New friends!

Friday, June 17th, 2011
     We had to take it a little slower today as we went to the club with some other international students we met under the Eiffel Tower last night. The students we met were from all over the world, from Brazil, to Switzerland, to the naval academy in Annapolis, Maryland. It seems like when I've been going out, I've been meeting a lot of men because they have definitely been approaching us more, around the Eiffel Tower, out at bars, and definitely out at clubs. The Brazilian and Portuguese girls and American girls from Vermont we met were probably the first group of girls we met that we've actually continued to hang out with. They were very friendly and accommodating, offering us to come over for dinner and we've been meeting up with them at bars and clubs the past few nights. Although my French is lagging, at least I was able to practice my Spanish a bit as some of them didn't know English and we're primarily communicating with each other in French. I found it very interesting how, although in France, they all did know English and French, even though neither were their primary languages. I think it's very interesting how most people in Europe know multiple languages. They have to at least know their country's primary language, English, multiple languages from school, and many of the languages of the country's around them. They seem so much more worldly here than a lot of my friends in America. It's interesting to meet other students who are eager to travel the world, and actually do it, whereas many of my friends at home always talk about how jealous they are that I'm travelling the world and how difficult it is to actually do it. A lot of the once in a lifetime opportunities, including internships and leadership positions,  I've had are definitely due to USD's excellence as a university. It seems like my friends that are envious of my travels are ignorant that I have to pay for my plane tickets and such to get here, whereas most other students have their travels funded by their parents. It's definitely attainable as I've built of a ton of savings in high school and college so far and will definitely need to rebuild those upon returning to USD... I'll admit I have already looked into study abroad classes and locations for intersession.
     Today, we went to the Musee de l'Orangerie. I was not a fan at all of Picasso and Matisse. But once again, I really enjoyed the Monet garden mural scenes again.

     Monet's Giverny gardens in Musee de l'Orangerie

    

From Moreau to getting lost in Paris

Thursday, June 16th, 2011,
     Today, we visited the home and museum of Gustave Moreau. Being a "dandy," his artwork was very different from the impressionists of the time.

Gustave Moreau's Triomphe D'Alexandre Le Grand

     This, and many of his other paintings were very interesting as in many of them he painted them without sharpness, but then added fine lines to outline the details to the buildings and figures. The above image, once again, does not capture anything even close to the real image.. It had a really mathematical crossed with artsy look, something I had yet to see in the Louvre or the Musee d'Orsay. It was obvious that Gustave Moreau was a perfectionist, as many of his works remained unfinished. Apparently some of the works took over ten years for him to complete, because he continually added fine details to complete the painting and fill up the entire canvas, which was very obvious that he thought about nearly everything possible he could.  The contrasts he displays in his stormy clouds are some of the most moving I've been able to see thus far. 

      We then ventured over to the Bastille area as a few of our friends live over there any were eager to return to the "best restaurant they've eaten at in Paris." Let me just note that I've definitely had better food on the corner of any street, specifically anywhere in the Jewish district. The potato and four fromage (cheese) casserole we ordered was definitely delicious as the potatoes were roasted and seasoned to perfection and the cheese was melted perfectly and were robust enough to satiate our palate, but not strong enough to detract from the potatoes. It was definitely the best casserole I've had thus far in Paris, but not the best meal whatsoever. I thought it was weird that the entire time I've been ordering cafes, and expecting the straight shots of espresso, as that's what a cafe is here. Today, the waiter was speaking in English after realizing we were speaking it to each other and he asked us if we knew what a cafe was in France. Yes, we know it's a shot of espresso and yes, it comes in the tiny little glass. We were kind of offended as we've been here for nearly two and a half weeks, but we can't blame him as he must serve many foreigners that are confused by the tiny espresso shot when trying to order a coffee.

     We then ventured off to the Jewish district to pick up some things we had our eyes on. I found three scarves for ten euros and a small satchel for five euros at a vintage store. We worked on our hunt for the perfect macaron, yet still haven't been able to top the Early Grey macaron I was fortunate enough to start off my macaron experience with. 

