Garçons Français Dans Le Sous-Sol

WE COULD NEVER FORGET OUR LYON SEMESTER… (November 23rd)

2008-11-24T07:22:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know. It must seem commonsense that we, the Lovely Ladies of Lyon, would never be able to forget our three month long trip to France. I mean, no one could ever imagine completely shutting out such an amazing experience from her mind. However, I feel as though I have an important fact to clarify. Just like all other extraordinary opportunities in life (such as attending Franklin Pierce University), we aren’t solely going to remember our experiences when confronted with a blatant picture of the Eiffel Tower. On the contrary, our memories are going to be triggered by all the little things that have contributed to our French experience, and only we are fully going to understand their meaning and significance in the overall picture of France and our lives. No matter whether the memories are amusing, disheartening, exciting, daunting, or frightening, they’re almost certainly going to be effortlessly conjured up in the most ridiculous settings in our future lives, and at the particular moment in time, we may not have anyone to reminisce with about them. However, we do have cell phones in America, and texting can be the perfect way to quickly share this knowledge, so it isn’t much for us to worry about. In any case, as our French experience comes to an end, we’ve tried to identify some of the little things that will forever generate memories. Below is the “Official” list. Please be aware that a majority was required for each of the following items to be featured. Enjoy!

Official Address: 19 rue Honoré de Balzac, Villeurbanne, France
Official Best GA: Christine Lewis
Official Book: France by Colin Jones (Cambridge Illustrated History)
Official Club: Dance Boats on the Seine River
Official Supermarket: The Super U
Official Form of Dance Exposure: “Contemporary”
Official French Phrase: “Avec La Gauche!”
Official French Rapper: Sefyu
Official French Song: "Champs-Elysees"
Official Game: Spite & Fury (Gotta love cards!)
Official Instrument: Accordion
Official Metro: A
Official Non-Shopping Day: Sunday (Can you believe even the mall is closed? And don’t even try to go food shopping after 12:00PM. It’d be pointless. Trust us.)
Official Pet Peeve: Waiting extended periods of time for the trams to arrive
Official Professor: Wendy Dwyer
Official Soundtrack: Disney’s Mulan
Official Tram: T3

Avec l'Amour,
G

BEAUJOLAIS NOUVEAU (November 20th)

2008-11-20T11:56:00.000-08:00

Well, I’ll just say it: When Wendy made the suggestion that we all consider attending Beaujolais Nouveau, Lyon’s very own midnight wine celebration during which 450 liters of wine is offered to the attending crowd, I wasn’t the least bit thrilled. In fact, I couldn’t have whined more about it! First off, the fact that I don’t drink alcohol (seriously) completely nullified the overall potentially alluring offer of free wine. Secondly: a MIDNIGHT festival? Was she serious?! It’s November! I don’t care if we’re in France, having a gathering in the middle of the night ANYWHERE (in these kinds of latitudes) probably means it’s going to be cold outside. Therefore, if I did go, I’d have to actually make the effort to put on multiple layers of clothing, bundle up with at least a scarf and my mittens, and make sure my jacket was buttoned up tight. Third, it was a Wednesday night, and we had an early day scheduled for Thursday. Wasn’t it irresponsible to stay out so late on a school night?

Nevertheless, I was conned into going. You see, after Wendy saw my highly unenthused facial expression regarding the potential late night activity, she used her second piece of alluring Beaujolais Nouveau information: The event was going to contain a fireworks show. Now, I had yet to see fireworks in France, and as I assessed the situation, I realized that I really hadn’t had the opportunity to see any since around the fourth of July. Plus, as the girls explained to me, it was officially our final ten days in Lyon, France. We would most likely never get the opportunity to experience such activities together—as the entire Lyon 2008 group—ever again, and truth be told, things just don’t get more Lyonnaise than this activity. Overall, they felt it was worth experiencing—at least worth documenting with my camera—and I might just enjoy myself.

[Of course, as I later figured out, the girls also had ulterior motives because if I was around, it meant they all got some extra sips of my undesired alcoholic beverage.]

In any case, upon our arrival in Place Bellecour, we were greeted by the musical delights of Lyon’s very own marching band! The band followed behind a horse drawn wagon baring the actual barrel of fresh wine, and the overall crowd included numerous individuals holding torches in order to brighten the street. As the procession slowly made its way toward a tent at the far end of Bellecour, we recognized and humorously sung along to numerous American songs such as the “YMCA.”

Finally, around 12:00AM, the wagon has reached its final destination, and we pushed our way into a crowd of people surrounding what appeared to be a decent sized stage adorned with even more barrels of wine! All of the sudden, loud techno music began blaring, lights began flashing, and fireworks filled the sky above our heads. As the crowd became overwhelmed with awe and amazement, glasses of fresh wine were passed out to the crowd. Overall, it was such a captivating and amusing display that I actually FORGOT I was cold (which is not an easy feat with me because I’m ALWAYS cold). Therefore, I actually had a really great experience and was extremely happy that I didn’t miss it.

[And, just for your information, my camera died at the very BEGINNING of this event meaning I only got about three photographs of the marching band, but I STILL enjoyed myself. I guess my friends and Wendy were right after all. ☺]

Avec l'Amour,
G

THE MYSTERIES OF FILM (November 19th)

2008-11-19T07:27:00.000-08:00

DID YOU KNOW:

Louis and Auguste Lumiére (brothers) were two of the earliest filmmakers.
Both grew up together and attended college in Lyon, France.

The Lumiére Villa was their home and used to be referred to as the “Lumiére Castle” by local inhabitants of Monplaisir, the neighborhood where it is located.
Today, this Villa houses the Lumiére Museum.

In March of 1985, the Lumiéres set up their Cinematograph and made their first film: La Sortie de usines Lumiére.
The First Film Warehouse appears in the background of this film!
La Sortie de usines Lumiére was first shown in December of 1895.

Even though they received numerous offers, the Lumiére brothers refused to sell their Cinematograph because they preferred to retain control.
They sent trained operatives around the world to bring back images so that they could show “the world” the world.

Louis Lumiére invented the photorama in 1901, which enabled photographs to be projected into a six-meter high, 360-degree panorama!
There is a replica of this photorama, which contains an image of Marseille, in the Lumiére Museum.

Both brothers also made advancements in medicine such as “Lumiére tulle gras,” a dressing for burns, and mechanical hands made in the form of hooks and clamps.

Well, I didn’t know any of these facts until Wendy brought us to the Musée Lumiére on Tuesday afternoon! As you can probably tell, it was a very intriguing experience, and I learned a lot of new information of which I had never previously found myself curious. Plus, I got some amazing photographs of the different devices featured in each of the Villa’s rooms including the Cinematograph and two of the highly intriguing mechanical hands that the brothers’ designed.

Of course, it wasn’t until I got back to my residence that I took a second look at all of my images and came to a stunning realization: I had captured something else on film, which could be considered “highly intriguing.” In a photograph that was intended to capture the view outside of one of the Lumiére brother’s bedroom windows, I captured a clear reflection of a man: A balding, older man baring a stunning resemblance to Mr. Lumiére himself. Was it a ghost? Is it just my imagination? I’m not sure anyone can be entirely certain, but the mystifying picture along with an image of Mr. Lumiére is featured below for your viewing pleasure.

Avec l'Amour,
G

VACATION WEEK

2008-11-09T06:25:00.000-08:00

It’s official! Since Saturday, November 8th I have been on vacation from everything school related. Now, would you like to know the best part? My vacation doesn’t end until November 16th! That’s right. I get over a week of free, vacation/holiday time. I don’t even know WHAT I’m going to do with myself. Of course, I do have some schoolwork to keep me busy, and I caught up on my blog over these past few days, but I can’t spend every waking moment on school stuff. It’s impossible. Plus, I’m going to have fun this week (and finishing up schoolwork doesn’t necessarily always count as fun-filled time).

Now, although I can’t truthfully say that I’m using this time off to be highly productive in the “visiting as many different cities and countries as one possibly can” sense (I’m actually just planning on spending the week in Lyon), some of the other girls are doing just that! One went back to Paris with her mother, another is in London staying with family, and many of the girls are lucky enough to have their families visiting Lyon. Therefore, overall, it’s been a very joyous weekend filled with a lot of love and excitement.

However, I’ve come to a conclusion that I feel I must inform you all about. Since I am supposed to be using this vacation as a break, I’ve made the executive decision to break from blogging for this week UNLESS something absolutely noteworthy occurs. Therefore, this entry is goodbye for the week! I hope you all have a fabulous one, and I’ll be back to telling you all about my LAST TWO WEEKS’ experiences around the 17th. Keep well!

Avec l'Amour,
G

VIENNA VICTIMS VISIT… LYON LADIES LEAD (November 4th)

2008-11-09T06:24:00.000-08:00

On Monday, November 3rd the students of Franklin Pierce University’s Vienna study abroad program made their way into OUR territory. Yep, that’s right! They came to see the lovely city of Lyon, which the girls and I are all so proud to call “home.”

In order to best take advantage of the unique opportunities that this presented, both the Vienna professor and Wendy Dwyer decided it would be a magnificent idea if the “Lyon Ladies” took the Vienna students on a tour. Before it began, Wendy informed us all that the tour didn’t have to be highly supplemented with historical content. Instead, she preferred that we truly showed our peers the aspects of the city that we loved and explain to them why they were so important or significant to us all. Therefore, we were able to take them on a very short, but highly packed tour. We started at the sculpture of Louis XIV in Place de Bellecour, pointed out the Notre-Dame de Fourvière Basilica as well as the Metallic tower of Fourvière, and, after walking down Rue de La Republique, we were able to point out Lyon’s Opera House, the Place des Terreaux, which features Bartholdi’s Fountain. Finally, we took them for a walk down the side of the Seine River and pointed out the boats, works of art, and recreational areas that Lyon boasts. Although we were happy to walk about, the Vienna students seemed more like Victims of our tour than willing guests. They were not very impressed with our city.

When the tour was complete, we were all informed that we would be dining together at a local restaurant in Vieux Lyon at 8:00PM that evening! Although we spent our late afternoons in our separate study abroad groups, having dinner together was a great idea! It was fun to catch up with friends, meet new people, and experience French food together. Plus, the Vienna Victims didn’t seem to be suffering as badly during this excursion. They were enjoying themselves, and they were great company.

Ultimately, even though the Vienna Victims didn’t seem that impressed with our lovely homestead, that doesn’t change our opinions about it! Lyon is our primary location, and we know it inside and out. We’re just as connected to it as they’re connected to Vienna, and therefore, it makes sense that they wouldn’t be able to appreciate it at the same level as us. Although I don’t know about any of the other girls, personally, I took no offense at their harsh opinions. Besides, Paris is still the number one city in my mind… and I think I’d probably take more offense to someone knocking Paris than I would to someone knocking Lyon any day.

Avec l'Amour,
G

EIFFEL IN LOVE WITH PARIS... (Continued)

2008-11-09T05:14:00.000-08:00

NOVEMBER 2nd

I woke this morning and felt ridiculously depressed. It was my last day in Paris, and I didn’t want to leave. I wasn’t ready to go yet, and nothing about returning to Lyon seemed the slightest bit appealing.
A few of the girls (including myself) got up early enough to eat our last quick, free breakfast downstairs around 9:00AM at the Hotel Marignon.
At 9:45AM, Wendy led our small group back to the Notre Dame so that we could attend and experience what Catholic mass would be like in such an enormous church. It began at 10:00AM, and it was another one of those indescribable experiences.

I used to think I was healed. My old wounds were wrapped up and put away. I had moved on. I mean, I was successfully living my everyday life, right? Well, due to my experience at the Notre Dame, I now know that I was just in denial. I was fooling myself. I’m nowhere near healed, and I’m not really sure anyone ever can be.

Hmm… that was kind of cryptic, huh? Where do I start so that you can fully understand what I mean without revealing my whole life story? Okay, I’ve decided. I’ll start here: I used to be Catholic.

Growing up, my family was fairly religious. We went to mass regularly, and I received the sacraments of First Communion and Confirmation. However, as I got older, I truly began understanding religion, and I realized that the values held dear by the Catholic Church didn’t align with my personal values. Therefore, I stepped away from Catholicism and, with time, so did my family. At that point, I declared myself a nondenominational Christian.

However, I don’t really know what that means. Religion isn’t truly a large part of my daily life anymore. In fact, I would even go as far as saying that I probably only think about “religious” things twice a month (if that). Of course, certain unpredictable and uncontrollable experiences have the tendency and ability to bring us closer to religion on a whim. Both of my grandfathers passed away recently. They were very religious men, and the last time I was in a Church, I’m pretty sure it was for one of their funerals.
Knowing this, attending mass at the Notre Dame was ridiculously overwhelming. Everything hit me like a ton of bricks. Although I couldn’t understand the language, the procedure of mass was exactly the same. It brought back hundreds of memories of masses from when I was younger, and it brought back the painful memories of those two funeral services. Even the smell of the incense made me think of my grandfathers. Unable to help myself, I cried the entire mass through. It was a beautiful service, and I made the choice to receive the host at communion by the end.

In its conclusion, I wiped my eyes and thought positively. If France has taught me anything, it has taught me about what genuinely means the world to me: my family. When I go home, I can’t forget how blessed I am for having them. I must find everyway possible to show them how much I appreciate their love, encouragement, and influence in my life.

After mass, we headed off in our own directions stopping at souvenir shops, getting lunches, and then meeting back up at the Hotel Marignon in order to grab our bags. We would be heading back out onto the Metro and trains today in pursuit of Lyon.
Our train left from Paris Gare Lyon station at 2:54PM, and we were all very well settled into our seats with our books, cards, and iPods before it started bustling off. Even so, I was not very thrilled. Of course, there was nothing I could do about it, so I let time, which had initially led me to Paris, to lead me even farther on my life journey. Besides, I figured the sooner I reached Lyon, the sooner I would be able to find myself back in Paris someday, someway, somehow.
At around 5:00PM, we found ourselves back in Lyon’s Part Dieu station, and my amazing trip to Paris was complete.

Avec l'Amour,
G

EIFFEL IN LOVE WITH PARIS... (Continued)

2008-11-08T15:17:00.000-08:00

OCTOBER 30th

After breakfast, we took a sight seeing walk to the Louvre during which we got to see the many faces featured on the sides of Pont Nuef, Paris’ newest bridge over the Seine River.
When we arrived at the iconic pyramids of the Louvre, Wendy decided it would be a great place for us to do some contemporary dance improvisation!

You’re probably wondering what it’s like to dance outside such an iconic structure in the middle of Paris with groups of people watching. At first, it’s very unsettling. It’s hard to get into the right state of mind and feel as though you’re truly settled into your body. Personally, I just keep thinking about the people watching and judging me. I want to show them that I have proper technique and skill and training, but I also know that those characteristics aren’t exactly what my professor is valuing. She wants to see us releasing into ourselves and truly dancing from our hearts and souls. Luckily, after only a few moments of calculated movements, I tend to lose myself anyway and feel more comfortable. I forget where I am and just dance. It took a lot of practice and trust in myself to be able to do this, but I’ve slowly learned this really important ability since being in college contemporary dance courses.

Finally, when it specifically comes to dancing outside of the Louvre, I didn’t know that strangers were watching, taking photographs, and video recording us until after our “performance” was done! Ultimately, I was a bit embarrassed by Wendy’s request at first, and I didn’t want to dance in such an open, tourist filled area, but I’m really glad we all did it! I mean, who else can say that while they were in Paris they danced outside of the Louvre? Not to mention, it’s on film! That means, it’s totally undeniable. Personally, I think it shows that each of us are confident and free spirited women, and those are genuinely good qualities to possess, don’t you think?

Inside the museum, we all split up so that we would all be able to individually see the works of art that were personally important to us. I went off and found The Winged Victory of Samothrace, the Mona Lisa, the Coronation Crown of Louis XV, Venus de Milo, and Saint Mary Magdalene! Unfortunately, we only had two hours to explore the museum, but I wasn’t as upset about the lack of available time this time around. You see, I was prepared to not be able to see all of the featured artwork due to my previous research on the Louvre. From this quick Google search, I discovered that it literally takes a full twenty-four hour period JUST to walk through the entire Louvre! Therefore, I knew it would be impossible for me to see everything in one quick visit, but I was really glad to be able to experience the pieces that I did.
After we grabbed a quick lunch at a local restaurant, Wendy took us to a store she had discovered on her last trip to Paris: A taxidermy shop! It was quite intriguing to see all of the animals featured and discover new types of insects that I had never seen before.
When we were all taxidermy-ed out, we made our way to the Musée d’Orsay, which is THE impressionism museum of Paris. Before entering, I couldn’t recall any artists from the impressionism and post-impressionism eras except for Monet and Van Gogh. However, when we entered, I found a small work of Degas and almost freaked out! I HAD to see his work in person. He was THE artist that constructed numerous paintings and sculptures of dancers, and since I’d been dancing since I was six years old, I’d had recreations of works by Degas in my life since I was a very little girl. Ultimately, his work was hundreds of times more inspiring in person, and I’ll never forget he’s an impressionism era artist ever again.
Once I had experienced enough art for one day, I headed back to the Hotel Marignon with a few of the girls for a nap! Haha.
The evening plans featured a group dinner at a nice restaurant during which I put my past love aside (READ AS: I had a pet snail growing up) and tried escargot. As I had been previously informed, it was positively AMAZING. In fact, it was SO ridiculously good, I’ve made the decision that I MUST eat it again before I leave France. Who knew something so strange could be such a great treat? If you’re looking for a recommendation to try them, go for it! What’s the worst that could happen? You spit it out into your napkin? Don’t miss the opportunity.
After dinner, we went to see the Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triumph at night… and I fell in love with Paris AGAIN. The Tour Eiffel is officially my favorite iconic structure. I want one for my backyard. I want to live on it. I want to put one over the giant Bubble on Franklin Pierce’s campus. I mean, wouldn’t that just look fantastic? Haha.

