zegrandefromage-blog

[zegrandefromage-blog]

Well My Time Has Come and I Can Hardly Contain My Joy

So this is it. The end of my eye-opening stay in France. I think at this point in the study abroad blogging process most people start pouring out their hearts about what they will miss about the country, how they don't think they will be able to adapt back to home, and how they hope against all hope that they will get to come back one day.

I don't think I will be able to do that properly. Don't get me wrong, my semester was fantastic and I loved traveling around. I don't know what it was, but my experience studying abroad seems to have been something completely different from everyone else I have talked to about it.

NOW maybe that is partly my fault. For instance, at least remotely speaking the language would have been a good idea. Some people know that I would try to learn french when I was at parties, but believe it or not "Est-ce que vous veux aller a ma apartment avec moi?" did not come in very handy during my semester. This could be due to the fact that I was not terribly proud of my apartment or that I was at an Electrical Engineering school where everyone knows the femme/homme ratio approaches zero.

Granted this lack of language ability led me into some interesting experiences and forced me to rely on my friend Emily as a translator. I mean who thought that ordering baguettes would be difficult if you pronounce the word like an american? Not I, but apparently the ladies at the boulangerie found it to be terribly entertaining.

I learned about myself though. The french way of life is laid back to a point that I didn't even think possible, with 2 hour lunch breaks and only working 35 hours a week, MAYBE. The biggest culture shock was the utter lack of 24/7 convenience and it was difficult to adapt my college lifestyle to this schedule. Many was the time when I wanted to run out for midnight munchies and would be slapped by the realization that everything was closed. I realized that I like the American drive to make and do more than I thought. The whole semester I had very little work to do and found myself frustrated and trying to create work for myself. This worked out for Kyle Kemble and NMS for sure. I never thought I would say this but I miss homework soooo much.

One thing I will miss is our local park and the village. That is something we don't have back in america, the districts that are older than mud and have the quiet, quaint feel to them. We had a park near here with a lake where we would spend many an evening with a bottle of 1€ wine just talking. On school nights no less!

I learned how important it is to take advantage of just talking to people back home as well. I am usually a person who tries to avoid dealing with strangers if I can, and when I had no choice here, I found it extremely annoying that I couldn't speak their language. It is truly a marvel that I was able to successfully navigate through 7 countries by myself with no phrasebooks or knowledge of the language. And this is how I discovered that strangers are awesome. They actually have some great stories and odds are is that they are just as nervous about the conversation as you are. If I hadn't talked to strangers, I would never have visited Santorini and would never know what I was missing.

I also learned the importance and blessing it is to have a great friend group around you. I knew nobody over here and really only made 2 good friends over the course of my time here. Without Emily, I would have turned into a grumbling troll hugging a bottle of wine in my room and muttering about ze French. She is responsible for dragging me to more cemeteries and offbeat places than I would have seen on my own. And also for the second friend I made in my time here. Who knew you could make really good friends with someone after spending only 1 day and then 1 week with them? Brian is one of the coolest guys I have met [Coolest non-engineers I should clarify :) ] and his offer to let us crash in Montpellier not only saved me beacon bucks but gave me the chance to see a great city and meet many other people. And also to eat near a half ton of mousse.

This semester made me miss my friends back home so much and I am stoked to get back and start annoying the crap out of them again in my own special way :) On the other hand, it was bizarre to be over here in the time of Facebook and email. I don't feel like I ever left and was still part of the gang back home, albeit a hermit and distant part.

So Au Revoir France it's been….different.

[zegrandefromage-blog]

Obligatory Post Describing the Rest of My time in Italy With the Fam

Florence: Stay in cool apartment with balcony overlooking the hills and Florence. Drink beer and wine on balcony. Walk around Florence, eat pizza, walk around some more, eat more pizza, walk, Gelato!!, walk around more.

Drive to Sienna, walk around Sienna and see big pretty church, eat pizza, Gelato!, drive back through wine country.

Venice: Drive/Take train into Venice. Meet Guido, our host who is an awesome old bearded italian man. He serves us wine then takes us on tour around city. Learn a lot of history. Go back and get lazy sister who stayed at apartment during tour, go eat fish and then get rained on!

Walk around venice, eat pizza, walk around some more, Gelato!, walk, sit by canal, walk back to apartment. Send Kody to go get pizza like a delivery boy. Kody wonders why he doesn't see any other pizza delivery boys. Right then, bam! Delivery boy rounds corner. Get gelato for dessert.

Repeat process from day before but throw in a canal tour on the bus/boat. Eat lots of pizza. Sit by canal and eat pizza. Go to main bridge at night and people watch with little sister. Get gelato! and then go back to bridge.

Rome: Drive to rome. It is very busy but we go through Genoa along the coast. That is very pretty.

Day 1: Ignore Rome and go to the Beach. Get Pizza for dinner.

Day 2: Go to Pompei. Walk around and then get confronted by man offering to show us "something special" We follow him and get led down an alley to a locked door. He takes us in to see some houses that are preserved with very nice mosaics. Then he takes us to another one with better mosaics and we get to go on the roof of this 2000 year old house. Then more places with mosaics. All of them locked and him looking around sneakily while he opens them. No one else is around us and I worry we are about to be murdered. Thankfully he did not murder us and we got a sweet private tour for a few Euros.

Drive back from Pompei along Amalfi coast and stop for pizza at a beach. Then get gelato for dessert. Price for dinner for 4 overlooking the water? 20 euros. Go us.

Day 3: Still not going into rome. Go to Castel Gandolfo and see the pretty lake. Get pizza for lunch. Head out to beach for sunset and eat more pizza. Also gelato.

Day 4: Finally go into rome and cruise around on a hop on hop off tour bus. Eat pasta for lunch. Just kidding. It was actually pizza. Find the BEST gelato at a place in Rome where they had a guard to make sure there weren't riots in the street outside this place. That or it was part of parliament that he was guarding...probably the gelato actually.

Day 5: See the vatican and eat lots of pizza and gelato

Day 6: Back to the beach to wind down for the trip back. Insert pizza and Gelato.

Drive back and stop in Lyon to visit a friend of Keeli's. We meet him and his dad in lyon and they want us to come back for dinner so they give us a whirlwind tour of Lyon. Then I get to ride back with the dad, on his scooter! At this point I would like to point out that you have not truly lived until you have seen a mirror from a car brush past your face at 110km/hr as you zip in between cars. So much fun. Then my completely american family had dinner with the french family. And while it was slightly awkward due to communication issues, still so much fun. They were wonderful hosts.

This post was going to be "See sites, eat pizza, eat gelato, repeat until out of Italy", but I had to add in some detail.

[zegrandefromage-blog]

Communication is Paramount With a Rental Car: Or Why You Should Ensure You Have Credit and Charge on Your Mobile

After a semester of absence, I have been joined over in France by friends and family. My semester is over (finally!) and I am truly on vacation. Well, for the third time this semester at least. By the end of the month I will be back in the land of cheap tacos and 24 hour convenience.

But first I have to survive a trip with 2/3 of my family. Which may not be possible as I seem to be the magnet for trouble on our family vacations. We are 3 days into this trip and already it has been a delightful calamity.

On the last day of classes, my parents and Keeli went to go pickup our rental car from Orly and then proceeded to drive with the directions I had given them from Paris to Cergy. Now, they didn't have a map or access to google, and being careless, I had merely typed my address into google and said go. I woke up that morning realizing, that not only did I not have the foggiest idea on how to guide someone to my apartment, but also the directions I had sent were incorrect and they did not have a phone to call. I also had no more minutes on my phone to call them with. So I crossed my fingers and went to my test hoping they could figure it out.

As I sit there taking my Electromagnetics test with the 3 other students, my phone goes off. Thinking it was my parents I asked the professor if I could answer it since I would not be able to call them back. Now in America, that would quite probably be denied but it was no problem here. I answered the phone with a "Hello" and received a stream of french in response. Seeing as how my parents are from the south, I knew this was not them and was about to hang up when my brain finally pieced the words I had heard together into some knowledge that someone was waiting for me at the front desk of my school. I asked my teacher if I could go meet them and he volunteered to go find them so I could finish my test. Very nice of him and he just took off out of the room.  Oh, trust.

Fast forward a few hours. We headed up to normandy in our little rental car and were already later than expected. We needed to pick up cash to pay for the apartment and we trusted our GPS to find us an ATM. It managed to route us through fields and small villages off of the highway until we finally stumbled across one. We were half expecting to see one in the middle of the cornfields. As we leave the village and merge onto the highway we hear a wub wub wub wub wub coming from the back. We pull off onto a side road and discover that Surprise!  We are the proud owners of a new flat tire! 

