A tout a l'heure, America!

Traveling to Porto, Portugal

2013-08-28T18:18:00.000-07:00

We didn't have to wait at the airport for long before we were able to board our flight to Porto. And, thankfully, it was another short flight on the cramped seats of the discount airline. Since it was a late flight, we touched down in Porto around one in the morning. It took about another hour and a half (at best) for us to find our way through the airport to the metro system and through the metro system to the stop for our hostel. Metro doesn't quite seem like the right word for the trains—they were more like the trams prevalent across Europe. But, the stop for our hostel was underground, so I guess in some ways it was a true metro system.

When we climbed the steps out of the metro stop, the first thing I saw was this grand, castle-like structure on the horizon, with a full moon high in the sky, providing an impressive amount of light, given that it was so late at night (or early in the morning!). Our hostel wasn't in the direction of the castle-like building, so we turned around to go down the street and make our way there. The sight there wasn't quite as impressive as the moonlit castle-like building, but even by the dim light of nighttime, I was struck by the beauty of it.

The five of us started making our way up the street, Katie using her iPad to read directions as we tried to find our way through the city. We passed a couple that had clearly been out drinking, and they looked back at us a few times as we walked. When we made it to the top of the street we were on (after struggling to pull rolling suitcases over cobblestone streets), they were still at the sidewalk. The man came up to us and (I'm just going based of hand-signals and context clues here because he only spoke Portugese) asked where we were trying to go. Katie showed him the map on her iPad and he motioned for us to follow him and the woman he was with.

We started walking and the woman told Katie (again, I'm making assumptions about what was actually said) to put her iPad away because it made her look like a tourist. So Katie put her iPad away and we followed this Portugese couple up the street. I turned to Miranda and said “I'm not sure if they're super helpful, or if this is going to end badly for us.” Let me just defend myself here and say that they did seem very helpful, but at two-three in the morning, I was a little wary. But this couple led us straight to the hostel's front door and bid farewell, waving cheerfully to us as we waited for the hostel to unlock the door for us.

Once we got up to the hostel's welcome desk, we were greeted by one of the most chipper wlecome-desk workers I've ever seen. He joked with us as we checked in and made ourselves comfortable, and then he showed us a video that explained some of the history and fun facts about Portugal. It was actually a video that was made to convince Finland to loan Portugal some money during financial troubles. It's really interesting, and it's funny too. And the guy who showed us the video said that the Portugese ambassador showed this video at the council, and the Finnish ambassador came back the next day to say that Finland was going loan Portugal the money they needed. I guess Portugal won that one. Here it is, if you're interested:

We got our keys, towels, and room assignments. The keys were the coolest keys I've ever gotten from a hostel—they were bracelets that used the touch technology, meaning all I had to do to get into the room was touch the bracelet to the pad underneath the doorknob. It was definitely more high-tech than the key to my hostel in Milan that looked like it was the key to a door in an ancient castle. Katie, Sophie, Marissa and I were all in the same room, leaving Miranda on her own for the night. The hostel was sponsoring walking tours in the morning and afternoon, so we decided we'd get up for that (and the free breakfast) so we could get a tour of the city from a local. But since that was so early in the morning, it was time to go to bed—it was already nearly three in the morning!

One Last Day in Barcelona

2013-08-26T13:45:00.004-07:00

The Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya...one of the grandest buildings I remember seeing in Barcelona.

The next morning we woke up early. Sydney had already left, but the five of us girls grabbed breakfast, finished packing up our stuff as quickly as we could, checked our luggage into the hostel luggage room, checked out of the hostel, and started our final day of sightseeing in Barcelona. Our first stop was the Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya (another site that we had vouchers to get in free for). The soccer stadium for Barcelona's team was just across the square from the metro exit. With Sydney gone to see his friends in Madrid and Lisbon, there wasn't anypne else in our group who was really interested in seeing the stadium. So we just went straight up the street to the museum.

The city of Barcelona, as seen from the steps in front of the
Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya.

The museum was pretty interesting. There were several sections, but we just went to see the old history, which consisted of pieces of architecture—the remnants of columns, paintings from old churches, statues, and other bits and pieces of old history. Most of the stuff in this section of the museum was just from churches that had been excavated or were still standing but starting to deteriorate. It was amazing, the kinds of details that had been preserved in the paintings and bits of architecture on display throughout the museum.

In the open amphitheater section of the museum (probably where tour groups come to have a guide explain certain things to them), there was a huge pipe organ in the balcony at one end of the theatre. I took the elevator up to the balcony to get a better view of it, mostly because I have a huge fascination with pianos and organs, and some of the pipe organs in churches and buildings throughout Europe are astounding in their detail, size, and design. I would have loved if there was a way to check out the inner workings of the organ—not just the pipes that face outward, but what it looks like from the player's perch behind the pipes.

One of the most complete church paintings on
display in the history section of the museum.

After everyone was done checking out the gift shop, and I was through admiring the pipe organ, we went to go see the art section in the top floor of the museum. They had a few pieces of art that we were all particularly keen to see, including a Picasso piece (although we'd only seen 4,000 of them just two days earlier) and a Salvador Dali. All of the work in the collection was great—I've always loved art museums, and Barcelona's museum had some of the best of the best.

After we finished visiting the museum, we headed back to Park Guell, so that we could visit it during the day. This time, we took the bus from the metro stop to the top of the hill—it was so much easier than that walk!! Although it was seriously crowded. The park was much more crowded during the lunch hour than it had been, but all the street vendors were out, so we were able to buy souvenirs for cheaper prices than we would have found at stores. I got some keychains (to add to my growing collection of keychains from all over Europe), and we wandered the park for probably an hour more before we headed back to the hostel.

We still didn't have to leave for the airport for a few more hours, so we tried to find an Egyptian museum that was close by. We never did manage to find it, but we stopped at a few clothes stores on the same street as our hostel, then just hung out in the luggage room at the hostel for about a half an hour before it was finally time to leave for the airport. So we left the hostel, bags and suitcases in tow, and made our way through the metro system to the airport. It was time to visit Portugal!

The formation of stones opposite the iconic tiled benches of Park Guell.

A Full Day of Tourism in Barcelona

2013-08-25T11:00:00.004-07:00

A lizard, made entire of chocolate!!

The next day was the day that Penn State's football tickets went on sale for everyone in our group. Some of us weren't getting tickets for whatever reason; some of us had people at home buying tickets for us; but some of the people in my group were buying their own tickets that morning. Those of us that didn't need to buy our own tickets that morning spent the first part of the morning visiting the chocolate museum in Barcelona.We all had free admission to the chocolate museum since we'd bought the Barcelona 4-day passes. So we hopped on the metro and headed across town and traded our little tickets for passes into the museum—and the tickets to get into the museum were actually chocolate bars! I was pretty happy about that.

And the famous lizard from Guell park, also
made entirely of chocolate.

The chocolate museum was very cool. There were sculptures made of chocolate throughout the museum, along with displays showing and describing how the chocolate is made—from the harvesting of the cacao beans to the actual process that goes into making chocolate bars. But honestly, I didn't pay too much attention to that part of the museum. The chocolate sculptures were far more interesting. I

couldn't believe the kinds of things that people were able to create using nothing but chocolate!

After we went to the chocolate museum, we headed back to the hostel to meet up with the people that had to buy their tickets. Thankfully, everyone that was buying tickets was able to get their without incident—it's always a little nervewracking to have to rely on hostel or hotel wifi for something important. With our group back together, the six of us went to go take a boat tour. Our Barcelona passes included free tickets for an hour-long boat tour along the coast, so we decided to go do that. I was a little nervous about the boat tour because I get sea-sick, but I figured that for such a short ride, I would probably be fine.

The boat tour wasn't too bad—I did get sea sick, but it was only an hour long, and I didn't get sea sick until we were already about twenty minutes in. The views from the boat also weren't too bad, although we never seemed to really get out of the docks. There were cruise ships on one side and loading docks on the other. Past the loading docks, there were some pretty good views of the hillsides that roll down to the water's edge. And I did get to enjoy a bit of a view out over the open ocean—whenever there

Enjoying the boat tour...before I got sea sick.

was a gap between cruise ships.

After we got back to solid ground, we went off to find lunch. We stopped at the street market on the way there. It was just a little market made up of two rows of tents with people selling jewelry, purses, clothes, carvings, paintings, and probably even more stuff that I can't even hope to remember! I don't think any of us ended up buying anything then—we were two hungry. Lunch was good (just pizza) and Miranda was happy because our waiter was the best one we'd had up to that point in Europe. Miranda works as a waitress back home, and we'd had many waiters and waitresses that did things that Miranda said would've gotten her fired. But at the end of our meal, Miranda told our waiter that he was the best we'd had yet in Europe, and he was really happy to hear that.

About to pass the other funicular cart.

After lunch, we took the metro back through town to get to the funicular up to the top of Tibidabo, which is the tallest mountain in Barcelona. There was a telecommunications tower at the top (called Torre de Collserola) that offers a panoramic view of the city from the inside. We were on the metro and a woman who was a few years older than my friends and I approached us and said “You guys are American?” She was also American and she was living in Spain to study Spanish—what a coincidence! She ended up tagging along with us to the tower.

After getting off the metro (after sitting at the stop for almost five minutes before realizing it was the one we were supposed to get off at) we walked a short ways from there to find the funicular. Then we took the funicular up the side of the mountain and walked from there to the tower. We tried to catch the bus that ran from the funicular to the top, but they seemed to be pretty spaced out—we didn't see them often, and when we did, we weren't at bus stops, so the bus wouldn't stop for us. But the walk wasn't too bad, and we were at the tower soon enough. The girl that had joined us on the metro talked to some of the people around the base of the tower until we figured out where we were supposed to go.

Finally, we got to the ticket office at the bottom of the tower. We had free passes for this as well, so we went through pretty easily. Once there were about ten of us gathered in the waiting area, someone came to operate the elevator. We crammed into the elevator and it went up to what was marked as the eleventh floor, but was the first closed off level of the tower. We got out and walked around, enjoying the view from around the tower. Each window pane was marked at the top and bottom with a city that

The view from the mountaintop, overlooking Barcelona.

was in that general direction and how far away it was.

We spent about a half an hour at the tower before we headed back down. We walked back out to the road and waited at the bus stop for the bus to come and pick us up. There were more attractions (more popular ones) further up the mountain, so by the time the bus got to us, it was so packed that it just drove right past. I was not going to wait around for a half an hour just to have another packed bus drive right past without picking us up, so I said that I was going to walk back down to the funicular station. Everyone else wanted to wait for the bus, but after a minute or two, they joined me.

We took the funicular back down the mountain, walked from the funicular to the metro, and went from there to Sagrada Familia, which is this huge, constantly-under-construction church in the heart of the city. The girl that we'd met on the metro was still with us, so our group of six (plus one) climbed up out of the metro to see it. One side of the church was covered in scaffolding and there were a few cranes poking into the sky behind the church. I don't know how long it's been under construction, but I do know that all the postcards I saw in Barcelona that depicted Sagrada Familia showed it under construction—so it's definitely been under construction for a while.

The line to get into Sagrada Familia wrapped halfway around the block, and we would have to pay to

The front columns of Sagrada Familia.

go in. Since it was already later in the day, we decided just to go to the park across the street, take some pictures, and figure out where to go from there. That was when the girl that had joined us for the day left us and headed back to her host family in the suburbs of Barcelona. Now that our group was back down to just six Penn Staters, we hung out in the park for a little while, watching a street performer who made these huge bubbles using two ropes strung between two sticks. It was really mesmerizing.

Finally, we decided that we wanted to go see Park Guell, since it's one of the biggest attractions in Barcelona. The five of us girls still had time to go sightseeing the next day, but Sydney was leaving super early, so we wanted all of us to be able to see the park. We took the metro to the stop nearest Park Guell, not realizing that the park was actually at the top of the hill, at least a twenty minute walk from th metro station. When we first got off though, there was this beat-up patch of a back yard. We were looking around, trying to see the park or how to get there, so I said “And...there's the park!” Thankfully, that wasn't the case.

We finally got up to the park after a pretty steep fifteen-twenty minute climb up the side of the hill. Fortunately fo us, once we'd gotten about three quarters of the way up, there were escalators to take the rest of the way. My first impression of the park was that it was nice, but nothing to write home about. We'd come to the park from a side entrance, so we weren't seeing any of the tiling that the park was famous for. It was just plants, some short stone walls, and a packed earth path winding through all the plants.

The view from the highest point of Park Guell.

Our first stop was this wooden fencing post with scribbling all over it. There was a pretty good view through and above the fence of the city, and we all agreed it was the perfect place to add our names to the countless names already written there, just to memorialize our time in Barcelona. After we'd written our names there, we continued on through the park and found our way to what has to be the highest point in the park. There was a cross stuck into the ground at the top of this mound of piled rocks (this seems to be a pretty common theme across Europe—crosses at the summits of mountains and famous sites). We took a bunch of pictures of the city, since there was a 360 degree view of Barcelona. It was yet another one of those moments where I felt like everything that had led up to this point was worth it, just for bringing me to this spot.

Gaudi's tiled benches of Park Guell.

Finally, we found our way from that peak to the iconic section of Park Guell—the tiled benched that curve all around the park. There's a tiled lizard at the main entrance to the park that's probably one of the most famous sites in Barcelona. The park was all but abandoned at that time of night—it was probably about eight at night. So we ran around, took a bunch of pictures, and Katie, Sophie, Marissa, and Miranda did a vine (a 6-second video) of them singing the Cheetah Girls song that they sang in that same park.

With the sun setting, the six of us decided it was time to find dinner and head back to the hostel—especially since Sydney had to leave so early the next day, and the rest of us still had to check out by ten the next morning, even though our flight wasn't until much later in the day. So we got dinner, made our way back to the hostel, packed up some of our stuff, and called it quits on our long day of tourism in Spain.

Picasso, Tapas, and Fireworks

2013-08-16T19:11:00.002-07:00

Casa Batlló, one of the famous sites of Barcelona, was right down the street from the hostel we stayed at.