OCTOBER 31st

It was Halloween in America, our very first (and only) full day off in Paris, and we all decided to take a walk of the wild side by sleeping in for a whole hour! Okay-okay, I know it’s not THAT wild, but who wants to sleep their entire free day away when they’re in PARIS? Now, moving on…
After eating breakfast at the Hotel Marignon, a few of the girls and I headed out on our day’s excursions.
My small group of five decided to start our day by visiting the famed Moulin Rouge! We purchased our own tickets and took the metro system to a stop known as Blanche. When we got out of the station, we felt slightly unfulfilled to say the least. Moulin Rouge was NO sight to be seen, and we couldn’t stop laughing! It was an old building stuck in between a “Quick” fast food restaurant and a motel. Even so, we got some pretty great pictures of it and some videos of us performing the cancan outside its front doors! Plus, we got to watch some clips from the recent cabaret shows while we meandered around the official gift shop, which was highly entertaining and gave me some lovely choreographic ideas! Haha.
Next, M and I decided it was time to embark on our trip up the Eiffel Tower!

Feeling highly independent and capable for women traveling in a large, foreign city, we had just enough confidence to effortlessly use the metro system as our form of travel in order to quickly arrive at the Eiffel Tower. However, after getting there, we came to a rather stark realization: we had absolutely NO idea how to even go about climbing the 1000s of stairs! I mean, we knew it would cost money, and we knew it could take us all afternoon, but, unfortunately for us, all of the signs regarding Eiffel Tour climbing information were, of course, in French. Therefore, we used our combined knowledge of the French language (for we lacked French-to-English dictionaries today) in order to choose a line. It took us approximately an hour before coming up to the ticket booth, and after standing for so long in the rather chilly temperature, our initial plan to save some money by actually trekking up the stairs of the tower seemed highly unappealing. Not to mention, when we did the math, we realized that in order for us to reach the top floor of the structure, which can only be accessed by an elevator, we’d have to pay around 10 euros, which was only 2 euros cheaper than taking elevators all the way up to the top! So, we splurged the 12 euros each, and embarked on one of the most amazing experiences!

Due to the fact that the weather was highly unimpressive (for it was slightly drizzly, quite cold, and the top of the tower was encircled in fog), we were able to make it all the way to the top without having to worry about overcrowding! As the elevators slowly made their ways to the three different floors, we couldn’t stop snapping photographs. Not only would we be able to show these photographs to family and friends and claim they were from the Eiffel Tower, but also, due to the fact that some of our photographs even captured parts of the tower’s metal beams, no one would be able to doubt our pictures’ authenticity! We had proof of our excursion, and it felt so good.

On the second level, the fog wasn’t an issue, and we experienced some amazing views of the entire city. Up on that floor, it seemed unconceivable that we were so much higher than we had been on the Notre Dame. In fact, I had to convince my eyes that what they were seeing was truly real—right out in front of me: the endless expanse of Paris.

Finally, we traveled up to the very top and as the elevator made its journey up, up, and further up, our visibility slowly cut down. We were literally in the clouds! It was quite amazing. I felt as though I was floating, and I didn’t mind that I couldn’t necessarily see the city from this view. Just the second floor alone had been worth the time and money in my mind. I mean, I had been there. I could say I’d been there, and I had pictures to prove it. I had pictures of the view and pictures of the tower itself! I even took pictures of the elevators’ mechanisms. Haha.

On the third level, we could walk outside, and we did! We walked right through the clouds, breathing them in and posing for pictures as we “ate” the cotton candy-like air masses. Overall, this level was the most informative. It featured images of the city below each “window-pane” with the important, monumental structures labeled so that one could easily find them on a clear day. It also had a room with wax models of Gustav Eiffel, his wife, and Thomas Edison! Plus, some walls even featured dioramas of Mr. Eiffel’s other experiments involving pigeons and falling humans. Haha!

As we descended back down, I knew for a fact that, once again, I was in love. How could Paris be this utterly amazing and perfect? I just couldn’t wrap my head around it… and by this point, I’m pretty sure my head (and entire body, actually) was already out of the clouds. Haha.

All of that “walking” up those 1000’s of stairs made M and me VERY hungry. Therefore, after making a few souvenir shop stops, we made our way to a small boulangerie in the area and had lunch. As we were there, the other girls that we had visited the Moulin Rouge with earlier in the morning invited us to meet them at Shakespeare & Co.! Of course, we couldn’t turn them down.
Unfortunately, by the time M and I had walked our way to Shakespeare & Co., our other friends had already left. Even so, we cherished our time in that beloved bookstore, and I purchased my previously talked about coffee table book!
By the time we were done, we were completely ready to head back to the hotel and rest for a bit.
Of course, when we arrived, the other girls were already getting into the spirit of Halloween and getting their crazy costumes together! We made plans to leave the residence at 9:00PM in order to start our “exciting” evening out.
Unfortunately, since we were traveling in a large group of nine on a Friday night (and all dressed up in ridiculous, not very appealing costumes), we didn’t get into any of the places we wanted to! Many of the girls were upset, but we were able to make the best of things by purchasing some amazingly yummy crepes and candy for a great night spent back at the hotel. Plus, we promised ourselves that once we were back at Franklin Pierce, we’d all get together and have our own costume shindig just to make up for the night!

NOVEMBER 1st

Just in case you didn’t know, although Halloween clearly isn’t celebrated in France, All Saints Day IS. Therefore, if you plan on attending any museums, exhibits, or cool touristy sites on this day, BEWARE! They’ll probably be closed.
We began our day with the normal 8:00AM breakfast at the Hotel Marignon and then heading off to our first mandatory activity of the day: the flea market held in Clignancourt each weekend!
It was a huge flea market that spanned the multiple streets and sold everything from electronics to clothing to antiques to toys to more! Since we didn’t want to squander all of our money away, we decided to only hang around there for about an hour and crossed our fingers that the damp, rainy weather would let up.
Unfortunately, I didn’t find anything worth buying (haha) and the weather didn’t let up, so Wendy decided that our afternoon plans of having a picnic in the Luxemberg Gardens would have to be canceled. Knowing that, she allowed us to spend the rest of the day exploring on our own!
CL and I were overjoyed at this announcement because we knew EXACTLY what we wanted to do! We were going to visit the catacombs. We took our free metro tickets from Wendy and found a straight shot to the catacombs’ location by way of Metro 4. After getting loads of good luck wishes from the other girls who were none to eager to join us on such a scary expedition, we embarked on our excursion.
Unfortunately (and yes, this day is FILLED with unfortunately-s), when we arrived at the catacombs, there was one of the most depressing signs ever created… and it was taped to the entrance. It read: “Catacombs fermes le 01 Novembre 2008!” We were SO upset. CL even made a quick video out front of the door/sign describing her feelings about the closed catacombs. Now what were we to do? We had been looking forward to this trip all week long! If we knew they were going to be closed today, we would have gone there yesterday.
In order to brighten our moods, we went in search of a café and found something even better: Starbucks! Now, although we never told any of the other girls about this secret afternoon outing, which included caramel muffins, espresso brownies, and white chocolate mocha drinks, we weren’t necessarily ashamed of our actions. As far as we concerned (and we decided this at the table), Starbucks was highly warranted by the depressing morning we had experience, and it had been far too long since either of us had enjoyed a little taste of home.
When we finished our drinks, we decided to walk through the Luxemberg Gardens in order to get to the hotel. The rain had slightly let up, and we were wearing the proper attire, so it seemed like a good way to spend a little bit more time out before we returned.
Even in the gloom, one could tell that the gardens were very beautiful! Who knew that flowers would still be blooming in NOVEMBER? I took plenty of pictures and truly tried to enjoy myself even though the world seemed gray.

Back at the Hotel Marignon, we met up with a few of the other girls, spent time talking about our day’s escapades, and then completely conked out!
Luckily, we woke up just in time to get ready for our evening’s performance: Europe Hip-Hop performed by Accrorap! That’s right. Wendy bought us tickets to see a Hip-Hop performance in Paris! Of course, it wasn’t her first choice, but it was the last alternative, and she knew we’d appreciate it.
Overall, even Wendy admitted that the performance was extremely inventive, inspiring, well thought out, and entertaining. Personally, I found myself on the edge of my seat for most of it, and I couldn’t write down my “dance performance inspiration” notes fast enough! I wanted to see it all over again. I wanted to meet with the company! I had so many questions for them such as how they began, where they come up with their ideas, how they choose dancers, how they decided who manipulates his body in specific manners, etc. Basically, it was awesome!
On our way back to the hotel that evening, we stopped by the Eiffel Tower to watch it sparkle one last time, and we also stopped by the crepe/Panini restaurant located right down the road from our hotel. Surprisingly, the man behind the counter knew exactly what I was going to order before I ordered it! I felt like I was a “regular,” and more than ever before it made me feel like I truly belonged in Paris. It was a bittersweet feeling. Yes, I was in love, but I was leaving soon, and there was nothing I could do about it. I had to say goodbye to Paris, to owners of crepe shops who know my order by heart, to historical sights and people focused on a future, and to a city with its very own heartbeat that, for some unknown reason, effortlessly aligns with mine.
Back at the hotel, I finished my lovely Panini, and packed up my suitcase before heading off to bed for the night.

EIFFEL IN LOVE WITH PARIS: A Timeline of Week Nine in France

2008-11-08T09:30:00.000-08:00

It’s true. As soon as I stepped off of my first Parisian metro and onto the bustling city streets, I was immediately enamored with it all. In fact, I can honestly say that spending a week in Paris was one of the best experiences of my entire life! Academically, I feel it was highly productive, and socially, it was filled with fun and entertaining activities. Overall, it was just positively everything I could have wanted it to be. No wonder I had such butterflies in my stomach the day before we left!

Of course, if I could have blogged Paris, it would have been one of my primary activities (because now I have SO much catching up to do that I’m starting to feel a little stressed out), but that was impossible. Therefore, I’m just going to take my time and slowly fill you all in on our crazy escapades in a day-by-day timeline! Sound like good, clean, organized fun? That’s what I thought!

So, although you’ve now officially read the beginning part of this entry, keep making sure to check back on it regularly over the next few days. As I find bits and pieces of free time in my hectic Lyonnaise schedule, I’ll use them to my advantage in order to keep updating the timeline with small blurbs about the highlights of my Parisian experience.

Oh yeah! Enjoy the reading. ☺

OCTOBER 27TH

Our bullet train left from Part Dieu station in Lyon at 11:00AM, which meant I was up and getting ready at 7:30AM… ick!
We arrived in Paris at precisely 12:57PM and got ready to take the crazy, stair-filled, metro system to our hotel. We were pre-warned by Wendy of the obnoxious metro stairway systems, but even so, almost all of us had packed our belongings in small suitcases on wheels! Haha… we’re SUCH girls.
After our arrival at our new residence, Hotel Marignan, we went out to make the most of our first day in Paris!

In order to orient us with the city, Wendy decided to take us on a Beateaux-Mouches tour, which is a boat tour of the city from the Seine River! Even though it was drizzling outside, I personally feel as though it was a gorgeous tour and most definitely worth the price of the ticket. First off, we were all able to sit inside of the boat instead of standing on deck, and we could still see the entire city! Plus, it wasn’t a very crowded experience, and, due to the fact that this particular tour was given in a series of languages including (but most definitely not limited to) French, Spanish, English, and Japanese, we were able to learn some really intriguing facts about the iconic structures of Paris. For example, I learned that the Botanical Gardens were originally constructed in order to be medicinal gardens for royalty and the highly famous Louvre wasn’t always a museum! On the contrary, it used to be a palace used by Louis XIV until he decided to move to the Palace in Versailles. Overall, I believe this tour prepared me for what was to come on our trip to Paris. Not to mention, it jogged my memory of important facts I’d learned from my required reading assignments for Reason & Romanticism, and coupled with this fact, helped me to gain an overall fuller experience of Paris that most definitely had academic value.

We returned to the Quartier Latin where our hotel was located in order to have a group dinner at a local, cheaper restaurant. The food was tres bien, and some of the girls returned to this exact restaurant for dinner later in the week!
When we returned to the hotel, we decided it was time to get a taste of Paris’ nightlife!

Today was a very lucky day for AD, or at least I think so. You see, not only were we heading from Lyon into Paris, but it was also her twenty-first birthday! Can you imagine spending your twenty-first birthday in two amazing cities in a foreign country on a study abroad? In order to make her day as special as possible, we determined to dedicate our entire evening out to her happiness. Since we had met up with a few members of the Franklin Pierce Vienna Program (they too were staying at our hotel until Wednesday morning), we invited them to join us! Only ZT decided to take us up on the opportunity, but in our minds just that little bit of fresh, male blood was good enough, and we headed out right away to start our night of fun. Overall (and just because I feel as though it’s probably improper to divulge details of this night on here), I can only say that it was probably one of the most memorable nights of my entire life! It was filled with many unexpected adventures, lots of interesting people and places, and gave us a really great sense of how truly alive the city of Paris is—it most definitely has its very own heart and soul, and I’m not sure that any other cities could genuinely boast about such extraordinary traits.

OCTOBER 28th

We all met downstairs as a group for breakfast at 8:00AM because the Hotel Marignon (luckily) provides free breakfasts to all of its guests! The breakfast, although simple and similar every morning, was most definitely superb. It consisted of one’s choice of thé, café, ou chocolat chaud, a baguette, and enough jam, butter, nutella, and cheese for each individual present at the table. Ultimately, I looked forward to breakfast every morning!
After, we headed out to walk to the Notre Dame!

I would have never guessed that seeing the Notre Dame in person would have caused such an intense reaction in me. I never felt any special connection to it before. In fact, as far as I knew or cared really, it was just another religious building—probably gorgeous in architecture featuring unbelievable painted works and many golden attributes. However, as seems to be the usual occurrence in France, my first, inexperienced impression was highly incorrect. Yes, it is true, the Notre Dame is a beautiful and magnificent sculpture where Joan of Arc’s heresy trials were held as well as being the location where Victor Hugo decided to set his famous novel The Hunchback of Notre Dame, but, due to some highly indescribable element, it is also so much more.

I don’t know how to explain it to you. It’s somewhat overwhelming, but also calming and humbling. And I not only felt it consuming me when I was standing inside of the Church, but I also felt it after I walked up all 400 steps to the top of Notre Dame’s bell tower. I felt it when I stared into the frightening faces of the gargoyles, when I looked out over the bustling city and could just barely make out the commotion from below, and when I fell in love with Paris all over again. It felt amazing, and I hadn’t felt this way once yet since being abroad.

Gosh, it was a breathtaking view, and I tried so hard to really take it all in, memorize the scents and sounds and visions, so that I would never need to strain to remember it. However, unfortunately, memory fades. In fact, even as I write this entry today, it’s not as crystallized as it had been that early morning. Although I can still tell you the overall color scheme of the city from that angle and the exact pitch and overall sound of the bell ringing from the tower itself, I can’t give exact details. It frustrates me. Why do our memories have to be so unreliable?

What I do remember, however, is engaging a very intense, private conversation with my Professor while staring out over the horizon. I think I rhetorically asked what someone’s career would have to be in order for her to be able to just take off and travel to places like Paris, France on a whim. Of course, although I didn’t mean to do so, I’m pretty sure I stated this pondering out loud, and Wendy actually replied. She suggested numerous options I had never even considered, and as I gazed out into the vast abyss of the city and pondered over the vast abyss that is my future, I got chills. I literally have the whole world at my fingertips. I could do anything, go anywhere, and be anyone. I COULD live in Paris if I wanted. All opportunities are open to me as long as I’m willing to put the time, energy, and passion necessary into securing them for myself. It’s kinda cool.

Ultimately, the Notre Dame has a very special spot in my heart now, and I wish I could take all of my loved ones up the twisting tower stairs to where I had one of the greatest epiphanies of my life. I mean, who knows, maybe it’s magical. It sure felt that way to me, and I’m willing to share the magic with anyone else who’s willing enough to take the chance on it. Promise.

After all of that walking, we felt as though we’d earned some dessert! Wendy took us to find Amorino, an ice-cream and candy shop that had been suggested to our group by my friend JF back in the United States. Using Wendy’s guidebook, we found it very easily, and everyone got a cone of flower shaped ice-cream goodness!
As we ate our beautiful ice-cream creations, Wendy suggested we walk to an English bookstore in the area called Shakespeare & Co.

This has become one of my most coveted spots in all of Paris. Just standing outside of Shakespeare & Co. gave me chills. It was so surreal. I just couldn’t imagine it was truly a working bookstore and not just a studio bookshop being featured on a movie set. Of course, stepping inside of the store was even better!

It reminded me of an old, dusty library, or maybe the bookstore featured in Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast.” The walls were lined with books from the floor to the ceiling and ladders could be found in strategic locations around the busy store for customers and workers to grab any and all books of choice. Upstairs, real writers sat at old typewriters, sipped tea, and easily passed the time. Ultimately, the entire top floor was a reference library (except for the children’s section), and many people also found cozy spots just to review the books. It was quite wonderful to witness. I could have stayed there forever.

As I continued exploring the space, I just couldn’t stop thinking that my brother would positively be in Heaven if I took him to this store. It’s just right up his ally and very artistic. Plus, the owner of the store is a very generous man. In fact, as I learned from Wendy, if he happens to come across a likable person in need, he’ll offer her free lodging IN the store! All of his lucky chosen individuals are allowed to sleep upstairs on beds he provides, are given free access to water, a refrigerator, and a stove for cooking, and all that they have to do in return is help to maintain the shop. It’s an opportunity that, in present day, seems so unreal. Yet, it’s a tradition, and he’s kept it up for years.

As a record of this generosity on his part, the entire upper floor walls are filled with little notes, letters, drawings, and photographs filled with gratitude for the store and what it provides. Many of the letters are most definitely heartfelt and refer to the owner as a father figure. In fact, after reading a few, I was almost in tears. They were most definitely touching and prove why kindness is so important in our world.

Knowing all of this information, I came on the realization that “I” could live at the store, and I’m truly considering it. I mean, what can I say? I seriously fell head over heels for Paris! And I truly think I would be willing to leave everything else behind for a new life in this city. It’s so rich here. There’s not only a history but also a future filled with unlimited amounts of possibility and opportunity. Plus, there’s this shared, fast-paced, city lifestyle that I’ve never found anywhere else. And, there’s an undeniable life force to Paris that just pulses through everyone’s veins. It’s exhilarating and inspiring and, possibly, life altering.

In conclusion, Shakespeare & Co. was so much fun that I decided to use some of my free time later in week in order to visit it again! Luckily, on this excursion, I was able to find a really unique book to purchase, and the cashier used her blue inkpad in order to stamp “Shakespeare & Co.” on the inside title page for me! Now I’ll never forget where I bought it, and it’ll be a great conversation starter in years to come if I decide to display the book on a coffee table or the like.

