Paris by Night (again): a Midnight Picnic with Aunt Marie

We arrived back in Paris last night, made arrangements for my Aunt Marie to catch a night bus over to Charles de Gaulle at some horrific hour, and swung by the hotel. We were running late, but didn’t want to end the week’s adventures with an anti-climactic, pre-midnight bedtime, not when in Paris, not on her last day in Europe (for 2008, at least). So we grabbed our remaining Nutella and jelly, our last baguette and some incredible dried fruit we’d been working on for the past few days, and we took the metro over to the Eiffel Tower for one last light show. We staked out a bench in the prime viewing real estate, snacked, and finally at midnight the symbol of Paris began sparkling. We snapped photos and then just stared. It was beautiful, really. And it was hard to imagine that this terrific, though exhausting, week was finally coming to a close. We were hit with a reality check shortly thereafter when we caught one metro but then, while waiting to switch lines, learned that the metro was done running for the night! But we’re entrepid travelers and wandering the streets of Paris at night isn’t such a bad experience. This time we even had a map! (Thank goodness.)

Back at the hotel, Aunt Marie packed up, we shared one last goodbye hug, and I crashed. By the time she’d left, it was after 3am. We’d been waking up at 5:45am for the past few days and walking almost all day long each day so, needless to say, the rest did me good. This morning I took things slowly and visited a few places I remembered from January: the Place de la Madeleine and the Boulevard Malsherbes, the Parc Monceau, the Luxembourg Gardens and the region around Place Saint Michel. In the afternoon, I even got the chance to catch up with a new friend I’d only just met shortly before leaving Boston. (He happens to be a student in Paris!) We stopped at a café for sparkling mineral water, visited a very large library, and generally wandered through the city until nightfall. It’s weird to know that tomorrow that I’ll be flying out to Prague all by myself after having been lucky enough to share all my adventures thus far with family and friends. It gives me an almost frightening sense of freedom, but it’s a bit lonely, too. Well, ready or not, Prague, here I come!

Carnac, Brittany’s Stonehenge

Our alarms awoke us, as they had during the past several days, before dawn. We dressed quickly, packed up, and prepared for our final action-packed day together. In the dull light just before dawn we caught a bus into the center of town and found ourselves (you guessed it) a boulangerie. We were the first customers present when the Avis car rental shop opened that morning and, after a bit of confusion figuring out how to start the car up, we were on the road. We had hoped today might be the day I learned to drive stick shift, but the road before us was long and time was short (and it cost more to add a second driver), so Aunt Marie sat behind the wheel while I navigated.

In a couple of hours’ time we arrived in Carnac, which is over one hundred kilometers from Rennes and on the coast. When we first decided to stay in Rennes, we hadn’t really made any plans, and only recently while reading up on the area had we discovered that Carnac existed. Neither of us have ever seen Stonehenge and this sounded pretty darn neat. Also, a drive across the countryside wouldn’t be much to complain about either, so we devoted our final day together to this.

I’m proud to say we didn’t get very lost and managed to pull into the town ahead of schedule. Our first stop was the Musée de Préhistoire, the Prehistory Museum, where we learned all about the study of the “alignements,” these fields of large, carefully aligned rocks. It seems that many of the rock alignments were part of an elaborate underground burial system for the elite. However, much archeological mystery still surrounds the site, which makes it much more exciting. (For any of you who have never seen David Macaulay’s book Motel of the Mysteries, I highly recommend it. I always wonder how many of our archeological interpretations are just wildly wrong, and what future generations will interpret from what we leave behind, particularly in the age of electronics.)

After reading all about what is known, or believed, of the ancient people’s lifestyles, we finally got our chance to see the stones themselves. We walked to the edge of town and I did my final set of backbends and headstands across Europe. (I’m actually getting quite good at this balance thing!) We found that sheep actually graze amongst these ancient rock fields, and they were very cute! Finally, we approached a stretch of rock wall at the edge of the field and spread out a blanket to picnic on baguette sandwiches.

We had time after lunch to make a quick stop at the beach. It was the first time that either Aunt Marie or I stepped into the Atlantic from “the wrong side.” It was a pretty chilly day, but I couldn’t resist slipping off my socks and shoes and running through the water’s edge. My inner child was obviously raised on Long Island, and is consistently awoken when I approach a large body of water. Whenever someone takes me near the ocean, I just itch to feel the sand between my toes, the waves on my legs, and the salty breeze in my hair. (I moved back and forth between Long Island and Pennsylvania until I was 18 years old.)

