Oh Yeah, I Also Ate Plenty of Chocolate

It’s been a very long time since I’ve written something on here. Not much has happened since the end of vacation, so I suppose I’ll just write about that:

Switzerland was wonderful. It was great to be back there and see everyone that I hadn’t seen in far too long. On the one hand there was so much to do because I was only there for 3 days, not even, but on the other hand it was kind of relaxing because I knew I wouldn’t be able to fit in everything I wanted to do into 3 days, so I didn’t really try. So it was pretty low key. When we first got there we mainly just relaxed at the Candaux house. Games were played (clearly) and lots of good food was eaten. The next day we went to Gruyère. Some of you may have heard of Gruyere cheese. It’s delicious. It comes from this tiny town in Switzerland, which is quite close to where we lived. Gruyere has a bunch of little “chalet” style restaurants and they all serve: soupe de chalet (the best soup in the world-it has lots in it: cheese, cream, macaroni pasta, onions, spinach, more cheese, croutons-it’s incredible), fondue, and fruit with double crème (this is essentially really thick whipping cream that’s not sugary). I really love all of this food. It was difficult to decide between the soup and fondue, but ultimately I decided on the soup (we decided to make fondue at the house the next night, and the soup was all you can eat). I obvisouly also got raspberries and double crème for desert. Best meal ever.
Here's soupe de chalet (the picture does not do it justice), and me eating raspberries and double crème:


That night I met up with Laura, my best friend in Switzerland. It was great to see her family-especially her younger brother, who Laura and I always hung out with and who always had a crush on me. The three of us reminisced and laughed a lot. Then we, along with some other friends, went to a bar in Lausanne (all my friends can now drive, so the opportunities are now endless). It was basically me, Laura, another girl who’s name I simply do not remember, and a whole lot of silly Swiss boys, and it was a lot of fun.
Here's a picture of Laura, me, and Jonathan (Laura's brother):


On Sunday we ate lunch at another family friend house where I thoroughly enjoyed kicking it with the three boys, ages 13, 11, and 4. I watched them play Lord of the Rings computer games and then we started watching Shrek 3 in French (I was dragged away about 15 minutes into the movie, and I was pissed). That night we had one of my dad’s ex-students/my friends over for dinner, which was fondue. And of course we played more board games afterward.

It was a very short visit as I left early the next morning for Paris, but all in all, a really great one. I’m definitely going back; I realized how much that place meant to me and how much I missed it. Plus it only costs about 25 euros for me to go there, round trip!

So Paris was a blur because I was there for barely 24 hours, but the trip was well worth it. I got to see all my friends who are studying abroad throughout Europe, and for the New Year at that. In terms of what I did… well, it’s pretty ridiculous, but to be honest I spent more time at Pigalle (the essential Red Light district of Paris) than anywhere else. During the day on New Years Eve, Karyn and Andrew and I just sort of aimlessly walked around the city and ended up spending a lot of time on Sex Shop Boulevard because we thought it was so hilarious and ridiculous. (We also went to Notre Dome and walked along the Seine, okay?) But while we were there we came across the “Museum of Erotic Art” and the three of us plus Miles, Jake and Alex, ended up legitimately going to this museum on New Years day. Yes, I know: we chose sex art over the Louvre and Musée d’Orsay. But most of us had already been to both of those at one point and none of us had been to Paris’ very own sex museum, so, you know. Some of the stuff was interesting but I think we all felt kinda gross afterward. After that we walked around in the cemetery in Monmartre, which was creepy and pretty. For New Years itself we all went to the Eiffel Tower, drank and were merry, and watched the fireworks. Pretty epic.

However, being in Paris made me realize how happy I am in Lyon. I really hate Parisians, I really do. Paris is a beautiful city and I’d like to spend more time there for sure, but fuck Parisians. Before Karyn, Andrew and I ended up walking amongst the sex shops I asked this chick at McDonalds how to get to the Monmartre cemetery and she made a huge fucking deal about how I slightly mispronounced the French word for cemetery. At first she acted like she didn’t understand me, which I think was impossible, then she said it herself, very slowly and enunciated as if she was talking to a 3-year-old, and then she had the gall to tell me to repeat the word after her, correctly. Then she said that in order to get to the cemetery we had to take a bus, and explained what we should do. Something didn’t seem quite right with this as the cemetery was supposedly very close to where we were. I finally found a map: the cemetery was two blocks away. And I’m the idiot who can’t pronounce cemetery…

On the 1st (of tha month… wake up, wake up, wake up…) I met my parents back in Lyon. I did various relatively touristy things with them, and I think they really liked the city. One night we had dinner with my host family and everyone got along really well. I was happy that my real family and host family got to meet each other. On the 3rd, Karyn, Miles, Alex and Braden arrived! They overlapped with my parents, who left early on the morning of the fifth. We didn’t do many touristy things while they were here, which was nice, actually. It was good to be able to just kick it with good friends; it’s something I really miss about college at home. Come to think of it, it did really remind me of hanging out with friends at U of O; we even played a drinking game to Harry Potter 5 (take a drink every time someone says ‘Harry,’ take two for every House name mentioned, and chug whenever the dementors are sucking life) one night, and Apples to Apples another.

Since they all left things have been relatively uneventful. I had exams all last week, and my last one is tomorrow. I’ve been doing a lot of teaching, watching some Battlestar, reading some books my parents left me. Here are two exciting things of note, however:

1. We will finally, finally, fucking finally have internet at our apartment by the end of the week: after trying everything we could for two months, we finally had a man from the internet company come to our house to figure out what was wrong. He did some things and made some calls, and the result: we will have the Internet in a maximum of 96 hours from yesterday. So, basically Thursday/Friday. It could even happen before then! I suppose something else could go wrong, I’m even sort of expecting it to given our luck with this, but if a guy came to our house and checked it out, this is as legit as it can get, right? Sigh, I hope so. Anyway, if (knock wood) all goes well, I will soon be on Skype regularly, so if you don’t already have it, download that shit! We can talk fo freeee.

2. Sarah, Rachel and I are leaving for an epic journey to Amsterdam and Berlin next Thursday! We’ve bought all the tickets and booked all the hostels. I’ve never been to either city and I’m incredibly excited.

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. : )