Next, we took the metro to Montmartre, the highest part of Paris (boasting some of the best views of the city) and the area where the gorgeously stone white Basilica du Sacré-Cœur is located. Even though it was somewhat drizzling outside, we didn’t let that stop our adventures. We took great pictures of the city skyline, spent some time taking in Parisian culture as we walked around the area where the famous French film Amélie was partially recorded, and even stopped at a local café for lunch!
In order to conclude our day in a productive manner, Wendy offered to take us all to Pére-Lachaise, a Parisian cemetery that boasts the gravesites of Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde, Sarah Bernhardt, and Isadora Duncan, the female American dancer considered by many to be the mother of contemporary dance! Although I positively LOVED this experience, it was a reaction that was to be expected from me. You see, I happen to find graveyards and the like very intriguing places to wander around. At home, I enjoy reading the epitaphs, attempting to determine what a person’s nationality was based solely on his last name, and coming up with (most likely ridiculous) stories about the lives and deaths of those who’ve already passed on. Of course, not every other girl on the trip was as thrilled with being “held captive” in such a spooky cemetery. Therefore, I felt it could be fun for you all to read an excerpt from another girl’s journal concerning her personal, more unsettling (but highly entertaining!) experience in Pére-Lachaise. L wrote:

”First of all, we just came back from Pére-Lachaise, a huge cemetery. This was probably the creepiest thing ever! It didn’t help that Halloween is in a couple of days, the sky turned completely black (gradually), and all of the trees there were completely dead(!), which I don’t understand because every other tree in France is beautiful! It was really cool to see where Isadora Duncan is buried. It was great, but SO FREAKY. I think [M] and [G] each waked with me at certain parts of the journey because they could tell I was freaked. When we got to Isadora Duncan’s we had to walk up some stairs to the second level, and there were no lights there. I think the moonlight was the only thing helping us! And at one point, I saw black smoke in the sky, and I said ‘What’s that smoke?’. Everyone around me said, ‘I don’t know.’ Then, [A] said, ‘Oh… I know what it is. It’s the –,’ and [M] cut her off telling her to be quiet. Then, I figured out that it was the crematorium, and I said, ‘It’s the cre—‘ and [M] cut me off with, ‘Don’t worry [L.] It’s okay.’ Ugh! So freaky! And to top it all off, as we were journeying to the exit it started raining! Great! Rain, dead trees, black sky, crematorium, and the biggest cemetery I’ve ever seen… and I was in it? What?! AH!”

After we left, a few of the girls and I spent our night relaxing at the Hotel Marignon and writing about our day’s escapades in our mandatory journals.

OCTOBER 29th

Today, we realized we only have one month left in France… thirty-one days. So, we’re gonna make the most of it. ☺
After our 8:00AM breakfast at the Hotel Marignon, we headed off to the local boulangeries in order to purchase sandwiches for our preplanned afternoon picnic.
At Wendy’s premade schedule’s request, we took the Parisian metro to Le Château de Versailles! Once we had arrived, Wendy revealed to us that we could each receive an English language tour via the use of individual headsets! It was such a luxury to have because it made our tour of the palace much more informative and meaningful. Plus, it highlighted the important pieces featured in each room, which helped us determine what to photograph for our families and friends!

After touring the palace, we decided to brave the cold weather, eat our lunches outside, and then go explore the positively magnificent gardens. Although such an idea didn’t truly appeal to me (it was ridiculously cold outside, and I was already the Queen of Layered Clothing), it was most definitely worth it when we reached Marie Antoinette’s personal gardens.

Fortunately, we got out of Versailles just before the skies opened up!

Doesn’t that sky look VERY daunting and foreboding? I’m glad this wasn’t our first view of the beautiful Palace or we may have felt rather uneasy and wouldn’t have been able to see the gardens.

Back at Hotel Marignon, the girls and I spent our evening journaling, finding yummy sandwiches to eat for dinner, discovering the luxury of Nutella filled crepes, and shopping in the ridiculously numerous souvenir stands.

THAT CRAZY, BUTTERFLY-LIKE FEELING OF ANTICIPATION AND EXCITEMENT (October 26th)

2008-10-26T15:07:00.001-07:00

I can’t get over this feeling. It’s quite overwhelming. It starts in the pit of my stomach and works its way up into my chest and throat and down my arms until I can feel the tension in my fingers and see them start to nervously shake. It’s an uncontrollable reaction, but I know I wouldn’t do anything to stop it if I could. I just love feeling this way.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, but you’re unfortunately wrong. The answer to your question is, “No, I haven’t fallen desperately in love with a French man” (although new love would probably be the best comparable emotional quality to what I am currently experiencing). The truth is that I’m going to Paris tomorrow—the city of lights—for an entire week, and I couldn’t be more thrilled or excited or delighted! We have so many fun activities planned from viewing the city all the way up by Montmartre to visiting Notre Dame to having a picnic in the Luxemburg Gardens. I already know I’m going to love it there. A week won’t be enough time in that city. I won’t want to come back to Lyon, but I will on Sunday, November 2, because time continues onward no matter what without hesitation or interruption. It’s our constant for good (I get to go home in FIVE weeks!) and bad (I get to go home in FIVE weeks).

Although I will be unable to blog from our hotel, I promise to catch you all up on our endeavors as soon as I return. I’ll be keeping a journal there (as usual), so I won’t forget a single moment worth remembering! And I promise to take ridiculous amounts of pictures too so that I can post some up here.

Have a wonderful week (even though, due to my lack of blogging ability, I’m sure it’ll be filled with immense amounts of boredom! Haha.)!

Avec l'Amour,
G

MUSÈE DES BEAUX-ARTS DE LYON (October 23rd)

2008-10-26T15:05:00.000-07:00

Today, Wendy planned another excursion for our group: A trip to the Musèe des Beaux-Arts de Lyon (Lyon’s Museum of Fine Arts), and due to my last experience at the Van Gogh/Monticelli exhibit, I was obviously extremely excited to attend! Even though I had no idea what type of art I would be viewing, and I wasn’t quite sure why Wendy had instructed us to bring our journals along, I was glad I didn’t have to patiently wait any longer. I decided that, as far as I was concerned, I genuinely wanted the experience of seeing as many European museums as possible while I’m in France!

On our arrival at the museum, we all received English brochures that (thankfully) explained what collections the museum featured. After flipping through the book, I was shocked to learn that one building could house so many interesting and different works. Basically, the museum’s seventy rooms were divided up into five departments that featured 19th and 20th century sculptures, Greek, Roman, and Egyptian antiques, paintings from the 15th to the 20th century, graphic arts, and decorative arts from the Renaissance and Middle Ages. Since we were not required to see any particular area or meander about in particular groups, I decided to go off on my own and see all I could before our time ran out. Of course, things didn’t truly work out as I had planned.

First, let me explain that our professor had made one request of us before entering the museum. She asked us to bring our daily journals along so that we could write about our Musèe des Beaux-Arts de Lyon experience while we were experiencing it. According to her ideals, we were to write in our journals anytime we found a piece of art worthy enough of the attention (in our eyes). Our writing could be negative, positive, contain sketches, factual, questioning, descriptive, etcetera.

I was initially excited by the idea. I love writing, and I loved the fact that it would be a way for me to truly remember and recall what I had seen after time washes away the minor details from my memories. It was a great assignment, but it was also, in at least one way, somewhat detrimental. You see, I didn’t even get halfway through the museum when I received a text message asking me to meet the rest of the group in the lobby! Once again, I was the last one out of the museum, and I felt awful that I had forced everyone else to wait for me. It wasn’t my intention at all. I just got lost in the experience. I couldn’t help it.

You see, I started my museum excursion in the sculpture area, even though I felt as though I was very disconnected from sculptures and had no real draw to them. I figured I ought to give them a shot, and I reasoned that I could move onto more interesting paintings or graphic art when or if I got bored. Of course, before even making it into the sculpture room, I was held captive by a particular piece: Frèdèric-Auguste Bartholdi’s “La Libertè Eclairant de Monde.” This work was the actual model for America’s prized Statue of Liberty! It was constructed from clay, and before seeing it here I had completely forgotten that France gave America that piece of artwork! Not to mention, I’d never really thought of the Statue of Liberty as a work of Fine Art. It always just was. It was a given—a symbol of our nation and our right of freedom.

Well, seeing this iconic structure in this particular context changed everything for me. First off, it was comforting for me to see even though I’ve never truly seen her in real life. Viewing this statue in Lyon was like being allowed to view a little piece of home. It made me smile, and reminded me of the country I love and the people I miss. Secondly, it made me think historically. I remembered that it was a gift from the people of France to America in 1886 in order to commemorate the Centennial of the American Declaration of Independence. It finally occurred to me that someone had to commission Bartholdi to create it, and he had to take the time to construct it, which meant he needed to consider everything about it. It’s size, shape, structure, material, positioning, etcetera. It truly was a work of art, and I’m glad that it is so appreciated and recognized today.

Other sculptures that caught my eye and induced what must have been fairly intriguing/entertaining writing furies in my journal included Auguste Rodin’s bust of Gustave Geoffroy, Barye’s “Lion et Serpant,” and Rik Wouters’ “La Folle Danseuse, dite aussi La Vierge Folle.” I especially loved the last one because it featured a female dancer! I felt as though I could sit and stare at her forever.

After leaving that area of the museum, which immensely reminded me of the room featured in the motion picture based on C.S. Lewis' book The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, I couldn’t help but to feel a little lonely and sad! It felt as though I was leaving all of my new, stone cold friends. Haha. I had a new appreciation for statues and their ability to move me without physically being able to move themselves.

The next (and final) section that I embarked on featured paintings from the fifteenth to the twentieth century. I was drawn to many of them including Louis Janmot’s “Cauchemar Beacaux” and “Rayons De Soleil,” Zièglen’s “Judith aux Portes de Bèthulie,” Gerard Van Honthorst’s “Les Chanteurs,” Champaigne’s “Le Cêne,” Campio’s “Les Mangeurs De Ricotta,” and Victor Orsel’s “Le Bien et Le Mal.” The last of these stunning works is featured here (with thanks to Google Image Search!). I felt compelled to display it on my blog because of how absolutely ridiculous it was to me. It was created in 1832, and if you view the image up close, you can clearly tell that it is meant to be allegorical and informative. This makes sense considering the fact that all people would be able to learn lessons through the use of images as opposed to being forced to learn through the act of reading the written word. The painting clearly “discusses” the idea of justice or, as its name reveals, good and bad, and reveals the idea of consequence. Of course, in the religious work, consequence extends into the afterlife and all nonconformity to the rules presented in the image does not end very well. Overall, I couldn’t stop staring at this highly opinionated work. It angered me in present day because it was so judgmental on women, but I knew that it represented a time in our history where these judgments were commonplace and considered to be truths. What do you all think about the image? Would it have caught your eye?

In conclusion, my Musèe des Beaux-Arts de Lyon experience was positively great (minus the fact that I only got partway through the museum’s exhibits)! I’m really glad that I took so many notes on so many works of art and will forever have them to conjure up details of that day in my overall Lyon experience. Not to mention, I hope that others who choose to read my journal will be able to get a better sense of how the actual art affected me as an individual because I really do believe it is an individual experience. No one else can see something in exactly your perspective or feel it that way and that’s why we are drawn to specific pieces and not to others. Don’t you think?

Avec l'Amour,
G

MARSEILLE, VAN GOGH, AND MONTICELLI (October 21st)

2008-10-21T13:49:00.000-07:00

For some strange and unknown reason the thought of spending my afternoons meandering around famous museums of fine art has never seemed very appealing to me. As far as I was concerned, no specific work of art could be more important or breathtaking than gaining an actual life experience such as physically climbing up the ridiculously steep hillside to the very top of Croix Rousse during sunset in order to look out over the city known as Lyon. Not to mention, with Google at my fingertips (I finally, officially have actual Internet access in my residence, and it feels wonderful), I could see those works of art at any time of day! I could have the same exact experience without needing to waste time on traveling and standing in lines or struggling with a French to English dictionary in order to translate the words describing how the piece was actually constructed. Of course, this isn’t to say I thought fine art museums were useless. On the contrary, they had a very distinct use to safeguard the original work of art, but that was all.

Well, once again, France has proven my original inclinations and assumptions wrong. This past weekend, our study abroad group took an overnight trip to the second largest city in France: Marseille. Marseille is an absolutely breathtaking place. In fact, I would even venture as far as stating that it is far more beautiful than Lyon, but on a whole, not as clean or safe. Of course, Marseille has other compelling qualities too. Its coastline is located right on the Mediterranean Sea, and the city itself is rich in Roman, African, and Middle Eastern influence. For example, the architecture of Notre Dame de la Garde brought up numerous thoughts of Egypt in my mind because the church was actually striped with black and white stones! Even the local train station has two large statues of African lions guarding its pedestrian entrance.

While in Marseille, our professor took us to an abundance of locations and attempted to allow us the full experience of this exquisite area. We were able to go down to the sea front, see the horizon line, taste the salty water, and dance among the waves. We ate dinner on the heated terrace of a very expensive restaurant and were all encouraged to try Marseille’s famous Bouillabaisse (a soup made out of an array of different fishes). We took a petit train tour, which allowed us to view the entire city from the height of the Notre Dame de la Garde and gave us some great facts concerning the origins of the area. We even had time to rest at a few local cafés and observe the people, animals, sights, sounds, smells, etcetera. However, she also wanted us to attend a very particular exhibit of works produced by both Van Gogh and Monticelli that were being shown at the Centre de la Vieille Charité.

When Wendy suggested this idea, my immediate reaction was one of deep distaste. There was so much more we could be actually experiencing! Why would she ever want to drag us to a boring art museum? Of course, since many of the other girls were interested and attendance of the museum could be added into our Experiencing The Arts curriculum, we went.

Even after getting my ticket and walking through the first doors, I was not impressed, but I knew I had to give it a chance. It was an opportunity to experience something new, albeit boring (or so I thought at the time), but new. When I finally made my way up to the first work of art, a self-portrait of Van Gogh, I knew I’d been wrong. I discovered that art was so much more than those pictures in the history books make it out to seem. They don’t do the real work any justice. The real work has a texture and a grain to it. It has color that is vibrant and a venire that makes it gleam in the light. Some pieces look better from an angle. Some are clearer when you step further away from them. Some paintings only truly give their full affect when you’re so close to them you feel as though you can smell them. Paintings are beautiful.

As I made my way through the maze of images that had become so much more in mind and enveloped all of my senses, I found myself comparing the works. I stopped solely decided whether or not I liked them, and I started really taking them in and taking them apart. I began to recognize which images were Monticelli’s and which belonged to Van Gogh long before reading the plaque hanging on the wall beside it. I began noticing subtle differences between oils used on canvas and oils used on wood. I started to see how one simple stroke could make or break the flow of a painting no matter what color it was. I began to truly appreciate the art.

Unknowingly, I was the last member of my group to exit the museum, and I wasn’t ready to go when I reached the final door! I wanted to turn around and go back to the most intricate works and stare at them all over again. I wished there was someway that I could take a photograph of everything I had seen beyond the image presented in the painting, but I knew that even if photographs were allowed, they wouldn’t be able to capture those qualities. One thing I did determine is that art is much more than it appears to be on Google. Of course, it’s nice to be able to show the world these famous works, but it’s not everything. Those works are larger, life size, and they encompass attributes that can reach out and touch not only our minds, hearts, and souls, but also every sense of our physical bodies as well. Museums are wonderful places. I’m glad they don’t solely store the original paintings without sharing them with the public.

Now, I can’t wait to go to another museum! In fact, I’ve been looking at the scores of them located in Paris and writing down their names and locations in order to suggestion to them to the group. Yes, I’ve officially been converted to a fine arts museum lover… and I bet this reaction was just the result of some evil plan thought up by Wendy herself! Haha.

Avec l'Amour,
G

PS: This is the very first presidential election for which I am actually eligible to vote! Before coming to France, both Stella and Wendy made it positively clear that we needed to fill out forms at our individual Town Halls in order to receive absentee ballots while abroad (if we wanted to vote, of course). Wanting to make my voice heard, I did so. Yet, as November fourth grew closer, I became more and more anxious and upset. I hadn’t received my ballot yet! What if I didn’t get to vote?

Well today, I filled out my absentee ballot and finally got it into the mail. I was SO excited. It felt exhilarating to voice my opinion and know that my vote was going to make a difference in the overall picture. Basically, I voted for a new president, and if you’re eligible, you should be voting too! With the Internet, it’s not too hard to learn who stands for what on any particular issue, and I just feel as though you’re throwing away one of your rights as an American citizen if you don’t take the opportunity being presented to you. Not to mention, I almost didn’t get my chance to vote. Don’t throw away your own when you’re actually IN the country, okay? People spent (and still spend) years trying to obtain this right in our country alone. Show them the respect and appreciation they deserve by at least voting for our next president. Thanks! I wish everyone voting good luck that his/her candidate is officially elected.

TOURING THE TRABOULES (October 19th)

2008-10-20T13:50:00.000-07:00

Judging from my experience, one of the best parts of the entire study abroad process concerns the assignments that are allotted to the students. For example, at the beginning of this week, our Professor informed us that we would be working together in order to construct a tour for her! For our research, she gave us a fairly short book entitled Courtyards & Traboules of Lyon, which was written be Gérald Gambier, the nephew of a Lyon native who introduced Gambier to the mysteries of Lyon’s traboules at a very young age.

Overall, we were very excited to begin upon this particular task and couldn’t wait to get our hands on that book! In one evening’s work, our group (which is mostly made up of female Theater Arts majors concentrating in Acting, Directing, and/or Dance) had constructed everything feasibly possible for a tour. For example, we came up with a catchy name for our tour service, “Avec La Gauche Touring,” which happens to also serve as an inside joke for us all (including our professor). We also determined our ensembles for the day. In an attempt to look more professional and pulled together, we agreed on pulling all of our hair back into ponytails or buns, wearing silver hoop earrings, and dressing in completely black attire. Of course, the last requirement concerning “black” attire also came into being due to the fact that we wanted to poke fun at the “gothic” element of the architecture of some of the traboules, but it seemed professional nonetheless. Finally, we determined which particular traboules we would visit, made up cue cards with information about each one, and separated the tasks of guiding the tour, giving the history of the traboules, speaking about each particular traboules featured on our trip, and answering questions.