     Today was really enjoyable strolling through the streets of Paris with my roommates on our way to the museum and then strolling around in search of a little Parisian boutique. It was actually quite a struggle to find stores unique to Paris where no English is spoken as Zara, H & M, and numerous other international stores seemed to have made their way over to Paris and many Americans and English shoppers seem to flock to the stores. I heard way more English from the customers than French today. Lots of moms yelling across the store inquiring their daughters opinions on various dresses and linen outfits. A few of them haven't been in Paris long enough to notice the black clothes spread out on the streets. Anyone wearing an article of clothing that's white is definitely a tourist. If it's cream, you could possibly be Parisian, but if its at least khaki colored, you'll fit right in. They also haven't been in Paris to notice the downpours the past few days and to examine the weather forecast for the next few days. The storm clouds are definitely making up for the drought that was happening for at least two months before we came here.

Macarons, cafe, vins

Wednesday, June 15th, 2011
     Today we returned to the Musee d'Orsay and were privileged to revisit the Manet exhibit, which was wonderful as I absolutely love his artwork. I also really enjoyed checking out more Degas - definitely two of my favorite artists. I'm very drawn to Degas' ballerina paintings, so I found it very interesting when Dr. Maxim explained how the ballerinas were considered working women, such as the laundress, the bathing women, or the gleaners in the field. It made me appreciate it that much more especially as Degas portrays them as beautiful, elegant, and graceful, yet they are still some of the hardest workers out there, especially as women were just being welcomed into the performance profession as dancers. 
     Today, I was fortunate enough to thoroughly observe the Monet exhibit. I was really intrigued by the following pieces:

Monet's Les Glacons

     This online image of Les Glacons does no justice for Monet's actual piece, which is quite massive and detailed. The numerous colors and ballerina pink sparkles observable from different angles really bring the painting to life. The noticeable texture from the brushstrokes really gives the painting that one of a kind texture, where you know it can't be replicated without painting another, which would be difficult to replicate the genius art work of Claude Monet!

Monet's Londres Le Parlement

     I really really like the above painting because of its simplicity. I can recognize the Parliament building even though it's only a silhouette. The sunset is reflected of the Thames River. I like how I can infer so much from the painting even though the brushstokes seem so blurred and unfinished.

     Last night, when my friend and I went to a bar, we observed a few Parisian girls that appeared drunk, which was really something we had not seen too often here so it really stands out when I do notice it. I've found that it's nearly unheard of for people to take shots of hard alcohol here, whereas in the states, that's your typical college party that leads to so many irresponsible decisions, alcohol poisoning incidents, and even deaths, at some universities. Here, it seems like the Parisians pace out their drinking a lot more. They don't simply drink to get "drunk," but they just drink a glass or two with their meals consistently every night to savor all of their meals with good company. It's more of a custom here. At happy hour, the tables are full at every cafe we stroll by with tons of businessmen and women relaxing with friends and tapas after a long day at the office. It's interesting how the customs of coffee and alcohol are essentially reversed here. In America, we throw back shots of alcohol, but in Europe, they throw back shots of espresso. They cannot fathom the idea of a cup of drip coffee, or even the infamous Americano while we are shocked by the fact that wine is far cheaper than water, and soda, in Paris at a restaurant, or even in a discounted grocery store.
      This observation is also kind of similar to the transportation differences between the different cultures. In America, there's no wrapping our heads around the idea of such intricate, complex transportation routes underground the city, but in Europe, that's the common mode of transportation for anyone, from the homeless, to the rising businessman, to any Parision that cannot stand nor afford the weekly commute of driving into Paris for two long journies every day, to the tourist who is buried in his large fold up map, just to name a few.
     The equal playing field conveyed through the metro reminded me of Emilie Zola's novel The Belly of Paris, as its primarily focused on the middle class. I feel like the majority of the art we've studied thus far, before the impressionist movement at least, has been primarily commissioned by the wealthy and focused on the wealthy, royal, religious, and prominent historic events. It was interesting to learn all about Haussmann and the effect of his reformations of Paris, specifically the massive grand boulevards in the 1850s. I like how I can relate to Zola's experience in his arrival into Paris struggling to live the bourgeois lifestyle, as we're struggling with the different customs and language barrier to live the Parisian lifestyle.

Eh! La queue commence la-bas.