The next day, I made sure to get up in time for breakfast at the hostel (I hate starting the day without breakfast, and I always take advantage of free breakfasts at hotels and hostels). Breakfast was over around ten, and I think we finally left the hostel around noon. There was only one thing on our list to see that day—the Picasso museum. We'd all bought Barcelona cards, which included free public transit rides and several free tickets for museums and famous sites. However, the Picasso museum was not one of them. So we decided to go see the museum on Sunday, since the museum has free admissions on Sundays.

The church that we found before the museum.

We took the metro to the stop nearest the Picasso museum and walked around for a bit before going to the museum. We stopped for lunch first—our first full day in Barcelona, and we got lunch at an American-style diner. We all wanted authentic Spanish food, but burgers and milkshakes were just too tempting! After enjoying our not-so-Spanish lunch, our group of six continued on to find the museum. We ended up going the wrong way at first, and found a cathedral. I have no idea what the name of the cathedral was, but we took some pictures, and then got directions from a local on how to find the Picasso museum.

When we finally found the museum, there was a line of people stretched through the alleyway that led to the entrance. It took almost an hour of waiting in line to finally get into the museum—people turn out in droves for free admissions! We took turns visiting the shops lining the street, and it made the wait go faster. I bought some souvenirs in one of the shops—a turtle decorated in tile in the style of Guell Park. It's perfect for my little collection of turtles!

The altar area of the church we saw after we
visited the Picasso museum.

The museum was astounding. There were over 4,000 paintings, sketches, and works of art—all by Picasso. And this museum isn't even all of Picasso's work—hundreds, maybe even thousands of pieces of his art are scattered throughout the world. It's mind-boggling to think that one man could create that much art. I know that it was his job and his passion, so he devoted almost all his time to creating art. And not all of the art in the museum was massive, intricate paintings. There were a lot of small works and rough sketches. But it's still amazing to see such a graphic representation of just how much art one man made.

We spent a few hours walking from room to room, admiring the artwork. There were so many people in the museum that I couldn't stop and stare at every painting that I wanted to for as long as I wanted to. But I still got to see so many wonderful pieces of art, and I so enjoyed visiting the museum. It was well worth the wait in line, and, although I was more than happy to get free admission, the price of the tickets definitely would have been worth it as well.

After leaving the museum, the six of us went in search of dinner. We wanted to find tapas—it was about time to have some traditional Spanish fare. We stopped at a few places, but kept walking until we found somewhere that wasn't so expensive. We stopped in a church along the way, just to check out the interior, before continuing on our way. The tapas place we ended up eating at wasn't far from the museum, and was just around the corner from the church we'd stopped at. We all ordered a few tapas to split, and then we got one main dish of rice and sea food.

Hanging out at the shore in Barcelona at night!

I'd never had tapas before, but I like the concept of getting several small dishes to make up a meal. I also enjoyed the seafood more than I'd expected. I've never really had mussels or clams before then, so I was a little surprised by just how much I liked it. After getting our tapas for dinner, we headed back to the hostel to change before going to the beach. We'd heard there would be fireworks to celebrate a saint's feast day that night, and the beach would be the best place to be. So to the beach we went!

We learned that night that when the Spanish said there'd be fireworks, they didn't mean well-organized fireworks displays set off by professionals. What they really meant was that there would be people at the beach setting off their own fireworks, usually by sticking them in the sand or a bottle half-buried in sand and lighting them with the lit butts of their cigarettes. It was chaos, absolute chaos. And it was fun. We sat on the beach and talked and laughed and jumped whenever a firework went off too near us. It was just another one of those things where we didn't have to do anything, we simply had to enjoy the moment.

Beach Day in Barcelona

2013-08-13T05:10:00.002-07:00

After getting up early that morning, we took a bus from the train station to the airport. After about a two hour train ride, the six of us were in Barcelona—well, on the outskirts of Barcelona anyway. It took a forty-five minute bus ride from the airport to actually get to the city. And then it took another half hour on the metro before we finally got to our hostel in the city. It was too early to check into our rooms, so the hostel gave us a key to the luggage room and we dropped our bags and changed into swimsuits before heading to the beach.

A lovely view of the Mediterranean Sea from our beach spot in Barcelona!

We were all looking forward to just spending some time laying out on the beach. It was our first day of vacation, and all of us just wanted to take it easy. We were to spend three days in Barcelona, so there was plenty of time to go visit museums and famous sites, so spending a few hours lounging on the beach was the perfect way to start vacation. I mostly just laid out on my towel, enjoying feeling the sun. I did go into the water once—but it was too cold for me, so I only walked in up to my knees, and then I hurried back to my cozy spot on the sand.

Me and Miranda at the top of the rope
pyrmaid. Thanks to Sydney for the picture!

After a few hours, we decided to walk a ways down the boardwalk before heading back to the hostel, finding a place to eat dinner, and then going out for the night. It was a pleasant walk—if we hadn't been surrounded by people that were, for the most part, speaking Spanish, I may have thought I was walking down the boardwalk in Jersey or somewhere else back home. I had to remind myself that I was in Barcelona, walking alongside the Mediterranean Sea. Halfway down the boardwalk, we spotted a small playground that had a jungle gym and a pyramid-type structure made of ropes. Miranda and I decided that we just had to climb it.

No one else wanted to climb it with us, so they waited on the boardwalk, and Miranda and I hurried over to the little playground. Miranda climbed the rope structure faster than I did, but I got up to the top soon after. It was a cool feeling, sitting atop a rope pyramid on the shore, looking out at the ocean. It was a little harder for me to get down from the rope structure, but I made it (with only a few rope burns). Then we headed further down the boardwalk and, eventually, made our way to the nearest metro station. The rest of the night was quiet—just dinner and a trip to the bar. Half our group went out clubbing, but Miranda, Sophie and I headed back to the hostel—we wanted a bit of an earlier night.

The Beginning of Break

2013-08-09T05:41:00.000-07:00

After a wonderful trip to Rome, I only had to get through five more days of classes (technically four, since Friday was going to literally be a picnic), and then I could finally start my one-week break. I couldn't wait for that break. The situation with my host family had deteriorated gradually over the course of that first month, and I suspected that Astrid and I both needed some space and our time apart. I know I did. I may make a post at some point in the future to talk more about the issues I had with Astrid, but for now, I'd rather focus on the good things. That being, that Friday, I was getting on a train to Paris so that I could go on vacation to Barcelona, Porto, and Amsterdam with Miranda, Katie, and a few more people from the Penn State group: Sydney, Marissa, and Sophie.

Class dragged by so slowly as I waited anxiously for it to be time to go. On the one hand, I wanted nothing more than to be out of Astrid's house and on my way to vacation. But at the same time, all the Arkansas kids were studying in Besancon for one month, instead of two. Which meant that when I got back from vacation, Kim, Adriana, and Daniel would no longer be in class with me. I knew I'd still have Brittany (thank goodness!!), but it was so sad to say good-bye to everyone. We had one last night at the bar—Madigan's, as per usual—and said our good-byes there. (The next morning, I had to explain to my host mother that I can't just take a high-speed train from Philly to Arkansas to visit them, which is why saying good-bye was so hard).

My A2.2 class. I can't remember everyone's names, but the girl in black next to me is Brittany (I'm the one that's third from the left) and the girl next to her is Adriana. My teacher, Olivier, is the guy in the blue shirt. Credit for this photo goes to Kim (the girl in the light blue dress, who was also from Arkansas).

But, I made it through that last night at the bar, and through the class picnic on Friday, and then, finally, it was time for vacation! I headed to Sophie's house first, since we were splitting the cost of a checked bag. I brought my stuff and packed it into the bag we were sharing, and then we left her house and went to the train station together. We met everyone at the platform, and then, at long last, we were on the train headed to Paris. I was so happy to be on vacation. It couldn't have come soon enough (for me, at least).

The train ride to Paris was uneventful, and then we just had to make it from Gare du Lyon to Gare du Nord to catch a train from Paris to Beauvais. We were flying with Ryanair, Europe's discount airline, and they fly out of Beauvais, which is about an hour outside of Paris, so we'd booked a hotel there for the night to make it easier to get to the airport the next morning (not to mention it was cheaper to get a hotel room in Beauvais than in Paris). The train ride from Paris to Beauvais was a cramped ride on a train car that was very reminiscent of a typical bus (with the small addition of a bathroom in the middle of the car).

We got to Beauvais, and then realized that although Katie had the address of the hotel we were going to, none of us had directions on how to get there from the train station. After trying to figure out just by looking at the maps in the station, Sydney finally went and asked at the information desk. And that's how we found out that our hotel was right across the street. It was actually the first building that you would see upon exiting the train station. So it was even easier to get there than we'd expected! I was the one that had booked the hotel, and it was a 'family' room, meant for two adults and three kids (under the age of 12). Since there were six of us, all well over 12, we decided that just three of us would go in and we'd take all the luggage with us, and then the other three could come in later. Sophie, Sydney, and I checked in and then had Marissa, Katie, and Miranda come up the other set of stairs to the room.

The six of us hung out in the room for a while and then went to find dinner. The day that we were leaving was the beginning of the weekend of the summer solstice, so there were festivals being set up all over France. We found a restaurant in one of the big open squares and ate there, listening to the music blaring from whatever band was playing as part of the festival. There was a group playing at one end of the square, and at the other end there was a stage from which a group of women took turns leading a whole bunch of people in Zumba.

Even though Beauvais wasn't even really part of our vacation, it was a good way to spend a night in France before heading out for a vacation across Europe. We got to just relax, have dinner, and hang out in the room and figure out some of the things we wanted to do over vacation. Then, the next morning, we got up ridiculously early (5:00AM, to be precise) to catch a bus to the airport to head to Barcelona!

A Visit to Ancient Rome

2013-08-05T04:49:00.001-07:00

The next day, after sleeping in for a bit, Charissa and I checked out of our hostel, checked our bags at the train station, and headed to the Colosseum. We took the metro from Termini to the Colosseum stop—it only took about fifteen minutes tops, and then, we were there. We left the metro station as usual, but as we were leaving the train station, the Colosseum itself gradually came into view. That moment literally took my breath away. It was such an unbelievable site, the way the Colosseum seemed to just pop up in front of us.

What's believed to be old apartments at the Roman Forum.

Charissa suggested that we go to the Roman Forum first, since the ticket would get us in at both the Forum and the Colosseum and the line at the Forum would be far shorter. So we headed a little ways down the street to the entrance to the Roman Forum and waited in line there. It took maybe half an hour for us to get our tickets, and while we waited, Charissa told me more about the architectural background of the Forum. (Charissa, I feel like I should have taken notes on what you were talking about, there was so much info and I wish I remembered more of it!)

Finally, we got into the Forum and started walking around, admiring the remaining structures. I couldn't quite wrap my mind around the fact that the Forum is hundreds and hundreds of years old (I think at least a few hundred B.C.), and that Romans walked on the same paths that I was walking. Those are some of my favorite moments of traveling—that moment when you suddenly realize that you're standing on the exact spot that someone from history once stood. Maybe not someone famous, but it's still astounding to think that Romans conducted the mundance aspects of daily life in the very area where I was strolling about, snapping pictures with my digital camera.

The Colloseum, as seen from the end of the Roman Forum closest to this ancient arena.

The inside of the Colosseum, seen from the first level.

Charissa and I walked from one end of the forum to the other, taking a few short breaks to hang out in the shade (it was hot!). When we reached the other end of the forum, the Colosseum was back in view. Although I'd seen it already; walked alongside it on the way to the forum, it was still astounding. Here was a building that had served as the central entertainment facility for thousands of people, hundreds and hundreds of years ago. After walking through the forum, Charissa and I crossed the street to go see the Colosseum. I was quite grateful that we'd bought our tickets at the forum rather than the Colosseum—as we walked straight past the very long line of people waiting to get their tickets to go in.

When we walked through the archway into the inside of the Colosseum, I had to stop for a second, just to take it in. There were tourists everywhere, snapping pictures of the Colosseum and of themselves as everyone walked around the pathway that circled the arena. Charissa and I walked most of the way around the first level of the Colosseum before we headed up to the second level to get a little bit different perspective of the place. As we walked, I tried to imagine what it must have been like in the

past—thousands of people crowded into the stands, watching as gladiators dueled or shows were put on or executions carried out.

The top edge and what would have been the arena's seats.

After visiting the Colosseum, Charissa and I headed back to Roma Termini, the main train station. Charissa's boyfriend, Alex, was coming in for the day, so we were meeting him there. We had to wait a little while for his train to come in, so we got gelato at one of the shops in the station. Gelato is basically the Italian version of ice cream, and Charissa said I had to try some before I left. It is very similar to ice cream, but it's not exactly the same. It's delicious! I loved it, and really just wanted to get some more. Thankfully, Alex's train came in before I indulged in more gelato.

We met Alex at the end of the platform, and then Charissa called her teacher to ask if he had any suggestions for something we could go see, since I only had a few hours left before I had to catch the train back to Besancon. He suggested San Pietro in Vincoli (St. Peter in Chains) since it wasn't far from the train station and was worth the visit. So we again hopped on the metro and headed out to see San Pietro in Vincoli. It took a little bit of time to figure out the map and find our way to the church, but it worked out perfectly—we got there just in time for the church to open back up. Like almost everything else in Italy, the church had closed for a lunch break.

Michaelangelo's statue of Moses.

Thankfully, there was a bit of a crowd there, gathered and waiting for the church to open back up. This was lucky for me, since I was wearing shorter shorts and a tank top—San Pietro had the same dress code as the Basilica, though it wasn't quite as strictly enforced. I managed to slip inside without being noticed by the guard checking people over as they entered. The church itself wasn't overly impressive, but there were two things that stood out: first, there was an enormous statue at the front-right hand side of the church. This statue was in fact a Michaelangelo carving of Moses, which serves as the tomb of Pope Julius II. I guess we've come to expect it from Michaelangelo, but the realism of the statue astounded me.