When the tour began, we meet our professor in Plas Bellecour while holding a sign that read: Avec La Gauche Touring. It most definitely set the mood. Right afterward, our two predetermined “guides” gave Wendy very specific information and directions regarding the tour. Such tidbits of knowledge included how she should not be scared by the great amount of walking that we would all be partaking in, how we all needed to remain somewhat quiet and respectful while inside the traboules because they are actually surrounded by multiple residencies, and how she ought to “keep all hands and feet inside the moving vehicle at all times.”’

Of course, the first question out of our professor’s mouth concerned the meaning of the word traboule. Apparently, although she had signed up for this tour, our client did not know what she was about to experience. We explained that traboules are hidden, somewhat underground passages for travel that originated in Lyon and date all the way back to the fourth century. Many include hidden courts and are built and decorated in a myriad of architectural treasures in both the gothic and renaissance styles. Overall, there are five hundred in the entire city of Lyon, which connect over 230 streets and make it easier to travel through this hilly landscape, especially when it is raining or the like.

As we walked along the streets making our way into Vieux-Lyon (Old Lyon) in order to find rue Saint Jean where all of our tour’s traboules were located, our “Canut Historian” described how the lives of these silk weavers connected in a very direct way to the underground system of traboules. Simply put, silk cannot get wet, so the silk workers used to use the traboule system in order to transport their material safely from one location to another. Of course, this wasn’t the only use for traboules, and it wasn’t necessarily why the traboules were built, but it was very important and helped to keep the silk industry afloat. Other reasons behind the creation of the traboules include how commerce was first being run on the Saone River (shippers could deposit their goods directly into the cellars of the merchants, and the merchants cellars would open up into the street on the other end) and the fact that property plots used to be divided so narrowly in the Middle Ages that access to the structures had to be built below them in order to optimize the space.

As the tour progressed, we took Wendy to see five different traboules that all had very particular and intriguing elements to their design. For example, one featured a stairwell with a very striking spiral core, another was made up of architectural elements all found in the Renaissance style, another was the actual home of a printer Guillaume Leroy, the fourth one connected two streets of Lyon through a maze-like passage of four courts and stairs, and the final one featured one of the finest wells in all of Old Lyon! Overall, the girls speaking about these particular traboules had a lot of very "perky and smiley" information to share with Wendy. Each one pointed out the symbolic elements and highlighted the important qualities that could be found such as the way the sunlight was able to stream into the stairwells or the colors that had been chosen to paint the walls. Plus, the viewing of these traboules opened up the floor for questions regarding what qualifies a passage as an actual traboule, where traboules can be found in literary works, and what steps the city of Lyon has taken in order to preserve these amazing and somewhat mysterious historical sites.

In conclusion, our professor, who happened to be completely floored with the creativity, effort, and research that had been required by our version of “Avec La Gauche” touring company, decided to give us all a special treat: A free cone of ice cream! It was the first time (and probably the last) that I’d ever been rewarded by a professor with such a magnificent form of appreciation, and personally, I couldn’t help but to think my ice cream reward was almost as good as seeing an “A” written at the top of a research paper. However, even so, having this hands on learning experience meant SO much more to me than a research paper ever could. You see, with a little help from Gambier’s book, I learnt everything necessary to know about the traboules of Lyon, and since I was able to actually see them in person, smell them, feel them, and exist within them, I was so much more connected to them. They had a real, tangible relevance in my life. They had a meaning beyond written text. I was emotional connected to them, and ever since our tour ended, I just can’t help but to feel like a true traboules historian!

Avec l'Amour,
G

“WELL EVERY PLACE HAS STUPID PEOPLE”: The Pictorial Exhibition of Lyon’s Lovely September 14, 2008 Défilé (October 19th)

2008-10-16T08:14:00.000-07:00

Just in case you were wondering, I most definitely have a LOT more pictures and videos of this particularly beloved portion of our lovely trip to Lyon, but I am unable to post them all here (because of the way this particular website has been structured). Therefore, being rather unlike myself, I quickly settled on only displaying the following five photographs of the event. I hope you enjoy them all! The parade was positively magnificent to experience in person.

Here's a fun game to play! I call it, "Where's Wendy?" (and no, it has no relation to "Where's Waldo?"). Within this crowd of people eagerly awaiting the start of the parade are both Wendy, our professor, and Christine, our GA of the trip. If you can point the two of them out to me in any fashion, you'll score a lot of points, and I'll bake you something yummy when I get home, okay? Good luck though! This is tough stuff.

RANDOM FACT: There were 4,500 dancers in the Défilé!

One of the coolest things (I think) was that a lot of the dances performed throughout the parade were openly concerned with exploring political and social issues! For example, one piece clearly explored the controversial topic of abortion, and the piece featured here had a very ecological outlook focusing on treating the environment with reverence. It was definitely something I had never witnessed while living in America, and it made me wonder if America would be able to have such a controversial parade while still maintaining our country's peace.

Each group went all out when it came to their dances! Not only did they wear amazing costumes and crazy-cool makeup, but they also all had absolutely breathtaking props. This photograph is just one example, but I think it's important to point out that some of the props were even more extreme than this! It most definitely was a spectacle to be beheld.

As I said before, the groups dancing in the parade most definitely went "all out." Just look at this picture! That man was dancing on stilts, and he wasn't the only one. A lot of groups had dancers moving around while attempting this fairly daring balancing act. Personally, I could barely believe my eyes! I know I wouldn't have been able to move that well on stilts.

Avec l'Amour,
G

ANOTHER “SAFETY REMINDER” (October 13th)

2008-10-15T09:46:00.001-07:00

Unfortunately, we had another safety situation at our residence on the night of October 1st. Everyone is okay and nothing was stolen, but it’s still extremely disturbing (especially considering the fact that we’re so far away from home and unable to communicate efficiently in French). Although I could easily inform you of the details of this mishap myself, I’d rather not. Instead, I asked one of the girls involved if she would be willing to tell you all about it. I figured hearing about it directly from her personal experience would be of greater impact to you. Since she agreed, her statement is as follows:

“It was 11:30 at night, and I decided I couldn’t sleep so I started playing solitaire on my bed. That’s when I heard a key in my door. At first I thought I was hearing things, then my door opened and some man I had never seen before stepped into my room. The moment he saw me he went, “Oh sorry, this isn’t the concierge.” He leaves my room and re-locks my door. Freaking out, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to stay in my room or go stay in another girl’s room. After a few minutes of personal debate, I decided to leave my room; in the hallway were three other girls who lived across from me. As I was locking my door they asked if some one attempted to enter my room, and I told them he did enter my room. The other girls freaked out and went to find some guys, who then split up and searched the building for him. They found him in the front office of the building (apparently he had a key to the office too). One of the guys started questioning the stranger; asking him how he had a key to my room and three other rooms. The stranger said the “proprietor” gave him a key, and we demanded he give us a name. He said he would call them. So he stepped outside and started talking on his phone and after a minute, booked it down the street. Three guys chased after him, but the stranger apparently knew the streets better. We then waited for the police to show up so we could give our statements. I spent the rest of the night in my friend’s room.”

Avec l'Amour,
G

CAFÉ OBSERVATION (October 11th)

2008-10-15T09:43:00.000-07:00

*****CAUTION: While in France, Wendy has given us a daily assignment to record our experiences, observations, feelings, and etcetera into handwritten journals. We were also instructed to put ticket stubs, performance programs, and other paper thin mementos in amongst the pages of this journal in order to better trigger our memories of that particular day and those particular occurrences. This week, she instructed us to spend one hour sitting in a café while writing in our journals. Therefore, I just felt it necessary to inform you that THE FOLLOWING OBSERVATION WAS TAKEN WORD-FOR-WORD OUT OF MY HANDWRITTEN, MANDATORY JOURNAL AND IS ENTIRELY STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS. Beware of the craziness, but enjoy it nonetheless, okay?

Well here I am. I just arrived at 2:30PM, and I only have to sit here until 3:30PM. I didn’t come alone, mind you. Lisa came along, so I figured we’ll end up talking some of the time… which is okay because Wendy told us we could, but I’d probably write a lot more and be able to analyze more occurrences if I was on my own.
Anyway, I’m eating a Panini (chicken, cheese, curry, possibly other ingredients, but I don’t know what they are) and drinking a Coca-Cola Light. The Panini is SO good. I’m going to miss French bread when I finally leave. We go home in about seven weeks, I think… no, I know that fact is true… I’ve been counting down the days.

So, I am sitting at one of four metals tables on the corner of a pretty busy intersection. There are a lot of people out and about today. Mostly college-aged students because Bellecour is having some kind of an event right now aimed at us. I’m pretty close to Bellecour, but I believe I’m closer to Cordiliers. There are a lot of cars too on the road. We’re right next to a bus stop to boot. The buses can even turn at this corner. I find myself watching that a lot. I like to watch them turn because they’re connected to wires on the top (so strange… like those ones that are featured in the opening of Full House that DJ Tanner jumps on… I don’t really understand why they need those… to keep them on track? Does it help so that they don’t tip over? Are they run on gas or electricity? Is it actually the wire pulling them along?). Not to mention, they’re turning into HEAVY pedestrian traffic. People cross the street right there (There’s a crosswalk), and the buses never fully stop. They only slow down until they can go. It’s like they have the right-of-way (maybe they do here).

I wonder stuff like that a lot. About if laws are different. One time I saw a woman holding her baby in her lap in the passenger seat of a car while it was moving, and I wondered if that was legal here. It’s definitely not safe, and illegal in the US (didn’t Brittney get arrested for something like that???). And is it okay to bring dogs/animals on the metro and stuff because people do it ALL the time, and granted the animals don’t go crazy or run up and down the aisles and the dogs are usually little (most dogs seem to be little around here… I’ve probably seen about a dozen just sitting here too). And I wonder culture stuff too. Like, a lot of people seem to have no problem with breastfeeding on the metro and all, but the girls HATE it. I don’t care. I don’t think that’s illegal in US, but it is probably more controversial than here. Granted, nudity doesn’t seem to be much of an issue here. It’s all over billboards and movies and such.

(PS: Me and Lisa are chitchatting this WHOLE time… we’re too good at that to avoid it. Haha! Good thing Wendy said it’s okay.)

So, yeah, a lot of people out today… a lot of couples (holding hands, being flirty, kissing/hugging/making out because PDA apparently isn’t an issue here at all) and groups of friends, but it’s super warm (thank GOD); like 80°F I think. I hope it stays like this. I like warmer better. I picked a great day to come out and do this, I think.

WHOA! An old lady just fell in the middle of the crosswalk where the buses turn. I didn’t see her fall over, but now there is a bit of commotion. She dropped her bag with all her bread in it (Wendy says people buy their bread fresh around her everyday from bakeries). Wow. Five people have stopped to help her. They seem really concerned and are helping her stand up and brushing her off. One man is picking up her bread and rearranging it in her bag to hand back to her. She seems really gracious for the help, but embarrassed. I think they’re telling her she fell because she wasn’t picking her feet up when she was walking and she tripped on the uneven cobblestones. Aww… the man with her bread just walked her to the other side of the street to make sure she made it (and he’s going in the opposite direction). SO cute.

Okay, so the French are nice. That wasn’t what I heard, but that’s what I’ve experienced. They always want to help us out and guide us places if we ask and tell us what is going on if we can’t understand it. It’s good. France would totally suck if the people sucked.

Ooo… a kid (college-aged) on rollerblades just went by in the street rollerblading backwards! He was going super fast too. Totally show-off-ish, but I was impressed, I can’t deny it.

Ick! French men will hit on you WHENEVER/WHEREVER. I’m not looking for your attention, homme, I’m enjoying my café experience, thank you very much. Leave me alone… and I’m not getting into details here. Neither will Lisa, I’m sure. What is there to say? It’s not a new experience or one worth observing (Ha! Take that Mr. Flirtatious).

Whoa! We’ve totally been here WAY longer than an hour. Who knew that was going to happen? I thought I’d be itching to go by 3:30PM. I guess it’s because we have nothing else to really do today, so we’re not being forced to keep track of time. That’s kinda cool. It’s like soothing in a way… to just sit and be totally unaware but content. No wonder people stay forever at cafés. It’s fun. Relaxing. I could do this everyday (even at the same café)… if only I had the money to buy food from cafés everyday.

We’re leaving… we were here way over two hours… we’re gonna go back to the residence so that we can get ready to go to the movies tonight! I’m pretty psyched.

Avec l'Amour,
G

DES CANUTS (October 9th)

2008-10-12T10:16:00.000-07:00

<-- Many of Lyon’s present day silk workers spend a great deal of their time weaving highly complicated and prestigious fabrics in order to preserve those that can still be found on the upholstery of furniture featured in famous castles that happen to be open to the public for tours.

Yesterday, Wendy took us on an extremely fun and entertaining “field trip” to La Maison des Canuts, a living museum that delves deeply into one of Lyon’s coolest businesses: the silk industry! According to the information I received, the silk, gold, and silver weavers of Lyon have been hand weaving on various forms of looms since the early eighteenth century! Even today, Lyon’s weavers carry on the tradition by hand-creating fabrics that still cannot be imitated or reproduced through the use of any computer program or system. Of course, considering this fact, it is important to point out that being a silk weaver not only takes a lot of patience, but it also requires that one completes a very intense training/schooling program that lasts for a period of at least six years. Therefore, there are only about fifteen weavers present in all of Lyon today, and, although I hate to brag about my good fortune, I got to meet one!

<-- It is said that a Chinese princess was the actual individual to discover the fiber of silk over more than 4,500 years ago.

Now, although the museum was quite small, it was definitely worth the trip up to Croix-Rousse for reasons rise above and beyond the fact that I got to meet one of the weavers. First of all, it was visually captivating. Every room held grand collections of ancient fabrics, woven images of what life was like for the older generations of silk workers, examples of some of the loom workers’ accessories and tools, and the actual hand and mechanical looms that they used and continue to use in present day! Secondly, due to the fact that our tour was in English, I learned a great deal about the evolution of the loom, the history of silk, the life of the “canuts” (weavers), and how the industry is still evolving today. Thirdly, and probably most excitingly, I actually got to witness multiple weaving demonstrations on both the manual and electric looms! It was positively amazing and gave me a whole new appreciation for this art form (which I had never truly considered before).

Avec l'Amour,
G

MISSING ALL HALLOWS EVE (October 6th)

2008-10-06T07:02:00.001-07:00

Anyone who truly knows me knows that Halloween is one of my all time favorite holidays. I absolutely LOVE coming up with costume ideas, and I start early! You see, if I don’t start early, I don’t have as much time to think up ideas because I always scrap my lists from the previous Halloween just to make sure that every suggested ensemble ABSOLUTELY is a fresh idea. Overall, I always create lists and lists of costumes. In fact, I probably come up with enough to satisfy all of my friends’ costuming needs too. Haha.

Anyway, I’m also versatile when it comes to Halloween. Yes, I appreciate homemade costumes and find them extremely compelling, but they’re not everything. Personally, I’m never opposed to buying a previously crafted costume instead of making my own, and I’ll spend some serious amounts of time sifting through the racks at costume shops and boutiques just to get some inspiring ideas. Plus, shopping for the costume and its accessories is massively a part of the Halloween fun! Not to mention, it can totally become a bonding experience depending on the people you decide to take with you while you’re shopping. For example, my sister and I went out together for costumes last year, and I think we were laughing the whole time.

In any case, after I finally decide on a particular costume with the perfect concoction of creativity-mixed-with-prettiness leading to a classy-look that has the most subtle hint-of-sassiness, I usually stock up on about three MORE outfits to choose from just in case the first one falls through (I’m pretty sure I’ve already informed you that I’m EXTREMELY indecisive). Of course, I tend to wear all of them at some point over the Halloween weekend (you have to love a holiday that gives you more than one excuse and opportunity to break away from your everyday, mundane existence), BUT I bet you’re wondering, “what does this even have to do with anything? Shouldn’t she be blogging about her experiences in France and not ranting on about her favorite holiday?”

Well, you see, this year my prospect for a Happy Halloween isn’t looking that good. Not only am I an ocean away from Frankie P. and home and therefore unable to attend any of the usual costume parties, but I’m also currently in a country that (insert gasp here) DOESN’T CELEBRATE HALLOWEEN. Yep, you read that right. Wanna chance to read it again? Here: FRANCE DOESN’T CELEBRATE HALLOWEEN. The other day while in French class, we all approached our professor concerning this very important holiday. Unfortunately, she informed us that although stores tend to display pumpkins and leaves and recipe books featuring cakes and such pertaining to the holiday, NO ONE actually “trick-or-treats.” Not even children. The only people who wear costumes are those who may have a party to attend concerning that theme, but it is a very uncommon practice.

After hearing all of that, I felt like crying! How am I supposed to survive without Halloween? And I already had a ton of costume ideas! Now I’ll never be able to use them. Plus, I’m missing out on viewing everyone’s costumes at school and in my family (I already know what my one year old niece is being dressed up as… I guess I’ll just have to see the pictures). It sucks. ☹

So, I’m trying to look at the positive side of the coin. Yes, I miss Halloween, and that’s a negative thing, but I also gain a once in a lifetime experience! I mean, I’m currently residing in FRANCE. Could it get any crazier? And yes, I have to admit that France has its flaws (I mean, it doesn’t celebrate Halloween! Not even it’s own particular version of the super fun day), but it’s not all bad. Plus, who says I can’t celebrate All Hallow’s Eve when I get home? I could throw a costume party or convince someone else to do it or just dress up for the fun of it! Basically, I knew before coming here that I was going to be missing out on things, but I weighed the pros and cons, and here I am. I’m going to make the best of it whether France has a Halloween or doesn’t… and besides, we’re going to be in Paris for Halloween, so I HIGHLY doubt our Professor would have allowed us to gallivant around in crazy looking costumes. Of course, that’s still most definitely a possibility! :P

Avec l'Amour,
G

GONE KEBABING (October 5th)

2008-10-06T07:01:00.000-07:00

Gabrielle says: When one officially knows that she is about to embark on an experience requiring her to inhabit a foreign country for a period of about three months, it is only expected that she would set some pretty concrete goals for herself to complete throughout the excursion.