Satisfied, we retreated to our car and began the long drive back to Rennes. After a mild fiasco looking for a place to fill up the tank, we got the car in on time and made one last stop at a boulangerie to buy supplies for our late night picnic. Now we’re on the train home, watching the countryside roll past us, and listening to my iPod’s list of favorites. Aunt Marie says she sees her students doing this all the time. (She’s recently become a high school science teacher after years as a chemical engineer.) When you’re doing Europe like a twenty-year-old, or traveling with an extremely high-energy twenty-one-year-old (cough, cough), you get to try things out from the other side of the teacher’s desk. Hope you enjoyed the earbud and the adventures, Aunt Marie.

Entre Terre et Ciel: Mont St. Michel

When my Aunt Marie was younger, a group of students from her high school went to France. She wasn’t lucky enough to be one of them, but she’d heard everyone speak of their time at Mont Saint Michel, a highlight of the trip. Well, it may have been a few years later, but she finally got her chance to visit the castle in the ocean. Actually, the tides have been bringing in sediment over the year such that now, it’s only surrounded by water when the tide is completely in, but the city is working to change that in order to restore the castle’s unique location, on an island on the water’s edge. This castle was a special place for the French because, according to our tour guide, throughout the Hundred Year’s War, the English were never able to take over this French bastion. The castle housed monks for many years, but was eventually at some point converted into a prison during the 1800’s. Today, it seems to be a major source of revenue thanks to the heavy tourism. (Aunt Marie and I challenged ourselves by taking the French guided tour of the castle and I think we managed quite well!) We ate sandwiches and delicious, locally-made beer for lunch and then spent the afternoon touring the little museums scattered throughout the castle. The museums were actually pretty kitsch; I would highly recommend the guided tour, but an afternoon would be better spent simply wandering through the castle.

This evening we returned to the city of Pontorson, where the train station was located, got ourselves a simple dinner at a boulangerie (where else?) and explored the town until our train came to take us to Rennes, the capital of Brittany, where we're spending the night.

Caen, our First Venture into the French Countryside

Early yesterday morning, Aunt Marie and I arrived in the train station, well before our train was scheduled to depart. Arriving in Caen, Normandy, we purchased a city map, located the hotel, and hiked across the city. The hotel was beautifully located across the street from both a boulangerie and fruit market. We lunched on a four-seasons whole grain baguette, quiche with spinach and ham, and freshly picked strawberries. Then we both crashed for some much-needed naptime. In the afternoon we visited the Eglise Saint Etienne, which houses (at least some of) the remains of William the Conqueror. At some point the church was ransacked and I believe his remains may have been targeted in the attack. Nonetheless, the church was impressive. Afterwards, we walked all over the Chateau Ducal. The castle is around 1000 years old and gives a great view across the city of Caen. Once we’d had our fun playing around the castle, we found ourselves a cute little restaurant and, at 7pm, were the evening’s first diners. The sun set as we walked back through the streets of Caen and we turned in, exhausted, for an early night.

We began the morning with a fresh baguette and a jar of four-fruits jam. We caught a bus out to the Caen War Memorial Museum where we passed the morning. It was a powerful, frightening museum. It’s hard to imagine that humans can be so cruel. I was struck by this French anti-American poster which portrays us completely differently from the view I’d always had of us, coming in to rescue the French and turn the tide in the Second World War after the French were unable to defend their own land. There was a special exhibit about September 11 which, of course, felt very personal. I was impressed by the focus the exhibit placed on each individual terrorist, giving each a large photograph and a paragraph description about his life. It was incredibly interesting to see what different paths led all these men to the same final purpose.

We stopped at another boulangerie for lunch on our way to our new hotel. (Some last-minute complications required us to spend each night in a different hotel.) The new hotel turned out to be quite a challenge to locate, indeed! Finally, we dropped off our bags and returned to the center of town. This evening, we did a bit of shopping. I bought an adorable pair of black, lacy, patterned tights. We wandered into the Eglise Saint Jean, which actually leans a lot and made me almost feel like I was home (in Pisa) for a minute. Inside, there was some marvelous, modern stained glass. We slipped out quietly so as not to disturb the mass in progress and walked down the street to a Moroccan restaurant. We had some absolutely delicious vegetarian couscous and Moroccan wine, soaking in the fragrant scent of all the spices in the restaurant as we enjoyed the meal.

Alpha Chi’s in the City of Lights (and let's not forget Aunt Marie!)

