop and rap. I was a big hit with my grill. We broke it down upstairs for most of the night, got hit on by a lot of sleazy guys, and got saved from all of them by Jake. It was all really fun though.

Jake and Braden had to leave really early Sunday morning, so I said goodbye to them when we got back to the hostel at 5:30am. Karyn and Betsy had to leave in the late morning, so we got some verrrry tasty ice cream (France is still in the lead for ice cream though will probably take second to Italy when I go there at some point), and said goodbye. And then there were three. Molly, Ruby and I decided to go back to Park Guel so that we could actually see it during the day. We ended up spending the entire day there. I think that park was my favorite thing about Barcelona. I can’t really describe everything about it that made it so cool, but it’s amazing. The palm trees and these brown, manmade clay columns with little nooks in them really reminded us of Donkey Kong. Then there was the big veranda, with a long mosaic framed bench that wrapped around it all, that overlooks the entire city. Best view of the city there is, I imagine. If any of you have seen L’Auberge Espangol, this is where that scene of Xavier and Anne Sophie (when they’re looking out at the city, and give way to their sexual tension) is filmed. We spent a lot of time in this area, because there was a man making amazing giant bubbles, and a lot of hilarious Spanish children reacting to it, and a lot of great people watching opportunities in general. Then we went and checked out those two Gaudi houses. I realize that his work was so different and original and ahead of his time that people didn’t like it, but those families had to have been crazy not to want to live in these things. They’re so cool! They look like melted gingerbread houses, and the mosaics are so neat. The park is also home to that super famous Gaudi lizard (I believe he’s an iguana). I’ve never seen so many tourists trying to take pictures with something. Ruby got a lot of pictures of various people with the lizard in an attempt to get one of me with it.

As the sun was setting, we continued to explore the park. Finally, it was dark, and after spending a good 6 hours in Park Guel, we decided to leave. We were making our way to the exit gate, and just as we were approaching it, we heard a noise that went something like this “Fss fssshh fssshhh.” Kind of a whispering, whistling noise. Then all of a sudden I hear Ruby and Molly go “Oh my God, Oh my GOD…” and see them start running toward the gate. I’m confused and say, “What, what!?!?” and one of them says, “THERE’S A NAKED MAN RIGHT THERE.” I look up, into the bushes about 5 feet above us, and sure enough, there is a stark naked man looking down at us, wiggling his dick and smiling. We got the FUCK out of the park. None of us could believe it! We were flashed! You can’t really call it flashing though, since there were no clothes to begin with. We looked for someone to report this man to, but couldn’t find anyone, and decided to just leave since we were all pretty freaked out by it. It was pretty fucked up, but also a pretty hilarious way for our day at Park Guel to end.

Monday morning we tried to go to the Picasso museum but it was closed. We peeked in the windows though, at least. Since we couldn’t go to the museum, we walked down some back streets near our hostel and saw a lot of cool street art. We also popped into a really beautiful church. Finally, we came back to Lyon. None of us wanted to leave. We all kind of wished we were studying abroad in Barcelona instead, I think. But, Lyon has its pros. And there’s no way I’m going to attempt to learn Catalan. And the weekend wouldn’t have been so special if we were living there the whole year. And it was a very special weekend indeed.

The end.

Because we (the members of Justice) are your (my) friends, you’ll never be alone again (I got the best birthday present of all time)

DISCLAIMER: Still don’t have Internet at home, but will in just one week! So expect more frequent posting soon. Also, this post was actually written on November 13th.

I have so, so much to write about.

From Thursday, November 8th to Monday, November 12th, 2007, my life was a crazy whirlwind, but they were some of the best days of my entire life. I’ll need to break what I’m going to say into two blog posts, because I fear one would be too overwhelmingly lengthy. So… I’ll start… with Justice.

Thursday night, Molly, Ruby and I went to see Scenario Rock, Busy P and Justice live in Lyon. The concert was at Transbordeur, the same place were the last Erasmus party was. Knowing that it was a sold out show, and knowing that Transbordeur is enormous, we expected there to be an insane amount of people: there was. We were swallowed up by the crowd as soon as we walked in. But that didn’t stop us from making our way to the bar.

