I still cannot conjugate the subjunctive. I forget that certain verbs must be accompanied by etre instead of avoir till after I've already uttered the broken phrase. Saying, "I've never seen/done that" is a constant pain in my butt, because I always flub it even though I know how it is supposed to go. In short, I'm not fluent... STILL!!! After four years of French at Sewanee, a semester in Aix-en-Provence, two years of French in high school, and this entire year here, and I'm still not fluent. Tant pis. I DO speak Toulousain though.
What I mean, is that I've picked up little things that they don't teach you in school. I've learned little ways of saying things so that I sound more french even if my phrases aren't correct. And I certainly feel more at ease with the language.
Afin (ah fen) means thus. The people here (and maybe elsewhere in France, I don't know) have shortened it to 'fin. They use it to help lead from one point to another. For an American, it's comparable to us using the word 'so' while telling an anecdote.
b'ais oui (bay wee): I've been told that this way of saying 'mais oui' has evolved from one hesitating just before saying the word oui and then not pronouncing the 'm' in 'mais' so that the movement from the closed to the open mouth actually pronounces the 'b' sound. This little phrase of agreement is most often (and ironically) used when one is emphasizing their point of view. For example, "You don't think it is really going to rain tomorrow do you?" "Mais (B'ais) oui (translation: Oh but yes!) , it will rain tomorrow, just look at the weather! There is 99% chance!"
**my friend Marie says that it could also come from "bah ouais" (bah weh). In France, instead of saying "um", they tend to say "bah". So perhaps the "bah" is the hestitation sound, followed by the more laid back way of saying oui (wee), aka ouais (weh)...either way, I've heard bah weh and bay wee here in Toulouse and I like it lots !!!
Voila (vwah la or wah la --- it's said both ways here) means "lo and behold/see here/see there/ta da/told you so/ as i said..." It means a lot of different things. I've learned that the French use it as a verbal filler kind of like afin ('fin) when trying to tell you something. It they arrive at a point and are hesitating upon moving to the next or feel lost for the moment, they will say "Voila" as a way of emphasizing and summing up what they were saying and giving themselves a moment to remember where the conversation was headed.
et alors (ay ah loor) means 'and so'. It is used exactly like afin and voila.
tch tch - this is a sound, not a phrase. This sound is the equivalent of "no, no" and it is used on kids and pets to dissuade them from getting into whatever trouble or mess they were headed toward.
Attention (ah ton see on) means "pay attention/be careful/look out/" and of course a host of other things as well. The prevailing idea of the word is to grab someone's attention to tell them something, so in that way perhaps the best translation is the militaristic call "Attention!". I've used this phrase to tell N. to be careful eating her hot food, to warn someone before running past them on the escalator, to grab the attention of an elderly person on the bus to an open seat....it's a great word!
C'est ca (say sah) means "that's it". I use this phrase to confirm, to correct, to question...it's like the chameleon phrase. For example, if a friend emails me to ask if we are indeed meeting at 8, I email back this phrase meaning, "yes, that's the correct time." Or, if I am not sure how to send a package at the post office, I can describe what I think the procedure is and end my description with "c'est ca", which is a way of asking if I'm correct or not.
I'm sure there are little things I'm forgetting, but those are the principle things that come to mind when I think of the progress in French that I've made this year.
~Tam in Toulouse
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Melanger prt 2
and continuing the list of little differences....
Bread: yes, yes, everyone knows that the French eat baguettes. This is true. What I thought was more interesting is that they HAVE loaf bread, really yummy whole wheat loaf bread and white bread here. They just prefer to eat the baguettes with their cheese and to prepare sandwiches on the baguettes.
Sodas: The sprite tastes more bitter here; the coca cola tastes sweeter.
Mailing Packages: Don't think you can show up at the post office, buy a shipping box, and send a sweet care package to someone. NO. Here, they have those boxes, but the cheapest one begins at 11 euros !!! You are expected to somehow have your own personal cardboard box in which to send things.
Meat: It is expensive here, very expensive. The people I know here eat meat about twice a week, a number far less than in America where it's unusual to eat such a small amount in that time.
Balance: Americans tend to talk about life in terms of extremes. We work toward being the best, having the best, knowing the most, etc. The French tend to think of life as a balance, and they talk about this balance non-stop. They have the philosphy that there is the time to work, but that leisure is also healthy. They eat lots of fruits and vegetables, but usually complement the meal with decadent desserts and wine. They speak of politics, religion, and literature with tangents about movie stars, food, and travel plans. They are neither too serious nor too fun-loving. They really strive for a balance each day, and I hope to keep that idea of balance when I return to the USA.
Bread: yes, yes, everyone knows that the French eat baguettes. This is true. What I thought was more interesting is that they HAVE loaf bread, really yummy whole wheat loaf bread and white bread here. They just prefer to eat the baguettes with their cheese and to prepare sandwiches on the baguettes.
Sodas: The sprite tastes more bitter here; the coca cola tastes sweeter.
Mailing Packages: Don't think you can show up at the post office, buy a shipping box, and send a sweet care package to someone. NO. Here, they have those boxes, but the cheapest one begins at 11 euros !!! You are expected to somehow have your own personal cardboard box in which to send things.
Meat: It is expensive here, very expensive. The people I know here eat meat about twice a week, a number far less than in America where it's unusual to eat such a small amount in that time.
Balance: Americans tend to talk about life in terms of extremes. We work toward being the best, having the best, knowing the most, etc. The French tend to think of life as a balance, and they talk about this balance non-stop. They have the philosphy that there is the time to work, but that leisure is also healthy. They eat lots of fruits and vegetables, but usually complement the meal with decadent desserts and wine. They speak of politics, religion, and literature with tangents about movie stars, food, and travel plans. They are neither too serious nor too fun-loving. They really strive for a balance each day, and I hope to keep that idea of balance when I return to the USA.
Melanger prt 1
Here in France I've noticed differences in the culture here and the American way of life. I don't know that I've really blogged about some of the tiny things that you'd just have to live here a while to see first-hand... So now, I think I'll make a little list of various things to share with you.
Kitchens: every single French kitchen I've been in has been tiny by American standards. There is no room for more than one person to move about.
Food Labels: Not only do the labels here tell you the nutrition facts, but they also warn you not to snack between meals, they encourage you to eat a balanced diet with fruits and vegetables daily, AND they give you suggestions on what to eat with the item you are currently holding.
Bonjour: It is considered rude to not say "Bonjour" when you pass someone in the hall of the apartment building, when getting on a bus or entering a store, when it is your turn at the check out counter at the grocery store, to your waiter before you begin to rattle off your food/drink order, when your professor enters the classroom - I'm sure there are more instances that I am forgetting, but yes, "Bonjour" is a constantly uttered phrase here in France.
TV/video games/computers - the French haven't hit the technology obsessed stride that Americans have, and I'm so appreciative of that. Kids don't come in from school and plop down in front of the TV or the video gaming system or the computer. Some households I've visited don't have a TV. Other households don't have a personal computer. It's not a matter of money either, it's simply because the French are interested in people and doing things together and not staring at glowing boxes all hours of the day. When I tell Americans that I have no cell phone they tell me they couldn't live without theirs. When I say the same to a French person, the usual response is that it's a good thing.
Junk Food: I haven't been in a French house yet with junk food. Sure, there's a never ending supply of dark chocolate and nutella if you open the cupboard. Real junk food, like chips, soda, cookies, etc is avoided here in France.
Meal Duration: If invited to a nice dinner in America with friends, expect it to last maybe an hour. If invited to a dinner with friends or family in France, expect it to last between one to three hours depending on the occasion, the food, and the wine.
Window screens: It makes sense to me, with bugs in the summer, that it is normal to have window screens so that one can enjoy the breeze without the bugs. Yet, here in Toulouse, I've seen zero window screens. I talked to K. about this and she mentioned that one can buy window screens, but they don't come standard in homes.
Kitchens: every single French kitchen I've been in has been tiny by American standards. There is no room for more than one person to move about.
Food Labels: Not only do the labels here tell you the nutrition facts, but they also warn you not to snack between meals, they encourage you to eat a balanced diet with fruits and vegetables daily, AND they give you suggestions on what to eat with the item you are currently holding.
Bonjour: It is considered rude to not say "Bonjour" when you pass someone in the hall of the apartment building, when getting on a bus or entering a store, when it is your turn at the check out counter at the grocery store, to your waiter before you begin to rattle off your food/drink order, when your professor enters the classroom - I'm sure there are more instances that I am forgetting, but yes, "Bonjour" is a constantly uttered phrase here in France.
TV/video games/computers - the French haven't hit the technology obsessed stride that Americans have, and I'm so appreciative of that. Kids don't come in from school and plop down in front of the TV or the video gaming system or the computer. Some households I've visited don't have a TV. Other households don't have a personal computer. It's not a matter of money either, it's simply because the French are interested in people and doing things together and not staring at glowing boxes all hours of the day. When I tell Americans that I have no cell phone they tell me they couldn't live without theirs. When I say the same to a French person, the usual response is that it's a good thing.
Junk Food: I haven't been in a French house yet with junk food. Sure, there's a never ending supply of dark chocolate and nutella if you open the cupboard. Real junk food, like chips, soda, cookies, etc is avoided here in France.
Meal Duration: If invited to a nice dinner in America with friends, expect it to last maybe an hour. If invited to a dinner with friends or family in France, expect it to last between one to three hours depending on the occasion, the food, and the wine.
Window screens: It makes sense to me, with bugs in the summer, that it is normal to have window screens so that one can enjoy the breeze without the bugs. Yet, here in Toulouse, I've seen zero window screens. I talked to K. about this and she mentioned that one can buy window screens, but they don't come standard in homes.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Good Times prt 2
Tonight, I met up with a dear French friend named Aurore. We sat ourselves at a cafe on the Place Capitol in the evening sunlight and gave our orders to the waiter. Then we dove into conversation.
I hadn't seen Aurore for probably over a month and had missed her a lot. She wanted to hear about Easter. I wanted to hear about her past and upcoming travels (she's been SO many places!). Our ice cream sundaes disappeared somehow; our beverages also. Before we knew it, an hour had gone by and we decided to move our meeting to her apartment.