And if that above statement is not a truism (for I have no supporting evidence of that fact and no consistent access to the Internet in order to search for forms of evidential confirmation), it (at the very least) rings true for me. In fact, I’ve created multiple lists of goals to complete while living in France. Some of these goals are quite simple (well, I guess that terminology only applies depending on your own personal definition of “simple,” but read on and judge later) such as physically, mentally, and emotionally surviving the trip. Other goals are a bit more intense like being able to communicate in French on a basic level by November 29th. Yet, overall, the goals are all worthy of attempt.

I’m writing this post because I’ve just recently completed two of my goals, which for one unimportant reason or another both happen to deal with food. First, on Saturday, October 4, I had my very first crepe! You see, crepes are an extremely common treat in France, and I’d never had that opportunity to try one before. Therefore, I figured France would be the perfect place! Not to mention, as soon as I discovered that they consisted of a folded up, pancake-like pastry filled with your choice of fruit, jam, or other spreadable products including nutella, my ridiculously active sweet tooth became very intrigued. In fact, almost immediately afterward, I made a pack with another student that we would both purchase crepes together on an upcoming excursion into the city.

When Wendy took us on our first walking tour of Lyon, we realized it was the perfect day for crepes! We passed multiple stands and shops along the way, and no matter how chilly or hungry we were, we held out until the tour was over in order to purchase our treats. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity (it was an amazingly long day), we found the perfect crepe stand. A single, older man stood behind it and effortlessly whipped up the goodies for the numerous customers anxiously waiting. When it came our turn to order, we practiced our French, and watched him pour the batter onto the burners, flip the pancakes over, spread nutella thickly across the pancakes surface, and then fold them up into the cutest little triangular pockets I’d ever seen. He handed them to us on cardboard plates, instructed us to take some napkins along for our journey, and graciously accepted our 2.50 euros. Overall, having a crepe in France was entirely worth it! It was warm, fresh, sweet, and filling. Basically, it was perfection in a little triangular pocket… and if I’m not careful or watched carefully by my peers, I just might become a crepe addict for my remaining time in the city. Haha!

The second food product that I was recently able to try while in France is called a kebab. No, I’m not talking about meat and grilled vegetables that are served on a stick. In France, the common kebab shops (they appear on almost every street corner, but are all individually owned and run instead of franchises such as McDonald’s) sell sandwiches and simple plates of food similar to a town sub shop. The kebab part refers to the meat the owners use in order to create their entrees. This giant hunk of meat (imagine an overall oval shape) is kept in plain view and somehow solidly stuck onto a rotating pole, which the worker then spins as he easily slices thin pieces off of the meat with two ridiculously sharp, large knives. Once the pieces of meat are ready, a pocket of bread is prepared, and the customer is encouraged to choose whatever vegetables and condiments she’d like to create her sandwich. For example, I chose mayonnaise, ketchup, lettuce, and tomato. The meat is quickly cooked up, the customer’s selections are all combined together, and the sandwich is usually served with fries (sans French) and a can of soda.

Overall, I was surprised by how yummy this concoction happened to be. I was a bit timid to try a kebab considering how the unappetizing meat was just sitting out in plain view, but my friends highly recommended it. Therefore, I added it to my list of goals, and viola it was successfully completed. Now, I know what you’re all anxiously wondering: Will I ever “go kebabing” again? Who knows! It’s quite possible though. The food was very satisfying. Of course, I have other food goals to accomplish while in France before I run out of time, which most definitely includes trying escargot! I made someone a promise about that one WAY before leaving. I can’t break that promise now. I wouldn’t even think of it. Maybe I’ll try it in Paris! We do leave in THREE weeks.

Avec l'Amour,
G

I ALWAYS FEEL… (October 3rd)

2008-10-03T10:02:00.002-07:00

“Gabrielle” is a French name, but I’m in no way French. My parents solely chose the name because it began with a “G,” and they liked the way it sounded.

Now, I must confess that when I realized I would be going to France, I couldn’t have been more pleased that I possessed such a first name. I mean, I would fit in! The French would completely understand my name when I told them, and they would be able to easily pronounce and remember it. What could be better? It was like being given a head start.

Of course, now that I’m in France, that feeling has changed. Every time I find myself in a situation where I must state my name, I always feel as though I’m pronouncing it incorrectly! I first had this inclination in my French course at Lyon Bleu (when I heard Camille, my professor of French heritage, state my name in a question), and ever since then, I can’t seem to get over this silly fear. Maybe having a French name wasn’t such a blessing after all? Or maybe I’m just blowing this out of proportion. No one else seems to have noticed the difference. In any case, I just thought I’d let you all know.

Avec l'Amour,
G

END OF THE BIENNALE (October 1st)

2008-10-03T10:02:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was the official end of Lyon’s 2008 Biennale de la Danse (the twenty-fifth Biennale of all time). Due to that fact, we no longer have mandatory performances to attend each evening, and I can’t help but to feel a little lost. You see, the Biennale was one of the main reasons we all chose to come to France. I mean, almost all of us are dancers. Of course we jumped at the opportunity to experience such an intense and unique display of our chosen art form. However, now that’s it’s over, I can’t tell if Lyon has lost some of its appeal to me. It definitely doesn’t look any different or sound any different, and a black hole hasn’t just opened up in the middle of the city and started sucking in the surroundings causing massive amounts of chaos and drastic changes in the behavior of the city’s inhabitants, but something could be a little off, couldn’t it? The problem is that I just can’t seem to put my finger on exactly what it is. I knew the Biennale would end, and I knew that we’d still be here for another two months after it was over, but maybe I was somehow denying that fact all along. Maybe I never REALLY understood what that meant or thought to take that fact into deeper consideration. Something just feels off today.

In any case, the overall feelings I’m experiencing are quite mixed. If I had to, I guess I would describe them as falling somewhere between relieved and saddened on the overall spectrum. Confused? I described it to my friend in the following fashion: For one month of my life, I actually took in air and energy and exhaled dance. Everyday was infused with it from classes to street performances to random dance parties with the girls to random dances by myself in my room (yeah… what can I say? I’m completely and utterly addicted). Yet now, all of that is over. In fact, I don’t even have my Movement class once next week! I feel like dance has suddenly and harshly been ripped away from me. Although I can’t say I was one hundred percent comfortable with attending performances every night and then having to get up early in order to attend my own dance classes as well as attend discussions concerning the performances (it was actually very stressful at times), I still enjoyed it.

Overall, I’m going to miss the Biennale. It’s not the kind of an experience that is easily obtained. In fact, I’ll probably never experience something like it again, and I’m glad I had the opportunity. Not to mention, I’m especially glad that I had the opportunity at such a young age. Being a college student, I feel like my eyes were more open, encouraging, and desiring than they would have been at any other point in my life. This fact alone allowed the Biennale to have a greater influence on me physically, emotionally, and mentally. As an individual, I fee like its left its imprint on me forever. As far as dancing goes, my possibilities presented to me through this great display of one of my favorite art forms seem endless. I wish I could describe its affect on me better, but its something so personal, I’m not sure it would make that much sense to you anyway. The Biennale has pushed me, inspired me, gave me a sense of hope, and taught me more about myself as a person who dances than I would have ever imagined possible. It was a wonderful experience.

And now that it’s over, whatever will I write about? I mean, what could possibly compare to performances choreographed by Forsythe and Linke? I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. I’m sure I’ll find something good… possibly… eventually.

Avec l'Amour,
G

PS: Happy birthday, Daddy! I love and miss you loads. You’re always in my thoughts. Eat something sickeningly sweet for me, okay? <3

CHRISTMAS MUSIC, ANYONE? (September 29th)

2008-09-30T07:05:00.001-07:00

Once again, feel free to scorn me. Most likely your deductions based on this post’s title are correct. I have, in fact, already started listening to my Christmas music on my iTunes AND transferred some of my most highly preferred songs to my iPod. Does that make me a bad person? No, I do not believe so. Does it make me stupid? Yes, quite possibly, but I guess that would have to be determined at a later date. For example, if listening to these carols earlier than usual causes detrimental side affects (such as my ears falling off), then I was stupid. However, I do feel it is important to point out that I didn’t start listening to the sounds of Christmas on a complete and utter whim. On the contrary, I gave the idea a lot of consideration and have plenty of rational reasons for already beginning the Christmas music craziness. Don’t think you can believe me? Read on, my dears.

First of all, the way I’ve been viewing time in Lyon is different than my usual perspective. You see, time moves in mysterious ways here. At Franklin Pierce, I view time on an hourly scale and use vacations (such as Columbus Day) to see things in the long-term. I feel as though I see my day in accomplishments there. The more things I can accomplish off of my “To Do” list, the shorter the day gets. For example, getting through all of my morning classes alive is an accomplishment that shortens my day. Finishing my homework or a paper before dinner is also an accomplishment that helps to push time onward. And, finally, the completion of any/all daily extracurricular activities puts the capstone I need on time to prove to me that it is still pushing forward. Of course, this means that days that have more substance to them (classes, activities, etc.) are sensed by the mind and body as being longer, but I can easily accept that feeling because it all evens out with the lighter days I’m also lucky to experience (such as weekends). When it comes to the long term, I tend to focus on vacations. That is the time when I get to leave campus, go home, and actually relax. I judge all long-term assignments on vacations as well because I REFUSE to work on any of them over a period that I deem “vacation.” Therefore, they must be completed beforehand or afterward, and they are worked into my daily schedules with that idea in mind.

In Lyon, this set up doesn’t really make sense. How do I explain it? Okay… let me try this: Before I choose to study abroad, I probably gave the idea a lot more consideration and attention than the people around me realized. As I’ve said before, academics are extremely important to me, and I feared that such a drastic change in lifestyle would have devastating affects on my GPA or ability to think critically, write solid papers, juggle the work of multiple professors, etcetera. I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to be successful in such a different setting. I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to adjust to it properly. However, I ultimately realized it was an experience that I couldn’t pass up. I had already promised myself to seize as many of the college opportunities presented to me as possible, and if I didn’t seize this one, I wouldn’t have been able to truthfully state that I did so. Not to mention, being able to effortlessly adjust to different settings, situations, and occurrences is a life skill. We can’t control everything, but if we can learn how to be flexible, fluid beings, we can be that indispensable person in every/any situation. We can maintain our balance no matter what, and personally, I feel like those kinds of people would be the most useful in leadership positions. Therefore, I had to study abroad in order to prove how versatile I could be.

As far as time goes, I don’t have a full syllabus for any of my classes while I’m here, so I can’t plan out projects very far in advance. We don’t get a full weekend off (only Sundays… sometimes), so I don’t have clear days of work and leisure. Although we do get weekly schedules outlining our mandatory activities and classes, they are so spread out throughout the day (and you have to factor in travel time, which is usually an extra half-hour to forty-five minutes before and after the activity), that a day’s events could very easily flow right from 9:00AM until 9:00PM that evening without any real sense of full accomplishment until 9:00PM. Knowing this, it’s got to be apparent why my normal view of time here is skewed. In Lyon, I tend to view time in days and weeks and I see the long-term in terms of November 29th (the day we go home). For example, I know I’ve started a day when I take my daily vitamin, and I know I’ve ended a day when I can cross it off the calendar hanging on the wall in my room. Each day’s end brings me closer to the end of the week, and each week’s end leaves me one week closer to leaving Lyon. I’m not really viewing time in terms of months because the idea of three whole months in a foreign country can either be extremely scary (three whole months before I get to see ANY of my loved ones again? = Separate anxiety) or upsetting (I only get THREE months to explore a whole other lifestyle and culture? = Not good enough).

Of course, this isn’t to say that we don’t have some similarities to the Franklin Pierce schedule. For example, we do have a vacation week here scheduled at some point in November, but since I’m not planning on going anywhere crazy or being visited by any family or friends, it just doesn’t seem that important to me. In fact, I would be just as content if we didn’t have a vacation week. Not to mention, it’s at the end of our trip, so it wouldn’t provide much comfort for now, and it wouldn’t provide much comfort afterward because I’d rather view time as approaching the 29th instead of leaving the week of predetermined “vacation.”

NOW, knowing all of this, can you not see how Christmas and the like would seem closer than usual? I’m viewing time in weeks, and as far as I’m concerned, as soon as I step off the plane in Logan airport, I’m on Winter Break. Winter Break = Christmas time. It’s that simple. Isn’t it?

Okay, now I’ll go onto reason number two (even though it really doesn’t compare): I’ve already started seeing Christmas advertisements in the Metro stations. In fact, the ones I’ve seen actually feature Santa Claus. It doesn’t get more Christmas-y than that. Plus, I have to mention that the music in France isn’t all in French. In fact, more often than not it appears that they tend to be listening to American artists. Don’t believe me? I dare you to get onto any tram in Lyon, and you’ll hear American music blasting (the French don’t seem to have an issue with playing their preferred music through speakers when in public locations). Plus, even their ring tones are American! I believe I’ve heard “Forever” by Chris Brown a few times. Anyway, the Metro stations and such have already started playing “Last Christmas” and the like. They tuned my brain to Christmas musical-ness! I couldn’t resist it.

In conclusion, that’s the end of this post. I don’t have anything else to say… except one simple phrase that’s been said many times, many ways: Merry Christmas to you.

Avec l'Amour,
G

SALSA LESSONS (September 27th)

2008-09-27T07:13:00.001-07:00

On Thursday evening, Wendy planned for us all to attend a free Salsa dance lesson being sponsored for the Biennale! Of course, we were all super excited by the idea. Not only did it mean that we were getting a much needed break from our mandatory daily attendance of dance performances, but it also meant that we got to escape our currently life consuming “modern” box. We could break out of our shells a little and use Salsa to take us a little closer to party dancing and jazz dance and the other forms we also adore. It was totally necessary, and I wonder how Wendy knew it was exactly what we all needed.

In any case, when it finally began, we were in a Dancers’ Heaven! In fact, it probably took less than three minutes for us to all assemble at the front and center of the group and be the first to heave our bags/jackets into a pile on the ground behind us. No, nothing was going to distract us from doing our best. The instructor, a tall dark man whom happened to be from Cuba, was absolutely perfect! He had a great personality and was surely having a lot of fun up on stage while he taught the crowd assembled in front of him. The best part was probably that he was very interactive when it came to the audience. He’d point out individual members to help correct their movements or give them positive reinforcement. He even clapped for dancing children and tried to wave over more people to join in on the fun.

At one point near the beginning of the lesson, he attempted to get the audience to do more than just follow along. Instead of allowing the members to solely copy his movements, he also wanted them to say the names of the motions as they practiced them. Being a dancer, I know that this is a common technique in dance education that is used in order to ensure that the individual “learning” the intended material is in fact retaining it. Of course, since we were unable to communicate in French, we originally ignored his request, but he was being very insistent and convinced us that he would not teach us any new steps unless we were vocal. So, as if we had taken the time to plan it out, we all had the exact same idea at the exact same time. In unison, we began shouting out the English translation for the steps as we performed them! When he finally turned around to face us, he was looking out into the audience with an extremely confused expression, and we all just burst out laughing. Obviously, this set the mood for the remaining period of time, and at the end of all of the dancing fun, we made our way over to the stage to take some photographs with our new favorite Salsa teacher!

Afterwards, Wendy informed us that we all did an amazing job, and we were glad to hear it. Apparently, since she was participating in the dance lesson from a little further back in the thick of the crowd, she spent a great deal of time watching us. According to her, this wasn’t very hard at all because we basically stuck out like sore thumbs. Not only did we pick up the combinations quickly and could transfer them to the other foot without any sense of hesitation, but we also all turned and moved on the very same beats of music. We were most definitely one united, dancing group of ladies.

So, children, the moral of the story is, if you need Salsa lessons, just ask one of the Lyon Ladies! We’re absolutely AMAZING. I swear it.

Avec l'Amour,
G

SIMPLE AMERICAN PLEASURES (September 25th)

2008-09-27T07:10:00.000-07:00

Okay, I admit it. I suck. I caved in and bought a Starbuck’s white chocolate mocha frappacino while in living for a three-month period in Lyon (and, as you probably would have been informed by the other lovely Lyon students, I’d only been here for about a week when the afore mentioned infraction occurred). Unfortunately, it’s a lot harder to go without those simple American pleasures than one may think, and it’s an experience like this that truly makes it apparent how we tend to take SO many things for granted (or at least I do, but since I’d never admit that alone, I’m using the plural and taking you all down with me). As support to my pluralized claim, I will also competently inform you that not a girl on this trip could say she’s entirely content with what Lyon has to offer her. On the contrary, we all have our own separate lists of highly missed, cannot wait to be able to have/use again, items. Don’t believe me? Take a look for yourself (and enjoy the complete and utter obscurity of some of the desirables).

AD: 1. Nachos
2. Pillows
3. Cody (her puppy!)
PM: 1. Dancing On Tables
2. Her Bed
3. Normal Sized Showers (ours are approximately, 3x3)
NS: 1. Flatbread sandwiches & Coconut Cooladas at Dunkin Donuts
2. General Sao’s Chicken
3. Chili’s
LL: 1. Buffalo Wings
2. Nachos
3. Ellie (one of her beloved stuffed animals)
SSB: 1. Bacon & Cheese Burgers
2. People Who Speak Fluent English
3. Driving In Her Car With Loudly Blaring Rap Music
MW: 1. Her home
2. The radio
3. Her independence (SUCH AS being able to travel freely when/where she pleases, knowing the surrounding area by heart, being able to communicate without hesitation, etc.)
CF: 1. Driving In Her Car
2. Sunday Dinners At The Grandparent’s House
3. “One Life To Live”
RT: 1. Dunkin Donuts
2. Getting Ready With The Girls On Friday And Saturday Nights
3. Putting Up Away Messages
CL: 1. Sunday Football
2. Her Bed
3. Buffalo Chicken Wings With Blue Cheese Dressing

AND FINALLY, MY CHOICES:
1. Mt. Monadnock
2. Lazy Sunday “mornings” with my family
3. Strawberry Frosted Pop-Tarts (although at this point in time I’d take ANY flavor at all… I’m just THAT deprived. How do their college students survive without any access to the perfect* food?)
4. Typhoon Asia’s Crab Rancoons (& any Chinese food in general)
5. French Vanilla Flavored Coffee/Ice Cream/etcetera (can you believe “FRENCH” Vanilla doesn’t exist here? And I tried their regular vanilla. It’s not a good substitute.)