Ok Men! Go to work! We get out to change the tire and whip the luggage out of the trunk to get to the spare and tools. My dad and I are like a two man pit crew. All the way up until I go to take out the lugnuts. Hmm, that's odd. The wrench appears to be too small for these lugnuts. That is just peachy. Well, ok that's fine, we can just call Avis. Oh wait a minute, Kody's phone doesn't have any minutes. Well, it is a good thing we have two french speakers in the car!

So as I wander down the road to try and find a phone, my family waves down a nice frenchman. I walk back as quick as I can realizing that my dad trying to explain our situation should be entertaining. The man was great and lent us his phone. Then he went to get a wrench out of his car after we explained ours did not fit. He puts the larger end on and tries to turn it but it isn't snug. When he takes it off, the caps come off with it. Turns out our wrench would have fit. Needless to say he was a testament to rural french hospitality and apologized for his english as he was leaving. I was like are you kidding me? You spoke more of our language than we did yours!

Determined not to repeat this incident, we went on a hunt for a SIM card for phone minutes. We found a small town tabac and I went in. At first I thought I did a fine job asking him in french to the best of my ability. He held up a little device with a pin pad and I assumed he had thought I was asking if he took cards. So I went on miming and attempting bad french till finally he pulled out his phone and I said oui. So he goes back to the device and shows me how to choose my carrier and minutes. It was actually really convenient and he had understood me the first time. French FTW!

We finally got to our place for the night which was a quaint little farmstead outside La Bazoque with an amazing converted cottage for us to stay in. We settled in and I went to charge our phone. Guess who forgot the charger on the desk back in Cergy? Merde! So now our trip to Italy required a detour through Cergy.

The next morning we went to Mont St. Michel which is by far my favorite abbey. It is located on a mound in the middle of a peninsula and is really well designed. Me and the sis got some postcards and then we headed back to Caen to go to the WW2 memorial museum. Meanwhile my dad went to the local Avis to try and get the car fixed so we had a spare. He returns, but with a new car. After interrogating him we realized he got everything except for those postcards. So since, hey it's vacation, we decided to go back to the avid and try and get them from the old card. Plus my dad didn't like the new clutch, the dash didn't properly prop our phone up, and the system didn't have a connection for our music. You know, the necessities in life.

We go back and my dad goes into talk to these local french about getting the postcards and maybe seeing if our old car would be fixed soon. Now, for anyone who knows the french, you can see where this might provoke some consternation. An american man comes in, asking about lost postcards (which we learned were gone as the car had just left for the garage), and then switches to asking to swap the car AGAIN for reasons that he can't explain in the broken language that is communication between foreigners. I walk into this place not 5 minutes later to find my dad embroiled in a heatedI discussion with two french women. It was hilarious. The manager can't understand what is wrong with the clutch and thinks he doesn't know how to drive and huffing, stomps out in her business skirt to show us how to do it proper.

This battle we ceded to the Francaise and decided to try and stop back by Orly since we were going through Cergy already. Now I should mention that we called the Avis there to request to swap our new crappy car out for the same model as the one we had. Which, over the phone, was apparently no problem. 

Sweet, you say! It's only a 14 hour drive to Florence so if we get up early enough we can make it before the cows come in.

Wrong. After trusting our phone GPS to get us to Cergy, and driving along major autoroutes for hours just fine, the phone craps out right as we needed to know where to turn for Cergy, and reroutes us to Orly. My dad and I were just chatting away and didn't  realize the mistake till we were practically in Paris.

Fast-forward the 1:15 it took to turn around and get back on track. We get to Orly and go into swap the car. Find out, oh this one isn't a diesel (Crucial for saving some centimes). They do have another one that is a diesel, just another model. Well much to our chagrin, neither one had Bluetooth or the dash to hold the GPS. So we get the poor attendant to switch us into the diesel and we head up to the car. As we head up, Keeli and I spot a car that looks like the one we had at first being parked. We check it and YES Bluetooth AND GPS! And diesel!. So right as my dad has finalized the paperwork for the first exchange, we tell him that we should see if we can get that one. We show the lady and she goes "You want me to swap it AGAIN?!?!

So the 4 of us have gone through 4 cars, 3 days, and might have single handedly reinforced every stereotype about American pickiness and "Have it your way" mentality. Oh this is shaping up to be a great trip.

[zegrandefromage-blog]

Perfect Vacation in Santorini or Why Accompanying Strangers is Actually a Good Idea

Friends, Countrymen, Creepers, Lend me your ears. For I have a wonderful tale to tell that I hope I can do justice to. And prithee do not detest me when my yarn has been fully spun, for i seek not to cause jealousy or envy, but merely to share.

That being said, GREECE WAS AMAAAAAAZING!!!!!!!!

I am going to try and tell this story so that you too can feel as I felt, but alas the english language does not have the necessary vocabulary to encapsulate what happened.

To begin, I flew to Athens from Paris to spend a week. A little sightseeing but mostly turning into a dark olive at the beach was my plan. After arriving in Athens and stealing a bus ride from the airport (I didn't know how to buy a ticket and the bus left with me on it) I made it to Syntagma square, basically the town center.

Here is when I realized I was a little bit in trouble. I spoke none of the language and couldn't even sound out the signs. Oh, and I had forgotten the name of my hostel and couldn't ask. So I wandered to McD's to leach some weefee and as I was standing there this skinny old lady came up to me and was like "Are you neil?" After denying this, she told me she was looking for a tall, skinny, dark haired boy in a red shirt that looked american. An uncanny description of myself. So she tried to help me find my way by agreeing with the directions I had. 

Needless to say I finally made it to the hostel. As I was checking in, a guy and a girl came in. Both were speaking english so I made a point to meet them later. Turns out the girl was british and was there with 4 other british girls who were all studying classics. The guy was spencer and he was from North Carolina.

That night was spent drinking wine and talking to the british girls and getting to know them. They invited me to tag along with them to the acropolis the next day, which I was more than willing to do. Spencer came along as well and we spent the next day doing the sightseeing thing. He told me he was planning to go to Santorini for a couple of days and asked if I wanted to come with. After learning how cheap and amazing the hostel would be, I agreed readily. Mother always told me to avoid going places with strangers but sometimes you just gotta do.

That night we all went out to an amazing Greek restaurant and I had the Bandit's lamb,  a dish with lamb steamed in a paper bag with tomatoes, feta, and banana peppers. Simply fantastic. We went back an hung out on the balcony and I learned about many great british comedies that I am going to have to watch now.

And now to the epic part of the trip. 

The following day, Spencer and I made our way to the travel agency, where the agent robbed us of our money but got us tickets on the ferry. We had been thinking it was a 2-3 hour ferry ride. No, this was a full blown 8 hour ride on a boat that left at 5pm. Since we didn't really have a choice, we went to the pier to wait it out, where i managed to barter my way into a €5 pair of Authentic Ray Ban sunglasses (No they are real I swear!).

Since we had reserved a private room for the two of us, the hotel had guaranteed to send a driver to meet us. Lucky for him that was at 1am. This is where fate stepped in. As we waited to disembark, I noticed two girls about our age with backpacking gear bearing the Canadian flag. I made a mental note of this because I am always excited to speak english with cute girls. We got off and began looking for the sign for our hotel, and to my pleasant surprise, the girls went to the same person. Score!

So we all piled in this little 4 door sedan and Jon, an old greek man, tore off down the road winding his way through dark greek villages at well over 50km/hr. It was terrifying and I decided to talk to the girls as they might very well have been the last people I ever met while still alive. Turns out, they spoke english BUT with a delightful french accent as they were from Quebec! They were traveling around europe for their gap year. Which is definitely a concept that USA should learn from. I'm just saying.

We pulled into a very Greek looking hotel and Jon took the girls upstairs to their room and told them that his son runs a scooter rental place next door. He then took us to our penthouse room and told us the same thing, which I at first disregarded seeing as how I have little money. After he left, we hear a knock on the door and open it to find the cute girls standing outside. They invite us to rent scooters with them the next day, to which I immediately said yes. I mean, sure I had just blown off the idea but that was BEFORE cute girls were asking me to do it.

So bright eyed and chipper, I popped out of bed the next morning and waltzed out to meet them. I wasn't sure if we were getting 4 scooters or what, but the girls bypassed that and asked if we wanted to drive and the girls would ride on back. The cheesy romantic in me could not pass up that idea. Ideally we would have gotten scooters, but we decided on ATVs because we weren't sure the scooters would make it up the hills all day :( 

A bit of me died in that moment (It was the JD bit in case there was any confusion).