The other noteworthy aspect of San Pietro in Vincoli was, of course, the chains of St. Peter that are kept there. The church itself was originally built to house the chains used on St. Peter while he was in Jerusalem. When a pope compared those chains to the chains used on St. Peter during his final imprisonment in Rome, the two chains supposedly fused together, forming the one set of chains that are now displayed at San Pietro in Vincoli. Many of the religious sites we visited in Rome made me think of my high school—coming from a catholic high school, I couldn't help but think how many of my teachers would have loved to see this famous religious sites and relics.

After visiting San Pietro, Charissa, Alex, and I headed back to Roma Termini so that Charissa and I could pick up our bags and I could catch my train to France. First though, I had to stop at the bookstore to pick up a copy of a Harry Potter book in Italian. I love collecting the books in foreign languages, and

The chains of St. Peter at San Pietro in Vincoli.

I just knew that I had to get an Italian version before I left. (Now, at the end of my trip, I've collected a few German books, two French books, one Italian book, and one Portugese book. And of course, my own collection of American editions back home).

The three of us hung out at the train station for a little while, since there was still some time to kill before I had to get on the train. It was nice to just sit and talk—although I still had to laugh about the fact that we were doing so in a train station in Rome, when we live so close to each other back home! Eventually, the time came when I had to go find my seat on the train. I said my goodbyes to Charissa and Alex and then went down the platform to find my spot. It was time to go back to France.

Sightseeing in Rome

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The hole at the top of the dome of the Pantheon. I love the idea of the nondenominational worship building.

Our next stop was the Pantheon, which is one of Charissa's favorite buildings in Rome. It was built as a non-denominational temple; a place meant for all religions to be able to worship freely. But, the church had come in and kind of made it their own. The Pantheon had once been coated in gold as well, but all the gold was stripped from the building long ago. I thought the Pantheon was really, really cool, although I don't think I was quite as taken with it as Charissa was. She told me how the dome is just a free-standing concrete dome. It had to be made in pieces, but it was put together without any metal frameworks or anything. The dome's open at the top, letting sunlight spill in and light up the center of the Pantheon. I thought there would be glass or something over the top, but Charissa said that's not the case; the first time she visited, it had just rained, and there was a puddle of water in the center, roped off so that people wouldn't slip.

The gorgeously carved Trevi Fountain--which apparently
earns the city of Rome about 3000 euro every day.

Very near to the Pantheon was Trevi Fountain, the one where visitors always throw a coin over their shoulder into the fountain, and supposedly that guarantees that you'll someday return to the city (I certainly hope so!). The crowd around the fountain was just as bad as you'd expect from such a famous site—I gave Charissa my camera and wormed my way through the crowd to the edge of the fountain. It took a minute to find a spot where I could sit on the fountain and throw my coin, but I did. I tossed my coin, and Charissa took a few pictures for me. The Trevi Fountain was definitely a place that I never could have imagined I'd be able to visit—so much of Rome felt almost like a dream, it was just so surreal to actually be there.

Our last tourist stop of the day was at the Spanish Steps. These we kind of came across almost by accident while we were walking through the city after visiting the fountain. I'd heard of the Spanish Steps, although it's not something that immediately pops to mind when I think of Rome. Apparently its the one place in Rome where you can always find people hanging out, and tourists stop there all the time. Again, I took some pictures, and we continued on our way.

Me tossing my coin into Trevi Fountain.

After visiting the steps, we headed back towards our hostel. Charissa's friends were coming into Rome for the night, so we were going to go back to the hostel, change into nicer clothes for the night, and then go to the train station to meet them. Once back at the laundromat where we'd left our bags, we got the keys to the hostel—we hadn't been able to check in when we'd gotten there that morning, but know we could get settled into the room. The guy who worked at the laundromat got us our bags, and then we left the laundromat, went halfway down the street to an apartment building, and found our hostel on the third floor. Online, the hostel was called Nice Place Hostel, but the name of hostel on the door was Sweet Place. Charissa and I laughed about that—it sounded like a name that they would have chosen after hearing an English speaker say that something was “sweet!”

I was just glad we were finally checked into the hostel. I'd never stayed at a hostel that was run through a laundromat, and I was seriously creeped out—again, I'm so glad Charissa was with me, or I would've thought I was done for. There was another girl that was in our hostel room as well, and she was from the US as well. We talked for a bit, and then Charissa and I went to go grab dinner before her friends arrived. We ended up just going straight to the train station and eating at a restaurant there. I had pasta—another meal that I figured I had to have at some point while visiting Italy. For a train station cafeteria, it was decent pasta.

The (very crowded) Spanish Steps.

After a little bit of waiting, Charissa's friends arrived. There were four of them, and our group of six went to go find somewhere to spend the night. We headed to a hotel on the other side of town to meet a friend of Charissa's friend to join them in a pub crawl. We did find his friend, but they wanted to take taxis, and we preferred the metro, so we split up, and never actually found them again. Charissa's friends wanted to find something to eat, so we wandered around by the Spanish Steps and ended up at Burger King (it was either that or McDonald's, pretty much). Ironically, the 'french' fries in Italy were better than any I'd had in France yet.

Finally, Charissa and I split from her friends and headed back to the hostel. I was tired from the overnight train and a full day of touring the city, and her friends were spending the whole night in Rome before returning to the city where they were studying. So Charissa and I headed back to our shady little hostel, where I passed out almost as soon as I'd laid down.

A Visit to Vatican City

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After two weeks in France, I headed to Italy to meet up with my friend Charissa. She's from the US as well—in fact, we went to high school together and we literally live five minutes apart. But, since she was studying in Italy, and I in France, naturally we made plans to meet in Rome for a weekend. I took an overnight train from Dijon to Rome. It was the second time I'd been on an overnight train, but this time I had a bed instead of a reclining seat. It was an experience that I would recommend everyone have at least once. There's nothing quite like sharing a tiny train compartment with two to five other people, sleeping on a little cot where you can't even sit upright without hitting you head.

I shared my compartment with two other women, and since I was the youngest person in the compartment, I figured it'd be best if I just took the top cot. Just to be safe though, I asked, in French, if there was one for me, and one of the women said, in French, that it didn't matter, I could have whichever I wanted. Then she switched to Italian with the other woman in the compartment. When the conductor came by to take our passports, he spoke to me in English, and the same woman asked, in perfect English, if I preferred to speak French or English. I was a little jealous that she slipped so easily between three languages while I was struggling just to learn a second!

So I took the top bunk and slept very, very well. It was such an easy ride—more comfortable than I would have expected. It was a bit of a challenge to get ready the next morning, given the confines of the space, but I managed it alright. And then, finally, we arrived at Roma Termini. I grabbed my bag and hurried off the train, eager ot meet up with Charissa and start visiting this famous city. Thankfully, Charissa had arrived at the train station earlier than I had, so she was waiting for me at the end of my platform. I don't know if we ever would have found each other otherwise!

The first thing we did was buy a map so we could figure out where to go. The hostel wasn't far from

St. Peter's Square and St. Peter's Basilica!!

the train station, but I didn't have the hostel information for it. I'd tried to download the information to my nook the night before, but my host mother disconnected the wifi before I was able too, so I didn't even have the name of the place. Thankfully, Charissa had the address, so we were able to find the right street. We found where the hostel should have been, but no hostel. A man who worked in a laundromat asked what we were looking for, and when we showed him the address, he directed us to another laundromat around the corner.

More than a little confused, Charissa and I followed this man's instructions to the other laundromat. There, we found the man in charge of our hostel. We checked in, paid for the room, and left our bags in the luggage room (and by that I mean we left them in a room in the basement of the laundromat. I was so glad Charissa was with me—I'd never stayed at a hostel run out of a laundromat and I was half expecting the worst scenario to play out that day in Rome.

With our bags left at the hostel, Charissa and I started our tour of the city. Thankfully for me, Charissa had visited Rome with her school group, so she already knew her way around, which meant that I didn't have to try to figure out how on earth the metro system worked. I almost always get lost when I first get to a new city (even an English-speaking city like London)! Our first stop of the day was Vatican City to see St. Peter's Square and the Basilica. If I'd had more time in Rome, we could have visited the museum and seen the Sistine Chapel as well, but with only two days to spend in Rome, I wanted to see as much as I possibly could.

La Pieta, which is now behind glass because apparently
someone tried to shoot it earlier this year.

On our way to St. Peter's Square, we stopped so that Charissa could buy a skirt and shawl to cover her legs and shoulders. I never knew it, but apparently a lot of the churches in Rome have a dress code—legs should be covered to below the knee and shoulders had to be covered. Once Charissa had her new clothes, we continued down the road towards the square. When we emerged into the square, I was a little stunned. It was one of those moments where, had someone told me years ago that I would be in Vatican City, with a friend from high school, I would have just laughed at them. And yet here I stood, admiring St. Peter's Basilica, listening to Charissa tell me about the architecture behind the building, as well as what she'd learned about the history of it from her visit with her school group.

St. Peter's Baldachin--hopefully no real lizards!

I took a few pictures in the square, and then we joined the line to get into the Basilica. They are serious about the dress code—there were actually people standing at a few points in line, looking everyone over to make sure that they were dressed appropriately enough to enter the Basilica. Charissa and both passed through without any problem, and then we were free to wander through the Basilica. The inside of the Basilica was absolutely incredible. I could honestly stay and admire the art and the architecture for hours. There's so much to see, I didn't even know where to look. The first thing I went to see inside the Basilica was La Pieta. It's just as stunning and realistic in person as it seems in all the pictures I've seen.

The whole time I was walking around the Basilica, I couldn't stop thinking how crazy it was that I was there, in Vatican City, actually walking through St. Peter's Basilica. Charissa explained more about the architectural history behind the building as we walked through—how difficult it was to find an architect that agreed with the Church's vision, and vice versa; how at the Baldachin at the front of the church, there was a myth that the architect had used real lizards and poured bronze over them, rather than carving them himself. The entire tour was fascinating, and I was so grateful that Charissa knew so much about the building that she could share. The only thing in the entire Basilica that I really did not enjoy was the bodies of the two popes that were preserved and kept on display. I understand why some people would want to visit the bodies of these famed religious leaders, but for me, it was just far too creepy.

One of the guards at St. Peter's Basilica.

We didn't stay in the Basilica for too long; there was so much that I still wanted to see and do before I had to leave the next day. After we left the Basilica, I saw the Vatican guards for the first time. They have the most ridiculous outfits I've ever seen, but somehow it doesn't look completely laughable! They have red, blue, and yellow striped suits reminiscent of the stereotypical joker's outfits. The more redeeming factors of their outfits would be the swords that hang from their belts, which are just a simple brown, and their hats—black berets. It was still one of the funniest outfits I've ever seen, especially for such official positions.

After visiting Vatican City, Charissa and I went to find lunch. I don't know if we ate inside Vatican City or if the restaurant we ended up at was back in Italy; there aren't really any signs to show where one country ends and another begins. But we found a little place that had decently priced pizza, and I figured I had to have pizza at least once while I was in Italy! Charissa also told me about the fountains that you can find all over Rome. There's a bunch of fountains scattered throughout the city and you can fill up your water bottles or just drink straight from the fountain itself. I filled up my water bottle, but I refrained from drinking straight from the fountain—for the time being.

Visiting the Lake

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The view of the lake and surrounding mountains, which I was lucky enough to enjoy during lunch on the lake.

One of the flowers that grew next to the
stairwell alongside the vineyards by the lake.

The day after our ill-fated hike at Cret du Locle, Jacques, Astrid, Pearl and I drove back to Switzerland to visit what I think was Lac de Neuchatel (Neuchatel Lake). We wouldn't be doing hiking like we'd tried to do at Cret du Locle, just a nice walk around the lake edge. It was a perfect day to visit the lake—there were only a few white, fluffy clouds in an otherwise clear blue sky. The lake was almost as blue as the sky, and there were sailboats drifting lazily across the water. There's not too much to describe about the walk. We walked along a trail that traced the edge of the lake, so we saw a gradually shifting viewpoint of the lake as we went.

We stopped for lunch at a little inlet that jutted out into the lake. There was a restaurant further back on the shore, but since we'd packed a lunch, we sat on a little dock that was just big enough for the four of us to set up our little picnic. It was such a nice lunch—enjoying sandwiches on the edge of the water, just watching the boats drift across the lake, and listening to Astrid's continuous stream of conversation.

After lunch, we continued around the edge of the lake. Before we'd stopped for lunch, we had mainly been walking through the outskirts of a city. There had been houses and little cafes and even some apartment buildings—very much a suburban setting. But after lunch, we had the lake on our left and vineyards and wide-open fields on our right. At one point, we veered off the main trail to walk up a thin set of stairs in one of the vineyards. It was a quick walk up the stairs, and once we'd reached the top, we were rewarded with an incredible view.

Another view of the lake from our walk around the edge.

The lake was our only stop that day, since Pearl had class at 8:30 the next morning. Jacques walked back to get the car and pick us up, and then we headed back to their house. Astrid and Jacques taught Pearl and I a French card game. It was a fun game that I unfortunately can not for the life of me remember how to play...and it doesn't help that their deck of cards is different than a typical American deck. Then we had dinner, and soon enough, it was time to go. Pearl, Astrid, and I got back into Astrid's car and headed back to Besancon so Pearl and I could get back to our five-hours a day classes.

Hiking in Switzerland

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I'll skip through the boring class stuff. Now that I was settled into A2.2, I felt like I was really starting to pick up on my French. There were plenty of interesting lessons; plenty of times that the way we learned the material had us all cracking up laughing. But I'd rather skip through those twenty-five hours of class and jump straight into the story of my second weekend in Besancon.

The view from my and Pearl's room at our house family's second house near the Swiss border.

I will mention Friday night. It was just another night out, and I met up with Jeannette and Brittany, who lived about ten minutes from me, and we continued into town to meet up with a few other people from Penn State and a bunch of the Arkansas people. We went to Madigan's, our normal meeting point (all the Americans met at the Irish bar in a little city in France...I'm still not quite sure what to make of that), and then we headed out to find a karaoke bar. When we finally found the karoake bar, there were probably about fifteen of us. I didn't sing (my excuse is that there weren't any songs that I liked), but Adriana, one of the Arkansas girls that was in my class, sang a few songs. Her voice was pretty good, and Brittany jumped in at one point. Overall, it was a good time.