When we got to her apartment, the first thought that sprinted into my head was, "WE ARE THE SAME PERSON" !!! Albeit, in two different bodies, living two different lives, residing in two different countries of course. As I looked around Aurore's apartment I realized that she and I had such similar taste. Rich fabrics in purples and oranges, candles, souvenirs from her travels, books and more books, were all arranged beautifully around the space. Her furniture was low and comfortable. There were great mismatched tables holding things from the computer, to the TV, to books. Even the arrangement of the furniture and the kitchen utensils was just as I would have arranged them had I moved in. Aside from just a couple of souvenirs that she had displayed, the space was me all over. She even had the pillows to match the bedspread that I had all throughout college!!!
Aurore turned on some Spanish music and helped me make fresh guacamole. After she served up some apple juice for both of us and arranged our Mexican snack on her gorgeous wood in-lay coffee table, we sat down (or rather, sunk into) her comfy furniture. While we ate our guacamole and tortilla chips, we talked about the difficulties of pronunciation in both languages and our favorite words in each other’s native tongue. We talked of education, religion, and racism. We talked about dance. I talked about cheerleading. We traded boyfriend anecdotes. The conversation flowed organically till long past the sun went down. For the second night in a row, I was treated to someone else’s cooking; Aurore prepared a simple pasta and hamburger meal with Provençal herbs. As she took our dirty dishes into the kitchen, I stole a glance at her cell, noting that it was already 10:30. Where had the past four and a half hours gone? Had she and I really been talking almost continuously since we met for the café at 6?
Following these thoughts was the feeling of disappointment. I didn’t want the night to end. I felt so at home in her apartment. I almost felt like I was back in America just hanging out with one of my closest friends – except that I obviously don’t speak French with my friends like I do with Aurore– I was so at ease and happy. The hours had slipped by while our friendship and understanding of one another’s culture had grown. Unfortunately, I knew that I had better go before the metro closed; besides, Aurore was leaving the next morning on a week-long trip and hadn’t packed. Around 11 we headed for the metro station, traded hugs and cheek kisses and more hugs, wished each other well for the upcoming week and weekend, and then parted ways. As I rode the escalator down into the metro, I thought to myself that I might just be as sad leaving France this year as I was when I left after study abroad my junior year. There may not be the same desire to stay and live the ‘French life’ as there was junior year, but there was the same feeling that I was leaving ones I loved behind; and this time that feeling was magnified. What an amazing night it was indeed.
~Tam in Toulouse
I hadn't seen Aurore for probably over a month and had missed her a lot. She wanted to hear about Easter. I wanted to hear about her past and upcoming travels (she's been SO many places!). Our ice cream sundaes disappeared somehow; our beverages also. Before we knew it, an hour had gone by and we decided to move our meeting to her apartment.
When we got to her apartment, the first thought that sprinted into my head was, "WE ARE THE SAME PERSON" !!! Albeit, in two different bodies, living two different lives, residing in two different countries of course. As I looked around Aurore's apartment I realized that she and I had such similar taste. Rich fabrics in purples and oranges, candles, souvenirs from her travels, books and more books, were all arranged beautifully around the space. Her furniture was low and comfortable. There were great mismatched tables holding things from the computer, to the TV, to books. Even the arrangement of the furniture and the kitchen utensils was just as I would have arranged them had I moved in. Aside from just a couple of souvenirs that she had displayed, the space was me all over. She even had the pillows to match the bedspread that I had all throughout college!!!
Aurore turned on some Spanish music and helped me make fresh guacamole. After she served up some apple juice for both of us and arranged our Mexican snack on her gorgeous wood in-lay coffee table, we sat down (or rather, sunk into) her comfy furniture. While we ate our guacamole and tortilla chips, we talked about the difficulties of pronunciation in both languages and our favorite words in each other’s native tongue. We talked of education, religion, and racism. We talked about dance. I talked about cheerleading. We traded boyfriend anecdotes. The conversation flowed organically till long past the sun went down. For the second night in a row, I was treated to someone else’s cooking; Aurore prepared a simple pasta and hamburger meal with Provençal herbs. As she took our dirty dishes into the kitchen, I stole a glance at her cell, noting that it was already 10:30. Where had the past four and a half hours gone? Had she and I really been talking almost continuously since we met for the café at 6?
Following these thoughts was the feeling of disappointment. I didn’t want the night to end. I felt so at home in her apartment. I almost felt like I was back in America just hanging out with one of my closest friends – except that I obviously don’t speak French with my friends like I do with Aurore– I was so at ease and happy. The hours had slipped by while our friendship and understanding of one another’s culture had grown. Unfortunately, I knew that I had better go before the metro closed; besides, Aurore was leaving the next morning on a week-long trip and hadn’t packed. Around 11 we headed for the metro station, traded hugs and cheek kisses and more hugs, wished each other well for the upcoming week and weekend, and then parted ways. As I rode the escalator down into the metro, I thought to myself that I might just be as sad leaving France this year as I was when I left after study abroad my junior year. There may not be the same desire to stay and live the ‘French life’ as there was junior year, but there was the same feeling that I was leaving ones I loved behind; and this time that feeling was magnified. What an amazing night it was indeed.
~Tam in Toulouse
Good Times prt 1
I've had an amazing two evenings! I wanted to write them down before I was so far removed from then that the 'new' rubbed off and blogging about them seemed silly. At this crucial time here, aka my last week and a half, such evenings are what I'll remember probably better than most things. They'll be some of the last memories I make here... and so they are worthy of being blogged about.
Sunday evening I met two Americans for some food and conversation. I'd previously (and randomly) met them on the plane on my way to London. The friendship basically started upon finding out that they were from Austin, TX (and I love TX) and that we were all headed to London, and all living in Toulouse studying abroad. Instantaneously I liked these southern gents (Nick and Michael) with the same adoration of France/french.
So finally, after my exams and all their travels, we were meeting to really hang out. Inside Michael's apartment we settled in for a weird snack fest. I had brought the wine and cookies, they provided salsa, guacamole, and chips. The pairings were definitely off; rose wine with cheap cookies, then with salsa and guacamole, BUT we didn't care. The snacks were yummy and the wine was refreshing. As we munched through the cookies and finished off the salsa and guacamole it became apparent that we needed actual dinner. Michael graciously fixed "Michael's Meal" (aka rice, zucchini, onion, garlic, and bell pepper with a little bit of tomato sauce). Nick and I jumped in to chop things and feel helpful. The conversation continued through the chopping, through the simmering, and through the eating of Michael's Meal. Afterward, I washed dishes, Nick dried, and still the conversation continued. Frankly, I was quite surprised that these two guys were not only letting me ramble on and on, but they weren't complaining about me changing subjects every five minutes and they were keeping up with me as far as talk time went. Neither one lacked for words. After a few days to myself in my apartment I think I was on talk overload, binging on the English and the camaraderie.
From clean dishes we moved to Texas Hold 'Em. We played with centimes, mostly the euro one cent coins. It was ridiculous for me to be blissful. I was simply sitting in a studio apartment, playing an easy card game, talking about nothing important with new friends. Yet, I was blissful. By eleven thirty I was back in my own apartment thinking back on what a great time I'd had just hanging out with people sharing food, playing a game, and making conversation.
Sunday evening I met two Americans for some food and conversation. I'd previously (and randomly) met them on the plane on my way to London. The friendship basically started upon finding out that they were from Austin, TX (and I love TX) and that we were all headed to London, and all living in Toulouse studying abroad. Instantaneously I liked these southern gents (Nick and Michael) with the same adoration of France/french.
So finally, after my exams and all their travels, we were meeting to really hang out. Inside Michael's apartment we settled in for a weird snack fest. I had brought the wine and cookies, they provided salsa, guacamole, and chips. The pairings were definitely off; rose wine with cheap cookies, then with salsa and guacamole, BUT we didn't care. The snacks were yummy and the wine was refreshing. As we munched through the cookies and finished off the salsa and guacamole it became apparent that we needed actual dinner. Michael graciously fixed "Michael's Meal" (aka rice, zucchini, onion, garlic, and bell pepper with a little bit of tomato sauce). Nick and I jumped in to chop things and feel helpful. The conversation continued through the chopping, through the simmering, and through the eating of Michael's Meal. Afterward, I washed dishes, Nick dried, and still the conversation continued. Frankly, I was quite surprised that these two guys were not only letting me ramble on and on, but they weren't complaining about me changing subjects every five minutes and they were keeping up with me as far as talk time went. Neither one lacked for words. After a few days to myself in my apartment I think I was on talk overload, binging on the English and the camaraderie.
From clean dishes we moved to Texas Hold 'Em. We played with centimes, mostly the euro one cent coins. It was ridiculous for me to be blissful. I was simply sitting in a studio apartment, playing an easy card game, talking about nothing important with new friends. Yet, I was blissful. By eleven thirty I was back in my own apartment thinking back on what a great time I'd had just hanging out with people sharing food, playing a game, and making conversation.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
The Countdown begins at 10
Ten days. Starting tomorrow, I have just 10 days left in France. When I think about it, I visited London in 5 days, so 10 days in Toulouse should be plenty of time (on top of the 8 1/2 months I've been here already) to soak up the city and pull into myself wonderful memories to cherish always. But 10 days seems alternately like too little time and like the never ending home stretch.
Today I begin to pack. The weather is gorgeous outside, but I won't be venturing out to appreciate it. No, today is the day that I stay inside and begin to sort through my stacks of papers. I will put all my clothes into my suitcase. I will sort books into those that go and those that need to be sold second hand. I will do laundry so that it can be packed. I will finally send those post cards that I bought way back in October.
Why am I packing if I have ten whole days left? Well, my apartment is a mess. I like to think that I'm subconsciously 'spreading out' my things to make it seem like I still live here for a while. That 'spreading out' consists of piles of dirty clothes and dishes and school books and papers. The 'spreading out' only makes it look like a very messy frat boy lives in my place...not the intended effect. So, now I'm going to face reality. I am going to pack my things as much as I can - toiletries will stay out and a few electronics - and I'm going to make my apartment reflect the fact that I'm leaving in ten days.
Aside from packing, I've been asking myself what in the world I'm supposed to do with ten days of no obligations. Do I sleep in, relax outside in the sun each day and have a picnic lunch? Do I spend my evenings in cafe's or restaurants sipping French wine and watching the people? Perhaps I should go to the English book shop and buy some classics, spend some afternoons in the park, transported into scenes from Jane Austen? What does one do when one is trying to hold tightly to a place?