Needless to say I was still really excited and we loaded up our gear, put on our helmets and cruised off down the road. The day was perfect, the sun was out, and there was hardly anyone on the island since it was off-season. First we went to the red beach and here the view began to hint at the epic-ness that this day held. At first we were all kind of quiet with each other since we didn't know each other, but soon we began to joke and actually hit it off really well.

We drove to the lighthouse next, flying through tiny blue roofed villages. At one point, a cat and about ten chickens jumped off a cliff in front of me and Emilie's ATV. Oh, yea, both of the girls were named Emilie. Made it both easy and confusing. The other ATV was kind of slow and so the two of us got to know each other while waiting for the turtle to catch up. We decided to go to the other side of the island, which is crescent shaped, and took our lunch and swimsuits so we could have a picnic on the beach. Coming into OIA on the other side of the island, we had to drive along cliffs that over looked the beach. I thought I was going to have to change my pants I was so excited.

We found a tiny dirt road that led us to a secluded beach that was surrounded by cliffs and had surreally blue water. We plopped down and I ripped off my shirt to reveal my chiseled, rock hard, tan abs. (Bonus points to whoever points out the lie in that last sentence) We enjoyed a great meal and skipped rocks. The girls found out that Spence and I had not had Frappe, the local wonderful coffee drink, or Ouzo and decided that their mission was to try that. So we had a plan to find a cafe for Frappe and then that evening they would make us dinner and we would drink a lot. Sounds like a bad idea waiting to happen, right?

So, lunch over, we headed back to the ATVs were we decided the girls should drive. I was hesitant because, well, they were girls, but Emilie safely drove up to a cliffside cafe that overlooked the whole coast. The place was deserted since it was sunday afternoon so we sat down on the porch and the kind lady served us a delicious Frappe (think iced coffee but stronger) and we sat letting the cool breeze toy with our hair.

Now our grand plan was to drive over to the white sand beach and hang out for a while, but ATV issues forced us back to the hotel. We then realized we needed to find a market before they all closed for the afternoon. It was siesta time on Sunday after all. The girls both changed into leather jackets in preparation for the evening and I felt horribly left out. I mean I wanted to feel like I was riding a wild hog too! 

I digress. The normal markets were closed so we drove back towards the main city, Fira, stopping at every Mini Market we saw. We pulled into one, and all they had was snack food and unlabeled glass bottles. Since finding liquor was of course more important than finding food, we asked the woman behind the desk what they were. "It's (insert long greek word). My husband make it", she casually replied and pulled out a flask from behind the counter to poor us a glass. The first was something harsher than vodka. The next was a dessert wine that is local to Santorini and it tasted like raisins. So good. The third was a mixture of the two.

There was no ouzo though, so after 3 shots we got back on our vehicles (Drinking and driving is ok if you have a helmet right?) and headed into Fira to wander around and find that damn ouzo. Every shop we went by seemed to want us to taste their wine and who were we to refuse. We walked along the top of the Caldera over looking the bay, which was a phenomenal view, and even got to try absinthe at one liquor store. The guy standing outside pulled us in with "Oh wow so pretty! Where are you girls from? You are lucky guys!" He then asked where we had met our cute girls and was shocked to hear it was at the ferry. Never hurts to have a pretty girl on your arm right?

After wandering up through the city, we found ourselves just sitting on  a ledge waiting for the sun to go down. The people at the hotel had gave us a great plan for the day including beaches, scenic lunches, and a great place to watch the sunset from. Sounds like a perfect romantic day. After measuring how long until the sunset using my fingers, we decided we should be able to make it to the top of the island on the ATVs before the sunset. So we took off in a flash and found a little turnout with a ledge that allowed us to watch the sunset slowly into the sea. A perfect end to a perfect day.

But what's that you say? The day isn't over? No dear readers it is not.

With the sun buried in the deep blue horizon, we bundled up and set out in the dark back to the city to grab dinner before heading back to the hotel. It was very cold in the dark and I can say that shorts and a long sleeve shirt did practically nothing to help. 

We wanted to drink on the beach with a fire but that wasn't allowed so instead we piled into our room and began playing drinking games. With our limited supplies we played quarters, then made our own pair of homemade dice and played Three Man. All while downing the disgusting concoction that is Ouzo. Ouzo is liquid black licorice mixed with rubbing alcohol. And apparently it is as popular in Greece as Tequila is in Mexico. How? I don't have the foggiest clue.

The night was a grand ole time and consisted of us sitting outside and me teasing them about how they didn't pronounce H's because they spoke french. We ended up on the beach and lay there for a while watching the stars and trying to take pictures of them. We were not successful in the latter. We stumbled back to the hotel then and said goodnight.

The next day was perfect in its simplicity. We drove down to the beach where we laid out in the sun for a few hours before we had to leave on the ferry. I went for a swim in the water and found it quite enjoyable after my body grew numb.

Another 8 hour ferry ride back and we dropped the girls off in a taxi. I nailed the Bises for the first time and didn't screw it up! The wonderful dream like vacation had come to an end and I was back in athens. My time in Santorini was mostly a swirl of emotions and just feelings of rightness. I don't know fully how to phrase it so I hope you all can relate to the feeling I am trying to express.

Noteworthy items from my last couple of days in Athens: Going to the beach, Seeing a group of five extremely cute girls avoiding tan lines (one of them reading Atlas Shrugged), meeting a giant greek man who swims in the water for fun and thought it was warm, eating gyros until Tzatziki leaked out my ears, and climbing to the top of a hill (small mountain?) in the middle of the city at night.

It was all told a fantastic trip and I hope I have made you sufficiently jealous. If not, I am not telling something properly. 

So until next we meet dear friends, take care, and remember to say yes when the stranger asks you to get on the ferry with them. Especially if they have candy.

[zegrandefromage-blog]

Finding the Perfect Day in Paris and The Most Lucrative Market: or Wait, is this Your Grandma???

No matter how many times you see it in the movies or read about it in the books, those perfect days where everything goes according to plan and you spend the whole day with a big doofy grin on your face are few and far between. However, I was fortunate enough to enjoy one of these treasures this past weekend.

Now as a "local" to Paris, meaning that I have spent more than 2 weeks here and call this place home, I usually get to pretend to be a tourist when someone comes to visit. Usually it should be my own friends, but I am not particular and will tag along with anyone to be able to take incessant pictures and talk loudly in english. One of my compatriots from Indiana, Emily, had her friends Brian and Cora out to visit for the weekend. On saturday, they had decided to hit Paris with american delicacy and I was invited to join them for their whirlwind tour of the sights.

They were each allowed to choose one thing they wanted to see (they only had one day, it's not just being mean) and Cora's choice was the Louvre. These people were humanities majors meaning they knew about paintings in the louvre besides the Mona Lisa. For instance, I had no idea the Venus de Milo was in the Louvre and probably would have left without seeing it. And I also apparently missed El Greco paintings in a room I know I had been in. 

It was in the Louvre that Emily and I discovered that this day would be difficult. Cora and Brian had walked to Auvers Sur Oise (See Earlier post) the day before and their legs were exhausted from walking. Now my mother raised me to be a Power Tourist and apparently so had Emily's. Power tourists are capable of seeing all the major sights of a large city in one day by keeping their legs moving at an unnatural pace while at the same time posing for pictures while still moving. In Europe, the stereotypical Power Tourists are the Japanese. Cora was not a power tourist and was more than thrilled by how fascinating the nearest bench or soft piece of ground was. Through much prompting and pulling, we got her through a large portion of the Louvre and headed out.

Now Brian is male. As such, his choice was to see the Catacombs of Paris. I had not seen these before so I was more than excited to join. I was expecting some dank tunnels telling the history of the city and maybe some views of structural decisions.

Boy, was I in for a surprise.

The dank tunnels were there yes. But apparently, somebody a  couple hundred years ago decided it would be a good idea to exhume the remains from mass graves and place them in one place. What this meant was that what used to be a quarry under the streets of london became a tunnel lined with neatly ordered stacks of human bones with skulls resting on top or embedded in clever designs in the wall. 