Avec l'Amour,
G

*Obviously Pop-Tarts. First of all, they’re a delicious food product that can be eaten at any time of day, which means they’re extremely useful for all meals, snacks, or desserts. Secondly, the fruit flavored ones are most definitely a healthy choice! In fact, I’m willing to bet that the fruity flavored ones provide the consumer with at least one full serving of fruit. Plus, they’re in a “pastry” type form so they have some grain to them that makes them a bit heartier. As far as travel goes, they’re VERY travelable due to those cute little foil packets. Not to mention, you can choose to eat them chilled, frozen, at room temperature, heated, or toasted! The possibilities are practically endless. It doesn’t get any better than that. I dare you to find a more versatile, appealing product on the market today.

I WISH YOU ALL COULD HAVE SEEN THIS (September 21st)

2008-09-24T07:36:00.000-07:00

Reading the small paragraph of English description, which fortunately can be found for each of the performances mentioned within our Biennale de la Danse program booklet, was enough alone to highly spike my level of on a piece that was being performed by choreographer and dancer Susanne Linke on Thursday, September 18. The text read:

At the Maison in 1985, Linke danced Schritte Verfolgen, an intensely introspective solo in which she returns to childhood: up to age six, illness had left her unable to hear or speak; she only have gesture and dance. This new version, in which she is accompanied by three female dancers, is lent an extra emotional charge by the maturity of age and by thejubilatory confirmation of “being” in each phase of life. A stunningly modern work.

Upon arrival at the theatre, I took my centered, third row seat and anxiously awaited the opening of the ruby red curtain. So far, whenever we seemed to have such amazing seats (such as at the Forsythe show), the dances had been undeniably thrilling and left me with a positively stunned impression. Therefore, I had no reason to think this performance to follow any different pattern.

The curtain opened slowly as a piece of operatic music crackled into the audience. The first item that was visible was a jet-black piano sitting centered upstage. From my standpoint in the audience, I could tell that a few of its keys were missing. This revealing alone was shocking for, due to a picture featured in the program, I had been expecting to see a “hospital bed” as the piece’s main prop. What did a piano have to do with having a horribly scarring illness as a child? It was only after the performance and during a group discussion that we concluded the piano was significant for it symbolizes another form of artistic communication that she could not participate in due to her form of autism (we learned that she was autistic after the piece from Wendy who could read the larger French description that was featured in the program). As the curtain continued to reveal more of the somewhat calming blue lit scenery, something downstage right caught my attention. It was a grim reaper, but this was not your ordinary reaper at all. She was dressed in an exquisitely crafted dark blue and purple frock that had a large, heavily folded hood covering her entire head. Her dress was very medieval and had a regal sense about it. As the gorgeous vision ever so slowly walked her way towards the left side of the stage, she balanced a large silver seethe in her hands. Her movements were in no way provoked by the music, and yet as the opera became louder and more frantic, I found myself reaching a state of panic. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I waited for her to whip her body around toward the audience or make some other sudden movement. I began doubting my original inclination that she would in fact make it far enough to exit on stage left. The music seemed to imply otherwise. The atmosphere seemed too intense, fast paced, and sudden to allow her to get to that “finalized” destination. Before she had a chance, but after she had successfully crossed the centerline, the curtain quickly closed. The music did not end, and it was confusing to not know what was happening to that beautiful reaper. Did she continue to balance that seethe? Was she there to imply a tragic ending for the child or the uncertainty of life length for the grown woman? Was she meant to be a recent phantom in Linke’s life or just the image of the one from her past?

When the curtain opened again, the entire stage had changed. The walls and floor were pure white along with the lighting and a smoke filled the space that not only made it hard to fully see, but also made the air smell somewhat of cleaning material and antiseptic. It was an intriguing scent. I’d never been to a dance performance where the sense of smell had been relied upon before. The scent alone conjured up images of hospital rooms, and I knew immediately where the dance was now taking place.

The dancer entered stage right by running right into the two long tables that had been set in a horizontal line parallel to the audience’s view along the right side of the stage. The tables were covered with a large white cloth, and reminded me of hospital tables or beds. Of course, they seemed rather large for this purpose, but I had to remember that the dancer was meant to be a child. Everything is always larger from the eyes of a child. Even the brown colored, hospital-like slipper socks that she wore beneath her hospital gown seemed to be slightly larger than necessary. As soon as the dancer hit the tables, she backed up off the stage and then ran at them again, striking them with full force. She continued this motion, continued hitting the roadblock in her until the tables were basically centered in the space. All of this was performed to the sound of heavy, whipping winds and drums.

As this particular dancer continued her solo, images of horror movies were conjured up in my mind. She wore her long hair over her face and made jerky movements that didn’t seem the least bit natural or human. Finally, when she lied down on the tables, the light placed over them turned on bright and white. A doctor’s light, I thought. She slid along the tables pulling at the cloth below her and feeling her way about them. Her frustration could be felt, and it ripped through me like a current as I witnessed her thrashing movements; her childlike tantrums. As a spectator, it felt as though I was being allowed into the child aged Linke’s mind. It sounded like it too. By this point in the piece, the noises sharing the same space as the dancer were those of metro stations: the screeching and screaming of subway trains as they pressed on their breaks. It was overwhelming in and of itself, and it was ridiculously loud. It was tormenting. I found myself feeling intensely sorry for Linke. It must have been so loud in her head all alone; unable to communicate verbally and unable to hear forms of communication. The dancer was the one who gave me the sensation that I was being allowed into Linke’s brain. Occasionally, she starred directly out into the audience with large, scared, creepy eyes and her mouth gaping open as though she was trying to scream in fear and frustration while her tongue flailed around. Each time, her eyes were like portals, and her silence was gut wrenching. It was a highly disturbing piece of the choreography.

The rest of her solo included her circling and re-circling the tables. She never seemed able to climb over them, just as she didn’t seem to be able to do anything but run directly into them at the beginning of her piece. She just couldn’t get around them successfully. Finally, she tied up her hair in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck, which symbolized an age change, and was able not only to climb over the tables, but also to separate them as well. When this occurred, the lighting became brighter and the operatic music began again giving the audience’s ears a slight break. I wondered if she could hear the music. Hear the voices. Hear the cowbell that seemed to sound off in the background.

The next portion of the piece most definitely featured an older Linke as the dancer was changed. The new soloist wore her hair in a low ponytail but a shorter white ribbed tank styled top as her clothing. It soon became apparent that something significantly better had occurred. Pure white feathers slowly dropped onto the stage. Even so, the present dancer still seemed to have a blank, rather innocent but fearful stare. Piano music crackled into the audience as she moved about the stage. Her breathing was clearly labored, but it was apparent that her movements weren’t causing that affect. They were purely gestures, and made me feel as though she was just now learning language. I can only describe her movement as unsure, repetitive, and stammering. It reminded me of how I stumble over words when attempting to speak French and become slightly overwhelmed as I rack my brain for substitute words that could relay similar messages to those around me.

Unfortunately, the piano music did not last her entire solo and the trains began rumbling and screeching back through. I found myself nervous that she was falling back into the autism, but then I realized that she was most likely just reliving the memory of it. The trauma of it.

When the third dancer appeared on the stage, costuming once again allowed me to grasp the concept that Linke had grown older. The woman was wearing pants and the low ponytail. Her movements were unlike the previous ones. She moved widely about the space and her motion was always fast. She was more technical and had plenty of leg lifts that had not been used yet. At one point, she brought out a beautiful chandelier into the space. It was sitting on wheels with a rope attached to it that she was pulling. Although she struggled with it at times, she was still able to control it and take it wherever she needed it to be. This action allowed me to view the chandelier as the memory of Linke’s past experience. As was clearly apparent, it was a burden to her that she had to drag around, but it was also a source of beauty. For example, at some points, the crystals of the chandelier would catch the surrounding light and brighten the current space she was walking in. It made her disease seem as though it could have been a blessing. It was giving her a different perspective by catching the light in different ways. Plus, if it did symbolize the memory of her traumatic experience, then it symbolized the experience that she was using as a great source of inspiration for this very piece of art. Not to mention, the disease may have even led her to becoming a dancer in the first place since she could only communicate through the use of gesture for such a long period of time in early life.

Finally, the dance ended with Linke taking the stage herself. Her movements were the largest and fullest of all the dancers by encompassing the most space, time, and energy. When she entered, she was wearing pants, a jacket, and her hair pulled back into a bun. The music sounded like that featured during the credits to a movie, but every now and then the sounds of whirling, screeching trains could be heard. In any case, Linke did not seem bound by the noise. She embraced it. She walked amongst the tables that were still present on the stage and did not avoid them. Not to mention, the lights finally faded as she walked through the center of the two tables with her arms extended upward as the sounds of the screeching played in the background. It seemed like a utter acceptance of what her fate had been.

Obviously, this piece of Dance Theater, which undeniably confronted such a difficult and tragic subject, left a lovely impression on me. I not only wanted to be a part of the piece at hand, but I wished I could construct something just as heart wrenching and true in order to inspire more audiences. It is a piece that I believe will vigorously live for a long time afterward in my memory, and a dance that I highly recommend anyone attend if given the opportunity.

Avec l'Amour,
G

EXCITEMENT FOR BETTER OR WORSE? (September 18th)

2008-09-19T04:52:00.001-07:00

Of course, we all want an exciting trip while in France. We want something to remember—something that we can brag about not only for days or weeks after its over, but for years afterward (well into our futures). We want just the thought of France or French paraphernalia to bring up rosy colored memories and stories that even our grandchildren would find entertaining, cultured, or quaint. However, judging solely from my pass experiences in America, I’m not sure you’re ever given the opportunity to pick the exact types of situations you desire. For example, if you ask for excitement, you have to be able to accept it in a multitude of variations—for better or for worse. Unfortunately, for our small group of nine students, the worse hit rather early on…

Late last night a man claiming to be security reprimanded two of our Franklin Pierce girls and a male resident of our building (who is also participating in a study abroad program run by a college in Chicago) for chatting out in the hallway on the building’s ground floor. Although they all thought the man was a weird apparition for “security” had never surfaced before, and they most definitely hadn’t been loud enough to disturb the other residents, they heeded all of his requests. As he made his way around the ground floor, broke into the office, and proceeded to walk around the stairwell, the other male resident left his room, closing the automatically locking door. Feeling safe, one of our FP girls also left her residence in order to have a quick cigarette. After she returned, the male resident keyed into his room finding that his shutter had been pushed aside, someone had climbed in through his open window, and his computer, cell phones, and money had been stolen. Feeling anxious after hearing about the situation, the FP girl checked her own residence to find both of her cell phones and twenty euros gone. The “security guard” had not been security after all. Those involved had to get in contact with the building manager (who later explained the building didn’t have security personnel), call the police, wait for them to arrive, explain what had transpired, and agree to fill out the paperwork for a deposition today before they could finally go to sleep for the evening, which didn’t happen until after 3:00AM.

Of course, I have to clarify that I wasn’t an actual witness to this horror. Instead, I was up on the first floor watching a DVD, eating ice cream mixed with cookie crumbles, and easily falling asleep without a care in the world (at the time, I felt like I deserved a relaxing evening because my struggles to get the attention of the building’s manager had finally paid off—yielding me the lovely, usually taken for granted, pleasures of hot water, which I hadn’t ever been able to experience in my personal shower in Lyon). I heard about the scary situation while on the metro riding to Lyon Bleu for French class.

The rest of the day consisted of us all discussing our safety at the apartments whether solely among one another or to Christine (our GA) and Wendy. Judging from everyone’s thoughts and reactions, it’s highly apparent that we no longer feel comfortable, and that’s truly unfortunate. We spoke about always deadlocking our doors, not allowing workers to key into our rooms anymore (especially when we’re not around), not “buzzing in” those trapped outside the residence (they should personally know the code for the building if they need to get inside), and always being on the lookout for out of place people or belongings.

When I got back to my room this evening, the door to my apartment had been left wide open, and as I let the situation sink in, I quickly realized that the other girls were furious. They forced me back down the stairs, right up to the window of the main office, and helped me to let the building manager know about the situation at hand. She seemed highly disturbed by the comment (which I said as politely as possible) but relieved that nothing appeared to have been stolen. As an apology, she promised to reprimand the workers and remind them again (she said she’d already been warning them) to deadbolt all apartment doors after completing their obligations. Hearing that was enough for me. It had to be. There wasn’t really anything else I could see her doing in order to make me feel less anxious.

Personally, I know that I’m still digesting the occurrences of the past twenty-four hours, but I had to write about it as soon as possible in order to get it somewhat out of my system. I don’t mean to worry anyone at home, and I’m sure we’re safe here. No one was hurt, and no one feels the least bit physically threatened. Our concern is for our possessions, and we carry a lot of the important/expensive ones on our bodies at all times anyway. Other than that, we can easily hide iPods and the like. It’s just one of those occurrences I couldn’t let go by without telling you about it. After all, it makes up a part of our trip to France, and I’m already candy-coated enough as it is. I refuse to sugarcoat this blog too. I’d rather it be raw and real. It’s a take it or leave it kind of a thing.

Avec Amore,
G

MARKET TRIP (September 14th)

2008-09-19T04:52:00.000-07:00

Excited butterflies flitted in her stomach as she turned the corner and scanned the tops of the first few market carts, which seemed to go onto into infinity. “A real outdoor market,” she thought. “How absolutely lovely!” It was as if she’d truly stepped into one of her very own fairytales—right into the real setting of Beauty and the Beast. It took all her might to continue walking along. Her mind was awestruck and her body seemed more content frozen in place while her eyes attempted to take everything in. All of the players… no, not actors… the real live people… seemed highly caught up in the scenario. They were either happily chatting, stocking their home-brought carts with food, clothing, and other intriguing items, or bargaining with the venders (who actually truly raised their voices in an attempt to get the attention of the numerous passersby!). Not one person seemed the least bit upset, dull, or in low spirits. How could they?

As she finally stepped into the fairytale like scenery, she couldn’t help but to immediately become ever more enamored with it. As far as she could see, everyone treated everyone else (stranger or not) with the utmost respect and dignity. In fact, even those who carefully pushed passed her seemed to smile lightly or send out a hardy “Bonjour mademoiselle” in her direction. Oh how she wished she could have the words to greet them back! Everyone seemed to be conversing so easily, but this was not her language, and she could barely pick out the commonplace words from their mile-a-minute conversations. Maybe one day she’d be able to speak just as fluidly without a second thought or hesitation. A dreamy smile spread across her lips.

As she slowly made her own way through the crowd of beauty, smells of freshly baked bread, seafood, recently butchered meat, spices, and flowers seemed to overpower all her senses. She was absolutely positive that even if she allowed her eyes to glaze over and solely focused on the smells, she would easily be able to find whatever product she sought out. Of course though, she reminded herself, she was not here today to seek out any product in particular. She just came to witness the scene, and take it on as the role of an extra.

Maybe next week she would come back and actually purchase food or clothing or a plant! She wanted everything, but she knew she needed to resist. It was in fact only her first time at the market and there was the highly probable possibility that every week’s market would introduce her to new products for purchase. She’d hate to find something more desirable at a later date and not be able to purchase it because she had no spending money left. She needed to be frugal and smart about this, and if she wasn’t, she would have no one else to blame but herself.

As she continued down the line of carts, she realized she was drowned in them for a far back and forward as she could see. “I must be nearly dead center now,” she thought. Unaffected by this truth, she found herself meandering onward anyway and stopping every now and then to take interest in fresh, appealing fruit or beautifully constructed jewelry. It wouldn’t be hard to find her way back. It was a pretty straight shot after all, and she was sure someone sweet would be able to help her if she ended up lost.

When she got to the end of the line, after what seemed like an eternity of peace, serenity, and good fortune, she turned one last time to look back at the striking display. Her arms reached around her center, and she stood there holding herself up. This was her reality now. For the next hour, day, month. She couldn’t have asked for anything better… and yet, a slight feeling of longing pulled in the pit of stomach. Hmm, she realized, she could ask for something more. “I’ll just have to tell them all about it in my next letter,” she whispered to herself and allowed a simple smile to spread across her lips. “Next time, they can experience it with me.”

SOMETHING TO WORK ON (September 13th)

2008-09-16T07:22:00.000-07:00

Like everyone else, I have my fair share of character flaws. For example, I have an insane guilt complex that extends into every aspect of my life and always forces me to apologize for things I have absolutely no control over (ie: I’m sorry it’s raining today; I’m sorry! I’ll try to warn you next time before you walk into a bush accidentally; etcetera.) Since being in France, one flaw, which I have been working to correct for sometime now, is coming back strong.

You see, overall, I’m a pretty laidback individual. I hate drama, and I’ve learned many techniques in order to avoid it at all costs. For example, I usually don’t have any particularly strong preferences (such as what movie to watch) because I’d rather come across as an agreeable person than an opinionated, dominating individual. Of course, this can cause making simple decisions (think that movie thing again) a bit more difficult than usual because I truly “don’t care” and am not used to being put in such a decision making position.

Unfortunately, this lovely character trait causes more issues than just the previously described inconvenience. For example, I can easily be considered a pushover, and I have trouble asserting my intentions or opinions when it really matters (unless it’s in written form). So, while I’m trapped in France with a group of eleven ladies that all seem fairly open to clearly stating their intentions, this is definitely NOT turning out to be a good characteristic.

Now, I was left in the position of trying to figure out why I was having so much recent trouble with this flaw, and after a bit of reflection, I came to a very intriguing conclusion. My best friend, whom I envy an indescribable amount because she NEVER has my problem and can always clearly state her personal opinions and intentions, isn’t here. Clearly, due to this fact, it’s hard to emulate her! Plus, I’ve lost that portion of my support system, which encourages me to speak my mind. Whether verbally or not, she always reminds me that my thoughts have just as much value as everyone else’s.