By the time I crashed at Anya’s place, it was just past midnight between Friday and Saturday. I was happy to find a place to rest and excited about the week to come. This weekend would be one final opportunity to spend time with some of my sisters (from Alpha Chi Omega) before 2009. The next morning I did a bit of exploring in Paris and met my Aunt Marie (who had been visiting me in Pisa and flew from Pisa to Paris the morning after me). We ate lunch at a boulangerie and then caught up with Anya by the Eiffel Tower. It was so exciting to watch my aunt marvel at the city because, though a francophone and Francophile for many years, she’d never before been to Paris. We spent the afternoon traipsing through the streets of Paris. We wandered past the Louvre and through the Ile-de-la-Cité. We bought some ice cream from a cute shop which scoops it in the shape of a flower. We found our way into a bookstore where I was excited to discover that apparently the “for dummies” book series is sold in French too, just called “pour les nuls.” Definitely photo-worthy.

While we perused through the books, Anya waited outside for Amy by the Saint Michel fountain. Amy, another one of my sorority sisters, had spent the summer in Germany and was now here in Paris for a few days. Amy and I had planned this trip together to Paris early in the summer, before Anastasia and I even decided to really do the whole backpacking adventure. I was so happy to see her. Amy is my one and only mystababy in Alpha Chi Omega. I served as Amy’s mystagogue, or “pre-Big Sister,” when she was first welcomed into our sorority as a new member. I showed her the ropes, answered any of her questions, and tried my best to serve as her mentor as she familiarized herself with the chapter during the period leading up to initiation. The bond between a mystagogue and a mystababy is an important connection within the sorority, so it was very exciting to have the chance to spend time with my mystababy in one of my favorite cities.

Together we went to Montmartre where Anya met one of her friends. The two of them stayed on the steps to spend a final relaxing, cool Saturday evening in Paris. Amy, Aunt Marie, and I had more adventurous plans. With only a couple short days to introduce these two to the city, every moment was precious! We first took the metro over to the Arc de Triomphe and meandered down the Champs Elysée. While posing for a picture next to a Champs Elysée sign, we finally got our first snide “euh, les Américaines” remark. Anastasia, Alex, and I had hoped so badly we might be able to earn the stereotypical French rude comment, but every Parisian we encountered had been too friendly and accommodating. At last, we did succeed. I only wished I could have recorded it for Alex and Anastasia. It was a special moment.

Without much time to experiment in different restaurants (though one day I swear I will), I took Amy and Aunt Marie to something tried and true: my favorite Creperie des Arts. Here we enjoyed a delicious meal and shared a bottle of cider from Brittany. Time slipped by quickly and soon we realized that the only way we would catch the Eiffel Tower while sparkling, as it does every hour for ten minutes on the hour between 9 or 10pm and 1am, would be to arrive for the 1am show. Well, if we had so much time, we could afford to goof off a bit, we thought. But the metros were running a bit slower than we would have liked, and by the time we exited a stop near the Eiffel Tower, it was only five or ten to one (AM). Spotting the searchlight that spins from the top of the tower, we took off in that direction. Running through the streets of Paris at nearly one in the morning, shouting to one another and letting out peels of laughter (with a few shrieks of delight when the show finally began) is not something that everyone can say they’ve done, but I’m sure glad I can. It was absolutely crazy and I loved every second of it. I think my aunt did too. Running around can bring out the little kid in all of us, and I for one think that can be quite refreshing. We reached the tower while it was still sparkling and sprawled out in the grass. After the show was done, we sat on some pavement almost underneath the tower and just sat there staring in wonder at this world famous structure that we were suddenly close enough to touch.

The problem in allowing oneself to soak in an object’s beauty is that time slips one’s mind. Suddenly it was 1:45am and we needed to get home. Unfortunately, the metro had closed. Relying solely on my albeit limited knowledge, I managed to get us all the way to the Arc de Triomphe without a single wrong turn. From here we were only a few metro stops away from Port de Maillot and we managed to find our way there fairly smoothly. We crawled into bed shortly before 3am.

The next morning we were off to an understandably late start. We found breakfast at a boulangerie and caught the metro over to the Musée d’Orsay, an art museum filled with impressionist and relatively modern works. One of my favorite works in this building is Renoir’s l’Enfant au chat, a painting of a girl holding her little cat. I absolutely see my cats in the animal’s satiated grin. I also love the colors and textures captured in Georges Lemmen’s Plage à Heist. We found the most remarkable sculpture using different stones to perfectly create a woman cloaked in a beautiful veil of fabric. It was made by Ernest Barrias in 1899 and is entitled La Nature se dévoilant à la Science. Not only is the art amazing, but the building itself is actually pretty cool; it’s an old train station converted into an art museum.