It is easily the creepiest place I have ever been. There is barely enough light to see where one is going. the floors are covered in muddy puddles caused by the relentless drip, drip from the ceilings. The empty sockets stare out at you and are not fastened to anything. If I had wanted, I could have put someone's skull in my backpack and walked out. The various designs made out of skulls, such as the heart, the crosses, the gate (gate to hell apparently), are in various stages of disarray as vandals with the same idea that I had decided that that particular skull did not need to be there anymore. The path that you walk down is very narrow and if you have a bag on, you run the risk of turning too fast and knocking a pile of bones loose. This is not the place I would want to be when the dead are reanimated. It would be very crowded.

Emily had an interesting experience while down there. She takes a lot of pictures and was kneeling to get a close up of the skulls. Over her shoulder all of a sudden she hears someone whisper "Do you know how many dead people are here?". Whipping around she sees the security guard inches behind her. Taking her silence as a no he continues, "6 mill-i-on" and then walks away. I think the lack of animated company is making him a little cuckoo. If I were him i would change the number, "6 mill-ion… AND ONE! MUAHAHAHAHA".

Anywho, aside from my creepiness the place is a favorite and would recommend it to anyone coming to visit. After this we were starving and so we joined the Parisians out on the Champs de Mar under the Eiffel Tower and had ourselves a marvelous french picnic with wine,cheese,baguette,and dried sausage. The day was perfect and we lounged around enjoying the spring weather. Brian and I spotted some french guys with a frisbee and so we went to join them for a while. Needless to say we hit a few people and made them unhappy. By the time evening rolled around we were well fed, well rested, and ready for the final onslaught of the day, Montmarte.

Montmarte is where I would tell anyone to go if they visit Paris and no day would be complete without watching the sun set over the city of lights. After watching street performers by the Sacre Couer, we enjoyed crepes and nutella that Brian had brought with the rest of the wine. Perfect Day, Perfect Evening, just perfect.

Brian also solved a problem that Emily and I had which is we had no idea what to do for the second week of our spring break. He offered to let us come stay with him down in Montpellier, so we will get to spend the time in the coastal south of france lounging on the beach. C'est Parfait!

Final Thoughts: As I prepared for my trip to Greece, I realized I would need sunscreen as most of the time will be spent on the beach. Not thinking this to be a problem I strolled into the Walmart of France, Auchan, and set about searching. After not finding it on our own, we asked and were directed to the pharmacy where we learned that sunscreen is the Gold of Europe. €16.50 for a tiny bottle of SPF 30 sunscreen! Prices per liter were in the 100s of Euros. Apparently this is why the french stay bundled up all year long. They can't afford to expose their skin to the sun. 

[zegrandefromage-blog]

Escargot... The Ultimate French Taste Test: Or Why Big Old Churches Are Great for Curing Hangovers

Alright, if the French have gotten anything right, it is the food. I had the best knock you on your seat, with drool hanging out the side of your mouth, and then slap you back to reality meal this evening. And it had snails in it, go figure. So this post is chronologically backwards. We went to dinner at this little cafe near La Sorbonne called Le Twickenham. Now yes, you may be wondering how we got good french food at a restaurant that sounds British and sported a Union Jack on the menu, but we managed. Entreé(Starter): Les 6 Escargot. Now I have never had this very French treat before and oh wow was I surprised! The snails were still in shell and they gave us a weird little device that looked similar to an inverted nutcracker. We were supposed to hold it with this contraption while using the little two prong fork they provided to dig the snail out of its shell. They were steamed in a garlic pesto butter and it was SOOO good.  Plat (main dish): I had breast of duck. I don't know the French name but it was cooked in a peppercorn sauce and served with Potatoes baked and smothered in butter. Oh man, my heart nearly died not only from the enormous amount of cholesterol but also from the rich combination of savory flavors on my palette. I was nominated as best dish of the group and I was very proud of all my little plat had grown up to be. Dessert(dessert): The dessert du jour was a "Parisbresse?" and turned out to be a creme cake with pralines. It was a tossup between that and cremé brulée and I am glad to say I made the right decisions. The whole thing was donut shaped and the cream oozed out the middle. There was maple syrup (I believe) poured around it as well as sugar sprinkled over the pralines on top. It was a glorious dessert and the perfect end to a wonderful meal. Now back, back, back it up. Before meeting Jake for our glorious dinner we were wandering around the Montaparnasse area looking for a good Café for, well to buy a café. We stumbled across a church and so we went in to take a look. It turned out there was a free concert going on. Heck, we like music so why not stay? We sat down to enjoy the Soprano, Contre-tenor, and organist that were about to delight our aural pathways. Well before they played, a frenchman decided we needed to know the history of the church. Completely in french, he began to tell about the construction and development of the church as we sat in the seats expecting music. He talked for a good 45 minutes about this. Now, I don't speak French well enough to understand any of this, so I got to take a nice 45 minute nap in a beautiful church. I tried to understand what he was saying for a while but the soothing sound of his french voice lulled me to sleep. Finally the music part began. It was the liturgy for the service, but sung in chant style. It was very cool to hear and they had provided the outline in a pamphlet so we were able to follow along. Definitely a great way to kill the 2 hours before Jake arrived. Rewind again: We decided to walk to Le Jardin Atlantique and see the Musée de Jean Moulin. Now the musée was a documentation of the french military involvement in WWII and the subsequent liberation of Paris by the allies.  The museum was one exhibit containing a single white flag. Just kidding that is terrible. it had a lot of information actually about the war from the French prospective. As an American student, this is not something that we have considered to often in history class and it was really cool to see it from the other side. Focused more on what the French Resistance did and how much they welcomed the allied troops it really made me appreciate what it means to belong to the USA. And to the beginning. Our Initial goal for the day was to visit the Catacombs but apparently everyone else had the same idea so we ditched out on waiting in line and went to Cimetiere du Montparnasse instead. Here a few different famous people are buried and it was very similar to s

[zegrandefromage-blog]

  Soundtrack deux My Life: Avoiding Zombie Old Folks While Surveying Graves and Books

One of the things that I most wish I had from all the cheesy movies that I watch is the wonderful soundtrack expressing the mood of the moment. Sometimes, I am so fortunate as to have this happen by accident and I get super pumped when it does. I feel invincible, since hey, the good guy always wins in the end.

One of these times happened on my most recent excursion to the Pontoise area near Cergy. This time I was accompanied by my photo obsessed american friend Emily and we set out once again with no intent other than the direction we wanted to walk. 

Now let me point something out here. We stopped at a boulangerie (bakery) to get some baguette. I waited my turn in line and then said to the lady in what i thought was pretty good french “Je Voudrais une baguette, s’il vous plait.” She looked at me like I was crazy and said “Une baguette?!?!” and I said “oui” and pointed at the stick of baked dough I was desiring. After this I completely lost my nerve with my French, because apparently no matter what I say it isn’t right and I sound like a foreigner. The cute cashier apparently thought this was funny and after I had paid, Emily pointed out that she had been talking to me the whole time I was paying and I was looking at the counter embarrassed instead of noticing her smile at me. Fail!

We walked then to what I am dubbing my favorite church so far, Iglise de Saint Maclou. This church in Pontoise is not spectacular by any means of art or architecture but it is great in everything that counts. The church was very dark upon entering and my nose was hit with the smell of hundreds of years of incense and damp dust. No other visitors barred our progress as we walked around at our leisure taking pictures. One thing that soon sprang to my attention was the music. Someone was playing piano and the music ricocheted off the columns and stain glass windows. At first I thought it was the speakers placed for the sermon, but then it became apparent that the noise originated from one corner of the church. I went to look but the chapel was locked so all I could do is enjoy it as classical pieces drifted down from the eaves played by masters of the flute and piano. I just sat down and enjoyed this very sensual experience of being in a building with such history and culture.

After Emily managed to drag me out of the church, we headed to Auvers Sur Oise, for me the second time. This time the journey was much shorter as I had someone to talk to and we  managed to make it all the way to the town center. In the city square, we stopped to take a picture of a church. An old frenchman saw us and started commenting to us (In french) how beautiful the church was. When he realized we were not superstars with the language he asked us (again in french and with great surprise) if English was the only language we spoke. He started telling us about the sites we needed to see and apparently thought we were English because he was surprised when we told him we were from Les Etats Unis. He tried to drive us to the cemetery but we politely declined and ran away, lest we end up in the cemetery permanently. (But no he was a sweet guy we just wanted to walk through the village)

We made it up to the church and there met our worst nightmare…a large group of zombie old people. Now you might think this rude but how do you describe zombies? Groups of slowly shuffling, grumbling in a dialect you can’t understand, and following you no matter where you go (desire for brains is optional). Apparently it was senior citizen Van Gogh tour day because there were probably a 100+ oldies following a french lady around with earpieces in their ears and canes in their hands. We snuck past them to the cemetery where Van Gogh is buried and then ran through it trying to find his grave before the impending onslaught began. We saw the banner born by the leader rise over the wall indicating their arrival and located the grave mere seconds before they breached the perimeter and pored into the cemetery.