I know that I will tutor this Tuesday and next. I know that I will see three year old N. and her sweet mother, K. I know that I will treat myself to a movie at the cinema. I know that I will meet with a Miral professor or two. I'll pay some bills and shut down some accounts. I'll visit the bakery, the pizza shop, and the mini supermarket multiple times. Maybe the key to holding tightly to a place is just living out the days as normal. Maybe in doing the mundane I'll be engraving my way of life here into my memory.
~Tam in Toulouse
Today I begin to pack. The weather is gorgeous outside, but I won't be venturing out to appreciate it. No, today is the day that I stay inside and begin to sort through my stacks of papers. I will put all my clothes into my suitcase. I will sort books into those that go and those that need to be sold second hand. I will do laundry so that it can be packed. I will finally send those post cards that I bought way back in October.
Why am I packing if I have ten whole days left? Well, my apartment is a mess. I like to think that I'm subconsciously 'spreading out' my things to make it seem like I still live here for a while. That 'spreading out' consists of piles of dirty clothes and dishes and school books and papers. The 'spreading out' only makes it look like a very messy frat boy lives in my place...not the intended effect. So, now I'm going to face reality. I am going to pack my things as much as I can - toiletries will stay out and a few electronics - and I'm going to make my apartment reflect the fact that I'm leaving in ten days.
Aside from packing, I've been asking myself what in the world I'm supposed to do with ten days of no obligations. Do I sleep in, relax outside in the sun each day and have a picnic lunch? Do I spend my evenings in cafe's or restaurants sipping French wine and watching the people? Perhaps I should go to the English book shop and buy some classics, spend some afternoons in the park, transported into scenes from Jane Austen? What does one do when one is trying to hold tightly to a place?
I know that I will tutor this Tuesday and next. I know that I will see three year old N. and her sweet mother, K. I know that I will treat myself to a movie at the cinema. I know that I will meet with a Miral professor or two. I'll pay some bills and shut down some accounts. I'll visit the bakery, the pizza shop, and the mini supermarket multiple times. Maybe the key to holding tightly to a place is just living out the days as normal. Maybe in doing the mundane I'll be engraving my way of life here into my memory.
~Tam in Toulouse
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Texas meets Toulouse
I have never cooked texmex before. I guess technically what I attempted for one of my adopted French families Tuesday night was mexican. I'm not entirely sure what it was... but I know that it turned out surprisingly well for my first foray into western food !
In the tiny five ft. by five ft. "U" shaped kitchen, lacking many of the American utensils and appliances that I was used to, I managed to prepare an enchilada casserole, quesadillas, and fresh guacamole that I was proud of. I'm skipping over the preparation part because it was sheer madness trying to fix the three at once with only one cutting board, one skillet, and a teeny tiny oven the size of a microwave. Adding to the craziness was a lack of counter space or preparation space. About one foot on the table was free and about a foot on the counter. I never thought non-cooking me would care about kitchen space, but this french enchilada experience taught me that a tiny kitchen is a hindrance. It amazes me (and annoys me) that the French, renowned for their cuisine, stick with teeny tiny kitchens.
Anyhow, luck was with me Tuesday evening, and the end result was delicious. The guacamole needed more spice (jalepenos would have been perfect), the quesadillas needed more cheese, but the enchilada casserole (complete with red enchilada sauce from TX and sharp cheddar cheese) was perfect ! My french student, his girl friend, my adopted French mother, and the father all chowed down on their foreign food with moans of 'happy tummy' pleasure and many compliments to me.
They tried unsuccessfully, but with much humor derived on my part, to memorize the names of the dishes. The poor little girl was gulping water throughout the meal because the food was so 'spicy'. (In truth it was no spicier than something from Taco Bell, which as an American knows, isn't spicy at all) I felt slightly bad for her when she decided on a second helping. I think she liked it though, despite the spice, and the guacamole helped tone it down for her. The father bravely tried the store bought, Ole el Paso brand salsa. He couldn't handle the heat, instead choosing the guacamole to dip his quesadillas into. Everyone cleaned their plates (even their second helpings) !!! I couldn't have had a prouder moment here I think... good times indeed!
~Tam *texmex chef in residence* in Toulouse
In the tiny five ft. by five ft. "U" shaped kitchen, lacking many of the American utensils and appliances that I was used to, I managed to prepare an enchilada casserole, quesadillas, and fresh guacamole that I was proud of. I'm skipping over the preparation part because it was sheer madness trying to fix the three at once with only one cutting board, one skillet, and a teeny tiny oven the size of a microwave. Adding to the craziness was a lack of counter space or preparation space. About one foot on the table was free and about a foot on the counter. I never thought non-cooking me would care about kitchen space, but this french enchilada experience taught me that a tiny kitchen is a hindrance. It amazes me (and annoys me) that the French, renowned for their cuisine, stick with teeny tiny kitchens.
Anyhow, luck was with me Tuesday evening, and the end result was delicious. The guacamole needed more spice (jalepenos would have been perfect), the quesadillas needed more cheese, but the enchilada casserole (complete with red enchilada sauce from TX and sharp cheddar cheese) was perfect ! My french student, his girl friend, my adopted French mother, and the father all chowed down on their foreign food with moans of 'happy tummy' pleasure and many compliments to me.
They tried unsuccessfully, but with much humor derived on my part, to memorize the names of the dishes. The poor little girl was gulping water throughout the meal because the food was so 'spicy'. (In truth it was no spicier than something from Taco Bell, which as an American knows, isn't spicy at all) I felt slightly bad for her when she decided on a second helping. I think she liked it though, despite the spice, and the guacamole helped tone it down for her. The father bravely tried the store bought, Ole el Paso brand salsa. He couldn't handle the heat, instead choosing the guacamole to dip his quesadillas into. Everyone cleaned their plates (even their second helpings) !!! I couldn't have had a prouder moment here I think... good times indeed!
~Tam *texmex chef in residence* in Toulouse
Friday, April 22, 2011
Shopping 2
French girls shop like it's their job! In the stores here they are always waiting in line for the dressing room and for the cash registers, arms loaded with clothes. And, unlike in America where I can shop during the week without much competition, here in France you must arrive when the stores open to have a hope of scoring your correct size and moving about freely. Once lunch time hits, from then until closing, EVERY day of the week, the stores are loaded with french females acting like they are in a race for the new items.
*This is also one of the reasons I hate shopping; the disorder of clothes all messed up and out of size and color order, added to the inconsiderate other shoppers pushing past me or grabbing the exact item i was reaching for, fatigues me.
I haven't really shopped here (I nabbed 5 new things, all in the same store, close to the end of winter when the sales were starting) so I don't feel guilty for picking up 6 more new things for the summer. I shopped around for a few days, comparing prices and making sure I wasn't going to have buyer's remorse, then I purchased two casual summer dresses, a pair of daring heels, a pair of cute flats, a hippy tank top, and a denim skirt. Oh, and, at the market I finally bought a little, leather, hand made satchel that I have been eyeing since I arrived here in September.
I suppose that I am offically fahionably prepared for when I return in May and have days and days without anything to do but soak up the sun and walk the city enjoying the sites. Well, and I'm more prepared for summer in general.
~Tam in Toulouse
*This is also one of the reasons I hate shopping; the disorder of clothes all messed up and out of size and color order, added to the inconsiderate other shoppers pushing past me or grabbing the exact item i was reaching for, fatigues me.
I haven't really shopped here (I nabbed 5 new things, all in the same store, close to the end of winter when the sales were starting) so I don't feel guilty for picking up 6 more new things for the summer. I shopped around for a few days, comparing prices and making sure I wasn't going to have buyer's remorse, then I purchased two casual summer dresses, a pair of daring heels, a pair of cute flats, a hippy tank top, and a denim skirt. Oh, and, at the market I finally bought a little, leather, hand made satchel that I have been eyeing since I arrived here in September.
I suppose that I am offically fahionably prepared for when I return in May and have days and days without anything to do but soak up the sun and walk the city enjoying the sites. Well, and I'm more prepared for summer in general.
~Tam in Toulouse
Shopping 1
In the one day of complete freedom this week, in between my last exam and leaving tomorrow morning for Easter in the States, I decided to go shopping. Let me go ahead and say that I don't particularly like shopping. I LOVE looking in windows and online, imagining myself in all the pretty clothes, but when it comes time to try different sizes and drag myself from store to store in order to score the best deal, I'm just left with a fatigue and self-doubt that I will in fact look pretty in the things I purchased.
Anyway, a few weeks ago, I decided that I've never had a jean skirt and that I want one before I'm too old to wear one. Technically, I guess you are never too old to wear a jean skirt, but I wanted a shorter jean skirt, and short skirts DO have an age limit. See, I never went through that phase that most kids go through in their early teenage years where they want to don belly baring shirts and barely-cover-the-bum shorts. Outside of dance team, cheerleading, and prom, I was also more of a tom boy until I hit college. Now that I've realized I have curves and I like dresses and skirts, I want things above my knees (a RESPECTABLE distance above my knees mind you). So priority one was a good ole denim skirt.
I went to the store, found a size 6 and tried it on. Although it fit perfectly, with about an inch to spare, in the waist...the skirt seems to 'hug' my legs and bum a little to tight for my self-consciousness to bear. I'd come back in a few days when they had a size 8 in stock.
Today I went back and tried that size 8 only to find that it was severely too big in the waist and would need a belt every time I wanted to wear it. The skirt was also loose enough for me to turn it all the way around, meaning that any movements in the skirt would misalign it. Decisions, decisions...get over my self-consciousness or buy the 8....
I bought the 6, then walked up and down the road about three times alternately telling myself the size 6 wasn't a scandalous purchase and telling myself perhaps I could shrink the 8 if I went back and got it instead.
As I walked, I thought to myself, "How come I can look at other girls in shorter skirts or form fitting clothes or wearing a back baring top and they look perfectly put together and not scandalous at all? But then I put on something even a little form fitting and I constantly worry that everyone is staring at me and thinking in their heads I should be wearing more clothes?"
See why I hate shopping???
~Tam (needs a fashion consultant) in Toulouse
Anyway, a few weeks ago, I decided that I've never had a jean skirt and that I want one before I'm too old to wear one. Technically, I guess you are never too old to wear a jean skirt, but I wanted a shorter jean skirt, and short skirts DO have an age limit. See, I never went through that phase that most kids go through in their early teenage years where they want to don belly baring shirts and barely-cover-the-bum shorts. Outside of dance team, cheerleading, and prom, I was also more of a tom boy until I hit college. Now that I've realized I have curves and I like dresses and skirts, I want things above my knees (a RESPECTABLE distance above my knees mind you). So priority one was a good ole denim skirt.