After a few vodka & redbulls, we heard Scenario Rock start up. They weren’t bad, but not great. In any case, we decided to make our way to the front of the stage anyway so as to be as close as humanly possible to Justice. Because I am a bawss and cared a lot about this, we got up to the very, very front of the huge crowd, which stopped at multiple metal gates. We stood on the bottom railings of the gates and proceeded to get absolutely rammed in the ass for the next two(ish) hours (I’m talking multiple bruises all over our legs and arms) but it was very, very worth it as soon as Justice started up. Not only did they do most of Cross, and Waters of Nazarath, but they also did some of their remixes that I love so much, such as NY Excuse by Soulwax, Skitzo Dancer (Scenario Rock), of course We Are Your Friends, etc.

So after the main show, and after everyone thought it was over, we all head out back into the main area where the bar is and such, and after about 20 minutes, we heard more fat beats. Basically there was an aftershow, which I think was Busy P’s main set, but Justice was very much a part of it also, on a smaller stage, with a more intimate crowd. This was better, for obvious reasons. I was dancing like crazy, obviously, and at one point I look up and see a few people dancing on stage: one of them was Ruby. Naturally, I make my way to the stage and she pulled me up there with her. While this wasn’t the first time I’d danced on stage with members of Ed Rec, it was still a really cool experience, looking out on the crowd, and being so close to the DJs. And then, it happened…

The security guards start kicking the commoners off the stage. I stealthily hide behind some people and a barricade. I somehow make my way behind the turntables. The security guards come over to the people surrounding me (photographers and Justice/Busy P’s associate DJs. They demand to see wristbands. Everyone shows them. I don’t. IT GOES UNNOTICED. Thus: for the next two and a half hours, I danced with, talked with, and drank with Xavier de Rosnay and Gaspard Augé (Justice), Pedro Winter (Busy P), and the 10 or so others who were cool enough to kick it with them. I sat down next to Xavier under the turntables (this is what he was doing for the majority of this set) and tapped him on his leather jacket and told him that I think he’s really talented and I appreciate his music. He thanked me. I told him that I saw an Ed Banger show in San Francisco in March and that it really impressed me. He said, “At the Mezanine?” and I said “Yes!” and in my head I was saying, “WOW. WOW WOW,” and he said “That show was really fun.” Then he offered me what I thought was a water bottle and I took a big gulp of it and, well, it wasn’t water. Then that was that and he went back to perusing through some CDs, but I still can’t really believe that I had a legitimate conversation with Xavier from Justice. And the best part was that it was all in French! I went back to dancing and I told the girl photographer that was kicking it there that my birthday was in two days and this was the coolest birthday present I could ever ask for. She said, “Perfect!” Then I started dancing around some of the other DJs and trying to get a better look at their equipment so I could tell Thom and Mikhail about it (I’m sorry to say that I remember nothing about the equipment) and I was, you know, breaking it down and one of the DJs was feeling my style and started dancing too and smiling and stuff and then we had a big conversation, throughout which I was given a lot more alcohol as well as some pats on the back, and found out that his name is Niko, he lives in Toulouse, he DJs with Justice and Busy P regularly, and he’s very happy that I got to come hang out with them. (I was too!) Then he said, “Do you want to see how it’s done?” (he kept switching back and forth with this other DJ, who was wearing a really cool shirt, just so it’s clear that we weren’t talking while he was mixing), and he brought me up to the turntables/synths/machines and let me watch closely. Then, somehow, magically, Busy P and I made eye contact. I tried to think of something cool to do. I came up with motioning at my wrist to show that I didn’t have a wristband and then doing the universal sign for “don’t tell anyone!” aka “shh!” …I’m not that cool under pressure. And I was drunk. But, he faked like he was going to alert security about it and then broke out of that and smiled at me and did the universal sign for “don’t worry about it!” aka swatting the air with your hand and tilting your head back while half smiling.