Needless to say we hightailed it out of there watching over our shoulders as they shambled down the hill. As we tried to find a bus to carry us to safety, we noticed a book store next to the train station. As a bibliophile, I was instantly in love with the place. Books..were…EVERYWHERE. They had towers of books, shelves of books, shelves in front of shelves of books. There were books on couches and couches for reading. And it went back through room after room. The whole place was in a bunch of old train cars that had been parked on the side of the track and filled up with people’s used books. I especially liked the play script room as it was in an old mail car and they used the cubbyholes as the alphabetizer.

At this point the car’s started rocking and the window blew in as arthritis stricken hands groped around trying to find purchase so they could rip out our young brains. So we skedaddled.

[zegrandefromage-blog]

Super Happy Fun Time In Strollers! Or Please Don't Call Child Services on Me...

I'm kind of a movie nerd. As my friends can tell you, I tend to get obsessed/ absorbed by the fictional interactions of characters from TV series and movies that I feel strongly relate to my life. Hence the somewhat disconcerting accusations I receive claiming that I am John Dorian or Ted Mosby. Needless to say, I like visiting the sets and recreating parts of movies or TV shows. I think its the thespian in me. This brings me to my second trip to Montmarte, a locale in Paris that has easily become my favorite. A group of us rode the train in with the goal of visiting Pére Lachaise Cemetery and Cafe des deux Moulins, the workplace of Amelie Poulin. Both are located near/in Montmarte and so we made the day of it. Pére Lachaise is a giant cemetery in Paris that humbles most cemeteries that I have seen. The place is a winding city of the dead it seems, with streets and plots providing some structure to the collection of small mausoleums and graves. The cemetery is the final resting place of many famous artists including Jim Morrison of The Doors, Oscar Wilde, and Chopin as well as many French families. Some of the graves are older than the country I am from and have beautiful sculptures and inscriptions. My favorite of these was a door with an hourglass with angel wings. Jim Morrison's grave is actually difficult to find and is adorned with the flowers and shots of vodka from many an adoring fan. Oscar Wilde's grave on the other hand is in a more organized part of the cemetery and is covered by red smears that on further inspection reveal themselves to be lips. Apparently the tradition is to kiss his grave with red lipstick. Someone had written a great quote "If ur going to be a bear, be a grizzly". Our next stop in the day was the Cafe from Amelie. Located just up the street from Moulin Rouge, this little cafe was the perfect stop for a Café Créme and and Créme bruleé. I had never tried this delightful dessert before and was ecstatic to find that it is not only super delicious, but also super easy to make. Better make sure I do some running when I get back because I have something that will balloon my waistline for sure. We then worked our way up to Sacre Couer for the second time this trip, finding plenty of the space invader mosaics along the way. Me and Joe realized that everything around us looked like the folding city scene from Inception, which makes sense as that is Paris in the movie. Durrr. Upon entering Sacre Couer, I was immediately struck by how modern it seemed. The paintings on the ceiling above the altar detailed men in suits and Native Americans. As we were making our way in the typical U-shaped loop around the church, everyone was stopped and a high tenor voice started to come from in front of us. As we were unable to see who was singing, it made the chanting even more surreal. We then went to the steps in front of the Sacre Couer which is a place featured in Amelie so I got my photos imitating Nino Quincompoix (watch the movie if you are confused).  Then the weirdness started. As we made our way around the edges, we found ourself in a heavily wooded part of the park where there were wild cats running around everywhere. Ashley went nuts when she saw them and was trying to get really close to take pictures. There were two ladies that were feeding them and jabbering on in french. We thought the whole thing was hilarious as they were definitely crazy cat ladies and some of the cats were fat ole things. One of the old ladies just talked and talked at us, while the other one was apparently upset because we thought they were funny as she said "ce n'est pas un jeu les chats". Then forks and plates started to be waved at us so we scampered off quick like before she tried to skewer us. The next bizarre item was as we sat at the bottom of the stairs, Superman came running down them all of a sudden and ran right at the bench emily was sitting on. Touching it, he turned around and started running up the stairs before collapsing halfway up from exhaustion. Then he was gone. It was weird. At this point I would like to reminisce. While sitting on the bench watching the people on the stairs with their kids, I commented "I can't wait until I have kids and can bounce them down the stairs in the stroller!" Now apparently…this is not OK. I had to explain to my friends who looked at me like a child abuser to be that I recall fondly when I got to do that as a kid. I remember immensely enjoying being sat down in the cloth stroller and then hanging on as my dad safely piloted it down the stairs like a roller-coaster without a height requirement.  And I just want to pass on that delightful experience to my children. Now is that so bad?

[zegrandefromage-blog]

The Womp Womp...Or as the french say, Le Womp Womp

Thursday- 22:00 Hours: We heard that there was a club in Paris that had free entry for students on Thursday nights. Being ever the starving students that we are, we jumped on this tidbit like hotcakes. After hanging out and "mentally preparing" ourselves in a friends room, we began our trip into Paris. Now since it was late at night, the train was down for maintenance and we got a free ride into Paris by bus and train.  Friday- 00:00 Hours: Our guide on this expedition was a Finnish student who had been there the week before. Unfortunately, she had "prepared" herself more than the rest of us and we lost her once we got into Paris. She disappeared in the metro station and it wasn't for quite a while that we were able to contact her and tell her what station we were at. Once we got to the Champs D'Elysses, we realized she had no idea where we were going and that it was down "One of these side streets". Thankfully, other Cody had friends in Paris who were meeting us there and were able to guide us. Friday 01:15 Hours: We finally managed to make it into the Club whereupon my senses shut down from overload. Crazy flashing lights, people dancing everywhere, Popular songs mixed with house blasting from speakers that were bigger than I was…It was awesome. The club was Duplex and there were two rooms, one was a more trendy music and the other was more latin/rap mixes. We tried out both and ended up in the trendy room with the people dancing on raised pedestals throughout the room. Now one thing I noticed in the club: French guys are vultures. It was highly entertaining to watch groups of 10 heads swivel in perfect sync when a girl walked nearby. The creepy part was when they would all converge on the girls trying to seem inconspicuous and the girls would slip away because they could see it coming. Seriously guys? Learn some subtlety and you might actually dance with girls. Friday 02:30 Hours: At this point in the night, the pedestals in the middle of the room were cleared off and soon occupied by a new entertainment. On the one was what I guess was a professional dancer in a school girl outfit. On the other, an overly ripped Guido in a cutoff sailor shirt replaced the college students. They then proceeded to dance for a while, well the girl danced at least. The guy did what i can only describe as a series of standing crunches while holding the lapels of his weird sailor shirt. This was then occasionally accompanied by spinning around on the pedestal. I had a great time imitating him and will most likely use this dance technique as much as possible back in the states. Friday 03:00 Hours: After my eardrums had completely been womp-womped off by the bass, I communicated through a series of gestures with my friends and we decided to leave. We planned to catch a bus back to our school and the stop we had to catch it from was quite aways away from the club. Delightful. We then learned how weird it is to be in a major city and have it be completely dead. No one was out and about and everything was shut down as we made our way through the cold night wind. We had one brush in with some drunk guys where we had to evade them while protecting the female member of our group, but thankfully made it safely back to the bus just as it was leaving.

[zegrandefromage-blog]

The End of This Road...Leads Back to Disneyland?! All Right!