After the karaoke bar, Adriana and I left to go to the gay club in town. We'd heard good things about it, so we decided to go check it out. It's hard to find somewhere in Besancon that's got music—basically there's a lot of bars and no clubs. So we went there, only to find that there were three people at the bar. The guy who took the cover charge told us that people didn't really start to come out until two in the morning. Since it was only midnight, Adriana and I agreed that we didn't want to hang around an empty club for so long, so we headed down to the river to hang out for a while. We were there for maybe half an hour to an hour before the group of Penn State and Arkansas students crossed the bridge Adriana and I were sitting under. They called to us, and Adriana and I hurried to join them.

Somehow we'd ended up by the CLA, and we stopped there, trying to figure out where we wanted to go. A few of us decided to go to a club up the street from the CLA, but everyone decided to go home. I decided to go to the club with Adriana and Daniel, who were both from my class, along with Brittany (from Arkansas), and another girl from Arkansas named Suzanne. The five of us went to the club, which was the best club we'd found in Besancon thus far. We stayed out for about an hour before we all felt it was time to go home. I walked with Suzanne, and ended up back home around four—definitely a long night. And I knew I'd be regretting it later that day.

Part of the little lake by the second house.

For the second weekend, Astrid had invited Pearl and I to go with her to her husband's home near the Swiss border. We hadn't yet met her husband, who I'll call Jacques, as he was on a business trip in Southeast Asia, but Astrid said that he'd be back on Saturday, so Pearl and I would meet him then. I was excited to head out and see more of France, and some of Switzerland. So on Saturday morning, after I'd gotten about three hours of sleep, Pearl, Astrid and I headed out.

Astrid's driving terrifies me. I don't know if it's just a different style of driving in France compared to what I'm used to in the United States, but I felt like Astrid was all over the place, jerking from one side of the road to the other—all while driving at what felt like 70 mph. As someone who frequently gets car sick when I'm not the one driving, I felt like I was on one of the longest car rides of my life. It didn't help that I'd gone out to a club with friends the night before and hadn't gotten home until almost four, so I was exhausted.

Finally, we made it safely to Astrid and Jacques's home, which is an adorable little house tucked away in the foothills of a set of mountains. The scenery was stunning, and certainly not quite what I'd been expecting. Everything was just so beautiful. Pearl and I were both fascinated by the paragliders floating through the air just over the top of the mountain behind the house. Both of us kind of wanted to go paragliding, but that idea didn't go over too well with our host mother.

Astrid left after about an hour to go pick Jacques up from the airport...or the train station, I can't quite remember which. She gave Pearl and I a key to the house and the two of us went for a walk into the

Just hanging out by the lake...this tree was made for this!

little town surrounding our host family's second house. Before we'd even walked five minutes, Pearl and I stumbled onto a little lake a little ways off the side of the road. The water was such a stunning, clear blue that I couldn't help but wish that a) it was a little warmer out and b) I had a swimsuit with me. Pearl and I walked around the length of the lake, snapping pictures the whole way. Finally, we decided we should head back to the house—we thought that Astrid would be back with Jacques by that point.

And he was! It was the first time Pearl and I had met Jacques, and we were both keen to see what he was like. He was very sweet; not nearly as talkative as Astrid; but he seemed very genuine and down-to-earth. And he seemed to balance Astrid out quite well. Where she was overly chatty and sometimes a little overwhelming, he was quiet and knew how to calm things down. I think if he'd lived with us in Besancon, things would have been different. We had lunch together, talking about Jacques's work trip (he works for Nestle, and I think he was basically inspecting facilites in the countries he visited).

The view of the lake from the top of Cret du Locle.

After lunch, we headed out to Cret du Locle for a hike. We took two cars so that we only had to hike up the mountain—not back down it. I took a ride with Jacques and Pearl rode with Astrid. I don't know how long the drive was—I was nodding off the whole time, snapping back awake everytime Jacques asked a question or started explaining something. I was definitely kicking myself for staying out so late the night before. Jacques parked his car and the two of us joined Astrid and Pearl and we headed to the top of a hill that rose above the city.

Another view from the trail alongside Cret du Locle.

It was another half hour drive to the top of the mountain we were going to hike. We weren't hiking up the mountain—just along the ride at the top, so we could see the lake. It was a really pleasant hike, and it was an easy hike as well, since it was just a flat trail. When we finally got closer to the edge and the lake below came into view, the image was nothing short of stunning. The cliffs just kind of dropped off, and about a hundred feet below, I could see the treetops stretching from the base of the cliffs to the edge of the lake, which curved around the bases of several mountains. The whole thing had a kind of eery feel to it as well because it was a cloudy day, so there were low-hanging clouds and general fogginess that hung about the mountains.

We took a lot of pictures alongside the edges of the cliffs, but eventually we continued down the trail. There was a storm that we'd heard off in the distance when we'd arrived, but now it was getting even closer. The thunder was getting louder and louder, and the dark grey clouds were coming closer to us, so there was a new sense of urgency in our steps. We tried very, very hard to get back to the car as quickly as we could; there was no way we could have gotten to the base of the mountain and back to Jacques's car before the rain hit. But we couldn't move fast enough. The rain started first, and we picked up the pace even more. And then it started to hail.

The ground, coated in hail after the storm passed through.

The hail started as tiny little pieces, maybe the size of a few grains of rice. But then they started getting bigger. By the time we stopped to huddle under a tree for shelter, the balls of hail were like marbles raining down on us. I'd brought my sweatshirt, but I didn't have a raincoat, so Pearl and I both huddled under her raincoat, and Pearl leant me her baseball cap to protect my head. We must have stayed huddled under that tree for at least ten minutes. Finally, the hail started getting smaller, so we made our break for it. It felt like a very long walk, uphill, hail crunching underfoot as I tried to keep my footing. And now, my sweatshirt and pants were wet, which made the whole thing that much more interesting.

Finally, the hail stopped and the rain cleared up, making the walk much more bearable. Jacques gave me his fleece to switch out for my soaked-through sweatshirt, so I felt much warmer, and then we had some crackers and chocolates. The day had definitely taken a turn for the better after the hail stopped. We decided to just go back to Astrid's car at the top of the mountain rather than trying to hike back down to Jacques's car at the bottom, so it was another easy walk. And then, halfway to Astrid's car, we spotted some deer off in the woods, munching on the grass. It was so cool—I'd seen pictures of these creatures before (I call them deer, because that's what they're closest too, but they're not deer like we know from the US), but I never expected to see them up-close! They were so adorable!

The two little deer-like things we saw after the storm!

After an incredibly interesting day, we headed back to Jacques and Astrid's house in France. We crossed the border from Switzerland back into France—which is astonishingly easy. There wasn't even anyone standing at the border when we drove through! We got back to the house and had dinner and looked at Jacques's photos from his trip to Southeast Asia before finally going to bed. I fell asleep almost instantly—by the end of that night, I was definitely regretting my decision to stay out late the night before. But finally, it was time to go to sleep and get as much rest as possible before we went for another trip the next day.

Hiking with the host family

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Me and my housemate, Pearl, before we started our hike.

The day after my trip to Dijon with Katie and Miranda, my host mother took my housemate, Pearl, and I for a hike. We went for about and hour long drive until we got to the top of a trail that led to la Source de Loue—the place where the water that feeds the river Loue comes out from the mountain. The day was pretty cool, and the hike was beautiful. Pearl and I talked back and forth while Astrid (our host mother) charged ahead. The trail cut straight through the woods, so it was an incredibly serene walk. There were tire treads from bikes that had gone down the trail recently, and I was so jealous! It would have been the perfect trail to do some mountain-biking on.

The painting of the Source de la Loue.

When we got to the bottom of the trail, I was met by the sound of rushing water—not quite the roar of a waterfall, but much louder than just a normal river. There was a poster of a painting (I think a Courbet piece) that depicted a person standing on the rocks at the mouth of the cave where the water came rushing out. Astrid told Pearl and I to look at the painting first—before we looked at our actual surroundings. She told us that the painting was one from the beginning of the art period where painters started to make more realistic works. And sure enough—the painting was a pretty accurate depiction of the cave that stood before us. The entire scene was simply stunning.

And the actual Source de la Loue.

After that hike, we drove to another area near by to have lunch and then to hike to a cave where smugglers had once hidden counterfeit coins—or, Grotte des Faux Monnayeurs. This hike was a little more interesting. Most of the hike was what I'd normally expect from a hike—following a trail as it wound through the woods. But then, just when we got to the cave, it got a little bit trickier (at least for me). The clear-cut trail came to an end and we had to navigate down a steeper incline and across rocks at some points. It hadn't really been raining that day, but the rocks were still slick from the last time it had rained. I was so afraid I was going to slip! But I made it down that little set of rocks without incident—only to be greeted by this little metal ladder we had to climb to get to the mouth of the cave.

The ladder was a rickety little thing, or that's how it seemed to me as I shifted my weight from one rung to the next, holding onto a shaky railing for support. The cave was cool enough to make up for the less-than-perfect approach. There were little wells at the opening of the cave that had been gradually worn away from the rock as water dripped onto those spots. The cave itself was immense. In fact, I've no real idea how big it actually is, since we never made it to the back, and none of us had strong enough flashlights to light everything up. If I had to guess, I'd say that we probably made it about halfway to the back of the cave, carefully hopping from rock to rock to avoid the water, using cell phones to light the way. But we finally reached a point where we couldn't keep walking—there was a veritable pond that kept us from going any further. It was nearly impossible for me to imagine someone hiding false silver there—but it was so removed from civilization that I could also see why it was such a good spot.

The cave opening, as seen from halfway back.

After we visited the cave, we hiked further down to another 'source.' I can't remember what it was called, but the water rushed out from what looked like a gash in the side of the mountain. The waterfall was impressive, and the sound of the waterfall and the small river it formed echoed through the forest. We walked around there for a bit and then returned to Astrid's car to drive to another hiking spot. We drove for about another hour to get to a hiking spot that was near the hike to the summit of one of the mountains.

The hike was a pretty easy one, just a little steep, with a lot of stairs. But as we climbed, the view got better and better. Finally, at the very top, the whole valley spread out in front of us. There was a beautiful, panoramic view that honestly took my breath away. There were three different peaks grouped together, and I hurried from one to the other to see the best view from each of them. It didn't really matter; each view was absolutely amazing. Thankfully, that was the last hike of the day. I was so exhausted, I'm not quite sure how I managed to stay awake for dinner.

The view from the summit of our hike!

On the way back to our house, our host mother stopped at a little village called Ornans. There wasn't much to see, but we stopped to look at the river, which runs right up against the houses. There's one house where the woman that lived there marked the height of every flood that's come through. Some were quite small, just average flooding after a little more rain than usual. But some of the marks were up to my waist or even higher! It was sobering, to realize that, where I was standing, there was a point in history where the spot in which I was standing would have been completely covered in water.

My favorite part of the little stop at Ornans was when I was standing by the river. On my right hand side, there was a gate at the end of a driveway. The wall that's up against the river wasn't blocked by the gate. As I was standing there, this dog poked it's head around the gate and just stared at me--and it was an adorable little husky!! I was so happy to see a doggy of the same breed as my little Koda.

Overall, although I was completely wiped out at the end of the day on Sunday, I'd had a wonderful weekend--especially since I got to see a little siberian husky! It was truly and excellent weekend.

A Day in Dijon

2013-07-28T10:15:00.002-07:00

The first weekend in Besancon, Katie, Miranda and I made plans to go to Dijon for the day on Saturday. I met Katie in town that morning and we went to the SNCF (France's train company) office to buy our tickets. Miranda wasn't feeling well that day, so she wasn't going to come with us. Katie and I headed to the train station to figure out how to get to Dijon. Since both of us had fairly limited French skills, it was a little difficult to get our tickets and our reduction cards. (The SNCF has reduction cards based on age group. Mine cost €50 and definitely paid for itself many times over). There was a train to Dijon that left too soon for us to make it, and the next one wasn't until half past noon. So Katie and I bought our tickets and then called Miranda to see if she wanted to come with us, since the train was so much later than we thought it would be. She said she wanted to come and that she'd be into town in about an hour. So Katie and I walked around centre ville, looking in the shops, and killing time until Miranda got there.

The inside of the first church we visited.

Miranda had an easier time of ordering tickets than Katie and I did since Katie just showed the SNCF worker our tickets and said “Elle voudrait acheter the meme, s'il vous plait.” (She wants to buy that same, please). Once we all had our tickets, we headed to the train station. We got on the number 10 bus first, since that bus goes to the train station. But after all of five minutes on the bus, I thought that we might not be going the right way. So I asked the bus driver if the bus stopped at the train station, and he said that we were on the wrong bus—we should have gotten on the bus going the opposite direction. So he stopped the bus and let us off there, so that we wouldn't get further away from the train station than we already were. I had a general idea of where the train station was by foot, because I'd come across it accidentally after getting lost on the walk to school one day. So we started walking, hoping that we'd make it to the train station in time to catch the train.

Thankfully, we made it to the train station just in time. I think we got on the train maybe two minutes before it left. But all that matter was that we'd made the train and we were headed to Dijon for the day—baguettes in hand. The train ride wasn't too long, and we were in Dijon around 1:30. Our train back to Besancon wasn't until 9:30 that night, so we had almost eight hours to spend in town. We accidentally took the long way into town—walking all the way around the opposite side of the train station just to end up in front of the train station—a walk that would have taken less than three minutes if we'd just gone the right way. But it was a nice little walk and we got to see the skyline (and by that I mean a few church steeples) of Dijon before we headed into the center of town.

Our first stop was at a church near the train station. It was from Katie's France tour book, and it seemed like as good a place as any to start our trip. The church was under construction, so there was scaffolding up with banners over the scafolding that showed pictures of what the church looked like without any construction material in front of it. The inside of the church was beautiful, with gorgeous statues and intricate carvings throughout the church. Across the street from the church, we visited the weirdest little museum I've ever seen. There wasn't much in the museum, just a couple paintings, an odd display of horse hair, and glass panels on the floor that may have been meant to show off something special—I really don't know.