I went to the store, found a size 6 and tried it on. Although it fit perfectly, with about an inch to spare, in the waist...the skirt seems to 'hug' my legs and bum a little to tight for my self-consciousness to bear. I'd come back in a few days when they had a size 8 in stock.
Today I went back and tried that size 8 only to find that it was severely too big in the waist and would need a belt every time I wanted to wear it. The skirt was also loose enough for me to turn it all the way around, meaning that any movements in the skirt would misalign it. Decisions, decisions...get over my self-consciousness or buy the 8....
I bought the 6, then walked up and down the road about three times alternately telling myself the size 6 wasn't a scandalous purchase and telling myself perhaps I could shrink the 8 if I went back and got it instead.
As I walked, I thought to myself, "How come I can look at other girls in shorter skirts or form fitting clothes or wearing a back baring top and they look perfectly put together and not scandalous at all? But then I put on something even a little form fitting and I constantly worry that everyone is staring at me and thinking in their heads I should be wearing more clothes?"
See why I hate shopping???
~Tam (needs a fashion consultant) in Toulouse
Friday, April 15, 2011
Already?
As I sit in my apartment tonight, switching back and forth between a movie in youtube installments, cruising facebook, obsessively checking my email and visiting various other webpages, every so often glancing about my extraordinarily messy apartment, I cannot believe that this chapter of my life is about to end. What chapter exactly? The chapter of France. My time here has changed me in so many ways, some of which I probably won't discover till I am removed from the experience, and I think this year deserves the title of 'chapter' in my life.
I completed all my courses today. No more class meetings to go to. By the end of this week I will have had all my exams except the one reserved for May, which the professor has assured us won't be torturous. My time here, at least academically, is swiftly coming to a close, and I never expected I would feel anything but joy about that. Except that I do feel something other than joy, I feel a bit sad. I can't even begin to start recounting or summing up everything I've learned here academically. I can't believe that my professors like me and that, language barriers and misunderstandings aside, I liked each and every one of them in some way too. I passed all my courses first semester, though I do not imagine I will pass them all this semester (thank you French grammar ugh), but the two semesters together, aka my year here, still counts as one of the greatest academic achievement of my life - right alongside senior year of high school and senior year of college. I cannot imagine coming back from Easter and NOT going to class.
I don't want to...to sit down tonight and study for a few hours. I don't want to wake up tomorrow and Sunday and study for both days. I certainly don't want to take my exam on Monday and push through this week studying all day and night, every day and night, until the week is over. I can't imagine anyone would want to, but there's a very bright side. I know that this is it. These are my last opportunities to show my French professors that I have progressed with their language. This is my last week of homework and exams and studying for a good long while. So, if I can just stay in this frame of mind, remembering all I've accomplished this year, and thinking of the deserved rest from school that I'm about to get, then I can power through and end this chapter (at least end it academically, since I don't leave till late May) on a very very positive note.
~Tam in Toulouse
I completed all my courses today. No more class meetings to go to. By the end of this week I will have had all my exams except the one reserved for May, which the professor has assured us won't be torturous. My time here, at least academically, is swiftly coming to a close, and I never expected I would feel anything but joy about that. Except that I do feel something other than joy, I feel a bit sad. I can't even begin to start recounting or summing up everything I've learned here academically. I can't believe that my professors like me and that, language barriers and misunderstandings aside, I liked each and every one of them in some way too. I passed all my courses first semester, though I do not imagine I will pass them all this semester (thank you French grammar ugh), but the two semesters together, aka my year here, still counts as one of the greatest academic achievement of my life - right alongside senior year of high school and senior year of college. I cannot imagine coming back from Easter and NOT going to class.
I don't want to...to sit down tonight and study for a few hours. I don't want to wake up tomorrow and Sunday and study for both days. I certainly don't want to take my exam on Monday and push through this week studying all day and night, every day and night, until the week is over. I can't imagine anyone would want to, but there's a very bright side. I know that this is it. These are my last opportunities to show my French professors that I have progressed with their language. This is my last week of homework and exams and studying for a good long while. So, if I can just stay in this frame of mind, remembering all I've accomplished this year, and thinking of the deserved rest from school that I'm about to get, then I can power through and end this chapter (at least end it academically, since I don't leave till late May) on a very very positive note.
~Tam in Toulouse
Sunday, April 3, 2011
LONDON prt 7
*stream of consciousness*
Everyone tells me Wicked is amazing...I hope they are right. I'd hate to spend money on this and abhor it. At least I know where this theater is, and thankfully with this later showing, it's in walking distance of the hostel. Okay now if my bus will come...This is going to be so fun, riding a double-decker red, iconic London bus! And it's so much cheaper than the one way metro ticket too! Ah, here's the bus. Up we go. I must do this the proper way and sit on top, up front. Yay! There's the perfect seat!
(bus pulls away from curb and begins drive to Victoria)
We're going to hit that car in front of us. Nope we didn't, but we came within 6 inches. There goes Big Ben! Last time we'll see eachother ole boy! See ya! There goes Westminster. She's really pretty from this height. Oh biker! Watch out driver! Okay the biker is safe; good. This driver is crazy! We almost took out that sign post! Seems like a straight away for a while. "Victoria" Sweet, that was a nice, short ride and now we are here. There's the theatre on the left all lit up in green!
(left bag in cloak room, re-filled water bottle, - found my seat)
Goodness this is way high. I wonder if people will have to pee during the show....I hope not. Emerald City says the glittering backdrop. My middle name is Emerald. I wonder if I could buy something with "Emerald" on it here. Oh wait, no money left. Ah well, probably for the best. Why is there a pterodactyl over the stage? That's just downright odd. Okay gooey love couple to my left and to my right...it's really not necessary to snuggle into each other. My boyfriend is an ocean and half a nation away. Ugh pet names and deeper snuggling. Please let the show start already.
(lights dim and show begins)
This first song...yeah not so into it. Too much, just too much. Galinda looks like Kristen Chinoworth from here but I don't think it's her. Okay I see, it will be a backstory type deal. Alright let's begin then.
...MAN CAN ELFABA SING! geez she has a set of pipes!...... And the songs, minus the first one, are so good! This is less corny than Oklahoma and less dramatic than Les Mis or Phantom...it's just a great balance between humor and serious spots. It really IS good! ...... Gah, now I'm going to be one of those theater nerds who insists on pretending I can sing "defying gravity" or "popular". They are such great songs, how am I supposed to NOT want to sing them? ....
THAT'S IT? The play ends like the movie? THAT SUCKS! ...OH ! OH ! I SEE! They live happily ever after! Awww, well now I just miss my boyfriend - good thing it's bed time and I can just go right to sleep for that 3 am shuttle to the airport ugh kill me now. And clap and clap and clap. They deserve all the hype, this show ROCKS! A last night in London well spent!!!! And now on to MacDonald's for a last Cadbury Macflurry...mmm GREAT LAST NIGHT IN LONDON!
Everyone tells me Wicked is amazing...I hope they are right. I'd hate to spend money on this and abhor it. At least I know where this theater is, and thankfully with this later showing, it's in walking distance of the hostel. Okay now if my bus will come...This is going to be so fun, riding a double-decker red, iconic London bus! And it's so much cheaper than the one way metro ticket too! Ah, here's the bus. Up we go. I must do this the proper way and sit on top, up front. Yay! There's the perfect seat!
(bus pulls away from curb and begins drive to Victoria)
We're going to hit that car in front of us. Nope we didn't, but we came within 6 inches. There goes Big Ben! Last time we'll see eachother ole boy! See ya! There goes Westminster. She's really pretty from this height. Oh biker! Watch out driver! Okay the biker is safe; good. This driver is crazy! We almost took out that sign post! Seems like a straight away for a while. "Victoria" Sweet, that was a nice, short ride and now we are here. There's the theatre on the left all lit up in green!
(left bag in cloak room, re-filled water bottle, - found my seat)
Goodness this is way high. I wonder if people will have to pee during the show....I hope not. Emerald City says the glittering backdrop. My middle name is Emerald. I wonder if I could buy something with "Emerald" on it here. Oh wait, no money left. Ah well, probably for the best. Why is there a pterodactyl over the stage? That's just downright odd. Okay gooey love couple to my left and to my right...it's really not necessary to snuggle into each other. My boyfriend is an ocean and half a nation away. Ugh pet names and deeper snuggling. Please let the show start already.
(lights dim and show begins)
This first song...yeah not so into it. Too much, just too much. Galinda looks like Kristen Chinoworth from here but I don't think it's her. Okay I see, it will be a backstory type deal. Alright let's begin then.
...MAN CAN ELFABA SING! geez she has a set of pipes!...... And the songs, minus the first one, are so good! This is less corny than Oklahoma and less dramatic than Les Mis or Phantom...it's just a great balance between humor and serious spots. It really IS good! ...... Gah, now I'm going to be one of those theater nerds who insists on pretending I can sing "defying gravity" or "popular". They are such great songs, how am I supposed to NOT want to sing them? ....
THAT'S IT? The play ends like the movie? THAT SUCKS! ...OH ! OH ! I SEE! They live happily ever after! Awww, well now I just miss my boyfriend - good thing it's bed time and I can just go right to sleep for that 3 am shuttle to the airport ugh kill me now. And clap and clap and clap. They deserve all the hype, this show ROCKS! A last night in London well spent!!!! And now on to MacDonald's for a last Cadbury Macflurry...mmm GREAT LAST NIGHT IN LONDON!
LONDON prt 6
*Stream of consciousness from my two theatre performances STOMP & WICKED*
SO excited to go to see STOMP! It's going to be fifty times better than any drumline or any step show EVER. Okay, but wait, where's the address...oh just great, I forgot to write down the address. Well, I assume everyone in London knows the Ambassador's Theatre. Here we go! Show should start in a little more than an hour...