The time has come. I have run out of time for cavorting around the continent and must return to "real-life" and "school". But my final thoughts on this crazy whirlwind tour and a wrap-up of my adventures in Deutschland. After visiting Nuremburg, I went to Frankfurt. Not really sure why, it just was in large font on the map of Germany and I love riding the trains, soooo away I went. The weather had changed to snow/drizzle during the ride so I marched around the city all bundled up. Much to my chagrin, in trying to get to the Opera House, I somehow ended up in the red light district and could not get around it. So despite my desire to actually appreciate the architecture and subtle things above my shoes, I booked it through there while admiring the lovely arrangements of old gum and cigarettes. I finally arrived at the opera house and ooh'd and aah'd for a little bit. Then I went to the Goethe house. Goethe was apparently a famous writer, however, I am not familiar with his works. I got to the museum and couldn't see any ticket prices anywhere, so i just tried to walk in. The door only said for me to shut it behind myself… Needless to say the old man working the counter started speaking at me in German so I stopped and he tried to charge me 5€ to get in. As I only had 30 minutes I said "Aw hell nah!" and continued into the rain. So all in all Frankfurt kinda sucked. It was like Denver, but a bit bigger, and with buildings that looked kinda old. My favorite day in Germany was the next. Before I said going to Nuremburg was like stepping in a time machine. Well, going to Neuschwanstein Castle was like stepping into a tele-porter into another dimension. A dimension designed by Walt Disney. The train ride to the castle was what I would consider perfect. I was snug and warm inside as we rushed through fields and forests blanketed in a velvet white. I have been in the Rockies many times but there is something special about traveling through a Silver Birch and Pine forest covered in snow. Schwangau, the town below the castle, is one of the quaintest places I have been. The houses are all your typical alpine cottages and the smell of bratwurst and coffee fills the streets. You have to buy tickets down in the village and then go up to the castle. Now the castle is located up on a hill. I say hill but to the Germans and any non Coloradan, I think it is considered a mountain. On the day I went, a light fog was covering the valley so you couldn't see the castle at the top.  I opted to hike the very difficult ONE MILE up to the castle instead of paying 6€ to be taken up in horse carriage. It was great to be able to go on a hike that is so similar to the ones we do back home. The forest was hung with the fog and I am not surprised that it is these woods that inspired the mystery and enchantment that is characteristic of the classic tales of the Brothers Grimm and Disney. The castle itself is one of the coolest I have seen. Now, I was not aware that it was built only in the late 19th century and was never actually finished. King Ludwig commissioned it and instead of seeming useful and ancient like the other castles I have been to, this one could have been designed by Disney himself instead of only inspiring him. The castle is medieval but the rooms are Byzantine with a fake cave (Much like the cave at Casa Bonita), a concert hall with only seating for the King, and a giant mural that looks like it was made by early Imagineers. Everything that was finished is still in great condition since it was opened for tourism very shortly after the King's death (which is why only 16 rooms are completed). All in all well worth the visit and the brat I had afterwards was equally spectacular in my tummy. When I returned, I spent a few hours wandering Munich. What I have discovered is that Germans like to cover parts of buildings with cloth that has what the building is supposed to look like painted on it. I think they are trying to avoid repairing parts of buildings, but that's just my opinion. There were several Greco-Roman style buildings that looked normal from a distance, but up close you could see that one side was just too wavy. On my final day, I took a self made tour of a large part of Germany that included the Black Forest. This consisted of getting on a train and riding around all day long. It made me just as happy as a clan. I got to listen to my great tunes, see some great forest that reminds me of home, and was warm the whole day. Riding through all the towns was like riding through Ouray every few km. I really enjoyed seeing it and was impressed that so many of the towns had the still prominent steeple of the church. Well, that about wraps up my winter break. I head back tomorrow as a tired, slightly smelly, scruffy (yes I somehow managed a semblance of beard and stache), and thoroughly experienced world traveler. I saw pretty much everything I could want to and learned a lot about traveling on your own. To sum up those lessons: 1. Don't ever drink the train water. When there is a picture of a cup with a "no" through it, that means you REALLY don't want to drink it. 2. Mixed dorms smell less than all male dorms, but you do run the risk of someone having sex at 3am in the bed next to you. 3. Washing your clothes in the sink is all well and good as long as you let them dry first. Otherwise you end up no better off than before washing them. 4. You can survive off of Salami and Nutella sandwiches 5. People WILL wake you up at 3 am because they have no souls. 6. Germans snore like lumberjacks. 7. The world is a crazy place and you can never see all of it. So talk those strangers next to you, share a drink, and know that the things you will remember are the people you meet and not the information printed on the card at the exhibit.

[zegrandefromage-blog]

Time Travel Exists!

Europe has developed a long sought after piece of technology without even knowing it. I am of course referring to the time machine. Unbeknownst to the majority of Americans, time machines have been placed all over Europe. While this may be a bit of exaggeration, it is exactly how I have felt being Germany. A short, hour long ride to Nürnberg transports you to the renaissance period where castles stand guard over the city and vendors gather in the cobblestone square to hawk their wares. Walking around the city, I felt like people were going to start popping out of windows joining into a city wide chorus of "Belle" from Disney's Beauty and the Beast. All of the buildings have preserved that same charm and family crests and motto's sit above signs for SONY or ADIDAS. I was looking for the Kaiserburg Castle and in doing so ran across some very interesting sites. I managed to be walking past Church of Our Lady at noon when the bells started ringing. I came into this vast plaza and watched as the top of the church came to life. Mounted here is a giant cuckoo clock, with a king, some drummers, priests, trumpet players, and bellringers. First the mechanical drummers started playing and were joined by the trumpet players(who didn't make any musical noise). Then the priests came out and paraded around the king. When all this was done, the bellringers began to strike their bell to call out the time. It was really cool to see considering I wasn't planning on seeing that or being there when it went off. I made it up to Kaiserburg Castle and got to walk around the grounds. It was astonishing to walk through the entrance tunnel and know that troops of horses and soldiers would have to squeeze through this tight space and then still only come to a high walled courtyard where they would be easy pickings should they find disfavor with the lord of the castle. This place was built for functionality more so than beauty. Despite this it was still very grand and I was able to look out offer the parapet and see the whole of the city sprawled out before me, including all the churches I had walked past to get there.

[zegrandefromage-blog]

When in Amsterdam, Do as the Dutch Do...Right? Or How I Need to Get Out More

Now let me see, to recap the missing few days of my trip so far. Considering where they took place, I am not surprised they are missing. In between Dublin and Germany was a funny little place called Amsterdam. It was an experience let me tell you. I arrived on the train, once again not knowing how to get to my hostel. After picking a direction that seemed to lead to the street I needed, I set off. The layout of Amsterdam is not really suited to people wandering around in order to find their way. Canals crisscross at all sorts of angles, while alleys and bridges weave their way amongst the tall buildings. It was a maze pretty much. I finally found a map to point me which way I needed to go, and then started walking up the street the Hostel was on. Now begins my naivety of the culture of this city. As I was walking down the street trying to pick out the number of the buildings, I spotted a lady in a window of a red room. My first thought was, "Wow, that's weird. Why is she trying on swimsuits in the middle of February, and secondly why is she doing it in front of the window?" But I just kept walking and a short while later passed another building with the same red roomed windows with women sitting in chairs. That is when it clicked in my head. I had forgotten the concept of "Red Light District" and failed to realize that my hostel was smack dab in the middle of the one in Amsterdam. I soon made the connection that I should not wander down alleys with cool red lanterns hanging up everywhere. Once I found the bunker that was to be "home" for the next few days, I learned that the guys from ENSEA were in Amsterdam too and so I headed out to go meet up with them. As I have been out of the US for almost a month now, I was excited to find that there were Coffeeshops everywhere in Amsterdam! The only thing that was disorienting was that all the coffee shops seemed to like Bob Marley, Jamaica, and Reggae a lot. Realization #2: Coffee shops in Amsterdam do not usually sell anything with the coffee bean in it. Unless by coffee bean you mean cannabis, you will be sorely disappointed.  As I am a big Ocean's 12 fan, I had to find the house where they tried to steal the first stock certificate and the coffeeshop with the Matt Damon lost in translation bit. I was successful on both fronts and got my token photo. I then wandered to the other side of town where one of the few remaining breweries still operates. It is coupled with un moulin (windmill) and is a tribute to the lie that Amstel or others still brew in Amsterdam. My next big find was a store next to Cafe Gollem. Here they have all sorts of Belgian and Dutch beers. It was really cool to see as there was a ton of choice and the bottles were awesome. I got a bottle of Westvleteren 12 which is brewed by monks at a monastery in Belgium. They only make enough beer to sell to support their monastic existence and you can only officially buy it from this monastery. It is regarded as one of the best, if not the best, beers in the world. You can only buy 1 case of the beer and you have to call in advance to reserve it before going to buy it. I am very eager to try it, but the guy who sold it to me says it gets better with age. So it will be saved for now. My final experience in Amsterdam was going beer tasting. I went to Cafe Belgique which was a tiny little place near my hostel. It was a really old cafe and could comfortably fit about, oh, 15 people. Here I tried two delicious beers, La Chouffe, and Hopus. They were very full tasting and the alcohol content was up there. 8.5 and 8%. I then stumbled, I mean walked, to another classy cafe, Cafe 't Arendsnest. This was a bar but a very cool atmosphere. It was well lit, spacious, and the taps looked sweet with their shiny brass. The bartender was a young dutch guy with sick sideburns. I wouldn't mind dropping out and doing that for a while. Here I tried a Texels Lipel. This one was about 8.5% as well so by the time I was done, I was toasted. It was really great tasting as well and it made me lament that we make do with Pabst or Bud light. Gross. My first night in Germany was also very entertaining. First, I was starving so I went to the local supermarket, where to my delight I discovered I could feed myself cheapest with some bread, generic nutella, and salami. Combined these make a formidable sandwich that fills you up nice. I also learned that pints of beer are super cheap and look to be very good as well.  At the hostel, I met an Aussie bloke who has been working and backpacking his way around Europe for the past 8 months. He and I went out to Houfbräuhaus which is a giant Beer-house that was featured in the film "Beerfest"(so said the Aussie). Here I had my first stein and German pretzel. What I learned is that the stein is a clever invention to hide alcoholism: A: "How many beers did you have tonight, dear?" B: "Just one" A: "Then why are you stumbling and incoherent?" B: " Oh it was a German beer. So naturally that means a stein the size of a keg" The beer wasn't terribly special but it was still really good and the atmosphere was great. Germans singing and cheering, everyone sitting at old wooden tables, and barmaids waltzing around selling pretzels. I also know why Germans are sometimes portrayed as portly gentleman as there was more than one person who was consuming a dinner of: Pork-knuckle with potatoes, pretzel, and a stein of beer. Now that is a good life my friends.