Part of the front of the Palais des Ducs de Bourgogne.

After leaving the odd little museum, the three of us headed towards centre ville to find something for lunch. We'd bought baguettes before leaving Besancon, but that was more for snack food on the train...and while just walking around. I saw the McDonald's sign as we neared centre ville and thought that I'd really love a chocolate milkshake. So, naturally, we went to McDonald's (or MacDo's, as the French call it) for lunch. And then after lunch, we continued to absorb the French culture by stopping at H&M for some shopping. We were there for over an hour, but in the end, I only bought a pair of light sneakers, since I'd only packed hiking shoes, running shoes, and sandals.

Once we'd had enough of shopping (or, more accurately, once we'd felt we'd spent enough money), Katie, Miranda, and I continued on down the road to try to find the Palais des Ducs de Bourgogne (Palace of the Duke of Bourgogne). On our way there, we caught the final part of a set of dancers performing on a stage in a grand square. I think they were a troop of gypsies, since they didn't seem to be connected to any kind of event. It was a really cool thing to watch—a pleasant surprise. Sometimes, those are my favorite things about vacation—finding really fascinating things when and where you least expect them.

The Saint-Michel church in Dijon.

After we left that square, we found the Palais des Ducs de Bourgogne pretty easily. It wasn't open for tours when we got there, but it was still a pretty cool building to admire, even just from the outside. Some of the intricate interior work was visible through grand glass doors, but even the architecture itself was something to be admired.

From there, we went to the Saint-Michel church. (I think those are the French's two favorite church names—Saint-Michel and Notre Dame; they're everywhere!). The Saint-Michel church was another prime example of impressive architecture in Europe. No matter how many churches I visit, I feel like there's always at least one special thing about each church that makes it stand out, even a little. This church had some of the most intricate carvings I've ever seen clustered around the main doors, with a little tower that may have once housed a bell atop the middle door.

After visiting Saint-Michel, we went to see—wait for it—le Cathedral Notre Dame. (I told you, the French love naming churches after Mary). The inside of the church wasn't anything to fawn over, but there was a little owl carving on the side of the church. Local legend says that visitors who touch the owl with their left hand will have a wish come true. The owl's features have been completely worn away by so many people touching it, but the three of us made our wishes—hopefully that little owl can still work his magic!

Yes, this is supposed to be a lucky owl.
(Thanks again to Miranda for the pic!)

At that point, we were all starting to feel a bit worn down by our day of walking, so we headed back towards centre ville, since it's so close to the train station. When we got to centre ville, we realized that we'd stumbled upon some kind of bike expo. There were people doing demonstrations with unicycles and people showing off their weird or unique bikes. It was really cool. We sat on a massive planter in the middle of the square and just watched everything for a while. It was nice—we could just chill out and watch the people doing tricks, but after a while, the three of us all got a bit bored. So we headed out—first to one park, were we took some pictures and played on the roundabout at the playground.

Finally, we headed to the grand park right next to the train station—our final stop of the day before we got on the train back to Besancon. Overall, it was a perfect day trip. We got to see the sites, do some shopping, and just hang out and talk. It was a good way to start what would soon become a tradition of traveling somewhere new and exciting every weekend.

Les classes commencent!

2013-07-23T16:23:00.004-07:00

The next morning, I started class at 10:30. I walked to school alone, since Pearl started class two hours before me. And I got lost. I don't know how I got so lost, but it's a good thing I left the house over an hour before class started, because it took me that long to get to the school. Luckily, after about forty minutes of walking, I came out onto a street that ran along the river. My school's on the river as well, so I just had to walk alongside the river and I knew I'd get to the school. Finally, after an hour-long walk, I made it to school.

I was in the same class as Katie and Brittany, and when we got to class that morning, we met another American, Aidan, and a German guy named Leni. There were also a lot of students from Libya. In total, there were about fifteen of us in this class. It was a different style of class than I'm used to in the US. We had no textbooks, so we just had to take notes as the teacher lectured through myriad topics of French grammar and vocabulary. I was lucky—I felt like I was in a good level for my skills, and I shared class with friends, so I was happy. Other people didn't get quite so lucky right away, but a lot of us did some shifting of class levels until we were comfortable.

I personally lasted just three days in A2.1 before my teacher decided to move me and one other person. She wanted to move all the American students, and Leni, because it was clear that we just weren't on the same level as the Libyan students. But there was only room to move two of us, so we all took a series of small tests (again!), and my teacher graded them and decided to move Brittany and I to A2.2. The day that I changed class levels, Miranda was moved up into my class. So for about fifteen minutes, we were all in the same class. And then, since Brittany was on vacation with her host family, I headed to A2.2 by myself—more than a little nervous about how difficult this new class would be.

Fortunately, A2.2 turned out to be exactly what I needed. I had two teachers—Agathe taught class on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning; Olivier taught class on Wednesday afternoon, Thursday, and Friday. They had different teaching styles, but I felt like I was really able to start learning and expanding on my French. The classes were broken up into three sessions. In the morning, I started with two hours of lecture/speaking. Those two hours generally alternate between explanations by the teacher and different exercises to practice speaking French. After lunch, there's a one hour session where we watch videos, listen to audio clips, or do other exercises to improve grammar or listening comprehension—it depends on what the teacher chooses for that particular day.

Once I was settled into A2.2, I started to feel like my French was improving much more rapidly. I was getting a better understanding for grammar, I was learning more vocab, and I was getting more comfortable speaking the language. I'm still very, very far from anything resembling fluency, but I feel much more confident with French now than I did when I first arrived in France and could barely order dinner.

I also met a group of students from Arkansas in A2.2. I knew that there were two main groups of American students at the CLA: Penn State students and Arkansas students. There were a few other people from other schools around the United States, but most of us were concentrating in those two groups. By the end of the month, most of us had made friends with many of the Arkansas students, and when we had to say good-bye to them at the end of June, it was with promises of visiting each other soon. In my class, there were four Arkansas students: Kim, Adriana, Daniel, and Joel. There were also two other Penn State students in our class: Mars and Sabrina. We took over an entire corner of the class—our own little section of America.

I no longer had class with Katie, Aidan, Leni, or Miranda but we still had lunch at the same time. So for the entire month of June, we would meet every morning in the hallway outside our classrooms, trading stories of the night before. And then we'd go our separate ways and meet up again two hours later, this time talking about what topics we'd learned in class that morning. It was an easy routine to settle into, and it was nice to have that break from French every day. Five hours of classes is a lot, and it's easy to feel overwhelmed by French when you start the day by eating breakfast with a French-speaking host mother, then go to French class for five hours, and then go back to your host house for more French.

I won't share stories from classes—with so much class time, I'd be telling stories for months, and still have some left to tell. And there's so much more to talk about—after all, I had two months to spend in France, and with so many sites to see, there was no way I was going to stay in Besancon for all of it!

The CLA and Fort Chaudanne

2013-07-20T05:40:00.001-07:00

I got up early that morning, ate breakfast—where I repeated my phrase of the night before over and over, wishing that I understood more of what Astrid was saying to me. Then, Pearl and I took the bus into town. The bus from our house to the school takes about twenty minutes. It was a nice ride—Pearl and I spent the whole ride wonering which level French we'd be placed into. We got off the bus at a stop across the river from the CLA and took a short walk through a park and across a bridge to get to the school, and then headed to the top floor to take the placement test.

The city of Besancon, as seen from the top of the hill by Fort Chaudanne.

I don't think there's much of a need to describe the placement test—there was a lot of writing and a lot of grammar, and it took about three hours. It wasn't the most fun I'd ever had during the first day at school. But once the writing part of the test was done, I had a two hour break before I had to be back at the CLA for my oral exam. Several other people had a similar amount of time to spend on their break, so we headed out to lunch. I ended up with Katie and Miranda again, along with several other people, including some from Arkansas—the other main group of American students at the CLA. We walked into town for lunch, walked around town for a little while, and made our way back to the CLA in ones and twos, depending on the time of our oral exam.

I headed back alone for my oral exam, since no one was taking their exam at the same time as me. There was another girl, named Brittany, who was from the Penn State group in the hallway, waiting to take her exam—she was in the same room as me, but she had to wait until I was done before she could take her exam. When the teacher called me into the room, I headed in, nervous, but aware that I couldn't really pass or fail—either I knew the material or I didn't, and I would be placed accordingly.

And I'm glad I felt that way, because that oral exam was not exactly the best moment in my French studies. I did quite well with the basic introductory stuff—name, age, nationality, etc. But when she asked me more in depth questions, I simply said “Desole? Je ne te comprends pas.” which means “Sorry? I don't understand you.” And when she asked me to describe my sister, I simply forgot all the descriptive words I could use. The whole thing lasted for about five minutes, but it felt like so much longer!

The view of Besancon from about halfway up the hill.

After the oral exam, I wished Brittany luck, and then decided to head out for a walk. There wasn't anyone else hanging around the CLA, so I headed down the road toward the woods on the edge of town. About ten minutes down the road, I came across a set of stairs that led up into the woods. It was
exactly what I'd been looking for—a good hike in the woods in Besancon. So I headed up the stairs and set out down the trail through the woods. The trail zig-zaged up the hill for a little less than a mile, before it opened to reveal Fort Chaudanne. I wandered around the top of the hill, around the fort, enjoying the view. From the top of the hill, I could see almost all of Besancon spread before me, the river snaking around centre ville.

The entrance to Fort Chaudanne...unfortunately it was closed.

Before I left the hill, I wandered around a bit more and found two things. The first was a plaque that explained that Fort Chaudanne was the site of the 3rd Division of the American Infantry during World War II. The second was a memorial commemorating the French and American troops who had fought at that site for French independence towards the end of the second World War. It was a very cool and a kind of sobering experience—completely by accident, I'd stumbled across something
straight out of history. I was standing where American soldiers had fought and died in World War II, and I hadn't even realized it.

I returned to the CLA to take a tour of the mediatheque (library) and to wait for the class placements to be posted. The tour of the library was a long affair, drawn out much longer than it really needed to be. Which is why I skipped out on the mediatheque tour (I'd arrived after the first tour had started, and my friends told me that it wasn't worth it to join the second tour, so I never actually did it). And, just to clarify, I've had absolutely no problem finding a book or using any other aspect of the mediatheque.

The plaque and monument for the soldiers.

After the tours of the mediatheque, I headed upstairs to the CLA's cafe to hang out with a bunch of other students until the class posting were up. There was a group of about ten of us sitting on the balcony outside the cafe, comparing what we knew of French, and talking about what classes we thought we'd be in and what we hoped to be able to do at the end of our time in France.

Finally, it was time to go see what classes everyone was in. We all made our way downstairs, where we were greeted by a mass of people crammed into a tiny hallway, all trying to get a look at the class listings to find their name. I finally found mine—class A2.1, starting at 10:30 the next morning. For intensive classes, it wasn't the worst schedule—I'd be taking class every morning from 10:30 to 12:30, getting lunch from then until 2:30, and then returning to class until 5:30. I was in class with Katie and Brittany, but I didn't know anyone else in our class at that point. It was such a relief to have friends in the same class!

By the time the classes were posted, it was nearly 7:00 PM, so I found Pearl and we took the bus back to the house for dinner. Pearl's classes started at 8:30, so our schedules don't often line up. She's always out of the house before me, and I'll see her at lunch sometimes, when our classes overlap for an hour, and then we both end up at our house sometime around 7:00 every night for dinner. I didn't realize it then, but Pearl and I would eventually come to rely on each other for a bit of sanity in an interesting host-family situation.

So far, everything seemed to be off to a good start. I was settled into my host family's house, and I was ready to start classes.

(I'll add pictures to this soon...I have to go for another hike up to Fort Chaudanne to get some pictures!)

And so it begins...

2013-07-16T12:29:00.000-07:00

The morning after the marathon day in Paris (I'm pretty sure we were walking for at least 14 hours), I headed to Gare de Lyon along with eight other people to meet our advisors and the rest of our group. We made quite the group—nine of us towing our luggage through Gare du Nord, onto the metro, to Gare de Lyon. When we finally met our teacher, there was a group of about 25 of us all together. We checked our luggage into the consigne (luggage storage) and then took a bus to Saint-Michel to go get lunch. We ate lunch by the fountain and then crossed the street to visit Notre Dame again. There wasn't much time that day to visit all the sites we wanted to see, so we took some pictures outside Notre Dame and then we continued through Paris.

We spent the whole day operating under constant threat of rain, so our group never stopped for long at any particular site. And the day seemed to fly by. I knew that we only had a few hours to spend in Paris before we had to catch the train, but I didn't realize just how fast that time would pass. It was a blur--just a few hours after my friends and I had left the hostel, we were all headed back to Gare de Lyon to wait for our train.

Our train left from Gare de Lyon at 4:00 PM that day, so our group headed back to the train station around 2:30. We headed to the hall where the “Grand Lignes” depart, grouped all our luggage as tightly together as we could, and sat around talking and playing card games until it was time to board. It was a good way to get to know each other and the perfect way to pass the time while we waited.

Penn State had booked first-class tickets from Paris to Besancon, so I got a very comfortable seat for the ride in. It was about a three hour ride to Besancon, and I slept as peacefully as my dog does for almost the entire ride. I woke up when the train was about a half an hour outside Besancon, so I enjoyed the scenery and waited anxiously, excited to meet my host family.

When we reached the train station, everyone gathered their luggage and crowded out onto the platform. There was a man from the CLA (Centre de Linguistics Applique—my school for the summer) waiting for us, along with a row of people that turned out to be the different host families from our gorup. I bid farewell to my newly-made friends as they headed out with their host families. Eventually, there were only a few of us left on the platform. I was comforted by the fact that I had another student living with me, so we could at least hang out with our professor while we waited to figure out what was going on. Just when we were leaving the platform, three more host families came up—they'd been waiting in the lobby of the train station, thinking we'd come out there rather than waiting on the platform. That was the first time I met my host mother, who I'll just refer to as Astrid (because it sounds cool and I don't want to use her real name).