Tuesday, June 14th, 2011
     I decided to break out the "Wicked French," book my mom bought me with odd, funny, and even somewhat useful phrases in French. The title of this post means, "Hey! The line starts back there." I felt this was very appropriate as I went to the Musee Orsay with my Art History class today. I could tell by the crowds outside, and  the high ratings of it in my guide books, that whatever art was inside, had to be good! I was very impressed by the Manet exhibit! I knew very little about Manet before this art history class and often confused his famous pieces as Monet's, but they are very very different.
Thus far, Musee d'Orsay has been my favorite museum by far. Impressionism paintings have a lot of hidden meanings and the artists are professionals at making their paintings look as if they were effortlessly thrown together. I've discovered that Manet, Monet, Renoir, Degas, and Van Gogh are now amongst my favorite artists. The sun-dappled fields and the crowded Parisian cafes, although realistic of the early 18th and 19th century, are ideal to me of what I am dreaming to experience here in Paris. The vast fields and picnicking with fine china, steaming silver tea pots, men in shiny top hats and women in full, flowy, dainty dresses and bonnets may be a little hard to reach other than the picnicking in the famous parks such as Luxembourg gardens, filled with screaming children and old men playing chess..

 Some of my favorites from today's visit are below..

Edgar Degas - Danseuses Bleues

     I absolutely love everything about Degas' ballerinas - the bright sapphire blue full tutus, the small arched feet, the overwhelming presence of grace in the picture, the blurriness, an undefined background other than large speckles of colors (could possibly be the set).

Manet - La Combat de Kearsarge et de L'Alabama  

(The Battle of the 'Kearsarge' and the 'Alabama')

Manet - Clair de lune sur le port de Boulogne

Degas - La Repasseuse

Taking a step back

Monday, June 13th, 2011
     Today has been relaxing thus far. After class, I went over to the Jewish District. I've not been let down by the food yet in that area. After passing too many good smelling boulingeries with challah, macarons, tartes, pains chocolate, etc., we couldn't make it past this jam packed little restaurant. Sarah, Max, and I could barely read anything on the menu, so we knew it had to be good, especially after observing the freshly prepared meals around us. Lots of loaded scrambled eggs, hefty slides of quiche, croissants, and massive meringue pies, just to say the least. The tea selection was exquisite and smelt very citrusy and fresh. It has to be good tea when you're given a strainer to pour the tea still brewing when you're given it in the pot. I don't know what they did to make the eggs so good, but the scrambled eggs I ordered were probably the best I've ever ordered. They had the perfect texture, not too dry and crispy, nor slimy or too wet. There was a perfect ratio of artichokes and parmesan in the eggs. As basic as the meals sounds, I can't wait to return there for brunch this Sunday. 

Jewish District

      These eggs are like something I've never tasted before! During our meal, we saw the 6 inch high lemon meringues pass us by far too many times that we were talked into dessert just through observation. None of us were into sharing, so we each had our own massive dessert tart. Mine was a blend of exotic fruits, on a buttery, flakey crust.

Exotic Fruit Tarte

Lemon Meringue Tarte

We probably devoured more than we ever expected to and will be recovering from our food comas by walking throughout Paris. This is when skipping the metro comes in handy..
     Everyone seemed to be exhausted after this meal, but I still wanted to check a few more things off of my list of things I need to see in Paris before departing, so I ventured over to the Musee national de Moyen Age/ Musee Cluny. It was a nice afternoon strolling through the museum by myself, not being held up by anyone else who seemed tired, bored, or hungry. It was all on my own time. It was one of the first times in Paris I set out to do something by myself. I really enjoyed the self reflection I was able to experience by not talking to nearly anyone for the three hours I was gone. I could also experience the city more completely as I eliminated the distraction of talking to whoever is next to you, rather than focusing on the art of the streets I was wandering. It's also nice to be able to discover the city on my own. I eventually ditched the map after a while as there wasn't another antsy person with me eager to reach our destination as quickly as possible. I remembered the advice I'd been given numerous times, especially by Dr. Maxim, reminding me:

"If you want to discover somewhere that has already 

been discovered, lose the map". And that I did.