We headed straight from the Musée d’Orsay to the Louvre. We were quickly going into art-overload mode. There’s no real way to describe this building. I could come here every week and still have something to see. Maybe one day I will be lucky enough to have the chance to do that. I’ll just share a few of my favorite works: first of all, a classic, my Aunt Marie next to Winged Victory. This next picture is one of a random ceiling in one of the rooms of the Louvre. It illustrates how not only is the building packed with art, but it is a masterpiece in and of itself. This little sculpture, l’Amour by Antoine-Denis Chaudet and Pierre Cartellier (finished after Chaudet died in 1810) is just so sweet and gentle. Really, if you like art, you absolutely must come here one day and soak it all in for yourself.

After the museum guards literally forced my Aunt Marie and I to leave, we walked along the Seine, bought ourselves a Grand Marnier crepe, and arrived in time for evening Sunday mass at Notre Dame. The music was beautiful but the whole mass felt quite theatrical, unlike the masses to which I’m accustomed. I’m sure part of the sensation was due to my inability to appreciate the sermon, but overall the mass seemed much less personal than anything I’ve known. The fact that there were small video screens and cameras in the church seemed to remove some of the intimacy from the spiritual experience. After mass and a brief tour of the church, we met with Amy and Anya. We went to the Luxembourg gardens, saw a building of the Sorbonne and checked out the outside of the Pantheon. Anya brought us to one of her favorite restaurants for fondue and classically French food. I ordered duck and onion soup, and somehow was coerced into trying my first escargot. It was very chewy, but not nearly as dense as calamari. Frankly, I was thoroughly disgusted, but I figure that eating escargot in Paris must earn me a check off of a grand list of things-to-do-before-one-dies. After dinner, Anya, Amy, Aunt Marie, and I all went back to the same bar where Yuri had taken us, the Café des Arts (3 Place Contrescarpe, in case you’re ever in Paris). Here we introduced Amy to Raspberry beer and capped off an excellent weekend in Paris. Tomorrow morning, Anya flies home, Amy leaves France, and Aunt Marie and I board a train out to the French countryside in Normandy. It was too short, but we did see a wonderful amount of the city in a short time. I’m going to miss my sisters so much this fall. I adore those women.

My Goodness, My Guinness! (and the city of Dublin)

I’m jotting the notes for this entry while sitting here in the Dublin airport, positively freezing. As if the city wasn’t cold and rainy enough all weekend, the airport officials figured they should blast the AC so it’s down around 50 to 60 degrees Fahrenheit right now… aaaah. And in just in time for the sun to emerge outside, as we’re trapped behind these glass walls awaiting the flight that just may never come. (Well, as I made it home to type this, it obviously did, but that’s beside the point.) I’m also wondering if I will even be allowed to step foot back into my host country, given that my current wardrobe, designed to help me survive in this airport climate, looks mostly like my dresser vomited all over me. Are such fashion faux-pas’s even allowed to enter Italy? (Good news: turns out it was so warm in Italy that shortly after landing I was able to reduce myself down to a fashionably acceptable, or at least tolerable, resident.)

Last night we arrived in Dublin without much of a plan. We found the bus to take us in to the center of down and had a darn good time on the top of our double decker. That night we mostly wandered around. When we stopped at a convenience store, I discovered that it was a member of a certain recycling program called Repak Recycling! Now, I’ve never seen my last name in print when it wasn’t for someone in my family, and to find it in Ireland?? Ha! After buying some hot cocoa mostly to keep our hands warm, we found a few monuments and ate some hearty Irish foods. I had a Guinness Beef stew, really wonderful. We also found ourselves some ice cream: nothing to write home about, but we checked the final country off our list. Our hostel that night was right by the River Liffey, so after dropping off our things, we took an evening stroll along the water’s edge and enjoyed some people watching. Their accents, it turns out, are also cuter than I’d realized.

This morning we made it out of the hostel by 8am, found some breakfast along the way, and proceeded to Saint Stephen’s Greene. Anastasia’s breakfast consisted of a Red Bull cola—did you know they make that—on an empty stomach, which had Alex and I a little worried. Fortunately, she did not fly away or go too crazy (yet). We wandered through the park, Anastasia did her final arch just do get one done in every country (I refused on the basis of the wet, rainy ground) and, just for the heck of it, I climbed a tree. From the park, we left for Oscar Wilde’s house, and according to the maps we most certainly past it… but wherever it was, we couldn’t seem to locate it. With a tight schedule, we continued onward towards Trinity College. Founded in 1592, it’s more or less the Harvard of Ireland, except that there is no way-more-hard-core institute down the street.