I live with Astrid and another Penn State student—Pearl. It's just the three of us, unless we spend a weekend with our host father and Astrid as well. He works in Switzerland, so he lives closer to the border. That first night was interesting—my French was pretty bad at that point, so I had a lot of difficulty understanding what Astrid was saying. I spent most of dinner just saying “Oui, oui” without really understanding what it was that she was saying. The dinner was a very nice dinner, and then Astrid let Pearl and I go to get settled into our rooms. I was so tired at that point that I just unpacked a few things, checked my facebook and email, and crawled into bed, wishing that I didn't have to get up so early the next morning to take a placement test.

Finally in France!

2013-07-08T14:55:00.002-07:00

After a few well-spent days in London, I boarded my bus to Paris. I was sorry to say good-bye to London, but I was so ready to get to Paris and finally start immersing myself in the French culture. The bus ride wasn't bad--in fact, it went quite well, except for the fact that as someone who's a wee bit claustrophobic, I wasn't exactly overjoyed when I realized that to go through the Chunnel (English Channel Tunnel), the bus had to drive into a train car, and that train went through the tunnel. I would have felt just a little better if the bus had just driven through the Chunnel. Being trapped in a train car was a little bit tighter than I would have preferred. But, now I can say that I travelled through the Chunnel!!

The bus stop was at a station called Gallieni, which is on the outskirts of Paris. I took the metro through Paris to Gare du Nord, which was just down the street from my hostel. I hadn't had access to a printer, so all I had was the name and address of the hostel. I started walking down the street, suitcase in tow. I made it to a point where several roads intersected. I didn't know which way to go, since it seemed like the end of the street. So I turned around and walked the other way down the street, thinking that the hostel was on the other side of the street. Except at the other end of the street, I came to a dead end and a Best Western. At this point, it was misting--not actually raining, but there was just enough to coat the lenses of my glasses and my bags. After walking up and down the street a few times, I finally took shelter under an awning by a McDonalds to call my dad. I'd been looking up and down the street for the hostel, which was at number 25. Except I'd passed 25 at least five times, and there definitely wasn't a hostel there. So I called my dad and asked him to look up Smart Place Paris. It turns out the address was 28, not 25, and number 28 was just across the huge intersection that I hadn't crossed earlier. Knowing that, it was pretty easy to find.

It was such a relief to get to the hostel, to check in, and to finally set my bags down. Once I'd dropped my bags off, I grabbed my laptop and headed downstairs to use the wifi. I wanted to find a good place to eat and to figure out when other people from my school's group were getting to Paris. I knew that I wasn't the only one getting to Paris a day or two early, and I was eager to meet the people I'd be spending the next two months with. I got connected to the wifi, let my parents know that I was safely in Paris, and just as I started looking through posts on my group's facebook page, I got a message from one of the other girls from the group. She was staying at the same hostel as me, and she was already in Paris. In fact, she was actually sitting on the other side of the lobby. We were both hungry at that point, so we decided to head out to dinner.

The coolest lock on the lover's bridge.

Her name is Miranda, and we spent dinner just getting to know each other and talking about how excited we were to start improving our French. Looking back now, I can't help but laugh at how poor my French was--I couldn't even remember to say 'oui' instead of 'yeah,' and when the waiter asked me what kind of dressing I wanted and listed the types they offered, my first answer was 'oui!' After dinner, Miranda and I decided that we wanted to get to the Eiffel Tower to see the way it lights up every night. We took the metro from Gare du Nord to Saint-Michel, but messed up the transfer that we should have taken from there to the metro stop by the Eiffel Tower. We decided that, even though it was pretty cold for a night late in May in Paris, we would walk along the Seine, since the Eiffel Tower stands right next to the river. We made it about halfway to the Eiffel Tower when it started lighting up, but it was still really impressive. Miranda had seen it before, but this was my first time seeing it, and it was a perfect image to kick off my stay in France.

It somehow worked out that Miranda and I were actually staying in the same room, so the next morning we were able to set out at the same time and go get breakfast. We knew that there would be another girl coming to the hostel around 11, so we went out for breakfast (crepes, of course!) and then headed back to the hostel to wait for the other girl. When we got back to the hostel, there weren't many people there, but we weren't sure if the blonde girl sitting by the window was from our group or not. After debating
for a few moments, Miranda just walked up to her and asked if she was from Penn State. As luck would have it, she was. Her name is Katie, and so our group had added one more. As we were talking, trying to figure out what all we wanted to do that day, a guy sitting in the corner said "I don't mean to interrupt, but did you say you're from Penn State?" So Miranda and I had gone back to the hostel to try to meet up with Katie, and we ended up leaving the hostel with a fourth person from our group--James. So when we left the hostel around noon that day, there were four of us heading out into the city.

La Tour Eiffel from l'Arc de Triomphe.

We made our way to Saint-Michel and Notre Dame. We didn't stay there long because we knew we'd be returning the next day when the entire Penn State group met up. We stayed for maybe half an hour before we continued down the Seine toward the Louvre. On the way there, we passed Pont des Arts--better known as the lover's bridge, or that bridge where couples leave padlocks on the railings and fences. The railings were completely covered in locks--I don't know how anyone finds a place to put their own lock; although there were locks that were simply attached to other padlocks.

Since that bridge is right by the Louvre, we just crossed over to that next. There's so much artwork inside the Louvre that it wasn't worth it to go in for just a few hours; not with so much of the city left to see, so we continued on to see the obelisk and after that the Champs-Elysees and the Arc de Triomphe. We saw the obelisk and then took a stroll down the Champs-Elysees. We stopped for lunch at a little restaurant on the Champs-Elysees. After that, James left to go meet his friend Sean, who was arriving in Paris around lunch that day. Katie, Miranda and I continued down the Champs-Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe. I'd visited the Arc last summer when I visited my friend Matthieu, but I hadn't climbed to the top. This time, the three of us bought our tickets and headed to the stairs.

The climb wasn't too bad, but the stairwell was long enough that my claustrophobia kicked in a bit (I should clarify that it's not claustrophobia exactly--it's not small spaces that make me nervous, it's spaces

Katie, Miranda, and me enjoying our crepes
by the Eiffel Tower (while it was pouring).

where I can't see a way out). Anyway, the climb was long enough that I got fairly nervous. It was such a relief to get out on top of the Arc--fresh air and a wonderful view--it was well worth the climb. I personally thought that the view from the top of the Arc was better than the view from the Eiffel Tower--you can just see more of the city from the Arc, from a different perspective. I loved it. After we headed back down the stairwell, I felt a little shaky again, so Katie read about the Arc de Triomphe from her guidebook.

After visiting the Arc, the three of us made our way through the town to the Eiffel Tower. The weather was still colder than I would have preferred, and by the time we got to the Eiffel Tower, it was misting
again. We bought crepes from a stand across the street from the Eiffel Tower and ate while we hung out by the tower. Finally, we headed back to our hostel to see who else had arrived.

At the hostel we met a few more people; James had met his friend Sean, and we were also joined by a few other girls (I cannot remember everyone's names! It seems like it was just yesterday, but it was almost a month and a half ago already). With our newly increased numbers, we left the hostel to go see Sacre-Coeur, Moulin Rouge, and to go see the Eiffel Tower light up later that night. Sacre-Coeur was the first stop. We took the metro to the stop nearest it, then had to make our way through the streets until we reached the church. Since Sacre-Coeur's at the top of a hill, there's a lot of stairs to get to the top. But this was yet another example of a view well-worth the climb. The view from in front of Sacre-Coeur was quite impressive. I couldn't see the Eiffel Tower, because some trees grew in the way, but to see Paris spread out before me was a sight I'll remember for a long time.

Our little group of Penn State people at Sacre-Coeur!
(Thanks to Miranda for this and the pic with the crepes!)

After leaving Sacre-Coeur, we started looking for a place to eat dinner. We had every intention of finding a good French restaurant to eat at, but somehow we ended up in an Italian restaurant. So to start
my stay in France, I'd had a burger for dinner one night and pasta for dinner the next. It's a good thing I've had over a month to catch up on my traditional French meals! After dinner, the next stop for our group was Moulin Rouge. It was far to expensive to try to see a show there, but it's one of those sites that you just have to see at some point. We got our pictures outside, and then went into a supermarket down the street to buy some champagne to pop by the Eiffel Tower when it lit up.

The Eiffel Tower and the full moon.

For our final stop of the night, we walked to Trocadéro, the park across the river from the Seine, to get the best view of the Eiffel Tower when it started to light up. We sat on the wall in front of the Palais de Chaillot, and fended off the street vendors that constantly try to sell little trinkets to tourists. Miranda tried to bargain with a few of them--pretty successfully, too. But after a while, they just get too pushy and there's too many of them, so we stopped talking to them at all. Finally, the tower lit up. It was a perfect night for it--it had finally stopped raining; the clouds parted and there was a near-full moon shining right next to the tower when it started to light up. It was definitely an amazing spectacle, made even better when my friends popped their champagne bottles to celebrate our arrival in France. It was the perfect way to start off our journey in France--even if it meant being more than a little tired when we met the rest of our group the next day.

Finally, I'd arrived in France, and I was so ready to start learning the language! There was one more day in Paris, and then I'd be heading to Besancon to finally start working on my French!

A (Very) Long Story about a Short Stay in London

2013-07-03T14:43:00.000-07:00

Now that I've caught up on my storytelling from my time studying in Scotland last year (finally!), it's time to continue my tale with more stories of the world outside the little part I call home. This time, the story starts in London, but let me give a bit of an introduction:

When I transferred from Arcadia University to Penn State, one of the things that drew me to Penn State was a French immersion program. This program zould allow me to live and study in France, with the purpose of improving my French language skills. I applied to the program as soon as it opened up and waited anxiously for months to find out whether I had been accepted or not. Finally, in early March, I got the news--I was headed to France!! I'd be spending two months living in France and studying French (and of course, traveling as far as my pocketbook would allow).

It's like the Studio Tour knew exactly who they were
dealing with...Dobby's the best!! A++ for the ticket.

Which brings us to London. I flew from Philadelphia to London to start my trip. It was the cheapest way to get to Europe, and honestly, I didn't need an excuse to convince myself to go to London. It just seemed like the right way to start the trip. I arrived in London around noon on a Tuesday, and headed
for my hostel (The Walrus Hostel--awesome name choice!). I was too early to check in and get settled in the room, but I wasn't bothered because I'd booked myself a ticket to go see the Harry Potter studio tour for a second time! I stowed my bags in the luggage locker at the hostel, found my way down the street to Waterloo station, and finally I was on my way to the studio tour!

I was worried that I was going to be late for the studio tour, since I got off the train at Watford Junction at 2:00--which was the time I was supposed to enter the studio tour. I had to wait for the bus to get there, and then I watched the village pass by through the window until we finally got to the studios (aptly named J and K--although I may have mentioned that before). I won't go into too much detail, since I've already described how much I love the Studio Tour. I will say that it was well worth the trip to go see the studios and sets once more, and I would go back for a third time if the chance were to arise. This time, I had the added bonus of actually bringing a back-up battery for my camera, so I wasn't left without a way to take pictures at the highlight of the tour. It was a perfect trip.

The scale model of the Hogwarts Castle. I can't even explain how much I wish this was a real place to be explored!

I headed back to London, but when I got to Euston Station, I couldn't figure out how to get to the metro. You have to change stations or floors from the overground trains to the metro, and it took me a little while to figure it out. And then it took me even longer to grab the right metro to the right stop. So I was caught on the metro during the height of end-of-the-work-day madness. It could have easily turned into a situation that left me panicked or frustrated, but instead I realized, as I was crammed against people in a metro car, that this was an item I could now cross off my bucket list--in fact, it was an item I hadn't even realized was on my bucket list until it actually happened. Overall, a successful day! After so many adventures though, it was time for some much needed sleep. I was exhausted after my flight (I followed my normal travel pattern of not sleeping more than maybe an hour during the flight), and I only had one full day to spend in London, so I needed to be well rested so I could make the most of it.

The UEFA Men's Championship Cup.

I got up early the next morning, ready to start the day, prepared with my list of things that needed to be done and that I wanted to see. I started with the things that had to be done: I needed to buy minutes for my phone; I needed blue jeans, since I couldn't find mine; and I needed a camera charger, since I'd also
kept to my usual pattern of forgetting to pack one very important thing before leaving for vacation. I headed for the T-Mobile shop first and got my Sim card. The store was close to Trafalgar Square, so hopped over to the square to at least visit it once more. When I got to the square, I found it far more crowded than I remembered it being the year before, and there was a massive stage-type construction with soccer decorations all around it. I'd managed to stumble into Trafalgar Square on the day the UEFA Championship Victor's cups were on display for the public to see and take pictures with. I'm not a soccer fan by any means, but I could certainly appreciate that this was a big deal, so I snapped some pictures before heading on my way.

The entrance to the Tower of London.

Once I'd found my blue jeans and camera charger as well, I was finally able to start my day as a proper tourist. The first stop was the Tower of London, which I hadn't even seen from afar during my last visit to London. I took the metro to the stop closest to the Tower and then headed over to see where I could find a ticket. I waited in line behind a crowd of other tourists and then bought my ticket for entry. The first thing I saw when I approached the entrance was the yeoman standing at the entrance. There's always one there, welcoming people to the Tower and answering questions that they might have. I decided not to join the yeoman-led tour that was starting in a few minutes. There was already a crowd and I figured it would be easier just to wander through the tower myself--especially since I was on a time constraint and still had so much I wanted to see. As I walked into the Tower though, I heard the beginning of the yeoman's presentation. He was explaining that the little bridge that we were standing on was were executions had been carried out. He said that the execution with the largest turnout occurred when more than 100,000 Brits turned out for a
hanging. As the yeoman said, "Everyone was out having a grand time--except for one man."

The view of the Tower Bridge, as seen from the Tower.