So, how do I conjure up that strong personality trait when my source of constant inspiration is an ocean away? I’m not sure… but no matter what, I HAVE to do it. I can’t depend on her forever, and this is a “non-classroom” lesson I need to learn—a character flaw I need to overcome. I want to be own person, and I want to clearly be able to state my intentions and opinions without worrying that they’re somehow going to offend someone else. If I end up doing so, I can always apologize (I probably will anyway! Haha.). Maybe I’ll start small like telling Wendy when I don’t feel like joining the group for a movie night or sitting down in a café for class because I don’t want to spend the extra money. Then I can move up to higher tiered decisions such as what kind of food I’d like to eat for dinner (I have been CRAVING Chinese food lately…) and what movie I REALLY wanna see.

You’ll route for me though, won’t you? It’ll help to know that at least SOMEONE else is on my side. I promise not to become a super opinionated, uncompromising, dominating, not-fun-to-be-around person, okay?

Avec l'Amour,
G

SOAKED, BUT SO WORTH IT (September 12th)

2008-09-16T07:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday evening, I had the opportunity of a lifetime. Well, at least I consider it the opportunity of a lifetime. Wendy Dwyer, our accompanying professor here in Lyon, purchased us fifth row tickets to that evening’s William Forsythe performance! For those of you who don’t know much about modern dance or the modern dance world (and that’s totally fine! Personally, I feel like modern dance isn’t something that most Americans ever truly get exposure to because even as a dancer I didn’t know much about or have much of an appreciation for modern dance until studying it in college), William Forsythe is one of the top modern dance choreographers of our time. He is extremely creative, resourceful, inventive, and works at such a fast pace, he can turn out two to three complete pieces for his personal dance company in a single year. Personally, I feel he is limitless because his choreography comes from a very intellectual base, and this allows him to easily and uniquely manipulate the underlying mechanics of dancing.

What made this performance even more appealing and exciting was the fact that I studied and worked closely with Forsythe technique in my Dance Technique & Composition II class last semester, which was instructed by Sally Bomer. Due to this fact alone, I felt all the more ready to experience the program. Unlike the other choreographer’s works that I had viewed here in Lyon, I was already connected to these pieces. I had the background information. I had done my research. I had an immense amount of knowledge concerning the inner workings of Forsythe’s mind, and I was just itching to use it to my advantage… to dissect his three pieces and unfurl his choreographic choices.

Not to mention, I felt even luckier when I realized that, even though I’d been exposed to a ridiculous amount of videos featuring Forsythe’s work, I had never seen Second Detail, Duo, or One Flat Thing, Reproduced! What I would be watching, would be completely fresh. I couldn’t wait to see what qualities the Ballet de l’Opéra de Lyon would add during Lyon’s very own Biennale de la Danse.

The first piece began a few minutes late, and I found it hard to sit still with all the anticipation built up around my bones and under my muscles. Finally, the curtain rose, and I was awestruck. There were thirteen dancers on stage, and all of them had slicked back hair and were clad in skintight, white-gray unitard-like costumes that almost seemed to fade away into the similarly toned background color. The female dancers were wearing pointe shoes, and after only a few movements, it became apparent that this would be a piece of Forsythe’s with heavy Balanchine* influence. The very balletic movements were supplemented with modern lines and modern formations that caused the members of the audience to pick and choose what portions of the dance they personally wanted to view. About five minutes in, I had a very strong sense of something mechanical. It seemed as if I was watching machine—a human machine. Mostly this sensation was due to that fact that every motion, whether individual or performed within a group, was extremely calculated and synced completely with the musical elements that shared the same space. Plus, the piece was very obviously gendered. The females tended to stay in one group, performing the same type of movements while the males performed a separate phrase of motions on a separate portion of the stage. Not to mention, when the dancers were seated in the row of chairs that lined the back of the stage, they always sat with the genders separated. Of course, this isn’t to say that the dancers didn’t all link up at specific points throughout the piece, but such occurrences were very few and fleeting. Then, out of the blue, with what seemed like less than five minutes left to the entire twenty-six minute piece, a female dancer who did not resemble the rest entered the stage. First of all, she had wild, wavy hair in a mass of snarls covering her head. This most definitely made her appear different. Secondly, she was wearing a white fluid dress that had slits up the sides and somewhat hid her physique. It looked fairly Grecian to me, but when I noticed her intentionally smeared lipstick, I immediately thought “barbaric wild woman.” Her movements were nothing like the others. She weaved herself in and out of their ridiculously structured formations while throwing her body around and allowing herself to be free, loose, and unpredictable. In the end, I felt as though Second Detail was definitely a high contrast piece, and I loved the introduction of that final character. It was an unexpected twist mimicked by unexpected movements. It was brilliant.

Even so, I must admit that Duo was my most adored piece of the evening. In fact, it was the only one that I actually wrote notes concerning when the curtain finally went down (of course I couldn’t write notes while the dance was progressing… I was watching way too intently; completely wrapped up in the experience). I was first drawn in by the drastic change in lighting and costuming from the previous number. Instead of blending entirely into the background and being clad in dismal, bland colors, the dancers were oppositely clad in all black. They were both women wearing sheer leotards and pairs of black shorts. The sheerness of their tops were a bit shocking at first, but less than a minute into the number the choice made sense to me. Such costumes allowed the audience to view the dancers working muscles and bone structures much easier. This added another element to the piece, and made the effort behind simple movements more visible. Overall, I feel like it added to the audience’s understanding of what the dancers’ capable bodies were doing. Plus, from where we were sitting at least, we could hear the dancers’ breaths. They were strong and forceful and, due to the costumes, much more connected to the piece because they appeared to be an entirely intended and necessary part of the dance’s choreographed motions. These motions were somewhat balletic, but mostly modern. They pushed no boundaries of strength or flexibility, but seemed to be extremely important. As the dance progressed and movements were repeated, it appeared as if the women were telling a story and trying to get the audience to understand. Due to the erie lighting and musical elements that resembled carnival music gone bad mixed with portions of a music box as it winded down to silence, it was clear that the story was somewhat disturbing. Of course, since I loved this piece, I was also critical with it. My first qualm concerned the dancers. The dancer who remained on stage left for most of the piece and wore the turtleneck-styled leotard kept "out dancing" her partner. For example, she would lift her leg just high enough to beat the height of the other girl’s leg or she would hold onto the static and even flowing movement for just a hundredth of a second longer. This did not help to add anything to the duet. My second qualm was with the face that this piece was a duet in itself. I saw no reason for the two dancers. They never made eye contact. There was no physical contact between the girls. They basically performed the same motions the entire time, and when they didn’t, it appeared to be two separate, unrelated solos instead of a connected duo. I just found myself wanting some other clearly intentional reason for the choice of two dancers.

The final piece, One Flat Thing, Reproduced was most definitely the most ingenious and creative dance of the entire program. I had never seen anything like it before and would never had been able to come up with such an ingenious idea. As soon as the lighting begins to come up, the dancers shout a command (“Go!”), and pull four columns of tables forward from the back of the stage. The tables remind me of those that could be found in high school lunchrooms or even those in operating rooms! Plus, it cut the stage into two planes that I had never noticed before. The lower section was the normal portion that audiences usually view. The upper portion was a brand new level made up of an interesting flat yet not solid surface. In a quick overview, the piece took place on both of these planes, and the audience had the unique experience of watching a dance happen while the dancers appeared to be sliced at the waist when they danced on the lower level. Tables were moved, fourteen dancers flowed in and out of the intended dance area, and movements were timed so perfectly that everything including the musical accompaniment felt like one solid element. Obviously, such a piece must have taken a lot of preparation and work on the parts of the dancers because the consequence of possibly missing a cue or even being slightly off mark when starting a movement could result in a serious injury. I gave all of the dancers props for actually agreeing to do this, and I imagined the first caste’s blind faith in Forsythe must have been extremely strong. All in all, it was a well-designed piece and highly apparent that the dancers were all enjoying themselves (shared smiles, giggles, and words on stage emphasized that point). I left the theater very impressed and full of energy and awe.

As we began waiting the eleven minutes for Tram 3 to arrive and take us the two stops to our residence, it became clear that the skies weren’t going to stay closed up. Slowly, the drizzle that danced and speckled the sidewalk’s light gray color with splotches of a dismal, darkened gray shade began coming down heavier. Crashes of thunder could be heard and every few seconds lightning would streak across the sky revealing our tired but contented faces all the more. Although none of us seemed to care, for we were still discussing the performance of the evening and safely sheltered by the wide overhang that was considered the tram’s stop, we probably should have been at least a little bit.

By the time the tram arrived, it was pouring—absolutely and utterly. We all rushed inside feeling warmer and inspecting our shoes and dresses for any water damage when Lisa, apparently the smartest of us (we LOVE her), made it a point to explain that we’d be walking home all three to four blocks from our stop IN the actual downpour. I can’t even describe the responses of disgust that she received, but they were most definitely loud and disapproving. Quickly, in an attempt to somewhat preserve our dresses, Paige pulled pages out of a newspaper and gave it to each of us to use as a makeshift umbrella. I can’t even tell you how much I cherished mine at the time. Finally, the tram arrived at our destination, the doors opened, and I positioned the paper over my head before starting to make a run for home!

The water was ridiculously cold and coming down in buckets. As it engulfed us, I realized that I’d never heard so many girls scream so high pitched before! Although I looked for some sort of shelter, there was absolutely no helping it, nowhere to hide, no place to wait it out. All we could do is run, and run we did! Anyone in heels, except maybe for Paige, ripped them off in order to enable herself to run faster and prevent slipping. Falling into a puddle would have been completely wretched, and the puddles we were trying to avoid by leaping over and around them were quite large and deep.

As my newspaper disintegrated over my head, and I let it be dragged out of my hand into the street, I couldn’t help but see our actions as our own, improvised modern dance. The song was a mixture of our shouts, the rain on the pavement, the thunder crashing, and the voices or the music coming from the rooms of buildings we were streaking by. Our movements were obviously determined, somewhat free, somewhat frantic, and most definitely fast.

Once everyone was inside the door safe and sound, the screams from outside turned into a ridiculous amount of uncontrollable laughter. We were SOAKED through and through. Everyone’s makeup was running, and no one had come back unscathed. Of course, Christine (as always) had her camera ready, and without any self-conscious feelings, we all posed for a shot to remember the night, the rain, the fun, and the experience.

As that final picture of the evening proves, running through the storm was positively worth the evening’s total experience. We got to see a true Forsythe performance in person from five rows away! Not to mention, we got an absolutely amazing story to tell in the process! I mean, who else can say that they ran barefoot through the streets of France in a thunder and lightning storm while wearing the best attire they owned? Personally, I can only think of about ten other people excluding me.

Yeah, it was totally worth it.

Avec l'Amour,
G

*Balanchine was a very famous and influential 20th century choreographer who cofounded the New York City Ballet. Some of his work includes Serenade and Swan Lake (after Lev Ivanov).

AND NOW FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT (September 9th)

2008-09-16T07:11:00.000-07:00

Ready for a fun entry? Before I left in order to fly across the Atlantic Ocean for my three month long stint in France, both of my well meaning grandmothers decided to give me separate lists of some “important things to do.” My mother’s mother sat me down and instructed me on her multiple, lovely suggestions while expecting me to agree to them all wholeheartedly (right then and there). My father’s mother actually wrote out a “I’m Going To Miss You” card filled with her advice, and expected me to agree to its contents before I even had a chance to open and read it. Now, I know what you may be thinking: That is SO cute! Her grandmothers, who obviously have a much greater amount of life experience, have both given her a list of must-do, utterly necessary, DO-NOT-PASS-UP opportunities. It’s adorable. They probably want her to climb the Eifel tower, have coffee and a croissant at a roadside café, and take pictures of the City of Lights at nighttime. They want her to be adventurous and soak up her first real exposure to European culture. They want her to have the time of her life.

Well, you’re wrong. No, my grandmothers did not supply me with that kind of an adventurous list or those kinds of sweetly cherished tidbits of advice. On the contrary, they left me with a list of completely and utterly ridiculous RULES for France. Yes, you read that correctly: Rules.

Now, before I type out the actually handwritten list of rules, I feel as though I ought to explain to you just the type of woman my grandmothers can be described as. First things first, they’re Roman Catholics, and entirely “old school.” They look after me as though I am still a child (heck, they even treat my parents as children), and they are always willing to reprimand and inform those around them, even those they don’t know, as to whether they are or are not being proper enough. As I’ve been told flat out, I am their last hope for bringing the family into a brighter day and enhancing our good image and reputation. So, since they couldn’t convince my parents to force me to stay in America (which is precisely what they initially tried to do when I began talking about possibly spending a semester in Vienna or Lyon), they decided to do the next best thing.

Of course, I always laugh about how ridiculous they can be, but I do find it rather offensive too. I just feel as though I’ve proved myself to them multiple times. By now, they should have more faith in me to make my own decisions based on my own sets of morals and values. However, it shows that they love me. They care, and they want what’s best for me.

SO, now that I’ve once again fallen off topic (you’ll notice this to be a pattern in my writing), here is the list of rules and regulations for studying abroad in Lyon, France! EnJoY!

1. Don’t talk to boys (they mean men, but once again, I’m still considered a child)
2. Don’t travel alone (pairs is even a bit if-y)
3. Don’t take the subway system or trains (any form of public transport)
4. Don’t go out at night (AKA: pass dark)
5. Focus on your studies and say no to those distracting you when you have work to do
6. Go to bed early (don’t sleep your days away)
7. Make sure to wear a scarf, gloves, hat, and winter jacket when it starts getting cold
8. Don’t spend all your money frivolously
9. Eat healthy foods (don’t eat anything off of a cart)
10. Keep a good hold on your purse/bags in public places
11. Don’t take anything that is offered to you and seems to be free (it could be a gypsy)
12. Don’t flash money around
13. Don’t let people know you’re American

Avec l'Amour,
G

HOMMES (September 8th)

2008-09-16T07:08:00.000-07:00

Mmm… French men. Hommes. What is there to say? What is there NOT to say? Let me put it this way: I got hit on by a French man when he was stamping my passport at the airport in Lyon, okay? I didn’t even get out of the airport before the craziness ensued! The men of this country are not afraid to flirt with women, and on that note, catcalls and the like seem well accepted here. It’s a normal part of every woman’s everyday life. On a trip home from the market, for example, I had a man very directly address me in such a manner. Of course, I no longer remember what his exact words were, but considering that I’m already happily taken, it’s not the slightest bit important. However, considering I’d only been in France three days and was approached twice, I think it’s easy to see my main point.

On a more direct note, the men here are most definitely attractive (and I’m not lying ladies). They dress impeccably, have a great amount of confidence, and have a very sophisticated heir about them. Not to mention, they’re French! That most definitely scores them points in the accent and foreign nationality category (at least in my book). Finally, they seem to all be rather romantic judging by their actions when women are involved. They hold hands, seem to caress their partner when they place their arm about her waist, and they actually look into her eyes when she’s speaking. Does it get anymore romantic?

Speaking of (err… maybe this is more of a side note), it seems to me that everyone in Lyon is extremely PDA happy. Although we may not be used to watching young couples literally making out on a park bench that just happens to be facing a busy intersection, the French seem to have no trouble with it at all. In fact, only our small group of girls tends to be the ones to point out these displays of affection while giggling. Of course, it is a little painful to watch when you can’t hold hands or hug or kiss the one you call your own, but it’s supposed to be love, right? And it’s France. Paris is most definitely known for its romantic tendencies… and it now seems to me they have expanded their way into Lyon. It’s beautiful. I wish all those couples the best of luck, life, and love.

Avec l'Amour,
G

TEXTED LOVE (September 7th)

2008-09-12T05:13:00.000-07:00

So today, after watching Maryanne receive text messages on her personal international cell phone from her family at home, I finally realized something: I’ve been surviving EXTREMELY well without any texting capability! It’s miraculous. You see, for those of you who don’t already know, I’m addicted to texting. In fact, I just recently forced my family to get a much more expensive text messaging plan because I kept going over my personal limit. Although I felt bad, I really don’t think I can help it. You see, I personally feel as though this addiction was born out of the fact that I absolutely hate talking on the phone. In fact, I dread it. Maybe it’s some kind of phone-phobia (that’s how I usually describe it), but anyone who has ever roomed/lived with me before can tell you that it will take me at least a good ten minutes of pacing around a room with my open cell phone, number dialed, before I can convince myself to press “send.” It’s ridiculous, but I always feel extremely anxious when I need to talk to someone on the phone. Just thinking about it as I write this entry is conjuring up some of those awful feelings and questions and concerns. ::shivers slightly::

Anyway, after having this revelation earlier this afternoon, I realized I’m not entirely dependent on that specific system of communication. It’s such a relief! Now NO ONE can claim I’m addicted because, obviously, I’m entirely capable of stopping cold turkey.

However… I did power up my cell phone from home and scanned through my old text messages. Of course, the most interesting ones were from the day before I left. I realized I’d received a lot of advice, demands, and well wishes from those who cared… and, just because I think it’s kinda interesting and I don’t wanna forget what others asked of me to do, I typed out those messages here.

Enjoy! (I hope you all remember what you wrote to me, but just in case you don’t, I used initials to label ‘em all... and if I'm missing your middle initial or put in a fake one, it's because I don't know the real one! Inform me ASAP, please.)

ADVICE I RECEIVED BEFORE LEAVING:
“Be safe.” – JMC
“Watch out for pickpockets in Paris.” – EMP

WELL WISHES I RECEIVED:
“Have a safe flight. (Let us know how it goes.)” – KJC
“Happy flight!” – TCK
“Good luck!” – EMP
“I hope you have a safe plane trip over there and arrive in France all safe and sound! You’re going to have an amazing time! You will be missed greatly back here! <3” – KW
“Trust me, you’re going to have a great time. It is just the getting there part that sucks!” – TCK
“I’m sure you will have a blast!” – EMP
“Have a safe trip darling.” - JMG

DEMANDS I RECEIVED:
“(Have a safe flight.) Let us know how it goes.” – KJC
“I want an address to send you snail mail.” – BPJA
“I will think of you every day. We better write often. Love you.” – EJ
“We definitely have to skype often!!” – KW
“Take care of yourself, and I’ll be thinking ‘bout-cha” – Cpt. A
“Please take tons of pics, and be safe.” - EMP
“You better post lots of pictures. I plan on living vicariously through you. LOL” – KW
“Have the time of your life.” Cpt. A
“Text me when you get your international phone. Have a safe trip. Tell everyone the same!” – DM
“Remember to smile. You’re on an adventure!” – MS
“Keep well and have a great time!” – JMG
“Send me an email once you get your Internet up and running.” – TCK

Avec l'Amour,
G

HOMESICKNESS WEARS OFF (September 5th)

2008-09-12T05:07:00.000-07:00

I made a decision today after I was FINALLY able to use the Internet at Lyon Bleu (the establishment where we will be having our French classes): I’m not that homesick anymore. Just being able to send out an email and inform at least one other person that I’m still alive was enough to make me finally feel at home here in Lyon.