(and hour of walking and asking later)
How can NO ONE in London know where this theatre is? Why couldn't I have remembered to write down the address? It figures I would know more about texmex in London than theatre....ugh priorities of a southern belle. Okay don't cry. MUST NOT CRY. It's fine if I am late, I'll just... MISS SOME OF THE SHOW?!?! Great, I can feel my cheeks getting all hot and my eyes wanting to tear up. I HATE BEING LATE! Okay let's just ask this Waldorf Hilton doorman. Inside he says. Well now if this huge Italian family would finish their turn with the concierge. Oh no, that was definitely a tear down my face! Must not allow any more escapees. Just awesome, now the Italians are noticing my distress. Well at least I'm finally getting my turn. The show starts in 5 minutes! "Yes Ambassador's Theatre that's right." ARG! There go the water works! Well this is highly embarrassing. "Yes a taxi is best I think, thank you. I'm sorry for the tears, really."
Wow, he just threw his hand in the air and here's a taxi; that was like magic! Oh, good, he's talking to the driver, 'cause I don't think I can explain right now. That was so professional and well taken care of. He's a great concierge.
As long as I am making a scene, might as well document it right? Ugh. Maybe they'll turn out kind of artsy....
SO excited to go to see STOMP! It's going to be fifty times better than any drumline or any step show EVER. Okay, but wait, where's the address...oh just great, I forgot to write down the address. Well, I assume everyone in London knows the Ambassador's Theatre. Here we go! Show should start in a little more than an hour...
(and hour of walking and asking later)
How can NO ONE in London know where this theatre is? Why couldn't I have remembered to write down the address? It figures I would know more about texmex in London than theatre....ugh priorities of a southern belle. Okay don't cry. MUST NOT CRY. It's fine if I am late, I'll just... MISS SOME OF THE SHOW?!?! Great, I can feel my cheeks getting all hot and my eyes wanting to tear up. I HATE BEING LATE! Okay let's just ask this Waldorf Hilton doorman. Inside he says. Well now if this huge Italian family would finish their turn with the concierge. Oh no, that was definitely a tear down my face! Must not allow any more escapees. Just awesome, now the Italians are noticing my distress. Well at least I'm finally getting my turn. The show starts in 5 minutes! "Yes Ambassador's Theatre that's right." ARG! There go the water works! Well this is highly embarrassing. "Yes a taxi is best I think, thank you. I'm sorry for the tears, really."
Wow, he just threw his hand in the air and here's a taxi; that was like magic! Oh, good, he's talking to the driver, 'cause I don't think I can explain right now. That was so professional and well taken care of. He's a great concierge.
As long as I am making a scene, might as well document it right? Ugh. Maybe they'll turn out kind of artsy....
YAY! WE'RE HERE! "Do I look okay?" "Yes, you look lovely my dear." "Thank you. Keep the change."
(seated as the lights dim and the theatre doors are closed)
They are sweeping? THEY ARE SWEEPING! Those beats are SO complex, SO cool! They make it look effortless. What now? Lighters? IT IS LIKE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS!!! My fingers would get so tired, and no one has missed their turn either. Using lighters with flip tops and the actual flame as a rhythmic/light performance is completely original and completely awesome! Sinks? Surely there's no water in the sinks they are toting around their necks...THEY DO HAVE WATER! AND DISHES! what are they gonna...NO WAY! rhythms on the cups and bowls and sink surfaces! Using the water in the bowls and cups to create different sounds! Okay, what is this one guy going to do now? WE GET TO JOIN IN?! I LOVE CROWD PARTICIPATION! THIS IS SO FUN! Cannot wait to see what the next half brings!
(later after the show is over)
OMG! THAT WAS THE MOST ENTERTAINING, MOST FUN, MOST AMAZING PERFORMANCE I HAVE EVER SEEN!!!! I was so unbelievably lucky to nab a cheap ticket to that! Gotta see that again someday for sure and take some friends! GAH WHAT A GREAT PERFORMANCE!
LONDON prt 5
If you go to London you cannot miss London Tower and Tower Bridge. I had SO MUCH FUN visiting London Tower, aka an old fort/castle which has had a history for housing important prisoners like Sir Walter Raleigh and Anne Boleyn. It's known now for not only it's older history, but for being the home to the Crown Jewels. If you want to see real bejeweled crowns, scepters, tiaras, rings, necklaces, and tableware then you want to visit London Tower. Poking around by myself with my map was fun, I fortunately got there right when it opened, before the groups of tourists arrived, but it was better getting an hour long tour from a beefeater. This older gentleman in a long black, red-trimmed coat and top hat led us around to various spots inside the fort walls, telling us gruesome stories and giving us a general history of the place. He was really witty and very personable which made his anecdotes and history lessons all the more interesting and entertaining. I only got to spend a few hours at London Tower, when really an entire day would have been ideal.
In order to cross from one side of Tower Bridge to the other, I took the bridge tour high up in the air on the enclosed pedestrian walkway. It was a cool little exhibition and tour covering the history of the bridge with some general information about the surrounding area of London and the Thames. I don't suppose there was much to see aside from the beautiful cityscape views to either side, but I thought it was money very well paid!
Before we move on to the two theatre performances I saw, I'd like to mention a few other random things:
Fish and Chips aka fried fish and french fries with a side of green peas is very yummy! I quite liked it the once time I had it while in London.
Scones (pronounced Scon like con but with an 's' before it) are varied in shape, texture, and flavor BUT they are always delicious. Equally worth the time and money is the hot chocolate and the tea in London.
The Cadbury Mcflurries from MacDonald's are to die for...and probably should have been avoided for the sake of my waistline. Really, though those Mcflurries are scrumptious!
I've been missing typical food fare from the states, so when Ross also suggested the Texas Embassy Cantina (aka texmex restaurant) I had to check it out. Besides the Indian food dinner, the other three dinners I had in London were all had at this place and it was SO AWESOME! One night I even caught March Madness on their television at the bar. Sitting there with my texmex, my salsa & chips, and my strawberry margarita, I felt like I was back in America. IT WAS GREAT !!!
In order to cross from one side of Tower Bridge to the other, I took the bridge tour high up in the air on the enclosed pedestrian walkway. It was a cool little exhibition and tour covering the history of the bridge with some general information about the surrounding area of London and the Thames. I don't suppose there was much to see aside from the beautiful cityscape views to either side, but I thought it was money very well paid!
Before we move on to the two theatre performances I saw, I'd like to mention a few other random things:
Fish and Chips aka fried fish and french fries with a side of green peas is very yummy! I quite liked it the once time I had it while in London.
Scones (pronounced Scon like con but with an 's' before it) are varied in shape, texture, and flavor BUT they are always delicious. Equally worth the time and money is the hot chocolate and the tea in London.
The Cadbury Mcflurries from MacDonald's are to die for...and probably should have been avoided for the sake of my waistline. Really, though those Mcflurries are scrumptious!
Ross suggested Indian food, and while I was nervous to figure out Indian food by myself since I've had it all of 3 times in my life, I tried a little place near Piccadilly Circus. The waiter picked out my food and drink which were both fantastic! If I go back to London I'll be eating at the same little place.
I've been missing typical food fare from the states, so when Ross also suggested the Texas Embassy Cantina (aka texmex restaurant) I had to check it out. Besides the Indian food dinner, the other three dinners I had in London were all had at this place and it was SO AWESOME! One night I even caught March Madness on their television at the bar. Sitting there with my texmex, my salsa & chips, and my strawberry margarita, I felt like I was back in America. IT WAS GREAT !!!I even ducked into Starbucks a couple of times while touring the city. How could I bear to stay away from the caffinated, sweet, chocolaty mochas? They certainly don't have Starbucks here in Toulouse after all!
LONDON prt 4
** It is a blessing that the art galleries in London are free! Of course if you want an audio guide or a very detailed map you have to pay/donate but it's so worth it considering there is no entrance fee in the first place!!!
The Tate was interesting. I certainly appreciated the Picasso and Dali among a few other modern artists I know. Mainly though, the artists were unknown to me and their works were similarly uninspiring. I spent quite a while exploring everything in the Tate, but I don't know that it's somewhere I would return, simply because you have to visually sift through all the works in order to come across something you know. At least for me, with my more classical education in art, that's how my experience went. Ah well, it was definitely worth a visit!
I could have spent at least two full days in the British Museum...as it was I spent 5 hours drowning happily in precious works, and then I had to tear myself away. The Rosetta Stone from Egypt, the friezes from the Parthenon on the Acropolis in Greece, gladiator helmets, Easter Island statues, Tiffany glassware, African tapestries, rare coins, the bog mummy ... the list goes on and on and on and when you think you've seen everything, there is STILL more. The great thing is though, that unlike at the Louvre or the Smithsonian, the crowds blocking art works disperse about every 5 minutes for a new batch of admirers, the guards are really kind and helpful and not too overprotective of works so you can get your face within two inches of 2000 yr old works, there is an abundance of bathrooms, benches, chairs, food and shops, and perhaps the best thing is the super cheap media guide with optional tours and little videos on it. You don't get tired and irritable and you don't feel claustrophobic either. Maybe it's because it's free, but there is no harried RUSH to crowd each other in order to see the collection. It's a very calm and serene place. If you so desire there are also free tours every other hour or so and in some rooms an area where an expert allows you to touch the works!!! Simply put, for a humanities kid, the British Museum is HEAVEN ! 
St. Paul's overtook Sacre Coeur as the second prettiest cathedral I've ever seen and established itself right behind St. Peter's. The inside domes have colored glass mosaics that are just breathtaking. The biggest dome is beautifully painted in various chestnuty grey shades to look like old sculptures or engravings at least. The floorspace of the Cathedral is perfectly adorned, not overwhelmed as I personally feel Westminster is, with gorgeous marble sculptures here and there. My visit to St. Paul's took 3 hours; even then I wasn't satisfied that I'd spent enough time! I took the time to listen to the entire audio guide. I then climbed 528 steps (85 meters) up through the inner dome and then the outer dome, climbing increasingly smaller, tighter stairways, to the very tippy top (at least as high as they will allow you to go) of the cathedral. At the top, I looked out over London for quite awhile just marveling that I was up so high. Afterward I descended into the huge crypt to marvel at tombs, memorials, and church artifacts. The cathedral elicited a continual "Wow" from me. I couldn't even find sufficient words. 
Westminster was a mixed bag for me. While I reveled in the history of the space I found it impossibly crowded with both people and sculptures. The dark gray stone wasn't winning any votes for beauty either. Instead of being one continuous space, the abbey seemed cut up into various sections mashed together throughout history, and that's exactly the case. It was pretty, just in a very special way, almost a similar uniqueness that I found in the Sagrada Familia but not as extreme. In Westminster, I was in awe as I stepped into the poet's corner to find myself surrounded on all sides and underfoot by the tombs and memorials of all the famous writers I've ever heard of. On the other side of the screen dividing the space I checked out Darwin and Newton's tombs. Westminster was something I'd love to go back for a morning visit (as soon as it opens) without crowds, because I think then, or maybe on an orderly Sunday of worship, the space could show it's true beauty.LONDON prt 3
There was a never ending list of things you could enter in London...I woke up each morning before 8 and didn't go to bed till midnight and still didn't do a fourth of the top 'sights'.