     The museum was small, but I definitely think it was worth going to see the stone heads from Notre Dame. The 21 stone heads shown in one of the rooms was kind of disturbing to see at first. I then learned than the stone heads were of the Biblical kings of Judah that were once in front of Notre Dame until an angry mob of Revolutionaries mistook the kings of Judah for the kings of France and abused and decapitated the statues. Someone gathered the heads and buried them in his backyard near the present day Opera Garnier, where they remained for two centuries, until 1977, when some diggers came across them. The statues in front of Notre Dame are reconstructions. 

21 stone heads of the Biblical kings of Judah

     I really enjoy learning about history, especially when I'm in such a historical, famous area to do so. I'm not coming back to Paris any time soon, so I feel I need to learn as much as I can and visit as many museums as I can, with still making time to immerse myself into the Parisian culture. So far, I think I've done a pretty good job balancing the two.
     A parisian man came up to me today on the metro today and pointed at the scar from my ACL surgery on my knee. He started talking in French and I heard ACL, as it's the same abbreviation in French and English, and so I just said "wie," but he kept getting into too much detail where he was confused when I just kept responding with yes. I eventually caved in and said, "I don't speak French," with a half smile. He began responding in the little English he knew. It was nice to be mistaken for a Parisian, possibly by my outfit and my gaze focusing dead on one point in the distance on the metro the entire time until the man spoke to me. I've pretty much read both of my guide-books back to back a few times, and it's less interesting to me to read to places after I've already been to them. Kind of anti-climatic. I've started picking up the free metro newspapers in the morning, and though I can't read French, I can look at the pictures and the words I recognize, such as Bradley Cooper, and his appearances in Paris for the premiere of the, "Hangover 2," or "Very Bad Trip 2," as it's called here. I really regret not taking some sort of introductory French class before coming here. Like always, life (school) got in the way..

Omaha Beach

Sunday, June 12th, 2011
     Today, Erin, Brittany, Marshall, Noe, Nate, and Cameron all ventured off to the American Cemetery up at Omaha Beach in Normandy. After our Amsterdam road trip plans fell through, we spontaneously decided to take another adventure. After battling the language barrier between the seven of us USD students knowing very, very minimal French and the SNCF train employees, we hopped on a 9 AM train out of Paris from the St. Lazare train station and arrived in Bayeux a little over two and a half hours later. I organized the entire trip, decided when to leave Paris, return, how to get to the cemetery, what we'll have time for, etc., yet I was the only one that managed to make it to the ticket counter and have to buy a second ticket the morning of, even with my confirmation number. At least I was promised a refund if I returned later in the week. Let's see how successful that is. Also, we accidently bought tickets in which a French discount card for 12 to 25 year olds is needed upon checking the ticket, so we were all forced to upgrade our tickets to the higher price when the attendant came by, waking up us to check our tickets. The attendant was having a rough time with a British woman travelling with a French man. They were speaking what seemed to be clear French to each other, but the woman, who was carrying an invalidated ticket, like ourselves, pretended she didn't know any French, like us, so she shouldn't be receiving the fine for breaking those rules as the man gave us an exception other than the necessary upgrade we all paid for. Since she was travelling with a Parisian, she should know to validate her ticket as there are numerous bold, impossible-to-miss reminders throughout the train station warning travelers of the fine. This is just another instance in which being kind to the Parisians has helped us. The French attendant explained to us what we were doing wrong and how to avoid the mistake next time, yet the British woman raising her voice and going on a rant, wearing the attendant out, was given a stricter, more demanding fine. Ticket checking on a train would be a very tiresome job to have with so many travelers trying to beat the system.
     When we arrived in Bayeux, it was cold, windy, and rainy - just as the weather report predicted. We all decided to get a quick, warm pick me up with an espresso and some warm food. We sat down at the first cafe we passed by. Boy, was that a mistake. After finally getting used to wanting a simple shot of espresso, we ordered "cafes" all around. All of the other cafes I've been to in Paris have taken that to mean, "espresso shot," but here we were all given watery americanos. On the bright side, it did the job of warmth and caffeine. We then ordered pizzas, croques, a quiche, and a sandwiche. The pizza came out in  overly symmetric and flat, not as disordered and scrumptious looking as any other meal I've ordered here in France. Cameron doesn't like mushrooms, so he picked them off and gave them to me. I was very excited and hungry to devour them, but I couldn't help but laugh after taking the first bite as the mushrooms were frozen. We all quickly concluded that our prior assumptions upon looking at the food were indeed true and our waiter had defrosted all of our meals from a cardboard box in a microwave. Nate savored the sandwich he ordered while the rest of us picked at our food in disgust. It makes sense that the restaurant can run such a scam as it's the only cafe by the train station in a little town that no one really travels to other than for the cemeteries. It's not like he has regulars there. He must do fine running off of tourists who will never return nor have anyone to warn about this awful dining experience. Hopefully he's able to realize the ethics of what he's doing. Karma might come back and bite him in the..
    We then decided to take an adventure to the American cemetery at Omaha Beach. After much debate of taking two cabs or renting bikes for our 15 km journey, we all eagerly agreed on biking, despite the rain drizzling outside. And because cabs are apparently a significant amount more (25 or 50 or some crazy percentage more than any other day) in Normandy on Sundays. As sad as this sounds, it was probably the most exercise I had partaken any day I had been here thus far. The exercise reminded me how addicting I find adrenaline and endorphin rushes. Made me want to go for a run when returning to Paris, except it was 11 PM, so I figured it wasn't the safest idea. It was mainly a straight cut through the country to get to the memorial. The ride was a peaceful break from the city life. Smelling freshly bloomed flowers, rain in the fields, and even manure were a nice contrast to the sidewalks and metro smelling like urine and the sweaty BO smell of the metro, even on the rainier, brisk days due to the overcrowded city life. It was nice to be able to have a destination so far away and not have the option of taking the metro to get there. I'd much rather get some exercise and explore the natural, open air side of Paris. This bike ride is definitely a French treasure and has inspired me to walk over taking the metro and to go on runs for that addicting, healthy rush from only attainable with strenuous exercise. As unsafe as this bike ride seemed, biking on the side of an uneven road in the hills of a foreign country, the road barely having two lanes, us not having helmets, etc. - it all added to the excitement of this experience. It almost seemed like an accomplishment making it there and back without at least one of us falling off of our bike into a ditch. We're so ready for Tour de France. I even saw a man in a his spandex biking suit and a helmet making his bright fire-truck red bike, coming the other direction. He was turning onto a different road and I was quite impressed by how sharp his turn was and how he was able to lean his bike to such a small angle with the ground.. until he fell right in front of a car! Luckily, he bounced right back up without any scratches too intense. It was a good reminder we must still keep our guard up and live with at least a little fear to not fall into such easily avoidable and even life-threatening mishaps.
     Rain usually puts a damper on the day, but it really added to the experience of the trip. It set the tone for travelling to such a moving, emotional cemetery. Many Americans know of at least one soldier who is buried here or at least are moved by their stories and pay reverence for their lives as they gave their lives our freedom. Over 9500 Americans are buried in this cemetery - all with different careers, backgrounds, economical statuses, sexes - but they all shared one thing in common - a love so great for America that they'll put their life on the line to honor their country and protect their families back home. One of the stories was about a father of 26 years old who died in battle at Normandy leaving his wife, three young children, and a son of 7 months he had never met before behind. It's instances like these that make me damn proud to be an American. Walking past the wall memorial of the missing and into the cemetery with white crosses and crosses of the Jewish soldiers with the star of David was very moving.

Endless amount of crosses

      Reading the names off of the tombstones and noticing some of the last names being some of my friends last names, even my last name (even though no Hawkins members from my family would be buried there as the Hawkins side of my family is British and we have a few members over in Sword Beach), was moving knowing how American all of the names were and how we all have some sort of connection to the cemetery, no matter how distant, it's still apart of our heritage. Standing on the beach and simply trying to envision all that happened there that day was a lot to take in. The seven of us barely talked the entire time we were up at the cemetery as words weren't needed.
     It was emotional hearing all the Americans speaking English around me and how they all travelled such a far way and made an effort to pay reverence to their ancestors and loved ones. Seeing tombs such as the one pictured below really moved me as they really did honor every soldier that acted heroically to give up his life for the rest of us today.

"Here lies in honored glory a comrade known in arms known only to God."

It was also very interesting noticing all the non English speakers at Omaha Beach, some who still noticeably were from far away, still interested in honoring the soldiers and all they did for our country, for Great Britain, Canada, and the free French all in an effort to drive the Nazis out of France and to end gruesome WWII. D-Day at Normandy in 1944 is an integral piece of our world's history.

Omaha Beach

Diagram of Normandy attack

     If we weren't under such a time crunch, I would have loved to be able to explore the many other cemeteries and memorials across the Normandy coastline, particularly Sword Beach (one of the British cemetaries). It is here that my great Uncle Fred is buried. He was dropped onto Sword Beach the day before D-Day as apart of the elite 4th commando. This really does portray how much of an impact D-Day had on families all around the world, especially as my father and mother were both from different countries, yet both had ties to the "war to end all wars."I believe that seeing a cemetery such as this is necessary for everyone of any nation that has one. This experience was surreal and reminded me to appreciate my freedom. It's necessary to honor these men and women who were lost or who went into battle knowing they could lose their life. It took the entire effort of each country to be able to do this, supporting their families back at home, and praying for the soldiers out in battle. We must not forget them.

Think not only upon their passing

Remember the glory of their spirit

Strolling through a cemetery

Saturday, June 11th, 2011

     Today, we went to the Pere Lachaise cemetery for our Art History class. We described each tombstone in very elaborate detail. Even the seemingly simple ones had at least three pages of descriptions beautifully painting a picture of the tombstone, before looking at any pictures of the tombstone. We even ran into Delocroix’s and Jim Morrsion’s, which were surreal to be standing in front of, even with the lack of detail and disappointment in terms of elaborateness and detail in tombstones.

            My roommates and I then ventured off to Bastille and went to a Turkish restaurant. We were given a super spicey, tomato puree spice with our sliced baguette bread prepared at the table when we arrived. We ordered the couscous with chicken, and I was adventuresome enough to devour the heart!! The heart tasted a little odd and was very tough. It may have been because of the idea that it was a heart I was eating. It looked very beef/ steak-like and tasted like a very thin tough piece of beef slightly overcooked on the grill. With our meal, we were given a vegetable stew with chickpeas. At the six-person table, three were three from our party and then two from another. I noticed the older man sitting next to me. He was staring at us for a good ten minutes before he blurted out a few words in French. He didn’t know any English based on our response and his confusion. He eventually couldn’t handle whatever was driving him crazy after we didn’t understand his numerous explanations in French and with his very confusing hand motions. He grabbed my spoon and delicately spooned my entire bowl of soup onto my couscous! I wanted to eat them separately and tried to stop him politely, but it was hopeless!! He continually kept dolloping all of my soup onto the couscous with a dollop with a smile on his face! I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, not that he understood English enough to let him be hurt. The waiters and cooks serving us knew very little English. They were clearly not from France, and struggled to learn France as quick as they were able to, so they kept refilling our empty soup bowls and bread basket, even though we were clearly stuffed with food. After our feast, we were given a very yummy minty, green tea, with what seemed to be honey. The people at the other end of our small table filtered out and a man came in and sat by himself after his meal was set down prepared on the table. He talked to us a little, offering us to sample what he was eating. After refusing us, he somehow got into his profession as a security guard at a club downtown. He knew English better than the rest of the employees at the restaurant so we decided to ask him how to get our bill and pay after waiting another twenty minutes or so. He told us, “No, there is no bill! Come to my club. Here’s my phone number! You can pay for my meal next time, I have this one!” It went on and on. I thought he was the owner of the Turkish restaurant for how generous he was, but my roommates just assumed he was a regular at the restaurant. We left very amazed by our free meal, despite our persistence on paying as we’d already been offered “free drinks” by young Irish bartenders, and then being billed at the end of the supposed happy hour. We were very hesitant to believe this offer until we were forced to accept it by this older fellow.

            After this feast, we decided to walk all the way from the Bastille to our apartment in the 15^th district, which was a great way to uncover Paris above the metro. It seemed shameful to know my way around Paris only through the metro, especially when there’s so much to explore above ground. Over our three and a half mile walk home, we came across numerous parks and bakeries that we hope to return to!