[zegrandefromage-blog]

Still Lookin Fo Me Pot O' Gold

Sadly I didn't catch a leprechaun… However I did have a very interesting and refreshing trip to the picturesque Emerald Isle. This trip was a test of my abilities to cover the width and length of an entire country in the course of 3 days. Which turned into 2.5 after some initial issues. I was based in Dublin and wanted to see the Giant's Causeway and the Cliffs of Moher. Which as anyone who actually knows a little about geography can tell you, are basically the the points of a triangle spanning all of Ireland. So why did my trip lose a half of a day? Well, in order to save money before coming on my extensive two week trip, I decided to wash all of my clothes in the sink and then hang them to dry in my room. Unfortunately, I did not start this task until the day before my departure. What resulted was a semi dry wad of clothing stuffed into my backpack as I headed into paris early the next morning. Needless to say they were in desperate need of being rescued by a proper washing. After what can be described as a super awesome trip from England (The ferry was like a cruise ship and both train and ferry had free wifi), I arrived in Dublin around 6. Once again, my lack of proper planning led me to wander around Dublin until I happened across the place I was staying. There I was greeted by the reception desk worker, Seamus. Definitely Irish and a jokester at heart, he told me about a frenchman being electrocuted by the toaster downstairs and claimed he would even take chickens for payment. He also informed me that there was not a DIY laundromat around and I would have to take it to a launderette and leave it with them. Ok…well necessity dictated that I had to go, so after condensing my clothes into the bag, I waltzed over to the place just before they were closing. I think the lady working there was Greek, at least thats the accent and feel I got from her. I told her I needed to add the jeans and shirt I was wearing to the load and stripped down to my athletic shorts, a T-shirt, and my peacoat. She looked at me like I was crazy and asked if I was going to be cold. To which I replied yes and walked out into the chilly Dublin night, promising to return at 1 the next day to get a bag of clean clothes. So pants-less at 7 on my first day in Dublin, I decided to do the fun thing and go sit in the room and read my book. "Shouldn't you be out getting hammered with Irishmen and pretty damsels?" you ask. And yes, I should have been, but the fact that I was commando in athletic shorts didn't seem to fit the rowdy bar atmosphere. Upon returning to the room I met the girl sleeping in the bunk above me and we ended up talking for 2 hours while she got ready to go out. We eventually introduced ourselves when she tried to introduce me to her friend and didn't know my name. She was an american with a very interesting story of how she ended up in Ireland and I regret that I had to decline her offer to go out to the bar with her for her last night in Dublin. The next day, I took it leisurely while waiting for clean clothes, and as soon as I had them, I bolted around Dublin trying to drink in everything I could. I saw Trinity College, St. Patrick's Cathedral, and the Guinness Storehouse. Trinity was really neat as an example of old university construction, but the Storehouse was my favorite. As a beer drinker, I now had an appreciation for this brewery and the history it held. The hall about advertising was remarkably entertaining and I am a big fan of the John Gilroy stint with the different animals. I also learned that the Guinness Book of World Records was started by Guinness Brewery. I had no Idea. By far the best part was the "free" pint in the Gravity Bar at the end of the tour. The bar was on the top of the brewery and provided a 360 degree view of Dublin. And my goodness, my Guinness was tasty. I stumbled back and prepared for my early departure the next morning to the Cliffs of Moher. Due to it being out of season and across the country, the timing on all the trains/buses that I had to catch to get out and back was very tight, but I was successful. The cliffs were pretty stunning and had it not been freezing I would have loved sauntering around. It brought back many good memories of saturday afternoons visiting some castle or other in england and then rushing back to sit in the warm car to eat bread and cheese.  On the way back, I was fortunate enough to ride with a student from Boston who was currently studying in Egypt, Dan, and a woman from Boston who comes to Ireland every year, Jerry. She had friends and family in the Doolin area and so the ride back on the bus was a free tour pointing out different information about the area and the history. Dan was great to talk to as he was an economics graduate who was learning arabic and is getting to see the reform of the country first hand. Pretty sweet in my opinion. The next day was another tight one as far as travel was concerned. Even tighter actually as my getting all the way to Amsterdam hinged on me making every train.  Once I got up into Northern Ireland, I could not have asked for a better day. The sun was out and it was very mild, with just a light breeze to toss around the scent of sea and farm. I made it to the Giant's Causeway and had plenty of time to wander around. After some trying days, this was definitely the therapy I needed. The smell of the salty sea, the sound of the crashing waves, the soft seaside grass. All of it just made me feel right at home and so happy with life. The Causeway was kind of a disappointment. I had never seen pictures with people in them to compare for size and so when they said "giant"….I was thinking massive, or gargantuan. The fact that I could walk easily from one to the next means either the people describing them were hobbits, or I am a giant. I walked along the cliff for a long ways and just enjoyed humming to myself and feeling the cool sea breeze.  When I got back to the translation at Coleraine, something weird happened. There were about 20 youths that came in while we were waiting for the train and were causing a general raucous and being loud. A bunch of them had weird, partially bleached tips giving them that "skunk" look. They passed us by and soon about 10 police officers came through following them and one of them had a camera and was filming the whole thing. They went back I guess to find the kids but they had apparently gone out the back way. Here the policeman returned to the front and chaos broke out. The kids were running around in the square, seemingly from the police. The police were yelling at them and chasing some of them. My view was obscured but I saw one kid run across the street holding his eye and screaming. A police officer had one of the kids and shoved him into a squad car. Then it became a weird situation where the kids would approach the police, I guess inquiring about their friend, and the police were yelling and everyone in a while, chasing more of the kids. I don't know all that went down but it made for some entertainment while I waited. Probably some form of hair stylist gang. I was thankfully able to make it back to Dublin, although I cut it quite close. I am currently stopped in London again en route to Amsterdam. Stay thirsty my friends.

[zegrandefromage-blog]

A Warrior's Return Home: Or Drinking With Ze German

The next day I returned to Ascot to visit my home. I stepped off the train and no joke it was like stepping into a time machine. The path we used to take from our house to the train station was the exact same and the feel of the paving under my feet brought back so many memories. The neighborhood I lived in was the exact same. It was though I had never left. Seeing it again made me realize how lucky we were to be able to live there as kids. The whole area just fosters childhood excitement. We had some british neighbors that we used to play with that still lived there. When I walked into the cul-de-sac around mid morning taking pictures, I am sure I looked bizarre. I was debating whether to stop in and say hi so I wandered back and forth for a while. The girls were doing homework at the kitchen table and saw me. Note: Watch out for creepy people like me wandering around in the 'hood. I finally went up and rang the bell and explained who I was. Lydia (about 14 now) said that my name did ring a bell but their mom would be back later so I should come back then. When I came back Ceppy was wonderful. She was going on about how those daughters of hers just have no sense and why they sent me away without tea she'll never know. She invited me in for tea and sandwiches and we talked about family and got caught up. She was very sweet and drove me to the train station. Just like my mom would, she told me to come visit again but to call first so they had time to get organized. Classic example of great hospitality. That night, was what I can call one of the most ideal European experiences. When I got back to the hostel, I debated going out for fish and chips, going to the bar in the hostel for fish and chips, or just not eating. I finally gave in to my stomach and went to the hostel bar to hang out and get food. A great call. I chatted with some Aussies who were headed back after a 3 month Europe tour, a Hungarian girl who had just arrived to look for a job and learn English, a spanish speaking french guy from canada who was the bartender, and Norman the German who wants to be a geography and german teacher. We all hung out at the bar until it closed at 12 trying to balance coins on a floating lemon, drinking beer and taking shots the barkeep made up. It was great fun. Norman told me about the Super Bowl since he had watched it and I hadn't, we talked about Britain's Got Talent and American/German Idol and he made fun of me for my abysmal knowledge of geography. I will try and meet up with him when I go through germany as he says Stuttgart is the best place to visit in Germany. So all in all, it's best to visit the bar and talk to the people. They have some interesting stories to tell. Now to just see how that turns out in Ireland :) Now that I am caught up I can't really say what the next post will be about. So until I figure it out...