I was on Cloud 9. I truly felt like the coolest person in the entire world. It really made me miss Thom, and wish he could experience all that. (Personally, I think he will someday anyway, what with his getting asses on tha dance floor skillz). Eventually, after much more dancing, and much more talking with Niko, Ruby came up behind the stage. I decided to try and get her back there with me. That’s when it all went awry. As soon as I left where I was, just a little bit, to try and get her on there, the security guard stopped me, saw that I didn’t have a wristband, and told me to get off the stage. So we start going away… but then, I kind of stealthily slipped back there again. Unfortunately Ruby didn’t make it. But I was back. And then, this girl pulled me to right where Busy P was mixing and started dancing with me and stuff and I asked her if she was with any of these guys and she said yes and I asked her who and she pointed right at Busy P. So, I was dancing with Busy P’s girlfriend for a while, which enabled me to talk to Busy P himself a bit when he wasn’t pumping up the jams. Then, it turns out it was like 4:30 in the morning, and Ruby came back to the stage and reminded me that we had to be at the airport about 6 hours later. So, we tried to give it one more shot getting her back there, Busy P himself actually came out and talked to both of us about how he’d try to talk to someone, but I didn’t really expect him to, and I figured I’d had an amazing enough night. I said goodbye to all my new friends and thanked them so much for being so awesome, etc, and Niko gave me some cheek kisses and asked for my number. And then I got his. So who knows, maybe that won’t be the last time I get to hang out with those guys. But if it was… I’m a whole lot more than okay with it.





Me! and Niko is on the left.
Busy P and his girlfriend in the forground, Xavier in the back.

La Croix Rousse and Crepes

So I’m sitting alone in my new apartment, and I’m still homesick, and I’m scared (because anyone who knows me knows I’m a scardeycat, and it’s night time in France, and there’s a baby crying, and I’m by myself), and I have no internet. But other than that, things are pretty wonderful, so I decided to write a Microsoft Word blog post about it that I’ll hopefully be able to actually post sometime soon.

A week ago, I moved into the apartment that I’ll be living in for the rest of the year. Though I’ve already briefly mentioned this, I feel the need to say again that it’s in the Croix Rousse area of Lyon. This part of town is really awesome; it’s on a hill, so from almost anywhere here (including my bedroom window!) you have an incredible view of the city. The area itself has a lot of cool architecture and graffiti, as well as lovely people. And everyday, (though Saturdays and Sundays are the biggest) there’s a huge street market on the main boulevard (a block away from my apartment!) with vendors selling fresh fruits, veggies, meat, cheese, bread, and more. I have never had the patience to cook, I actually kind of hate cooking, but these street markets inspire me to maaaybe give cooking another shot. Additionally, there’s been a carnival here, spread out along the main boulevard and surrounding streets, that will continue until November 11th. It’s pretty crazy, I walk out of my apartment at night and hear screams from kids on the rides and see flashing colorful lights and best of all, smell crepes being cooked: there are about a million different creperies/churro-eries/waffleries, and I’ve already determined which one sells the best nutella crepes, and yes, I eat at least one every day. In short, I love Croix Rousse.

The apartment itself is adorable. It’s cozy, but doesn’t feel too small. I honestly do have a million dollar (euro?) view from my bedroom window, as well as the living room. We don’t have a dishwasher, but I actually kind of like washing dishes (and it’s something I can contribute to meals, since I hate cooking). We have a TV that has thus far thoroughly entertained me with The Adams Family (the movie), MTV’s Exposed, and NFL highlights, all in French. The only bad (and not even bad, frustrating is a better word) thing about it is that there’s no Internet, but this has been actually kind of refreshing in a way. It’s becoming more of an issue lately though, because as nice as it is to read books and do crosswords and watch French Exposed in my downtime here, I do need that damn Internet for school. And keeping in touch.

This past week (I’m writing this on Sunday, November 4th, for the record) was our Tous Saints (All Saints) vacation, and Andrew came to visit! I don’t think I’m even going to try to recount all our adventures, but they involved gay clubs, H&M, an Australian bar, pretty unexciting Halloween costumes because we have no money (a Halloween that didn’t come close to comparing to America’s, sadly), promenading all around the city (which was cool because I actually saw new beauty of Lyon: suddenly the things I see everyday were beautiful and impressive, and even though I knew they were in the back of my mind, I never really actively saw them that way because I’m living here rather than visiting. So being with Andrew, a visitor, gave me a new perspective), crossword puzzles, a lot of crepes and churros, giraffes, zebras, an elephant, a whole lot of monkeys, and a chocolate tasting exhibition. Needless to say, it was a great week, and it was especially great just being able to see Andrew.