Next stop on our power-tour of Dublin was Dublin Castle. The castle was built in the 1200’s at the command of King John of England, though previous fortifications were built on this site since as early as the 900’s. Can you believe how much older that is than anything we find in the US? I mean, just think about that. It was already 500 years old, more than twice our country’s age, before our country was founded. Wow. Unfortunately, the interior of the castle was closed. We sat around on some benches in the courtyard for a while and tried to warm up a bit. Afterwards, we went to Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, but it turns out that entry wasn’t free and did not figure into our budget. Given the number of churches we’d already seen in the past week, we let this one slide. Especially because it meant we could head to our next destination even sooner…

The Guinness Storehouse. Aah, warmth, shelter from the rain, and lots of rich-flavored beer. We did our time and honestly walked around the first few floors learning how beer was made. Did you know that the whole storehouse is actually in the shape of a glass of Guinness beer? Anyway, after a while we realized that we just wouldn’t have time for the whole museum and the pints waiting for us at the top, included as part of the admission fee, so we skipped a few floors (including the one about responsible drinking) and headed straight for the bar. From here we had a full aerial view over the city of Dublin, even if the crowds prevented us from getting a seat. After a bit of shoving to get our drinks, the bartender even drew a little four-leaf clover in the foam on the top of my glass. How cute!

We began our drinks with the customary clinking of glasses, which they seem to take much more seriously in Europe. I think it’s all a part of their less-personal-space thing. Additionally, when clinking glasses, it’s essential to maintain eye contact. Rumor has it that this is a tradition maintained from medieval times, when people used to poison each other. If the person clinking their glass with you maintained eye contact instead of looking at his/her glass, then he probably wasn’t worried that a bit of your drink might spill into his cup, which means he probably wasn’t poisoning you. Note how Alex and I demonstrate unbreakable eye contact.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love Guinness (it is, in my opinion, the next best kind of beer after that Raspberry heaven from Brussels), but it’s got a very strong flavor. So I drink it as feels comfortable, which it turns out is really quite slowly. Alex, and even Anastasia, were long done their pints when I’d only downed a fourth of mine. Alex helped me out a bit, but I was still a long way from finished. Anastasia had some ideas of her own… as you can see from the picture. Time was running out. We still had one more museum to explore before our evening flight! Finally, Alex was a pal and finished the second half of my drink. Way to go, team!

Outside, I had the chance to show off my cute green umbrella. Thanks Natalie! (Natalie, my MIT 20.109 Laboratory Course instructor, bought me this umbrella out of pity after I showed up to class one day completely drenched. Honestly, I had just gotten out of the shower. The rain did soak my coat, but it wasn't really so very bad that my hair would be dripping wet if it weren't for my shower. And I'm not completely destitute. In fact, I had owned a very trusty umbrella, but it had recently failed me after three solid terms together in Boston. But she wouldn't hear it, and delivered me this umbrella by the next laboratory session. Well, at least I got a new accessory for singing in the rain.) Dodging the puddles, we trekked onward towards the Museum of Decorative Arts and History, where I got to admire all the fashion trends that hit Dublin during the last few centuries. There were some really awesome dresses, but most of them looked remarkably uncomfortable. Finally, as we walked towards the bus stop, the rain actually stopped and the sun emerged. Thanks, Dublin. We ate some breads and baked goods while waiting for the bus, and on the bus enjoyed trying to interpret an ad that mentioned “snogging.” Now, I believe I’ve heard of a book whose title includes “Full-frontal Snogging.” Just exactly what is snogging? How might one define “full-frontal snogging”? And if there is a such thing as “full-frontal snogging,” can one participate in “side-to-side snogging” or “three-quarters snogging”? After a while, the word in and of itself became a source of fits of giggles, particularly because we were trying to say it quietly to each other in order to prevent the Dubliners, who probably actually understand the word, from hearing us. I think this picture pretty accurately captures the moment. What, you ask? Did my sleep deprivation have any effect on my sense of humor? Of course not...

Now we’re back at this darn airport, aggressively reserving the front of the line to ensure we’ll sit together since seating is free-for-all on these Ryan Air flights. I can’t believe the week is already done. And what a week it was…