Although French life is most definitely different from the lifestyle I have as a female, American college student, I can’t deny that I’m gradually getting accustomed to it. Of course, that’s not to say I’ve entirely accepted all of the differences or become devastatingly unaware of them. On the contrary, I still notice the little dissimilarities such as how, in general, the French seem to speak more softly than Americans (even when they are found in large groups!). Instead of attempting to stand out by shouting, making a verbal scene, or laughing hysterically in rather high pitch tones, they stand out in other more subdued manners. It’s all in the way they hold their postures and the clothing that they choose to wear, and strikingly, these simple tools speak louder than I believe that words ever could.

Now, this isn’t to say that the French aren’t conversationalists. They’re always talking! Even French music and films, Wendy has informed us, pack in more lyrics and conversation than instrumental sections or suspend inducing action. Plus, considering how many times the members of our group, whether individually or together, have all been approached by others in French, my experience proves the conversational nature of them to be true. Everyone always seems willing to make a new friend, share a smile, or assist us in any manner possible. It’s absolutely lovely. I don’t think I could ask for a better location to study abroad in, and all of those individuals who informed me that the French tend to be rather snobbish couldn’t have been more off. Although they may have truth to their opinions (for France does claim to be the culture capital of the world), the people of Lyon most definitely do not live up to that description.

Now, since I’m finally feeling at home, I can officially declare that I’ve actually “moved into” my residence. I tacked up images and words to my wall, rearranged some of my books to suit my needs better, and even fixed my bedding to keep me more comfortable at night. I’m no longer counting on things to remind me how many days I have left before our flight back (such as the number of vitamins in a bottle and the amount of days I could check off of the schedule Wendy handed us at one of our first café meetings… yes, I gave into that previous desire*). All in all, my feelings of anxiety and fear are wearing off. I can do this! I can study abroad for a semester, and I can love it. After all, it’s my opportunity; it’s my experience, and it’s my adventure. I’m not going to let anything stand in my way, especially when I’ve never let anything stand in my way before. I’m seizing the moment. Taking advantage of all possible excursions. This is going to be one of the most amazing semesters of my life. It’s going to be unforgettable… and right now, I’m ready to take you (vicariously) along for the ride. Are you ready for it?

Avec l'Amour,
G

*See last paragraph of 9/2 – INTERNET CONNECTION… FAILED

TRES BIEN (September 4th)

2008-09-12T04:56:00.000-07:00

Where do I start?! The food was absolutely excellent! As Wendy described, our family dinner was a “huge success.” Plus, we spent a lot less money by preparing our own food together than going out to a restaurant, and considering that we’re stranded in a foreign land for three months without a salary (well, most of us), learning to economize is definitely important.

Even the men who live in apartments in our hallway (they attend school in Chicago and are studying in France for the next for months as well) came slowly out of their little studios to find out what we were up to! Unfortunately, it totally sucked to be them because we definitely didn’t offer them any of our extras.

In conclusion, Wendy promised us that the family dinner can be a weekly occurrence. She wants us to try new meals each time and practice our cooking skills. I wonder what we'll prepare next time? I'll keep you posted, no worries.

Avec l'Amour,
G

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

THINGS I’VE LEARNED THUS FAR:
It helps immensely to have Ricki’s room and Paige’s room right across from one another. We not only are able to keep the doors open and gain more than twice the space, but we gain two stove tops, two kitchen sized sinks, and just enough space to finally sit down and enjoy the product we construct. I just hope that they don’t mind us always meeting up in their personal spaces. Maybe we can find a different location to hold our classes. I believe there is a community room being put together under my residence, so we’ll just have to wait and see if it’ll be open for use. I sure hope so though! I kind of like having my private space, and I wouldn’t want everyone cramming into a bedroom/apartment for a lesson on French history or Dance Criticism. That’s just definitely not a very appealing prospect.

MHM-MHM GOOD (September 4th)

2008-09-12T04:51:00.001-07:00

Bonjour!

Today was another easy day of easing into French life, and therefore, I don’t have anything too intense to report upon. Unfortunately, our lucky streak of sun has finally ended, but clouds alone definitely aren’t bad enough to make me want to curl up in bed all day. No, we’re still going out and about as we continue shopping for “necessity” items that keep (slowly) making themselves known (Confused? Think dish soap, sponges, bathroom mats, instant coffee, etc.).

Tonight we’re having our first of many “family” dinners! It’s very exciting. Wendy is coming to our residence in order to teach us how to make a stir-fry with cuscus. I’ve never seen a woman more excited over such a simple thing. As she explains, being in France for a semester isn’t just going to teach us the content being studied in Dance Movement III, Experiencing the Arts, Reason and Romanticism, and Dance Criticism. Instead, we’re going to be learning life lessons, and she’s going to be the one to make sure of it! Hmm… and just think, by the time we’re finally forced to leave, we’re gonna be master chefs too! Who would of thought? :-P

Anyway, we bought all of the vegetables and meat for the dinner at the open market on the next block today. It was such a crazy experience! I'd never been to anything like that before. I'd shop there every week if I truly lived in France (and just the delicious smells of the market alone are enough to make that statement true).

I can’t wait to see/taste/smell how good all of the food we make comes out! Don't worry... I'll let you all in on the goodness.

Avec l'Amour,
G

THE ABSOLUTE NECESSITY OF "WORN IN" WALKING SHOES (September 1)

2008-09-11T04:50:00.000-07:00

AH!!! You would never have guessed it, but I have blisters—absolutely awful, retched, no good, very bad blisters. It’s disgusting, and if I were to describe them to you in any other manner than the technique used in the sentence before this one, you’d probably end up getting sick. However, as I usually end up doing because I don’t mind people giving me their pity, I did take photographs of them for you all. Haha! So, if you truly are intrigued by the rather disturbing images, I can most definitely send them to you. Just ask.

Now, onto the more curious part of this posting... How do I, Gabrielle the prepared and highly intelligent (oh yes, I’m modest), get blisters in the first place? Well, unfortunately, I wasn’t held down while someone grated fabric against the sensitive area of skin on my heels for hours upon hours… I got these lovely brownie-red-beige decorations by making just one horrible decision: I wore a brand new pair of black flats out on a walking trip to a restaurant in Lyon. All it took was one way, and I knew I’d be walking back with the backs of my flats folded under my heel.

You see, before leaving America, I knew I wanted to get a pair of black flats that could be easily walked around in. As Wendy and Stella described things, flats are considered high fashion in France (it’s true!), and they can be very versatile because one can wear them with casual pants, trousers, or even skirts. So I went to Kohl’s and picked up a very cute, comfortable pair. However, I picked them up on Wednesday and didn’t wear them until today (ugh).

However, one most definitely cannot let such a depressing experience ruin her entire evening. So, I must admit that the in-between phase, during which the group was actually sitting down to our first meal at a lovely, fancy French restaurant, was tres magnifique! The well-hidden venue was called Le Bistrot de Lyon, and upon entering the facility I knew we were going to be treated like royalty. We were all seated at one table and given the most decadent bread and wine to start off our dinner. As one ought to assume, the menu was in French, but Wendy helped us all to find a dish that we found appealing and then taught us the correct way to pronounce it. Fortunately, even if our annunciations were a little skewed, the waiter didn’t seem to mind. He was absolutely lovely and made all the appropriate approving and disapproving facial expressions throughout our “Introduction to French Cuisine and Properly Ordering It” lesson (picture a parental “tsk-tsk” expression for those that did not completely finish their meals and a large ear-to-ear grin for those that were able to eat it all). Now, although I’m sure anything would have been better in comparison to the airplane food we’d had for our previous three meals, this food was undoubtedly delicious (especially the desserts!). I ordered a dinner that included cuscus, chicken, and green beans in a lemon flavored sauce. For dessert, I stole a bit of Lisa’s Dessert de jour (dessert of the day), which tasted like a mix between strawberry cheesecake, marshmallows, and fluff! It was a great way to be introduced to French culture, and I can’t emphasize enough how perfect it was to dine out on our first evening in Lyon. In doing so we not only got to get a sense of the city we would be calling home for three months, but Wendy also made the experience of our arrival here feel extremely important and special. I appreciated it.

In conclusion, I’ve learned a valuable lesson from this hands-on experience that I may have not learned if I had never came to France: Never bring brand new shoes to a foreign country unless you’re being driven around EVERYWHERE. Always wear them in first, and understand that it doesn’t matter how cute they may be, if you’re not going to be able to wear them again for a few weeks while your feet heal from the previous hours of torture, they’re not worth it.

Now, if I could only stress it enough… please learn from my experience. Don’t torture yourself, and while you’re working on that demand, get yourself some real French food! ;-) It’s to die for.

THE END

AU REVOIR, AMERICA (August 30th)

2008-09-11T04:47:00.000-07:00

I was asked to make an entry tonight, August 30th,the evening before I board that bus to Logan airport and then fly across the Atlantic to France. It’s supposed to be a short entry that “sums up your feelings, actions, anticipations.” However, each time I’ve tried to write this last entry before I “fall off the face of the planet for three months,” I find myself somewhat confused. How am I supposed to clearly describe what I’m feeling and why I’m doing what I’m doing when my audience may not even know who I am? Wouldn’t they need that information in order to fully comprehend my writing? Wouldn’t it help them to put things into a clearer context?

Maybe I’m wrong, but just in case I’m not, the following two paragraphs contain just a little bit of background information on my life at Franklin Pierce and back home in Massachusetts. If you don’t care about that aspect, skip it. If you do care, here goes nothing!

Obviously, my name is Gabrielle, and I’m a junior at Franklin Pierce University. Although I tend to describe myself as a fairly ordinary student, I know way too many other people who would never agree! Granted, I’m not that huge a part of the party scene, and I tend to give my academics a lot more focus than other students might (I’m a geek… okay?), but I’m still a part of campus life. I usually have some sort of campus job, I’m on the executive board of the Raven Thunder Dance Team, a member of the Winter Dance Concert, a co-chair of the Salon 21 committee, a member of the Honor’s Advisory Board, and part of a few other activities that occasionally pop up on campus (like interviewing “famous” women who are brought onto campus for the Women in Leadership program and planning the Talent Show). Other than that stuff, I spend a lot of my free time with my boyfriend and friends who don’t really fall into one specific category or group of people. Of course, I have my best friends, but all in all, I tend to be friendly with everyone and hang out in fairly diverse throngs of students.

Now, when I actually do find time to go home (and it happens more often than one may think after reading that hectic co-curricular schedule), I struggle to spend even amounts of time with my ridiculously close-knit family. I have an older sister who just got married to my favorite brother-in-law, a niece, an older brother, two ‘rents, and two grandmothers that all require attention. Plus, I still have my friends at home who I like to see and hang out with when possible.

So where did I choose to spend my last night before France? Well, Stella makes sure everyone is in the Rindge area by hosting an orientation dinner the night before the day of the flight, so I’m actually on campus. I probably would have ended up here anyway though. I definitely wouldn’t have wanted to wake up super early in order to drive in on the day of my flight out (I’m no morning person). Yet, instead of spending my last night at the Woodbound Inn, which is where Stella has paid for most of the other girls to stay, I’m staying at my boyfriend’s apartment. I figure this allows me the most options for my last evening. I can see all the rest of my friends who just happen to be on campus early, make that final Mr. Mike’s run, and drop off some extra stuff for my friends’ tower. Plus, I get a little bit of time to feel out the freshman class during their orientation (a carnival trip, anyone?)! Finally, I get to say a proper goodbye to everyone who’s around, and personally, I think that may just be the most important thing for me right now.

Overall, my feelings are not a simple mixture that can be easily described. I’m feeling anxious, excited, elated, angry, and slightly depressed. Basically my stomach is doing flip-flops, and depending on what I think about, I have the tendency to start crying or laughing or absently smiling on a whim.

Of course, the good feelings are all pertaining the trip itself. Seeing another country. Having an absolutely breathtaking experience. Being able to learn through experience instead of books and lectures. Everything that makes France and dancing there seem undeniably perfect.

The other feelings mostly revolve around leaving home and Frankie P. Basically, I’m upset to be leaving all of the people I love. It angers me that they can’t share this experience with me. If I had it my way, I’d take my whole “posse” along. Everyone I feel like I won’t be able to live without. Instead, I’m forced to take other things in memory of them like music, movies, photographs, a baseball hat, and clothing. It just sucks that I won’t be able to communicate with them as efficiently when I’m there. Plus, it sucks that when I come back, they won’t know how I’ve grown or changed (if I do). I mean, what if I don’t fit in anymore? What if everyone else has some crazy “you had to be there” experience, and I wasn’t there? And whom do I choose to spend the most time with when I get back: Family first and then friends? Or friends up at school first, before it gets out, and then family and friends back home? It just seems like it could turn into a complicated mess that I don’t want to have to think about or deal with, and I wouldn’t have to deal with it if I wasn’t leaving… but I am… and I’m happy about that… kinda.

So, in the end, I don’t have set plans for this evening, and I think it’s better to be flexible like that. However, I do have set plans for tomorrow, and that involves leaving the country via airplane and eventually arriving in Lyon, France.

Wish me well!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

ANTICIPATIONS LIST:

1. Possibly becoming overwhelmed by the language barrier, BUT
2. Meeting insanely nice and understanding people (hopefully!)
3. Having a tough time adjusting to the time change (six hours later!)
4. Having an insanely inspiring experience watching La Biennale de la Danse
5. Dancing in the aisles of the theatres and out in the street during the festival
6. Loving the city lifestyle
7. Wanting to venture back to Lyon (possibly for the festival) at a later time
8. Not being able to entirely explain and describe my experiences to others
9. Having a difficult time concentrating on actual schoolwork
10. Listening nonstop to my specially compiled play list for France (which I named Une Pomme De Terre. It means “a potato” in French, but it directly translates to “an apple of the Earth.” It’s one of the only words I know so far. Haha! Thanks Yari.)
10. Not wanting to leave, but at the same time, not being able to wait to get home

COUNTING DOWN THE DAYS (August 29th)

2008-09-11T04:42:00.000-07:00

Before arriving in Lyon, I was specifically asked by my accompanying professor, Wendy Dwyer, if I would be willing to be the official memoirist of our group’s travels. Obviously, when one is presented with such an amazing opportunity, she never says no. In fact, I’m pretty sure I accepted the proposition without the slightest hint of hesitation… and now, as the trip draws nearer, I’m extremely hesitant to write anything! What if I can’t fully describe and expand upon the experience? What if my experience is too personal and doesn’t compare to that of the other girls’? What if I just mess up this whole blogging thing?

Well, I guess I’m just hoping that I don’t. But here’s my disclaimer/warning: My entries are all going to be about personal experience. They’re going to bias. They’re gonna be written in the first person (mostly), and I don’t mean for them to sum up anyone else’s opinions or emotions. As far as I’m concerned, this is my journal for the trip. Welcome to it.

INTERNET CONNECTION… FAILED (September 2nd)

2008-09-02T09:58:00.000-07:00

So I’ve officially decided that the worst part of my experience so far is not having access to the Internet. Basically, I’m at a point now where I wouldn’t even complain if my Internet access happened to be dial-up! I mean, I’ve decided I can survive using other people’s showers until mine is repaired (something is wrong with the hot water pipe). I can most definitely survive on the French cuisine (It’s SO good), and even survive the fact that at this very moment we have no silverware, dishes, or pans and pots for preparing our own food. I’m not even worried about being forced to survive with only a suitcase worth of clothing anymore! Yet, not having Internet access is slowly killing my soul (Haha!).

For example, I’m writing these posts in Word, but I can’t actually post them because we don’t have access to the Internet until the fifteenth. I can’t check in on Dance Team stuff and make sure that everything is ready to go for the fall season. I can’t check people’s addresses in order to send them cards or postcards. I can’t quickly search for the translation of certain American words into French. I can’t even check the weather in the morning.

Overall, it’s just a nuisance. I’ve gotten so used to having the Internet at my every convenience that living without it is literally wreaking havoc on my daily life. Not to mention, I’m most definitely homesick. I miss my family, my friends, and my boyfriend. All I want to do is call them up and tell them all about Lyon! I want to show them pictures, video chat with them over iChat, etc. etc., but I can’t. I’d even settle for just watching their words appear in an IM. It’s ridiculous.

I’m not going to lie and say that I’m adjusting easily to life over here. That’s not the case. It’s a challenge. It’s tough trying to get by when I don’t speak more than three words of French, but I’m doing it. Everyday I’m getting by little by little. I take pictures of things that remind me of people from home, and I talk to the other girls about how they’re feeling as well. I’m starting to think these feelings are deriving from the fact that we all feel somewhat stranded here. We’re stuck in France (mostly) for three months. We don’t have the option to travel home on the weekends, and not all of our relatives, friends, or significant others are going to be visiting at some point throughout the semester. When all of that is taken into consideration, especially for those of us that are used to being able to be up in Rindge and go home on a whim, three months seems like a significant amount of time. Plus, it seems even tougher when you have absolutely no way to communicate with those you dearly miss.

I hope it all wears off soon. I just wish I had a solution for the feelings. Something that I could do that would make them all wear off faster. I’ve heard from my friends that have studied abroad before that the first two weeks are the worst, but if you can pull through them and push through the intense homesick tendencies, you’ll have an amazing time.

Right now, as I stare at my calendar hanging on my wall and deny my strong desire to start crossing off all of the days I’ve been here while starting a personal countdown to when I may finally go home again, I’m just hoping their right.

REVELATION
Beauty and the Beast is set in France, no? That whole first scene of the Disney version… when Belle is reading her little blue book… it’s filled with images of French life and appeal, right? I mean isn’t there a whole part where the peasants keep stating over and over again “Bonjour!”? I should totally download that opening song so that I can add it to my Une Pomme De Terre play list! When I have access to the Internet… ::sigh::.

Avec l'Amour,
G