I had never heard of the Royal Albert hall. I guess I should have since EVERYONE who is ANYONE has played there. The hour long tour I caught on a whim was so informative and fun, and I am really glad I went. At one point in the tour we were allowed into the Queen's private entrance and chamber. I felt very VIP.
Likewise, I knew next to nothing about Winston Churchill's genius during WWII and absolutely nothing about his underground war rooms. The rooms, preserved since WWII, are impressive, and you can walk through them with your audio guide hearing the information and history. After the tour of the underground war rooms I now wonder if the allies would have won the war without them. Yes, these underground rooms with secret plans and secure phone lines were THAT important.
The Belfast can join the category of "British things/sights that Tamra never knew existed but then visited and appreciated". It is a warship moored on the Thames which I briefly ran around on. Huge, sturdy, and loaded with the biggest guns I have ever seen, the Belfast was cool to see. It wasn't riveting exactly, I'm not well versed on war ships or ships in general, but my hour spent on board was an enjoyable one.
I only told a few people I was visiting London, mostly people I knew had gone before and who could give me advice. Among those few, all of them said, "Visit Harrod's." So, I visited Harrod's.... What can on say about Harrod's ? Well, I suppose if you are shopping then Harrod's is Heaven. If you are looking for high tea then Harrod's is also your place. However, if you are me, at the end of a tiring day, with a very VERY limited budget and a growling stomach, and no interest in designer duds then Harrod's is equally frustrating and fascinating. First of all, the store is like a maze...really it's HUGE and the only little maps that I saw are next to the central escalator (which if you take all the way down lands at the Diana/Dody Memorial). Secondly, the cafes seem hidden behind all the glamorous clothes, jewelry, antiques, etc. And don't dare walk through the perfume and makeup level...you'll get sprayed about ten times with who knows what expensive scent. AND YET, the store is really cool. If you WANT to be drowned in perfume you can do it for free. If you are dying to try the best scones in London while glimpsing famous CEO's and minor stars you only have to install yourself in one of the cafes like I did. If you want to buy anything with a name that will make others envious, from bedding to dishes to luggage to clothes, it's all there. Oh my goodness and the two food rooms I found with mountains of truffles and chocolates and candies and pastries!!! If had had ANY money left after tea I would have been hard pressed to choose between all the lovely treats I saw.
Hamley's Toy Store was incredible! I didn't have to be a kid to enjoy the candy shop inside, the staff showing off new toys, the human sized Buzz Lightyear made of legos, the bubbles floating through the air, the Willy Wonka-esque interior. I somehow ended up leaving the store with a bag of jelly beans, a three foot plastic tube of flavored sour powder, and a huge heart tattoo on my hand made entirely of pink & purple glitter! I even scored a photo with a faux Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz and stuffed Toto.
Standing in the Globe theater, although it wasn't the original Globe, was surreal. I adore Shakespeare, and to be standing in a perfect replica of the space in which his plays were first performed was crazy! The wooden benches, the painted stage, the open air and thatched roof...they all reminded me that theater in Shakespeare's day wasn't about tricking the crowd with special effects and overdone costumes, but it was about great language, crown interaction, and true performance. The exhibition and tour were fantastic, and at the end of my time at the Globe, I desperately wanted to buy everything in the souvenir shop. For my English major self, the Globe was one of my favorite London attractions.
I had never heard of the Royal Albert hall. I guess I should have since EVERYONE who is ANYONE has played there. The hour long tour I caught on a whim was so informative and fun, and I am really glad I went. At one point in the tour we were allowed into the Queen's private entrance and chamber. I felt very VIP.
Likewise, I knew next to nothing about Winston Churchill's genius during WWII and absolutely nothing about his underground war rooms. The rooms, preserved since WWII, are impressive, and you can walk through them with your audio guide hearing the information and history. After the tour of the underground war rooms I now wonder if the allies would have won the war without them. Yes, these underground rooms with secret plans and secure phone lines were THAT important.
The Belfast can join the category of "British things/sights that Tamra never knew existed but then visited and appreciated". It is a warship moored on the Thames which I briefly ran around on. Huge, sturdy, and loaded with the biggest guns I have ever seen, the Belfast was cool to see. It wasn't riveting exactly, I'm not well versed on war ships or ships in general, but my hour spent on board was an enjoyable one.
I only told a few people I was visiting London, mostly people I knew had gone before and who could give me advice. Among those few, all of them said, "Visit Harrod's." So, I visited Harrod's.... What can on say about Harrod's ? Well, I suppose if you are shopping then Harrod's is Heaven. If you are looking for high tea then Harrod's is also your place. However, if you are me, at the end of a tiring day, with a very VERY limited budget and a growling stomach, and no interest in designer duds then Harrod's is equally frustrating and fascinating. First of all, the store is like a maze...really it's HUGE and the only little maps that I saw are next to the central escalator (which if you take all the way down lands at the Diana/Dody Memorial). Secondly, the cafes seem hidden behind all the glamorous clothes, jewelry, antiques, etc. And don't dare walk through the perfume and makeup level...you'll get sprayed about ten times with who knows what expensive scent. AND YET, the store is really cool. If you WANT to be drowned in perfume you can do it for free. If you are dying to try the best scones in London while glimpsing famous CEO's and minor stars you only have to install yourself in one of the cafes like I did. If you want to buy anything with a name that will make others envious, from bedding to dishes to luggage to clothes, it's all there. Oh my goodness and the two food rooms I found with mountains of truffles and chocolates and candies and pastries!!! If had had ANY money left after tea I would have been hard pressed to choose between all the lovely treats I saw.
Hamley's Toy Store was incredible! I didn't have to be a kid to enjoy the candy shop inside, the staff showing off new toys, the human sized Buzz Lightyear made of legos, the bubbles floating through the air, the Willy Wonka-esque interior. I somehow ended up leaving the store with a bag of jelly beans, a three foot plastic tube of flavored sour powder, and a huge heart tattoo on my hand made entirely of pink & purple glitter! I even scored a photo with a faux Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz and stuffed Toto.
Standing in the Globe theater, although it wasn't the original Globe, was surreal. I adore Shakespeare, and to be standing in a perfect replica of the space in which his plays were first performed was crazy! The wooden benches, the painted stage, the open air and thatched roof...they all reminded me that theater in Shakespeare's day wasn't about tricking the crowd with special effects and overdone costumes, but it was about great language, crown interaction, and true performance. The exhibition and tour were fantastic, and at the end of my time at the Globe, I desperately wanted to buy everything in the souvenir shop. For my English major self, the Globe was one of my favorite London attractions.
LONDON prt 2
There were various things in London that you couldn't enter exactly, but that were still worth a visit.
Buckingham Palace was....ok. Really the palace isn't that pretty, and there are so many people standing at the gate nabbing photos that it just becomes silly to stay for long. It's probably way more interesting to visit and tour the inside during the summer months. At least I can say I went!
Standing by Big Ben was cool. Over the course of 4 days I think I took about 100 photos of the iconic clock tower.
Buckingham Palace was....ok. Really the palace isn't that pretty, and there are so many people standing at the gate nabbing photos that it just becomes silly to stay for long. It's probably way more interesting to visit and tour the inside during the summer months. At least I can say I went!
Standing by Big Ben was cool. Over the course of 4 days I think I took about 100 photos of the iconic clock tower.
I didn't ride the London Eye - too expensive ! It was impressive up close though. The street performers took advantage of the crowds around the Eye, procuring money from passers by.
I stumbled upon Craven Street while searching for a pharmacy. While waking down the street my eyes caught two little plaques next to the doors on two houses. Apparently, Benjamin Franklin AND Herman Melville had lived on Craven Street.
The Royal Opera House & Covent Garden were two finds that I stumbled upon as well. I saw the market, caught some street music, and passed by some nice cafes, but I wasn't interested in the area enough to stay for any length of time. If I'd been catching an opera or searching for souvenirs the area would have been perfect!
St. James' Park - next to Buckingham Palace - was gorgeous! I am so glad I visited in Spring! The park has paths lined with happy flowers like tulips, daisies, and daffodils. There is also a small lake to lounge by where you can watch the cherry blossoms and the weeping willows sway in the breeze.
Piccadilly Circus seems like a poorly placed little square to me, honestly. It had been described to me as the London equivalent of Time's Square, and it was, and that's precisely why I didn't adore it as much as Trafalgar Square. Cars and double decker buses whiz by on all sides, ads stream from huge digital billboards, beggars call out for quid, ticket sellers shout the available shows and prices, hoards of people lounge and climb on the fountain so that you feel a bit overwhelmed with sights, sounds, and moving bodies. Even though I like Trafalgar Square more, I still liked sitting perched on the fountain (like everyone else) people watching at sunset.
Trafalgar Square was more my style. The huge expanse of stairs and concrete on which people sat and stood stretched from the National Gallery on one end to a huge statue with 4 large lions on the other end. In the distance Big Ben shone. Over the tops of the buildings the London Eye slowly turned. I really really liked spending time in Trafalgar Square each day just watching the atmosphere change according to the time of day or the local events happening. I visited at dusk when mostly everyone sat eating snacks and having drinks. I visited the square in the morning when tourists teemed the Gallery and the lion statue. I somehow got caught in a huge tax protest on Saturday afternoon, was swept from Westminster up to Trafalgar Square, and stood amongst the protesters with their signs and shouts until I finally freed myself from the massive throng.
All of these places offered nothing more than photo opportunities, history, a moment to rest, and people watching, but they were all a joy to visit and see!
LONDON !!!
London was beyond fantastic!!!
[I have to admit that I was nervous to travel by myself. I'm completely competent BUT you hear stories you know of American girls abroad who are too friendly, too open...who end up with more regrets than good memories about their experiences. However, I'm delighted to say that I traveled tout seul and didn't lose anything or make any unwanted friends or 'misplace' my wallet/passport.]