[zegrandefromage-blog]

Through the Chunnel and Off to Adventure: Why to Prepare when setting out.

In which I travel in a train underwater to visit the tiny Island we came from (England)… So as I mentioned, the French love their vacations. I was on winter break for almost a month and a half before flying out here. I have been in school for two weeks and now we have a 2 week break. Life is tough right now I tell you what. I think I am actually developing withdrawal symptoms from the pressure of school life. I was planning to take a trip to the north part of the European continent with some of the other American students, but at the last minute plans were changed and it turns out I am embarking on a solo excursion. My stops on this trip include London, Dublin/All of Ireland, Amsterdam, and Germany.  The first stage of the trip has been concluded as I write this and I am off to my next destination. I spent a few days at the Palmer's Hillspring Lodge in Willesden Green, UK. I have learned a lot about traveling by the seat of your pants and it has been fun. First thing, check the currency of where you are going. I brought a bunch of Euros on my trip thinking that I would be set everywhere I went. As the train is pulling into london, it hit me that England is on the £ still. Shoot. Second, it would be wise to lookup directions to where you are going instead of just an address when you are getting in at 00:05 hours. The tube station I needed to get off at was down due to work so there was a temporary bus service from a few stops back. Once I got to the city, I realized I had no idea which direction to walk in order to stumble across the perfect road. Thankfully someone was able to point me "that way" and I got to the hostel just fine.  As this was my first time staying in a hostel, I had no idea what to expect. My first room was a 4 bed male dorm and the following nights it was a 22 bed male dorm. Completely different from each other. 22 traveling males in one room full of bunks is not the most pleasant place. I was sleeping next to "Klaus ze German". At least that's what I called him in my head when he continually woke me up with some loud grunting and mutterings in German. It reminded me of staying with all the youth group guys in suite's when we went on ski trips and there is a symphony of snoring. The hostel had breakfast included everyday as well as the single most wonderful gift anyone has ever given me. The gift of coffee again after 3 weeks. It was so glorious I nearly broke down in tears of joy. My first day in london was spent quickstepping around to all of the big sites and taking pictures. I went back to my family's favorite restaurant, a TexMex place called Texas Embassy next to Trafalgar Square. It was just like old times to go there and I loved the good mexican food which I haven't had in a looong time. A large majority of my day was actually spent exploring Hyde Park. I meant to only see a small corner of it on my way to a public bathroom and then be on my way. This turned into a full on exploration. I ended up zigzagging from one side of the park to the other as each sign for a "Toilet" led me to nowhere in particular or to a toilet that was closed. The one I eventually found was about 50m down the first path I started down before following signs. I am really glad I did that though. I got to see a lot more of the park and noted how great it was to be in an enormous open space surrounded by city. I saw the statue of Peter Pan and took my picture with it. I think it was ironic because I am now 10 years older than the last time I took a picture with that same statue. And yes I have grown up. Post Split: Give up now or read about my return home

[zegrandefromage-blog]

Space Invaders and Locks of Love: Why getting lost is Serendipitous

An unplanned and utterly excellent trip to Paris. One of the key issues I want to get over while here is my hesitation. I don't want to miss out on anything because I hesitate in deciding to do it. So far I feel I have done this and it has yielded many delightful encounters. Our first weekend in France, I wanted to go back into Paris and see more than we did on our American Introductory Tour with Louis. I rounded up some of the crew and we took off on the Metro bright and early, first stop, Notre Dame de Paris. We arrived around 10 which as any european can tell you, is when the day starts. Weaving through the streets we passed vendor after vendor hawking delectable smelling crepes. The day was hung with a shroud of light fog that obscured the sun and gave the morning a somber feeling. We made our way to Notre Dame and took the obligatory tourist photos, smiling for the camera and looking sharp. Then I got my hunchback photos in. Much more entertaining in my opinion. We found that the tour of Notre Dame was at 2 so we decided to explore the surrounding area in the meantime. I got to walk along the seine along the Quay just like in Ratatouille which has been a life goal since seeing that movie. We made a loop around the Ile that Notre Dame is situated on and saw La Palais De Justice and another really cool old building. The name slips me though. The day picked up its pace when we tried to get from Notre Dame to l'Opera by walking. Somehow we ended up on Rue des Artes where we discovered one of the coolest examples of art in public places that I have seen to date. An artist has created mosaics of old 8 bit video game characters and installed them on buildings all over major cities. The first was in Paris and there are something like 700 of these hidden all over the place. On our first day we found four and since then have located 3 more. I want to see how many of these i am actually able to collect before I leave. Our route led us back out to the Seine on le Pont des Artes. Here someone had the idea for a couple to write their names on a padlock, lock it to the bridge, and then throw the key into the river. Now, it is all over the bridge and it was really cool to look at all the different names and old locks. It was all very romantic and I fully intend to do this myself one day. We had been told that the place to be in the evening is Montmarte because the streets are all lit up and there are performing artists playing jazz and accordion. We took off in the direction and stumbled across an american or english traveling group playing old (1910s) crooners music. That was amazing to stay and listen to, but then we headed up to Sacre Cœur. This is located on the "mountain" overlooking Paris. It was a sharp climb up the roads but when we arrived at dusk boy was it ever worth it. The church itself is very beautiful and there are steps leading down in front where people come to watch the lights come on across the city. There was a dance group performing and a guy juggling a soccer ball on a pillar. He had some amazing footwork. He foot stalled the ball while climbing up a light pole and then juggled with his foot at the top of the pole! The spot we went to could be argued as one of the most romantic in Paris. I think you would be hard pressed to beat enjoying crepes while listening to an accordion player serenade you as you watch "The City of Lights" come to life.  Tune in next time for: A lonely passage through the Hills, Cliffs and Canals

[zegrandefromage-blog]

School and Parties: Not entirely separate here.

The adventure continues… The school that I am studying at is entirely electrical engineering. Here, students will go to school for two years at a sort of preparatory college that covers their requirements for the core including mathematics, basic sciences and languages. They then can go to a specialty school such as ENSEA and get their degree as an engineer. To the point though, the first week we were here is when the students hold elections for their new Student Council. What this entails is all the different BD groups (BD Euphorik, BD Explosif…) try to win the votes of the students. This pandering is done through free crepes and coffee throughout the school day and a party hosted by different groups each night. The lobby of the school was a madhouse of students running around taping each other to walls and yelling about their respective group while spraying flour everywhere. The best way to describe the parties is just WOW. They charge a small cover to go to the party but it is intense. The first night Louie took us out to his group's party, BDMentiel. They rented out city buses to take everyone from the school to the party location which was La Balrok, a club that they had rented outside the city. Once we got there, they handed us a little strip of paper which meant that it was an open bar. Apparently they are not allowed to say its an open bar so this is how they get around it. All night long the host's make drinks for you while the DJ is cranking out the phat beats. Sadly, the music was pretty much the exact same as it would be at parties in america. Now the pertinence of this being an EE school comes in. For those of you who know our unfortunate luck, our ratio in this department is rather fail. And it doesn't change when you go across the big pond. Everyone still seems to have a great time and they get drunk fast! One group was BDBoulliard which means they ran around all night "misting" people with their drinks. It was gross. One humorous note from this party was towards the end of the night, Jacob and I commented to Patrick, the one from the first day, that there was a depressing lack of girls to dance with. He just laughed and said that's why everyone becomes gay. When faced with adversity they just give up! Seems the French thing to do. No offense to any of you reading this :) The best part of the whole thing is that the teachers know all about the festivities and just accept that what happens will happen.  Next up: A picturesque jaunt through the town of a painter.