Speaking of seeing friends, I’m going for Barcelona this coming weekend for my birthday! It’s hard to believe I’m already turning 21, or really just having a birthday in general so soon, because it honestly does not feel like we were breaking it down classy style at the manor for my 20th birthday an entire YEAR ago. I swear, time goes by too fast. It will also be weird to have the biggest American birthday in Europe, but I am really excited to go to Barcelona. I’ve heard nothing but amazing things about this city. And best of all I get to see so many of my friends!

Lately, and especially after writing this post, I’ve been feeling incredibly lucky. That, mixed with my homesickness, is a really strange feeling. It’s like I almost don’t deserve to be homesick, even though the two don’t really have anything to do with each other, but it makes the homesickness feel kind of selfish.

In any case, I really miss all of you. I wish all of you could come celebrate my birthday with me in Barcelona. That would be the best gift of all.

Well, I’ll tell you all about it next time!

Love, Meg

In the city that's where we belong

It's 1:45 in the morning and I can't sleep. All I can do is listen to remixes.

I'm moving into my apartment in 2 days and as I was walking to the bus this morning, I started realizing just how much I'm going to miss living in this little Lyonnais suburb. Here's what, to name only some:

Sleeping in a big bed (the one in the apartment is tiny)
Not having to buy groceries
The cows next door
My bus, whose drivers and passengers I've come to know and love (despite having to walk up and down that enormous hill each time I need to take it, which was quite good exercise anyway)
Not having to pay for internet
Not having to do anything, really
My dirty clothes suddenly being magically clean
Feeling totally safe at night
Didier, with his sly jokes and Santa Claus smile, genuinely interested in having really interesting conversations with me about politics, sports, and culture
Agnes, with her motherly tendencies, love of rap music (and willingness to dance around the living room to it with me), and ability to make all food taste amazing
And Elliot, my own personal rock star, with his Blink 182 music videos, atrociously adorable English speaking French accent, who is truly one of the most considerate people I've ever met, and mature beyond his years

I told Elliot that he has to come over and hang out with me at the apartment. We'll drink beer (I'll stomach it) and bob our heads to the beat.

I think though, that the real reason I can't sleep, has to do with me missing something else: home. I think, if I may take a moment to be introspective and analytical, that I may have been a little over confident in terms of this whole living in France for a year thing. What I mean is, it didn't even cross my mind that this experience would be at all hard for me; I'd already lived abroad before for a long period of time, I already knew what cultural differences were in store, and I even already knew how to speak French pretty well. But you know what... none of that matters. At all. I'm homesick. I miss my family, and I miss my friends. I miss Cafes Yumm and Roma, and Japanese food, and Gordos and Sienna, and the wide variety of restaurants that I took for granted. I miss being able to drive to Target to get basically everything I need. I miss driving. I miss actually having money to spend on everything I need. I miss relatively warm weather. I miss things being less complicated. I miss understanding most things. I miss convenience. I miss feeling completely comfortable. I miss beer pong. I miss Moonbeam. I miss having dance parties in basements.

I am really really happy to be studying abroad in Lyon, France this year. I am having a great time, and it's an incredible experience. But I'm coming to realize that that doesn't mean it's always easy to be here. And sometimes, I wish I could just teleport home. Just for a day. Just for an hour.

My soon to be metro might be the end of me...

After basically lying in bed for 5 straight days, I decided to venture back into the world on Friday afternoon. I no longer had a fever, and was feeling almost entirely better minus the fact that I was still coughing up my lungs every 5 minutes-at this point, it's about every 15. I met Molly at our favorite ice creamery in Lyon: it's in Vieux Lyon and every one of their 40 some odd flavors is insanely delicious. My personal favorite is 'pear.' We ate our ice cream and discussed Halloween (Molly's going to be a tree, she wants me to be Elvis. If anyone has any ideas of a good Halloween costume, please let me know, I'm coming up dry).