I ate lunch in the cafe at the Tower of London--scones and hot chocolate--and then went to go see the Crown Jewels and the Tower Bridge. I headed over to the edge of the Thames first, to get some pictures of the bridge. Then I headed back into the Tower of London to go see the crown jewels. There was a bit of a museum to see before you got to see the jewels. The history behind it was fascinating to me, but, again, I had to rush a bit since there was still so much to see. On the way through the museum to the crown jewels, there were different things from past royalty on display--from scepters to gowns to capes used during coronations throughout history. After walking past so much history, I finally got to the room which houses the crown jewels. I thought I'd just walked into a bank vault--probably because the entrance to the room where the jewels are on display is through a door that is about eight inches of what I assume to be steel. The door looks like the most intimidating bank vault door I've ever seen--except maybe some of the doors seen in Gringotts!

The crown jewels were breathtaking. It's amazing to me to think how much such a little thing is worth--and that one person could wear that on their head as a symbol of such grand power! Today, the crown doesn't mean quite so much as it used to, but it's still a very powerful symbol. And there were so many crowns to see as well. I knew that there was more than one crown in the royal family, but I wasn't expecting as many as I saw. I think that one room in London must have been worth an ungodly sum.

The Globe Theatre! Fun fact: This is the
only building in London to have a
thatched roof since the Great Fire...and
they had to get special
permission to recreate the roof.

After viewing the crown jewels, I headed out of the Tower. I wanted to climb the Tower Bridge, but I at that point I had to accept that I just didn't have the time. So I turned my back on the Tower and the bridge and headed back into London, headed for the Globe Theatre. I decided to just walk to the theatre--it wasn't too far and I wanted to cross the Thames on the bridge featured in the beginning of the sixth Harry Potter movie (yes, I can be that nerdy sometimes!). I wound through town, checking my map and the maps on the sidewalks regularly to make sure that I didn't get lost. After walking for over half an hour, I had to accept that I was a little lost. I gave up on trying to find the bridge and just headed for the river. Thankfully, I was very near the Globe Theatre. I'd been in the right area, just unable to find the right street. I crossed the Thames on a different Bridge, but I could see the Globe Theatre and the bridge I'd been trying to find--both of which were easily less than half a mile away.

I didn't stay at the Globe Theatre for long. I would have liked to have taken a tour, but time was slipping away from me and I still wanted to see the Parliamentary buildings before the day was through. I bought a postcard from the shop, read a bit about the history of the building, took a few pictures, and then I was on my way to Parliament! I crossed the Thames again, this time taking the bridge that was "destroyed" in Harry Potter (it seemed to me to be in pretty good shape, despite the whole Death Eaters
incident). It took me a while to walk to Parliament, but I soon saw Big Ben looming over me.

Big Ben peeking out over Parliament.

I'd hoped that there were tours of the Parliamentary buildings, or at least a stair climb of Big Ben, but I couldn't find any entrance to the building that indicated that anyone other than parliamentary workers were allowed in. In fact, every entrance I passed was guarded by at least two men with seriously powerful guns. Had I done any research prior to leaving the hostel for the day, I may have found some information about tours, but since I hadn't done that, I just crossed the street to visit Westminster Abbey. Unfortunately, by the time I'd reached Westminster Abbey, it was already 5:00--and anyone who's lived in the UK knows that a lot of the country shuts down around 5:00. And Westminster Abbey was no exception. I wasn't able to go inside, but I did get to take some decent photos of the outside, which is immense and impressive.

The front of Westminster Abbey

After seeing Westminster Abbey, I turned away from the Thames for the first time all day. For all the other sites I'd visited that day, I'd stayed alongside the Thames. But now I was heading to Buckingham Palace, mostly in the (probably vain) hope that a tour of the palace would be available. Again, something I probably should have at least googled before leaving the hostel, but I'll just remember that for next time. It didn't take me long to get to Buckingham Palace, though by that time, I was half certain
my feet were going to resign in protest of all the walking I'd done. I don't know what was happening at the palace that night, but there was a steady stream of people--usually one couple at a time--dressed in nice clothes (the ladies were even wearing the fancy little hats!) walking up to the palace, showing some kind of paper, and going inside. I never did figure out what the special event was, but it was cool to see up-close some of the style I'd seen only in pictures in magazines before.

After visiting the palace, I finally had to admit that I just couldn't keep walking across the town. So I headed back to my hostel, eager to find a good place to get fish and chips. I've had some fish and chips at home since leaving Scotland, but nothing seems quite able to measure up to what they make in the UK.

The view from my seat at dinner.

Sitting down on my bed to google fish and chip restaurants in London was such a relief for my weary little feet that I hardly wanted to get up and go walking back across town to buy my dinner. But fish and chips is far too tempting to pass up, so I was back out the door barely an hour after returning to the hostel. I'd found a place that had pretty good reviews and was supposed to be quite cheap (always a bonus for anyone facing such an unfavorable conversion rate). Most appealing--it wasn't too far from my hostel.

I bought my fish and chips and walked back towards my hostel to eat in the park next to the London Eye. There was a moment then when I was struck by just how lucky I was (and am)--I was in London, eating fish and chips with the Thames, the London Eye, and the Parliamentary buildings serving as the setting. I didn't know how life could get better than that--except for the fact that the next day, I was headed to Paris to start my summer in France!

The Return Journey

2013-06-18T14:59:00.003-07:00

I left Strasbourg around dinner time that day. Aurelie walked me to the train station and made sure that I found the right train, and with that, I was off to Offenburg, Germany. The ride to Offenburg was a short one, which I was happy for, since the train was similar to a bus ride in the US (not exactly my favorite thing in the world). I made it to Offenburg with plenty of time to hang out on the platform--there really wasn't anywhere else to go or anything else to do, since it was evening and everything was closed. I just waited on the platform. Eventually, I started talking to a girl my age who was also waiting. She was a backpacker from Canada, and she spoke mostly French, but her English was quite good as well. We talked for over an hour, comparing travel stories before the train arrived. When the train arrived, we headed to our separate cabins. I'd bought just a simple, reclining seat, so I wasn't expecting the world's most comfortable train ride, but I was actually pleasantly surprised. The seat reclined so far that I felt like I was almost lying down, and I fell asleep almost right away. I actually much prefer it to sleeper cabins on the overnight trains, now that I've experienced those as well (more on that to come later!).

The train arrived in Berlin early the next morning, and I had a few hours to kill before I needed to even check in at the airport, so I wandered around the train station, got something to eat, paid a euro to use a bathroom (seriously, why doesn't Europe have free bathrooms anywhere?), and finally headed to the help desk to ask how to get to the airport. I waited to be helped, and listened to the rather painful conversation between the German woman at the help desk and the three Asian tourists who were trying to talk to her. So I was, of course, very proud of myself when I was able to walk up to the desk and say "Entschuldigen, sprechen Sie Englisch?" She explained how to catch the bus, and I thanked her, and was on my way.

When I got to the airport, I had to wait another hour before I could check my bag and go through to wait in the terminal. So I wandered through the gift shop, and then went to the Burger King to buy some fries and pass the time. Finally, I was able to check my bag and go through the gate. When I got to the gate, I gave the immigration officer my passport and he flipped through it, glared at me, stared at the passport some more, glared at me again, and then--just as I was starting to think that maybe I should start explaining why the last stamp was from Paris, and here I was, standing in Berlin--he stamped my passport, handed it back to me, and waved me on without saying a single word!

Before I boarded the plane, I bought some of Europe's finest M&Ms from the duty-free shop. Seriously, European M&Ms are the best in the world! Then it was time to board the plane. It was a long eight hours from there until the pilot announced that we were entering US airspace, and it felt like several more hours passed before the plane finally touched down. I was home (almost)!

It didn't take long for me to get through immigration. The immigration officer asked a few questions about where I'd been and welcomed me home. I thanked him and went in search of my bag. I seem to have a pretty consistent streak of getting the last bag off the plane, no matter when I check in. Usually my bag rolls around the corner right when I'm starting to think "Well, that's it, they actually lost my bag!" But, like it always does, it came around the corner, and, with all my belongings safely in hand, I headed out onto American soil to meet my family.

We stopped at a restaurant on the way home, and, since I'd eaten on the plane, I didn't order anything except a water. I joked with my family that I probably looked as though I'd just returned from fat camp--I was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and extra-baggy sweatpants, and I wasn't eating anything. I did, however, show off the knowledge that I learned in Scotland by thanking the waiter with a "Cheers!" when he brought my water back.

Finally, I made it back to the house--home sweet home. I was super excited to see Koda. I'd seen my family and talked with them while I was abroad, so although I missed them quite a lot, I didn't feel as though I'd been completely separate from them while in Scotland. Koda on the other hand, doesn't quite grasp the concept of skype, so this was my first time seeing him in four months. Excited, I went into the house--only to be greeted with a head nod, and a bit of a glare that pretty clearly said "I can't believe you left me for so long." Regardless of the greeting I received from my dog, I was glad to be home. And I was thrilled to see my bed, which has never seemed as inviting as it did after about 36 hours of nonstop travel.

I was home, if only for a while. Which is why the story will continue, this time, in France!

Staying in Strasbourg

2013-06-13T06:25:00.002-07:00

I made it from Versailles to Gare de l'Est without much of a problem (although it's really rather difficult to navigate through a city when your knowledge of the language is all but nonexistent!) But I made it to Gare de l'Est with plenty of time to hang out and wait for the train to arrive. I walked around the train station, found a cafe with free wi-fi, and connected to the internet to pass the time until my train arrived. Finally, it was time to board the train. I got to share the two hour train ride to Strasbourg with a carriage full of school kids (probably 8-10 years old) who were either going on or returning from a school trip. Thank god for my iPod, because I think I would've gone crazy from the noise otherwise!

The front of le Cathedrale Notre Dame.

I arrived in Strasbourg and met my friend Aurelie just outside the train station. No matter how often I meet up with my friends, I still can't get over how amazing it is that I met these people during a volunteer trip in Africa and then stayed with them in France. I guess it really can be a small world! Aurelie showed me through downtown Strasbourg as we made our way to her friend's house for a small get together. We went to her friend's house and they were incredibly welcoming--serving me some wine and telling me to help myself to the food. They talked among themselves, and I did my best to participate even a little bit. This was after just two semesters of French, so I could catch a few words here and there, but I had no clue what everyone was actually saying. But Aurelie and one of her friends both spoke English quite well, so I talked with them for most of the night. When I was just about ready to fall asleep on the spot, Aurelie and I headed back to her flat.

I'll apologize here because I was in Strasbourg exploring for two days, but it's been almost a year since then, so all the events are kind of mixed up in my memory, so I'm not even going to try to separate the two days properly. Just know that everything that follows happened over the course of two days, not one!

One of the first sites I went to see during my time in Strasbourg was le Cathedral Notre Dame de Strasbourg. It's a really grand cathedral, and, like many of the old churches in Europe, the architecture is nothing short of amazing. There's so much intricacy that goes into the design of these old churches, and it just amazes me to think that it was done without the advanced technology we've got today. Both the inside and the outside of the church are works of art--from the architecture to the stained-glass windows to the statues and paintings inside the church. I wandered around the church--inside and out for nearly an hour, just admiring everything.

A viez of the houses on the riverside in Strasbourg

After visiting the church, Aurelie and I took a tour through the town on a train of little cabins pulled along by a car at the front. Aurelie had never seen the city like that, so she thought it was really interesting to get an idea what the city looks like from a tourist's point of view. I just enjoyed seeing so many of the city's sites without getting rained on (I think the rain followed me from Scotland, to be honest). Strasbourg is intersected by the River Ill, so much of the tour was along the river. The houses were adorable houses. A lot of the houses that hugged the river were wood and plaster houses, some of them with flower pots hanging out of the windows. I thought it was just the most picturesque view.

Aurelie and I went out to eat for lunch at a little restaurant near le Cathedrale Notre Dame de Strasbourg. I ordered a tarte flambee with goat cheese--it's kind of like a pizza, but there's no tomato sauce. Mine had cheese and some kind of oil dressing. It's difficult to describe, but it was very, very good. The traditions and foods in Alsace are a blend of two cultures, since the land has traded hands between the French and the Germans so frequently.

Later during my trip to Strasbourg, Aurelie had to study, so I went to the River to take one of the boat tours through the city. The boat tour really was the best way to see all the sites, since much of the city was built up around the river. My only complaint about the boat tour was that it started to rain and I hadn't thought to bring an umbrella, so I got rained on for about half an hour. I found some amusement from another American on the boat: when we saw lightening on the horizon, this woman completely freaked out and went to talk to

You know it's raining when people hide under lifejackets.

the boat captain to try to get them to turn the boat around because she said it wasn't safe to be on the boat if there was any lightening. I was simultaneously amused and embarrassed by this woman--she was so furious about a bit of rain and lightening, and it was easy to tell that other people on the boat were annoyed by her antics too. I think I did a pretty good job of representing the good side of American tourists though!

The official bird of Alsace--a stork.

Once the weather was nicer, Aurelie and I rented bikes so that I could ride through Strasbourg and get a different kind of tour. We met with one of Aurelie's friends who also spoke English quite well, and the three of us rode through Strasbourg for the afternoon. Strasbourg is an incredibly beautiful town, clustered around the river. It was great to be able to visit the city, to see a friend again, and to just have the time at the end of the semester to fit in a few more incredible experiences. I was only in Strasbourg for a few days, but I really enjoyed my time there. It
was definitely a good way to end my experience in Europe.

2012-09-20T11:17:00.000-07:00

After my day touring Paris, I woke early the next morning, tired but excited, ready to see Versailles. I packed up the few things I'd unpacked on my arrival in Paris, buckled my backpack on, slung my other bag over my shoulder and headed out. Matthieu drove me to the train station and explained which train I needed to take to get to Versailles.

All total, it probably took about forty-five or so minutes to get to Versailles. I was so content, listening to my iPod as I watched the French landscape fly past outside the window. The train station at Versailles was quite large, so it took me a little while to find my way out onto the street. From there, it was a fifteen minute walk to the palace. By the time I got to the palace, my back and shoulders were already hurting a bit. Between my two bags, I was carrying about fifteen kilos (about 30-35 pounds--believe me, I wish I was kidding about this).

The Palace of Versailles, as seen from just behind the statue of Louis XIV.