I've never had the desire to visit London. Really - I'd have rather visited Venice, Paris (again), Luxembourg, Brussels, Greece. Yet, when I realized I had a 5 day weekend, I found myself coming back again and again to London as the ideal destination for a quick trip. Maybe the appeal had to do with the royal wedding coming up. Maybe the appeal grew from my nerves about traveling alone and the comfort I knew I would find in an English speaking country. Perhaps it didn't hurt that EasyJet had great deals roundtrip between Toulouse and London. Whatever the reason, I'm so glad that my tune about London has changed. I LOVE London !
I arrived on a Thursday night, stayed for four days, and flew out at a horrid hour on Tuesday morning (if you could call it morning since it was still dark outside!). Those four days flew by, and I was sincerely sad to leave.
Here are the things I did/saw (I'm going to go ahead and list them so I can just refer back later): Royal Albert Music Hall, Hamley's Toy Store, Buckingham Palace, St. James' Park, Churchill War Rooms, National Art Gallery, Trafalgar Square, Big Ben, London Eye, Craven Street, Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, St. Paul's Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, Tate Modern Art Museum, Millennium Pedestrian Bridge, Piccadilly Circus, London Tower, Tower Bridge, Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, HSM Belfast, Stomp @ Ambassador's Theatre, British Museum, Harrod's Department Store, and Wicked @ Apollo Victoria Theatre.
[I have to admit that I was nervous to travel by myself. I'm completely competent BUT you hear stories you know of American girls abroad who are too friendly, too open...who end up with more regrets than good memories about their experiences. However, I'm delighted to say that I traveled tout seul and didn't lose anything or make any unwanted friends or 'misplace' my wallet/passport.]
I've never had the desire to visit London. Really - I'd have rather visited Venice, Paris (again), Luxembourg, Brussels, Greece. Yet, when I realized I had a 5 day weekend, I found myself coming back again and again to London as the ideal destination for a quick trip. Maybe the appeal had to do with the royal wedding coming up. Maybe the appeal grew from my nerves about traveling alone and the comfort I knew I would find in an English speaking country. Perhaps it didn't hurt that EasyJet had great deals roundtrip between Toulouse and London. Whatever the reason, I'm so glad that my tune about London has changed. I LOVE London !
I arrived on a Thursday night, stayed for four days, and flew out at a horrid hour on Tuesday morning (if you could call it morning since it was still dark outside!). Those four days flew by, and I was sincerely sad to leave.
Here are the things I did/saw (I'm going to go ahead and list them so I can just refer back later): Royal Albert Music Hall, Hamley's Toy Store, Buckingham Palace, St. James' Park, Churchill War Rooms, National Art Gallery, Trafalgar Square, Big Ben, London Eye, Craven Street, Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, St. Paul's Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, Tate Modern Art Museum, Millennium Pedestrian Bridge, Piccadilly Circus, London Tower, Tower Bridge, Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, HSM Belfast, Stomp @ Ambassador's Theatre, British Museum, Harrod's Department Store, and Wicked @ Apollo Victoria Theatre.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Thoughts on the past, the present, the future
I feel like I didn't really wrap up my Eurotrip details. I wanted to talk about sinks with peddles on which you have to step for the water to work. I wanted to talk about how Europe has a serious issue with bathrooms {you have to pay to use the ones on the street and stores and restaurants won't let you use them unless you buy something - OH and gas stations don't seem to exist either}. So when one is out of the hostel all day running around being a tourist and suddenly needs to use facilities....well like I said, Europe needs to straighten out their snobby bathroom ways. I wanted to talk about my obsession with fake aviators and Martha's obsession with Irish rings and sporty sunglasses. We must have stopped at every tacky souvenir shop and stand to see if we could find those three things. I wanted to make the trip sound as amazing as it was. Yet now, as I contemplate really detailing all of this, I find myself exhausted by it all. We did it. We took pictures. I blogged about it already - some of the memories will just have to stay as memories in my head and not here. It almost takes the magic out of it to continue relating every little thing....Anyway, like I think I've mentioned a few times, the trip was unforgettable and a wonderful experience.
As it stands now, I just got back to Toulouse just days ago from a trip to London! I had a 5 day weekend and knew sitting here in Toulouse would just intensify the loneliness that I've managed to mostly banish this semester. I'll definitely blog about going to London, but before I start on that series I just wanted to take a moment to talk about the present here in Toulouse. The sun is shining (when it's not pouring outside) and the temperature is a cool 50 to 60 each day. The girls are still donning boots, but they are beginning to pair them with skirts and tights instead of leggings. Shorts over tights are a big trend too. The layers of scarves and jackets worn just two months ago has been downsized to pashminas and cardigans. I think it is spring and I couldn't be happier about it !!! Bring on the warmth !
And the future...the title of this post says I'm supposed to talk about the future...I cannot believe I have one or two more class meetings left in my courses. It's ridiculousness! Exams in some courses are in two weeks while others don't happen until mid May. It makes no sense to me really. But what that means is that I begin to have way too much free time again. Although, I bought running/walking (probably more of the latter) so perhaps I can achieve a daily routine of fitness....perhaps. What I know about the future is that these next three weeks are important. I need to soak up all the remaining information that I can and get through some exams. Now if only the movie theatre weren't calling my name and naps in the sunshine didn't sound so appealing.... :-)
~ Tam in Toulouse
As it stands now, I just got back to Toulouse just days ago from a trip to London! I had a 5 day weekend and knew sitting here in Toulouse would just intensify the loneliness that I've managed to mostly banish this semester. I'll definitely blog about going to London, but before I start on that series I just wanted to take a moment to talk about the present here in Toulouse. The sun is shining (when it's not pouring outside) and the temperature is a cool 50 to 60 each day. The girls are still donning boots, but they are beginning to pair them with skirts and tights instead of leggings. Shorts over tights are a big trend too. The layers of scarves and jackets worn just two months ago has been downsized to pashminas and cardigans. I think it is spring and I couldn't be happier about it !!! Bring on the warmth !
And the future...the title of this post says I'm supposed to talk about the future...I cannot believe I have one or two more class meetings left in my courses. It's ridiculousness! Exams in some courses are in two weeks while others don't happen until mid May. It makes no sense to me really. But what that means is that I begin to have way too much free time again. Although, I bought running/walking (probably more of the latter) so perhaps I can achieve a daily routine of fitness....perhaps. What I know about the future is that these next three weeks are important. I need to soak up all the remaining information that I can and get through some exams. Now if only the movie theatre weren't calling my name and naps in the sunshine didn't sound so appealing.... :-)
~ Tam in Toulouse
Monday, March 21, 2011
Eurotrip 2011 (Paris prt 2)
The shop wasn't closed! Since it was the end of our adventure, Martha and I allowed ourselves to go a bit crazy buying sweet goodies. I bought a cookie tin which we partially filled with cookies, or biscuits as the French call them, and chocolate covered olives. (Just so you know, chocolate covered olives just taste like chocolate. They don't taste like olives at all. The olives make for the chocolate to be less sweet, but it still tastes just like chocolate.) I also bought a sachet of caramels for a friend. Martha bought a tin of caramels for herself. We dragged each other away from buying anything else and exited the store with out signature mustard yellow La Cure Gourmand bags and our goodies.
We passed back by Notre Dame, and snapped some photos, on our way to the metro. We needed to get all the way across Paris in order to visit Le NordSud restaurant for dinner, and then return for our 9:30 appointment at the Eiffel Tower. I was unsure of how Martha would react to the NordSud. I had only been once and loved it, but the food was 'very' french and could be pricey too. The very same sweet waiter I'd had back in October for my GRE sat us down near the window. He commiserated with me over the fact that they were no longer serving the pasta I had enjoyed back then. Martha and I settled on french onion soup with an appetizer of smoked salmon on toast. *I used to love salmon till I had it tartare here in Toulouse, TWICE, and now the texture turns my stomach a bit.* I ate almost my fair half of the salmon, and thought to myself that hopefully soon I'd get over my recent issue with it. We loved our soup. The wine was lovely as well. Sadly we were in a rush to make our appointment at the Eiffel Tower, so we didn't get to stay for dessert. If I go to Paris again, I WILL visit NordSud again. It's just a fabulous, charming place with great food and great staff.
The Eiffel Tower at night I had already seen. I'd seen it from Trocadero though. This time, Martha and I had gotten tickets for the second observation deck so I'd actually be IN the Eiffel Tower at night. The tower was beautiful as we approached it. She really is magnificent by night all lit up and shining against the velvet sky. From a very short line, we stepped into a huge elevator that took us up to the second observation deck. As we looked out over the city below we were able to make out Sacre Coeur in the distance, Trocadero, the Arch, and Notre Dame. It was really cool to see the boats on the Seine below us. Even more interesting were the little flashes of light from the crowds at Trocadero taking pictures of the Eiffel Tower that we were standing in. The coolest thing, by far about being on the second level was the moment that the tower began to sparkle. A collective intake of breath happened, the flashes at Trocadero quadrupled in quantity, and seemingly everyone on the observation deck lifted their cameras and phones to record the sparkles.
After that, and after we'd looked out from every side of the observation deck and through the souvenir shops, we made our way back to the hostel. It was late, we were tired, but it had been an afternoon and evening in Paris to remember.
The next day we woke up, took the metro out to Charles de Gaule, and came home to Toulouse where showers and naps and junk food happened, photos and videos were shared, short convos with missed boyfriends took place, and final hours were spent recalling all the wonderful things about our adventures over the past 10 days.
We passed back by Notre Dame, and snapped some photos, on our way to the metro. We needed to get all the way across Paris in order to visit Le NordSud restaurant for dinner, and then return for our 9:30 appointment at the Eiffel Tower. I was unsure of how Martha would react to the NordSud. I had only been once and loved it, but the food was 'very' french and could be pricey too. The very same sweet waiter I'd had back in October for my GRE sat us down near the window. He commiserated with me over the fact that they were no longer serving the pasta I had enjoyed back then. Martha and I settled on french onion soup with an appetizer of smoked salmon on toast. *I used to love salmon till I had it tartare here in Toulouse, TWICE, and now the texture turns my stomach a bit.* I ate almost my fair half of the salmon, and thought to myself that hopefully soon I'd get over my recent issue with it. We loved our soup. The wine was lovely as well. Sadly we were in a rush to make our appointment at the Eiffel Tower, so we didn't get to stay for dessert. If I go to Paris again, I WILL visit NordSud again. It's just a fabulous, charming place with great food and great staff.