Later that evening, we met up with Terra to go to a free capoeira exposition in Villeurbanne. For those of you who don't know, capoeira is a Brazilian martial arts dance. Terra is taking a capoeira class through school, but there is a capoeira studio here in Lyon (the one we were going to) that Julia, my host sister, actually belongs to. It's 200 euros for the year, which isn't bad, but too much for yours truly. However, throughout this past week, the studio was letting people get a taste of capoeira for free. I was under the impression that this was going to be a huge exposé, in a big gymnasium-type room, with capoeira performances and opportunities to try it out yourself, etc.

No. This is not what is was. It was a small studio room and it was just straight up a class. No watching, all participating. The instructor, a small, dreadlocked, tattooed Brazilian man who didn't seem to be fond of underwear had us start jogging around the room in a circle, and we were off. Molly and I did not know what we were in for... luckily there were a fair amount of people who had never done capoeira before either. I'm not going to describe everything we did, but we used every single muscle in our bodies, we did a lot of high, rounded kicks, spin moves, and cartwheels, all the while keeping the tribal dance moves going. Also, everything is done in pairs and Mr. Brazil would not let Molly and I be partners. This was scary at first, but ended up being a lot of fun because I got to meet (and laugh about our lack of skills with) tons of different people. The class lasted for an hour and a half, and at the end the instructor had us all sit in a circle while some of the regular capoeira students played music, and each of the newbies was paired up with an old timer to demonstrate what we learned during the class. I sucked, but it was all in good fun. All in all it was a great experience, though now I cannot even take a step without all of my muscles screaming out in pain.

Before I explain what happened on Saturday, I need to explain what "Le Petit Paumé" is. Le Petit Paumé is a very detailed guidebook of basically everything in Lyon: things to do, different types of stores to go to, cultural experiences to have, restaurants, bars and clubs, useful resources, everything. And each place/thing to do has a detailed description written by someone who's experienced it. It's basically the single most useful book to have if you are visiting or living in Lyon. There's a new one issued each year, and they're given out for free to anyone who wants one on a day in late October. Saturday was this day.

After eating at this Thai restaurant that we'd really been wanting to go to (no Thai ice tea which was sad, got Pad Thai, disappointingly small portion but still very tasty, though it didn't even compare to Thai Noodle or Sweet Basil, for those of you who know one or the other), Molly and I headed to Bellecour, where the Petit Paumés were getting handed out. Little did we know that a fairytale wonderland was in store for us. This year, Le Petit Paumé is fairytale themed, and thus, there were tons of people dressed as if from fairytales, mystical fairies on stilts parading around, a strange traveling circus type troupe singing songs (Molly and I loved these people and watched them for about 40 minutes), and more. There was also some weird stuff that didn't seem to fit, like a square of astroturf where little kids were throwing around rugby balls (I guess this was because of the rugby world cup, the championship of which took place last night. South Africa beat England), cones set up for kids to rollerblade around, and weird wooden air hockey-ish tables. But you know, when in Rome...

Saturday night, Elliot had a party at the house for his 16th birthday. 16 is a relatively big deal here because you become of age to legally drink beer. Molly and I were intrigued and curious to see how 16 year old Frenchies get down, so we tried to stealthily get in on the action. (We served some of the food, and offered my ipod to Elliot for the dance partay). In the end, we kinda just felt like creepers, and went to Molly's house, but it was fun for a while. Oh but, before the party started, Elliot was setting everything up and going through his music and after eating delicious tiramisu that Alix made (Alix is the eldest daughter, she's 24 and lives in Paris, but got here last Wednesday night to be here for Elliot's birthday weekend) and drinking tea, Agnes, Alix, Elliot, Molly and I had a mini dance party to Blink-182, Mika, and more in the living room. I really really love my French family.