When I got to the palace, I was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer size of it. Walking down the street towards the palace, it's the only thing on the horizon. It's a truly majestic sight. A statue of Louis XIV stands about a hundred feet from the gates at the entrance to the palace. The palace itself is ornate, with incredibly detailed carvings lining the edges. Gold decorations are everywhere. The overall effect is one of clear wealth and beauty.

Once I entered the palace grounds, I checked the sign to see if I had to pay admittance or not. The sign said students in the EU under the age of 25 didn't have to pay, but since I'm an American citizen, I thought I had to pay. I waited in the ticketing line for half an hour, just to be told that I didn't have to pay admittance, I could just go get in line and they'd let me in for free. So, glad to be saving money, I headed out to the line--the ridiculously long, winding line. I approached one of the guards at the entrance and said, "Bonjour monsieur...I was told I don't need to buy a ticket, can you tell me where I need to go?" He must have assumed that since I started with 'bonjour' I at least understood French, because he answered by explaining everything in French. I had no clue what he'd said, but he had pointed to part of the line, so that's where I went.

It took an hour to get to the front of the line to finally get admitted to Versailles. Luckily, I was able to set my bags on the ground for most of the wait, so their weight didn't bother me. When I got to the entrance, I just showed my passport and student ID, and they waved me through. There was a bag check to the side, so I headed straight for it, relieved. But when I set my bag on the counter to be checked, I was told that they couldn't accept the bag unless there was food in the bag. Since neither of my bags contained food, I had to shoulder them and head into the palace.

The gardens of Versailles. Everything you can see is part
of the gardens.

There was so much to see in the palace, but what I really wanted to see was the gardens of Versailles. So I walked through some of the palace, but quickly headed out to the gardens. The view was simply breath-taking. From the over-large patio at the back of the palace, you can see for miles. The gardens themselves seem to stretch all the way to the horizon. There are several fountains, statues everywhere, and of course, impressive displays of gardening skills.

I walked through the gardens for about an hour before I finally had to stop and just sit for a while. I was tired from walking for so long, carrying so much weight on my shoulders. So I bought a chocolate ice cream, and just found a good spot to sit. I enjoyed my ice cream while I watched tourists walk past, admiring the gardens. Once I'd finished the ice cream, I headed off to see Marie Antoinette's estate. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see the inside of any of the buildings, due to my schedule. (I had to be at Gare de l'est early that afternoon to catch the train to Strasbourg).

Marie Antoinette's estate towards the back of the gardens.

The whole experience was surreal. Even if I was tired from carrying so much weight for so long, I couldn't help but marvel at the fact that I was in Versailles--a nineteen year old girl from Pennsylvania, and I was walking through one of the most well-known tourist attractions and historical buildings of France.

I ate lunch outside Marie Antoinette's estate (seriously, I can't believe I can even say something like that!), and then trudged back through the gardens, past the palace, and back to the train station. It took me a little while to realize that I'd purchased the wrong ticket to get from Versailles to Gare de L'est--I actually had to ask the man at the service desk about it before I got it figured out--but soon enough, I was back on the train, making my way back into Paris to await my train to Strasbourg.

One of the fountains in the gardens of Versailles.

My days in Paris and Strasbourg were truly incredible experiences. As I was taking in all the sights, I couldn't stop thinking how lucky I am to have gotten the opportunities to see these things. A year ago, I never would have believed I'd be climbing the stairs of the Eiffel Tower, gazing up at the Arc de Trioumph, or wandering through the gardens of Versailles. And yet here I was, just enjoying my time halfway around the world.

I'll be posting again soon with stories of Strasbourg, and eventually of my trip from Strasbourg to home (it's quite the tale!). Until then, a tout a l'heure mon amis!

Une Journee A Paris (Part II)

2012-09-16T16:21:00.000-07:00

When last I wrote, I left off with my climb of the Eiffel Tower. But there's so much more to tell of my day in Paris!

After leaving the Eiffel Tower, Matthieu and I headed down some of the streets further away from the river. We were headed to the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs-Elysees. On the way there, Matthieu and I passed a protest outside one of the shops. Matthieu explained to me the way the labor parties in France were set up and why there were strikes going on at that time. I thought it was really cool, learning a bit about the differences between American unions and French unions.

Soon, we arrived at the Arc de Triomph. It was awe-inspiring. It's one of those things that I've seen in history books or travel guides, but nothing will ever measure up to the feeling of actually standing on the Champs-Elysees, staring up at this massive monument. And that was just from further away! To get up close to the Arc de Triomph, I had to go down a set of stairs, through a tunnel under the Champs-Elysees, which emerges onto another set of stairs that leads up to the Arc. The Arc itself stands on a kind of island in the middle of a roundabout, which is surrounded by the roar of what seems to be at least a hundred cars rushing past. Up close, the intricacies of the Arc become apparent. The carvings are so detailed and so impressive! It's truly an incredibly display of artistry.

Once Matthieu and I'd both had enough of admiring the Arc de Triomph, we headed down the Champs-Elysees, often referred to as the most beautiful street in the world--a description I would certainly agree with! The street is lined with really lovely trees, and if you stood atop the Arc and looked down the Champs-Elysees, you would see first the obelisk brought to Paris during Napoleon's reign, and then the Louvre. It's truly breathtaking.

Matthieu and I stopped for hot chocolate and snacks (croissants, of course), at a small cafe on the Champs-Elysees. It was great to just take in the culture and people of the city, watching as Parisians walked past.

Once we felt well-rested, Matthieu and I continued down the Champs-Elysees, past the obelisk, to the Louvre. I so wish I had more time to spend in Paris, because I could spend days doing nothing but admiring the art in the Louvre. The museum is so massive that there must be hundreds of galleries, containing thousands of pieces of art. But for the time being, I had to be content with marveling at the outside of the impressive building.

After leaving the Louvre, Matthieu and I headed from there toward the Notre Dame Cathedral. We stopped at a bookshop first so that Matthieu could pick up something he needed for his job, and then we crossed over the river and into the courtyard in front of the magnificent church. The church was stunning. The stained-glass windows must have taken ages to craft, getting each piece just the right color and size to make a comprehensive picture. There must have been thousands of carvings covering the building as well: gargoyles as drainpipes, figures of important religious figures carved around the doorframes and on some of the pillars.

To finish out my day in Paris, Matthieu took me to a lovely restaurant called Au Pied de Cochon (which roughly translates to 'At the foot of the pig'). I couldn't understand much of what the menu said, and Matthieu spent a good fifteen minutes trying to translate everything for me before the waiter realized what we were doing and brought me an English menu. I decided to be adventures and try the restaurants namesake: a pig's foot. I was pleasantly surprised by how good it tasted! It was simply delicious. At the end of the meal, the waiter asked if we wanted coffee and desert. I declined, explaining that I was too full for desert and am not a fan of coffee. Matthieu gave me a bit of a funny look and said that you could definitely tell I wasn't French. (Mayhap as I learn the language, I'll become a bit more French!).

I'll return soon with the story of my trip to Versailles. Until then, a tout a l'heure!

2012-09-03T18:33:00.001-07:00

Une Journée à Paris

2012-08-27T07:58:00.000-07:00

So, back to Paris!

The day my friend Matthieu picked me up at the bus station, he drove me back to the apartment he and his girlfriend share. Both of them had worked on making dinner that night--duck breast with a honey dressing. It was my first time trying duck, and it was really, really good! I was a little nervous to try it, but I ended up really enjoying it! There were several other parts of the meal as well, but that was so long ago, I honestly can't remember...although I know I enjoyed everything.

I spent the night in a spare bedroom in Matthieu's parents' flat, and the next morning, Matthieu and I headed out for my speedy, one-day-tour of Paris. The day started with a boat tour of Paris, which headed down the river Seine. From the river, I saw the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Invalides Bridge, and the Notre Dame Cathedral. It was really, really amazing.

When the boat ride ended, we headed to shore and walked alongside the river to the Invalides Bridge. On the way to the bridge, a woman stopped me, pointed to the ground, and said "Excuse me, the ring, is it yours?" There was a gold-looking ring on the ground, and she picked it up and handed it to me, wishing me good fortunes when she did. Then we turned to leave and a few seconds later, she called out "Excuse me, but do you have money? For food?" This was a woman who looked well-dressed and very well-fed. I told her I had no money, but I gave the ring back. She shot me a nasty glare, took the ring, and headed off. My best guess to explain this strange encounter is that this was her way of getting money from strangers--tourists, like me.

I crossed the Invalides Bridge, a bridge that I've seen in so many photos and movies that I couldn't help but be amazed by the fact that I was in Paris, crossing such an iconic bridge. This road led directly to the Invalides, a grand building with a golden dome that can be seen from several parts of the city. Matthieu and I didn't have time to tour the Invalides, but we did go into the courtyard and onto the grounds. I even got to see some soldiers! (I think that's what they were, they looked very official).

After leaving the Invalides, Matthieu and I headed toward the Eiffel Tower. We stopped for lunch, and I felt very French, eating French cheeses and drinking wine on the gardens in front of the Eiffel Tower. Looking back, the whole thing was surreal and absolutely incredible. It rained a bit, but fortunately the rain didn't amount to much. Then, it was time to go up into the tower. The line for elevators was so long that Matthieu and I agreed the stairs would be better. It was a long climb! In total, I think we climbed over 600 steps. There were two levels where we could stop and enjoy the view of Paris from high inside its iconic tower. It was an amazing experience--one that just one year ago, I could never have imagined would be possible.

This seems a fitting place to stop for today. I'll post pictures soon, and then I'll have another post to finish the story of my day in Paris. A tout a l'heure!

Planes, Trains, Automobiles, and More...Way More

2012-08-12T12:38:00.002-07:00

So I realize I'm very, very late in posting my tales of France, but better late than never! Right? I hope so.

I'll start with my last two days in Scotland. My on-campus housing had ended the day before my flight to Paris, so I stayed at the Willy Wallace backpacker's hostel in Stirling. It was right by the bus stop and train station, so I didn't have to worry about getting where I needed to be. I spent my last day in Stirling roaming around the city, buying the last handful of things I needed for the trip, and picking a loaf of bread that would serve as my breakfast the next morning.

The next morning, I woke up early, packed the few things I had taken out of my backpack the night before, and headed off to the train station, loaf of bread in hand. I bought my train ticket to Glasgow-Prestwick, the airport I'd be leaving from. The first half of the train ride was about an hour through Scottish countryside straight into the heart of Glasgow, one of the largest cities in Scotland. From there, I walked ten minutes across town to one of the largest and most confusing train stations I've ever visited. On my walk, I ended up walking alongside what I assume was a breast cancer fundraising run/walk. I seem to have an impressive talent for accidentally stumbling across these things. When I got to the second train station, I bought a hot chocolate and waited for my train to come. While I was waiting, I walked around, looking for something to do, and completely by accident, I found an earlier train to the airport. I hoped on, just in time, and I was off on the second leg of my journey.

It took about another hour to arrive at Glasgow-Prestwick airport. Once I got off the train, there was a set of escalators that went up to a bridge that crossed over the highway so everyone could get into the airport. The airport itself was fairly small, since they only serve budget flights around Europe (I think only one or maybe two airlines operate out of this airport). I had arrived early--too early to check in, so I pulled out my laptop and just played games for a while. Then I decided to treat myself to lunch in the restaurant in the lobby--after all, it was my last day in Scotland!

I had a burger and chips (which would forever after return to being called 'fries') and watched the numerous reports about the barge that had been prepared for the Queen's Jubilee. Apparently it's very important that the Queen stay dry on her barge ride down the Thames--the announcers discussed precisely how the Queen would be kept dry for quite some time. After lunch, I still had some time to kill before I could check in, so I wandered through the small gift shop, knowing full well that I didn't have so much as 1 pence I could use to buy anything with.

There was some excitement when someone abandoned their bag by one of the support beams in the airport. Airport security started running around, trying to figure out who it belonged to. When they finally found the woman who claimed it, she didn't seem to speak English too well, and she just kept saying, "It's fine, it's fine!" The security guards had to keep insisting that no, it is not fine, and all bags must be attended at all times. I just sat and the corner and watched, since it was the best entertainment the airport had yet provided.

Finally, I was able to go check my bag and head off to security. I've never once had a problem in airport security before, but this time, I set off the metal detector, had to get a pat-down, and then had to have my carry-on bag dumped and searched. Now, let me just say that I had unpacked and packed this bag a hundred times to get everything to fit just right. And the security guard (the equivalent of a TSA agent) dumped the whole thing out and checked the spines of my books and my cell phones (one American, one good in Europe) for some kind of bomb residue. Once he'd determined that my bags were indeed safe to go on the plane, I was allowed to (slowly and pain-stakingly) repack my bag before continuing through the duty-free store to the lobby. The lobby was basically an area with a bunch of chairs where everyone waited for their flight to open up.

After almost another hour of waiting, the line for my flight opened up. I jumped up and hurried over to the line, not wanting to be the last person on. I got through rather quickly, though others were stopped to have their bags weighed, since all carry-ons had to weigh less than 25 kg. I had to wait in another line while all the tickets were checked, and then it was my turn. I got my seat, tucked my carry-on under the seat in front of me, and waited.

After a flight just over an hour long, I could see the French countryside out my window. We had made it. The plane landed in Paris-Beauvais, which is actually an hour's drive from Paris itself, which was my destination. I got off the plane pretty fast, and was pleasantly surprised to find that my checked bag was one of the first off the plane as well. I grabbed it and hurried to the customs desks. Customs didn't even ask any questions, just stamped by passport and waved me through. I made my way through the airport to the bus stop, so that I could catch the shuttle to Paris. I was very proud of myself when I walked up to the ticket counter and was able to say "Bonjour! Je voudrais un aller-simple, sil vous plait!" which translates to "Hello, I'd like a one-way ticket please."

The bus left about ten minutes after I'd gotten my ticket. It took another hour to get in sight of Paris, and a little longer to actually get to the bus terminal in the city. It was an amazing sight, seeing the skyline of Paris in the distance, the Eiffel Tower sliding in and out of visibility. And then, finally, I was in Paris, where my friend Matthieu met me and drove me to his house on the outskirts of Paris.

And I'll continue there later. (And this time, when I say later, I honestly don't mean three months from now)! A tout a l'heure!