The Eiffel Tower at night I had already seen. I'd seen it from Trocadero though. This time, Martha and I had gotten tickets for the second observation deck so I'd actually be IN the Eiffel Tower at night. The tower was beautiful as we approached it. She really is magnificent by night all lit up and shining against the velvet sky. From a very short line, we stepped into a huge elevator that took us up to the second observation deck. As we looked out over the city below we were able to make out Sacre Coeur in the distance, Trocadero, the Arch, and Notre Dame. It was really cool to see the boats on the Seine below us. Even more interesting were the little flashes of light from the crowds at Trocadero taking pictures of the Eiffel Tower that we were standing in. The coolest thing, by far about being on the second level was the moment that the tower began to sparkle. A collective intake of breath happened, the flashes at Trocadero quadrupled in quantity, and seemingly everyone on the observation deck lifted their cameras and phones to record the sparkles.
After that, and after we'd looked out from every side of the observation deck and through the souvenir shops, we made our way back to the hostel. It was late, we were tired, but it had been an afternoon and evening in Paris to remember.
The next day we woke up, took the metro out to Charles de Gaule, and came home to Toulouse where showers and naps and junk food happened, photos and videos were shared, short convos with missed boyfriends took place, and final hours were spent recalling all the wonderful things about our adventures over the past 10 days.
Eurotrip 2011 (Paris)
Yes, Paris again. I can't get enough of that city. She shows me something new each time I visit her. So, it was only proper that since Martha was coming to visit me in France, that we actually BE in FRANCE for some time. While Toulouse certainly has a lot of offer, it just HAD to be Paris for the last day of our trip.
We awoke early in the morning to catch our coach and then our plane. As usual, I slept for most of the plane ride (I thank my Mother for this wonderful ability of sleeping like a log). I never thought I would say this, but it was nice to get back to speaking French after our time in Italy. I finally understood what everyone was saying and could converse with ease. That skill helped Martha and I make friends with the French couple sitting next to us on the plane. Since we didn't know Orly airport at all, they kindly offered to help us find the Orlyval train that would take us into inner Paris. Even though we easily found the Orlyval and bought tickets, and even though we knew exactly how to get to the hostel without getting lost, it still took us over two hours from the time we landed in Paris until the time we dropped our bags at the hostel. In the end, I'm thankful that we dropped our bags off since we were out sightseeing until midnight, but at the time all I worried about was the time we were losing.
We hadn't eaten in the morning, nor had we eaten lunch since the lunch hours were spent on the metro traveling to our hostel. Thus, by the time Martha and I popped out of the metro near Notre Dame we were irritable and starving. We looked diagonally across the place..."The American Cafe" read the nearest awning. Were we really going to eat in an establishment, in Paris, that boasted it's American-ness? We didn't care. We just wanted food. The meal was fabulous, and it turns out that the name of the cafe was NOT the American Cafe but rather the' Brasserie des Deux Palais'. The alternate 'title' was simply a little descriptive phrase signifying the bi-lingual staff and the menu made up of 'typical' french dishes according to Americans. It didn't serve American food at all. Instead, it served the same foods a student of french learns in their first years of taking french: omelets, croque monsieurs, croque madames, cappucinos & cafes, baguettes and cheese, etc. We both polished off our coffee (well I had hot chocolate) and our food (a croque madame for Martha and a ham & cheese omelet for me), then made our way across the street to Saint Chapelle.
The entire trip I'd been hearing about how Martha wanted to re-visit Notre Dame. I myself wanted to visit Saint Chapelle which I didn't know much about but had heard that it was one of 'THE' things to see in Paris. With the rain starting to come down and the line into Saint Chapelle getting longer and longer our hope of seeing both before closing time was quickly diminishing. I tried to tell Martha that she should "Go." "See." Notre Dame again. As I pointed out after about twenty minutes of waiting, "I'll probably still be in this line when you get back." Martha was adamant that she would stay with me which I was secretly nervous about. I really didn't want to ruin her one day in Paris by forcing her to see something she had no interest in seeing. She assured me, as if reading my mind, that she was up for seeing something new in Paris. It took over an hour, but when we made it inside I decided the wait in the light rain had been worth it. The base chapel was really orate and pretty. Then we climbed the narrow, stone spiral staircase up to the upper chapel, and my breath was taken away by the sight that greeted our eyes. Surrounding us were the most beautiful stain glass windows I've ever seen rising almost from floor to ceiling, throwing sparkling color around the inside like a jewel box. Just as we'd done in the Sistine Chapel, Martha and I sat in chairs to the side just staring up at all the tiny scenes played out in glass. It was one of the most beautiful things I've seen in Paris apart from Sacre Coeur and the Eiffel Tower.
Almost too soon, but really quite some time later, we made our way across the Ile de la Cite toward Notre Dame. To our surprise, when we entered the church, there was a mass happening. In the very last row we seated ourselves. There was a choir singing so beautifully, the sound carried around the big cathedral in a way that you felt it while you heard it. I never wanted it to stop.This was a Notre Dame I hadn't seen before. The first time I'd visited I remember it being dark and stark and, although impressive, almost unwelcome. This though, this huge space vaulting higher and higher with shining chandeliers and lovely music...this was moving. This was Notre Dame in her glory. I'm really happy that we got to visit when we did, because truthfully I wasn't all that interested in visiting again after my first time. After the mass was over a most curious but wonderful thing happened...
We had neglected finding the address to La Cure Gourmand (the chocolate and pastry shop we found in Carcassonne) in Paris. We were leaving the next morning. I was sure that we wouldn't happen across it in such a big city and, even if we did, it would be closed for the evening.
...As we were sitting in Notre Dame (we had moved closer after the mass) a man waked right in front of us with a medium sized La Cure Gourmand bag. Immediately my hope flared up as I quickly beckoned him and asked where he'd found the shop. "It's quite near here. A 5 minute walk maybe. Let me get my wife, she'll know which street it was on." He beckoned his wife, who then needed to beckon a friend who knew, but within 5 minutes Martha and I were on our way to the shop, crossing our fingers that it wasn't closed.
We awoke early in the morning to catch our coach and then our plane. As usual, I slept for most of the plane ride (I thank my Mother for this wonderful ability of sleeping like a log). I never thought I would say this, but it was nice to get back to speaking French after our time in Italy. I finally understood what everyone was saying and could converse with ease. That skill helped Martha and I make friends with the French couple sitting next to us on the plane. Since we didn't know Orly airport at all, they kindly offered to help us find the Orlyval train that would take us into inner Paris. Even though we easily found the Orlyval and bought tickets, and even though we knew exactly how to get to the hostel without getting lost, it still took us over two hours from the time we landed in Paris until the time we dropped our bags at the hostel. In the end, I'm thankful that we dropped our bags off since we were out sightseeing until midnight, but at the time all I worried about was the time we were losing.
We hadn't eaten in the morning, nor had we eaten lunch since the lunch hours were spent on the metro traveling to our hostel. Thus, by the time Martha and I popped out of the metro near Notre Dame we were irritable and starving. We looked diagonally across the place..."The American Cafe" read the nearest awning. Were we really going to eat in an establishment, in Paris, that boasted it's American-ness? We didn't care. We just wanted food. The meal was fabulous, and it turns out that the name of the cafe was NOT the American Cafe but rather the' Brasserie des Deux Palais'. The alternate 'title' was simply a little descriptive phrase signifying the bi-lingual staff and the menu made up of 'typical' french dishes according to Americans. It didn't serve American food at all. Instead, it served the same foods a student of french learns in their first years of taking french: omelets, croque monsieurs, croque madames, cappucinos & cafes, baguettes and cheese, etc. We both polished off our coffee (well I had hot chocolate) and our food (a croque madame for Martha and a ham & cheese omelet for me), then made our way across the street to Saint Chapelle.
The entire trip I'd been hearing about how Martha wanted to re-visit Notre Dame. I myself wanted to visit Saint Chapelle which I didn't know much about but had heard that it was one of 'THE' things to see in Paris. With the rain starting to come down and the line into Saint Chapelle getting longer and longer our hope of seeing both before closing time was quickly diminishing. I tried to tell Martha that she should "Go." "See." Notre Dame again. As I pointed out after about twenty minutes of waiting, "I'll probably still be in this line when you get back." Martha was adamant that she would stay with me which I was secretly nervous about. I really didn't want to ruin her one day in Paris by forcing her to see something she had no interest in seeing. She assured me, as if reading my mind, that she was up for seeing something new in Paris. It took over an hour, but when we made it inside I decided the wait in the light rain had been worth it. The base chapel was really orate and pretty. Then we climbed the narrow, stone spiral staircase up to the upper chapel, and my breath was taken away by the sight that greeted our eyes. Surrounding us were the most beautiful stain glass windows I've ever seen rising almost from floor to ceiling, throwing sparkling color around the inside like a jewel box. Just as we'd done in the Sistine Chapel, Martha and I sat in chairs to the side just staring up at all the tiny scenes played out in glass. It was one of the most beautiful things I've seen in Paris apart from Sacre Coeur and the Eiffel Tower.
Almost too soon, but really quite some time later, we made our way across the Ile de la Cite toward Notre Dame. To our surprise, when we entered the church, there was a mass happening. In the very last row we seated ourselves. There was a choir singing so beautifully, the sound carried around the big cathedral in a way that you felt it while you heard it. I never wanted it to stop.This was a Notre Dame I hadn't seen before. The first time I'd visited I remember it being dark and stark and, although impressive, almost unwelcome. This though, this huge space vaulting higher and higher with shining chandeliers and lovely music...this was moving. This was Notre Dame in her glory. I'm really happy that we got to visit when we did, because truthfully I wasn't all that interested in visiting again after my first time. After the mass was over a most curious but wonderful thing happened...
We had neglected finding the address to La Cure Gourmand (the chocolate and pastry shop we found in Carcassonne) in Paris. We were leaving the next morning. I was sure that we wouldn't happen across it in such a big city and, even if we did, it would be closed for the evening.
...As we were sitting in Notre Dame (we had moved closer after the mass) a man waked right in front of us with a medium sized La Cure Gourmand bag. Immediately my hope flared up as I quickly beckoned him and asked where he'd found the shop. "It's quite near here. A 5 minute walk maybe. Let me get my wife, she'll know which street it was on." He beckoned his wife, who then needed to beckon a friend who knew, but within 5 minutes Martha and I were on our way to the shop, crossing our fingers that it wasn't closed.
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