Today, the family went to Agnès' dad's retirement home-ish place (I say ish because this was the nicest and least retirement home-like retirement home I've ever been to. It was more like a nice hotel where all of the guests happened to be old) in Croix Rousse for lunch and to celebrate Elliot's birthday as a family. Since I slept at Molly's last night, I just took the metro to Croix Rousse, since this was easier than coming all the way home first. This was my first time taking the C line (the metro that goes to Croix Rousse). Most (meaning all except the C line) of the metros here are entirely underground and move very fast. NOT THE C LINE. The C Line only has 4 stops, and since Croix Rousse is on a hill, the C line dares to go above ground. The C line metro is incredibly rickety and noisy, and travels very slowly up a hill (and down, I suppose, in the other direction). It reminded me of a very very subdued version of Disneyland's Matterhorn rollercoaster. Every time it stopped, I had the impression that we might start rolling backwards down the hill at any given moment. Basically I may very well fear for my life every time I go home.

Oh, right, I forgot to mention that I'm moving into my apartment in a week! Less even, 5 days! I'm really excited, especially after having been in Croix Rousse today, which really is such an awesome part of the city. But it's very bittersweet because I really love my family here, and I'm so sad to be leaving them.

Okay, back to the lunch. Agnes' father (I wrote about him in one of the emails already) is so hilarious. After lunch, which was so so so good (I tried lambchops for the first time and, while it makes me sad that I ate baby lambs, they were very tasty), we went back up to Robert's room and discussed his affinity for cigars (he smokes one a day) and armagnac (similar to cognac. Robert made it at the farm he used to live it at had some in the apartment. He INSISTED I try some; I did, and it felt like my entire head was on fire and about to explode. I'm not a big fan). I'm glad Robert lives in Croix Rousse (really really close to our apartment, actually), because I want to kick it with him; he is a hoot.

It was a relatively relaxing weekend. I didn't want to go out because I'd been sick, and it was actually quite nice to not go out at all for once.

The end!

Love, Meg

Chez Medecin

I have been sick with the flu for the past three days, so nothing very exciting has happened (except that I went to see a French doctor this morning who prescribed me more things than any American doctor has ever prescribed me in one visit for a common flu: tylenol-ish pills, pills that are supposed to help me get all the shit out of my lungs that's making me cough every 5 seconds, a nasal decongestant spray, pills to help me stop coughing at night so that I can sleep, and antibiotics that I should start taking in a couple days if things haven't improved. And I got my very own thermometer.)

So, I've decided to use this incredibly uneventful time to post some photos on here of the eventful experiences I've recently written about, in no particular order (as well as some pictures of the city in general. Also, almost all of these pictures are courtesy of Molls).

Lyon:

Top: The view from afar of the Basilique Notre Dame de Fourvière
Bottom: The Basilique up close


Top: Cathédral St Jean in Vieux Lyon by day
Bottom: By night


Top: Inside the Croix Rousse (where I'll be living in a week and a half) metro.
Bottom: Pont de l'Université. I walk across this to go to school every day.

Friday night at Rachel's apartment, aka the cereal box game and dance party:



Okay basically, first picture: trying out the "frog" position. This one worked for Ruby really well. It did not work for me. Second picture: trying to figure out a new approach. Third picture: Utilizing "the lunge." This ended up being my standby and won me the game. Morgan and Rachel were fond of the "straddle," which is what Morgan is demonstrating here in the fourth picture.
Below on top: Cereal box game champions (Ruby was a fake champion, after she got eliminated like 3 rounds prior she was bossy (tee hee hee) and decided to re-enter). That little piece of cardboard I am holding was what we ultimately had to pick up (off the floor with our mouth only thing that can touch the floor are your feet. My hands were on my front foot).


Below top: Dimitra (the blonde bombshell-besides Molly, clearly) teaches us a traditional Greek dance. Bottom: We (especially Rubes) show Dimitra how we go dumb.





The French/All Blacks Rugby game at Place Terraux:


Last picture: The aftermath.



The Olympique Lyonnais vs. Glasgow Rangers football match:

On the left: our view of the field. It might seem far away but it was perfect.

Below: Me taking part in the typical Glasgowian Rangers fan pregame song and cheer.












































Last picture: My favorite picture of Molly ever.



The night we went to the boat when Braden was here: