Hello from the South of France - Chateaus, Small Towns, and Bright Yellow Sunflowers

My family and I have been traveling south from Paris for the past week and a half. I apologize for the lack of the posts in the meantime - between sightseeing by day and spotty internet at night, I just didn't get a chance. That and I realized I have completely turned off my brain ever since I left Paris. Why, I'm not sure - it could be that I'm with my parents or that my classes are over, or it could just be that smaller towns and pretty country scenes just lull my brain to sleep. Either way, I just haven't had enough mental activity lately to come up with anything all too worthwhile to say - thus, I'll leave the bulk of this post to images, to show you all what I have been seeing for the past few days.

The beautiful gardens at the chateau de Villandry.

A gorgeous sunset on the Loire River, as seen from the adorable town of Chinon.

Sunflowers abound across the French countryside and, true to their name, they face the east in the morning and the west after noon, eventually drooping their heads around 4pm when they've had their fill. Beautiful. (And here's my mom, hehe.)

Geese! At a goose farm in the Dordogne region, where I saw the force-feeding of the ducks and geese for foie gras production (although the force-feeding is used to make all parts of the duck or goose tastier, as I learned). Yes they were cute. Yes it was sad. Yes I still love foie gras. Watching the force-feeding demonstration was, if nothing else, a great eye-opener to the basic practical nature of making of a living. You produce geese. Fat geese sell better. You make the geese fat and you make a living. Such is life.

Huge Roman aqueduct in the south of France, near Nîmes. Ingenious engineering and masonry, 2000 years ago. I was impressed.

And to finish off, a goodbye from Arles, where I am currently: the "Rome of France," set in the heart of Provence, and (most importantly) where Van Gogh painted some of his most famous works (like Starry Night over the Rhone and Café Terrace at Night). I went today to find the café made timeless by his painting and it was utterly disappointing - all tourist-fare and souvenir-fodder - though I did take a couple photos to prove I found the spot (one of my goals for this trip). However, I was able to get some amazing photos of lamplit Arles at dusk which, by complete luck and good timing, managed to bear striking resemblance to some of our dear VG's pieces. Staring up at this murky sky framed by the yellow-bathed and dusty walls of ancient Arles, I can imagine what may have inspired the tortured artist to paint as he did. Small and touristy as this town may be today, I have to admit, it has charmed me with its bright sun, warm colors, and vibrant atmosphere.

Tomorrow we move on one more small town in Provence, then Nice for some French sunbathing - c'est la vie! And after that, we fly - home. It's been a whirlwind tour of France, and there is no doubt still lots to see, but to be honest I've been ready to go home ever since we left Paris. For I'm still a big city girl at heart. After all, how can you compare with never-ending nightlife, around-the-corner convenience, and most of all, that world-class culture right at your doorstep? My answer: you can't. Though a beautiful sunset sure does help.

With that, bonne nuit, à bientot, and gros bisous to all.

A Wonderful Lazy Sunday

After waking up at noon today, I decided today would be a lazy day, and lazy it was indeed. After evading the heat outside by staying in the house all afternoon, lounging around in my jammies (which I did freely today because my host family left for the weekend, shhh), I decided my day would have been completely worthless if I did not leave the house at all. Thus, I made up my mind to meet my friend for crêpes at Breizh Café, which had come highly recommended to me by an American girl who had spent an entire year abroad in Paris. Pictured are two of the 4 crêpeswe ordered - pear, chocolate, caramelized almonds, and vanilla bean ice cream (mine, all mine) and smoked salmon with...little flags...and some other deliciousness (Nico's). Presentation, fab. Taste, parf (our abrev forparfait, or perfect, in French - very witty I know). Cost, pas mal, pas mal du tout!

After my fabulous late-afternoon snack, I came home to find my host family and a new hosted student (from Australia) at home, getting ready for dinner! More delicious food, including gazpacho (very French, no?) and of course, bread and cheese. Mmm simple French cuisine. I left stuffed.

Finally, I left the house for the Montparnasse Tower to see the Paris skyline by night - gorgeous. Parisians say the view from Montparnasse is the best in town, for two reasons: 1) You can see the Eiffel Tower; and 2) You can't see the Montparnasse Tower. A glass and metal skyscraper towering at 60 stories tall above all of charming jolie Paris, it makes sense that the Parisians hate this building. Enough to pass a law forbidding all skyscrapers within the city center, just after completion of Tour Montparnasse. Nonetheless, the view is breathtaking, and yes, I did get some nice shots of the Eiffel Tower, even with my crappy camera.

And finally, my friend (Jimmy) and I stopped at St. Michel for a final, late-night crepe (I know what you're thinking - AGAIN??? But I had to - it was sugar, butter, and lemon juice!) and while walking back to the metro, we saw these two adorable kittens playing in a balcony in the Latin Quarter. So cute. So perfect. The perfect cuddly end to a wonderfully lazy day.

Tomorrow morning I think I may go back to Sacré-Coeur for a little more introspection - that or I'll head back to the Musée D'Orsay to finish viewing the Monets and Millets and Renoirs that I didn't get to see. Either way I hope to squeeze something in before class in the afternoon - time is running out and there is still so much so much to do!!

I have lots more photos to put up and tell you about, but its late and I want to be productive tomorrow, so alas, I will leave the rest for tomorrow night. Till then, bon soir!

Chateaux, Wedding Dreams, and Why I May Have Chosen The Wrong Major

Hello everyone. I have an announcement to make. I have begun dreaming of my wedding. It's true. It's sad. It's gruesomely girly. But alas, I must admit, I have commenced the wedding dress oogling and wedding venue hunting. And so far, first up on my list of perfect places to have my wedding: the château de Chenonceau, in Touraine, France, about 2 hours by train from Paris.

First of all, look at how fabulously this château is located - its on a river for goodness' sake! My picture definitely does not do it justice, but look at how amazing it is - the entire castle spans the width of the river, and thus every room in the house has a water front view, literally! Not to mention the two main galleries that span the length of the castle are absolutely gorgeous, and impeccably maintained. These days the upper floor gallery houses a collection of modern art. And this is where I'd like my reception, please...

The main ceremony down here, in the first floor arcades. Glorious. (Sorry for the weird sizing, I got this one off the web.)

I think what I love most of this château is the mix of modern and historic beauty that emanates from every room, every window, every decorative piece. In truth, give me a mix of modern and historic anywhere and I would fall in love with that place - it is truly my weak spot in decorative style.

A couple more photos of the interior decor. (Try to ignore my ridiculous friends and enjoy the marvelous paintings on the walls of the 2nd floor gallery.)

How about wedding photos in this perfectly manicured shrubbery labyrinth?

Or this picturesque leafy passage?

Or this magnificent tree-lined driveway?

Or this adorable country garden/cottage?

Anyways, you can see I've really fallen in love with this château. Luckily, I get to go again (with my parents!) in a just a couple weeks, so I get to fall in love with it all over again. And dream my girlhood dreams. Next I'll be clipping wedding dress photos out of magazines and pasting them on my wall - oh my. But a girl can dream, no? (The French would say, mais oui, bien sûr!)

After our visit to Chenonceau, we went to Clos Lucé, home of Leonardo Da Vinci (or "Léonard De Vinci" in French) where he spent his last days. Today's its a cute museum with lots of cute Da Vinci memorabilia (like quotes, one of my faves shown below) and peaceful garden views (also below).

"It is easier to be opposed (to something) at the beginning than at the end." Joey, if you're reading this, this one's for you.

But my favorite part of the museum was by far the entire basement level devoted to models of Da Vinci's inventions, visualized on paper by the brilliant thinker himself, and rendered in real-life by IBM, using period materials. I unfortunately don't have any photos of my own to show you (I was too enthralled by the models and informational plaques next to them to remember to take photos, apparently), so I've included one from the web below. This is a model of some flying machine that is artfully placed in his garden/backyard.

Which brings me to the third point of my post: after browsing the Da Vinci museum and spending 10x more time and energy in the model display wing than the entire rest of the museum, I realized something - I should have been an engineer. How else can one explain my inexplicable fascination of his totally awesome machines and devices. Drawbridge anyone??

Perhaps it was lucky for you all that I didn't take any photos of the models, or else you would have to suffer through me crying "Oh oh!! Look at this water scooping thing!! It's so cool!!" and "OMG! Look at how awesome this turny handle thing is!!" every ten seconds like my poor friend Nico did (thanks Nico for your patience).

Anyways, moral of the story: if I could turn back time and return to freshman year of college, when I was young and impressionable, and still had time to choose my major, I would choose engineering. Maybe. If only so I could play with models like these too. Yeah right.

Well, thanks for reading and I apologize for the lapse in posting this week. What with travelling all weekend and Fête de la Musique on Monday, I have been completely pooped. But this weekend I plan to go to Giverny to visit Monet's house - it should be a nice afternoon I à la compagne. I'll upload more pictures then.

Till then, salut!

J'adore Rodin

Museums abound in Paris, as I'm sure everyone knows. In the past week.5 that I have spent here so far, I've been to 6 or 7 museums already, and there are doubtless at least another 5 or 10 to follow. However, I must say that my favorite, or at least one of my favorites so far, has been the Rodin Museum near Napoleon's tomb in the center of Paris (I also visited N's tomb today, which was cool.).

I have a few pictures to show you all of the many bronzes and studies that were on exhibit in the Musée Rodin - you can see in all of them the sense of emotion, power, struggle, and strength that is his trademark, and is what makes Rodin one of my all-time favorite artists (though I am in no way an art expert at all).

I've uploaded a few photos from the museum so you can see exactly what I am talking about (although all of these works are so much more exciting to see in person).

What is probably Rodin's most famous work, The Thinker, a depiction of a man deep in thought with his chin upon his knee. To me he seems as if he's muddling through a thick ocean of thoughts, indeed too many thoughts for his human mind to handle at once, but the strength in his limbs and the determination set in his face assure me that he will eventually tunnel his way through the mess of thoughts in his head and find the light. A great work.

And here's me being touristy and posing in front of it.

Next up: The Burghers of Calais. Another one of my favorites, and one of his more despondent works IMO (though the large part of his work is, from what I could tell, mostly representations of human struggle and suffering), this piece depicts the 6 city leaders of the Calais, a city under seige which was abandoned by the king of France during the 100 Year's War and forced to surrender its top city leaders in return for the release of the siege by the English. The 6 city leaders carry the keys to the city and are, à mon avis, the very picture of misery, sacrifice, and despair, tempered however by understanding and acknowledgment of why things must be so. What amazed me most in this piece especially was the amount of emotion described in just the hands and faces of the figures. Take a closer look and see if you can tell what each of these men are feeling as they walk to their execution.

The Kiss, an absolutely gorgeous work that the girly romantic in me just can not help but adore. Look at it, does it not look exactly as a couple in love, intertwined in a passionate first kiss, perched upon a rock before a gorgeous sunset, should look? Absolutely beautiful. The girl in me is melting right now. But apparently Rodin came to despise this work as meaningless and petty. To which I say: PSHHHT. Men.

Close up of The Kiss. Sigh.

Now, The Three Shades, which I actually don't know much about and couldn't decipher from the name or the sculpture itself. The internet wasn't much help either for this piece. If anyone knows and would like to enlighten me as to what this piece is about, please do. I would love to know. Nonetheless, I think its a great work of art. The strength and tenseness of emotion in the muscles of the arms and legs are absolutely amazing. This, like all of Rodin's pieces, looks so completely human and yet MORE than human in that the tension visible in every muscle can portray to a tee the emotion and thoughts storming in his mind and coursing through his limbs as a result. My words can't describe, but perhaps a picture can:

Finally, here's me in front of the Gates of Hell, which is probably my top favorite of Rodin's work. Hundreds of figures, tormented by inner demons as well as the physical torture of Hell, comprise this incredibly powerful depiction of Dante's Inferno, which alas, I still have yet to read (though I've already bought it and it has been sitting on my shelf for at least a year).

A bunch of literary and mythical allusions to tormented souls can be found throughout the work, one of which is Ugolin, the father who ate his children (I think??), seen below.

However, my favorite of the subjects depicted has got to be Paolo and Francesco in Fugit Amor, who are shown suffering for their adulterous love. Again, the girly romantic in me showing through. But whatever. Its art. Its allowed. (I have no idea why this image came out so big, although I did borrow it from another website because apparently I forgot to take a picture of this part of the Gates while I was there. My apologies for the awkward size.)

And that's it for pictures right now, but BTW, Stanford University (yes I know, hisssssssss) has a great collection of Rodins that, if you get a chance, you should really go check out. They have Thinker, Burghers of Calais, and the Gates of Hell outdoors, as well as lots more smaller pieces inside their on-campus art museum. Definitely jealous. Hisssssssssss.

Finally, before we part, a gorgeous shot of Notre Dame that I took tonight after dark, all lit up and beautiful. Enjoy!

And with that, bon nuit and à bientot!

One Week in Paris AKA Picture Time!

Since I was already posting up pictures of Sacre-Coeur, I figured I would go ahead and put up a few more from my first week. Enjoy!

First off, of course, la Tour Eiffel. How could I not? I actually stumbled across the tower without meaning to (yes, I know, that sounds absurd, its only the most well-known, iconic emblem of Paris). I was on my way to rue Cler for a taste of typical Parisian market life last weekend, when I took a wrong turn, turned a corner, and literally stumbled into view of the tower. My first thought? OH hey, its the Eiffel Tower! (....yeah...I know...absurd)

Speaking of absurd, we watched the Absurdist play La Cantatrice Chauve (The Bald Soprano) last week after reading it in class. The play was, in a word, absurd. Absolutely absurd. Pure nonsense, really. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. But apparently, according to my host father, that's exactly the point. Fancy that.

Next up: Notre-Dame, famed cathedrale of Paris, located in the middle of the river on the Ile de la Cité (Island of the City). According to my History of Paris professor, it is one of the greatest examples of Gothic architecture (soaring ceilings, those buttress things, amazing stained-glass windows). The organ is amazing too, Nico and I went to a concert Wednesday night where I was completely astounded by the sheer force of sound released by those pipes. Incroyable.

Me being a dope next to a pretty Parisian lamppost. Big whup, I know.

Gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous Louvre after dark. One of our first nights in Paris, the rest of the group and I went to this amazing palace to get to know each other and, how to say, s'amuser a little. We then proceeded to spend 3 awesome afternoons in the museum studying Neoclassic and Romantic art. Fabuleux.

And finally, my group! The fabulous students of Sweet Briar College Paris Summer Program 2010. Here we are walking down an adorable Parisian street (actually I'm not in it because I was taking the photo.)

Oh and one more thing I have to admit - I have shopped. Yes, I couldn't resist, French fashion is just too awesome and too accessible. Surprisingly, I was able to find quite a few good deals in some of the smaller stores in Paris. I picked up a sharp blazer and some classic tops - nothing like classic chic Parisian fashion - on a budget! I call it a study of French culture like any other aspect, and what better way to learn than to imitate, no?

And with that, à demain!

Sacre-Coeur, Montmartre, and Why I Feel Empty Inside

This weekend we organized an afternoon trip to Montmartre, a neighborhood of Paris known for its religious origins, cabaret past, and tourist-trap present. Sacre-Coeur Basilica, the glorious white cathedral that sits atop the highest point in Paris, commanding a breath-taking view of the entire city (remind me to go back up there after dark for the lights), is a gleaming testament to the strength of the Catholic devout as it still exists today.

According to my trusty Rick Steves guidebook, the cathedral was built just one century ago by rich Parisians who, during the siege of Paris in the Franco-Prussian War, believed that the suffering they had to endure was in fact a form of punishment for crimes committed before and during the war. The act of building the church was, thus, a form of penitence for the French catholics for their sins and those of their fellow Frenchmen. There is some political intrigue to the actual plot of the construction of Sacre-Coeur as well, but for want of keeping evidence of my political history ignorance to a minimum, I will gloss over that part of the story and say only that Wikipedia is, IMO, a great website.

Anyways, the point of my story: during our visit to Montmartre on Saturday, we left the viewing of the cathedral for last in order to avoid the huge tourist crowds. Unfortunately, this meant that I was only able to take in the greatest of the church for about 5 minutes before I was ushered out the door for dinner. But in those 5 minutes, I felt I had found something entirely different from any other cathedral I had visited - even Notre Dame and (is she really going to say it?) St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican City (yes, I said it). At the time, I had no idea what it was, but I knew I had to come back to bien apprecier this magnificent structure.

So that is how this morning, at 11am, after a breakfast of toast and hot chocolate, I found myself sitting in one of the pews of Sacre-Coeur Basilica, staring up at the wondrously decorated domed ceiling and marveling at the stories of Joan of Arc and other saints depicted in the stained-glass vitraux.

It was at this moment that it hit me - the emotion coursing through me was not appreciation, but sheer wonder. Wonder that this huge, gleaming white imposing stone basilica, that must have cost millions (or billions? I'm not so good with big numbers) of ______ (insert preferred currency name here), could have been built just 100 years ago. That less than one century ago (it was finished in 1912), people, like me, albeit much more wealthy than I am, could have felt so moved by their faith that they would commit millions to the construction of a cathedral. A real, live, cathedral. Tons of stone and plaster, thousands upon thousands of man-hours poured into the decoration of every wall, every window, every column. Not to mention the incredible domed ceiling depicting Jesus' sacred heart, the holy trinity, and numerous worshipers offering the world and this church to their god. (Interestingly enough, these worshipers included a lady in a kimono, a man in a business suit, a Native American-looking figure, and St. Bernard with his namesake dog - another testament to the youth of this basilica, I suppose.)*

My sense of wonder for the church began to extend to the realm of the writing of history: it amazed me that the erection of this church, resounding in its sheer size and beauty, was in fact the writing of history here and now (give or take a century or so), a real physical mark upon the history of the world. That hundreds of years from now, visitors would still tour this church as I did, but they would feel distanced from it by time, as I had when I went to Notre Dame and St. Peter's, where I felt so intimately the weight of such an undertaking when it had occurred just 100 years ago, nearly in living memory.

I think it was this revelation that moved me that most. The idea that a few people, commoners (read: non-royalty) like me, could make that kind of lasting mark on the world, made me wonder then what my calling is. For if others could have a passion so huge that they could put in millions to build a cathedral, or, to take it one step further, to dedicate their entire lives to their faith, why was it that I, now 20, still had no idea why I existed.

The beauty of such a church could turn anyone faithful. I looked at it and asked myself, am I missing something? What was it that others felt that could prompt them to build such a monument that was, in essence, a manifestation of something within them, because for all the ceremony and tradition, is not what binds a religion together just the shared inner feeling of faith in a common force?

Regardless, I was astounded that others could have something so large and powerful within themselves, that they might go weekly to explore that feeling within them, and devote millions to the cause of helping others find the same inner feeling. For never have I believed in something that large within myself. Never have I felt that calling, that cause for my devotion, that passion that calls me to devote all of myself to something outside of myself.

At that moment, my sense of wonder turned inward, or rather returned inward, to my continuous search for my passion, my life-force, my calling. Questions and insecurities about my accomplishments and my capabilities, resurfacing as they have been for the past couple months. After discussing these thoughts with a couple close friends, I decided before I left for Paris that this month abroad would be a time for my self-reflection and hopefully, personal and emotional growth. With this first encounter with my demons (or lack of) within, I hope will come more chances for self-exploration and ultimately, discovery. Because, I suppose like every other young person out there, I am impatient with life, and I just want to know already! (sulk sulk sulk) But I guess growing up wouldn't be growing up without well, growing pains.

I have so much more to tell you about my adventures last week in Paris - all my new friends and all the new sites, especially the amazing art history I am learning and of course, the MAGNIFICENT food I am eating. But alas, it's late and I have "History of Paris Through its Monuments" tomorrow morning at 9am (yes, its an awesome class and yes, its basically all field trips). So, I will leave the rest for tomorrow. I promise I will write again, for all you die-hard Joycerine fans (yeah right, I know), but for now, bon nuit and au revoir.

*I took the following photo from the interweb, courtesy of Google. Photos aren't allowed inside the church, but I wanted to give you all a sense of what I was going on yammering about. Thank you for understanding.