Friday, November 28, 2014

Un week-end à Paris

I spent the weekend in Paris.

It was supposed to be a sort of quiet adventure and I was supposed to find the Sciences Po campus and talk a lot with Ashley, who would be meeting me there after a flight from Madrid.  It half-turned out that way.

The week before, I received the most casual Facebook message from Jennifer:

"Coming to visit you and Ash in Paris"

So we haphazardly planned to meet but didn't come to a real conclusion, but despite the vague nature of our plans, I made a dark chocolate fudge red wine cake and an apple tarte tatin and when Friday rolled around, I packed my backpack, wrapped the baked goods in foil, and got on a TGV to Paris.  I navigated the Paris metro in the very basic way--by riding lines to the end and transferring at large hubs.  The hostel that I'd booked for myself and Ashley was close to the Bastille stop, and I passed the opera house and an enormous pillar of a monument before I reached the side street of the hostel.  I'd booked a room for two so that we could sleep when wanted and also make as much noise laughing and watching TV or what have you as well as eliminate most of the creepy factor that scares me away from hostels.  I checked in and sat on the top bunk for about an hour before Ashley appeared.  I stuffed apple pie down her throat, hugged her, and then we headed back out to explore.

Our Friday evening consisted of a sort of lazy wandering up and down the street, scouting out stores and cafes to check out the next day and catching up on everything that had happened in our lives since she headed off to New Zealand and I went to Morocco.  It was a lot to talk about and we bought sandwiches and a bottle of cider and talked some more back at the hostel.

The next day, we rolled out of bed and went shopping.  After heading immediately to a sort of vintage pin-up shop at which we tried on all the dresses and chatted with the amiable storekeeper, we just sort of headed down the street and popped into every store that we took a liking to, all the while continuing to talk.  We bought more sandwiches for lunch and after dropping our purchases off at the hostel, we decided to get on the metro and see more of central Paris, or what we always thought Paris was--the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Elysees, the Louvre.

We rode the metro to the Champs Elysees stop, fully expecting to wander down the street to the Louvre perhaps, or l'Arc de Triomphe, but instead when we emerged from the station, we looked past the statue of Charles de Gaulle and were greeted by an expansive, sparking, and crowded Christmas market.

We immediately got ourselves cups of hot wine, and then set out to take in as much of the market as we possibly could.  There were jewelry stands, leather bound journals, all sorts of foods and candies and silly looking hoods from Canada and it was incredible.  We reached the Louvre, turned around, and then went though the other side of the market, munching on crepes and merveilleux and marveling at everything we laid our eyes on.

The next morning, we found breakfast in a cafe close to the hostel: pain au chocolat, orange juice, a hot drink--and then proceeded to browse the bookstores that happened to be open on a Sunday before returning to the hostel to meet Jennifer.

We ate and then went straight back to the Champs Elysees metro stop, where we returned to the Christmas market and then to the Louvre.

I have only been to Paris once before, and it was for one day, and it was a Tuesday, and so the Louvre was closed.  This time, however, it was definitely not closed, and the line was nearly non-existent, and so we went.

The Louvre is breathtaking, from the vaulted ceilings to the famous art pieces that you've studied in classes from middle school to university, to the sculptures that figure into the glossy coffee table books that you find at bookstores.  Michelangelo's slaves, Winged Victory, Venus de Milo...we must have seen 10% of the museum before becoming achy and hungry.  It will be a goal for me during the semester there to see the rest of the place.  We returned to the Christmas market for dinner (baked potatoes and crepes and mushroom-chicken pastry), wine (I convinced them to try Chinon red, from the Loire valley), and more talking.

The weekend was a much needed pick-me-up--I got to see some of my favorite people, I got to explore the city that will be my hope for five months, and I experienced the beautiful Paris Christmas market.  Also, I didn't touch a fork the whole weekend, sustaining myself on pastries and crepes and apple pie and chocolate cake and waffles and one cheeseburger.

Monday, November 10, 2014

Un week-end à Blois

This past weekend I went to Blois and I experienced another type of train in the process.

Blois is a small, old town to the east of Nantes, and you can take the TER train there, which is a ride of roughly two hours.  Like on the TGV, I sprung for first class because I like having a whole row to myself, and on the TER like on the TGV, you can get solo seats.  Quite frankly, the TER first class is nicer than the TGV first class--the solo seats are divided by little plastic walls, there are places to hang coats in  between each seat, and room for your bag right behind the seat so you don't have to leave it in the communal baggage area where it might get squished.  Also, I was carrying eight pears in my bag and so I was more concerned about bags getting squished than the average passenger.  I wrote plenty on the train there, and had a great time looking out the windows, since I'd taken a train at 11:18am and not after sunset like my TGV experience.

When I arrived in Blois, it was 1pm and I'd already been warned by TripAdvisor that not only could I not check in to the hotel I'd booked before 5pm, but the hotel itself was pretty much locked until that time.  I decided to take as long as I could to actually find the hotel, maybe eat something, and also scout out my touristy options in the area for the next four days.  I walked around Blois, finding a large shopping center, two nice parks, dozens of signs pointing to the castle, and finally the hotel.  I found it at 2:30pm, pushed on the front door, and, finding it to be indeed locked, I headed up the road and found that I'd made a circle to the train station, so I sat myself in a cafe and stayed there for two and a half hours, making a lemon tart and a double espresso last as long as I could.  I finished reading a book there, too, Reves de Femmes: Une Enfance au Harem, that I'd picked up in Morocco.

At five, I got myself back to the hotel, checked in, and spent the rest of the night watching French TV and writing.

Saturday morning I woke up early and rushed off to the castle, to find that I was pretty much the first person there and that the art museum wing of the structure was closed for the week.  The Chateau at Blois puts a lot of emphasis on architecture of the era on the first floor and holds an immense amount of artifacts in the royal apartments.  The most interesting part of the chateau, and the part that is the most different from the rest of the castles that I've seen in France, is the dizzying tile patterns on the floors.  They are truly incredible and make you feel a little like you're in Wonderland.

After the castle, I walked down a long staircase to find that there was a street market going on!  I love markets maybe almost more than any other type of tourist activity.  I walked as slowly as possible, circling the market three times and finding the Blois natural history museum.

Thinking this was a good idea, I entered and tried to buy a ticket, only to be told that I would have to make the rounds in half an hour and that I should come back after I was full of food and happy.  So I went back to the market and acquired chicken couscous, chebekia, and little sugared brioche bites, which I ate at the hotel.

The natural history museum was very different from the Nantes one.  Firstly, it was tiny, its temporary exhibit featured enormous replicas of all the bugs found in the WWI trenches, and also it was poorly lit and had forest noises playing, which made it insanely creepy.

The Maison de Magie was closed, and so I found myself shopping instead, and I ended up with more books (someone help me).

That whole day I'd been checking my phone to see if I was spending a good amount of time at every destination, and when I was sitting in the room that evening, I realized that I just really, really wanted to be back at Nantes.  I wanted to be in my own room, with easy access to tea.

The next morning, I changed my ticket from Tuesday to Sunday night.  Unfortunately, I couldn't get a refund on the hotel room, but it was a dirt cheap hotel and I took really long showers to make up for it.  I walked around in the morning to find everything closed, then got to the station, got on the train, and went back to home base.

Dany was panicked when I came through the door, but after assuring her I wasn't sick, just lonely, she calmed down.  She'd in fact warned me about that, about being too lonely and bored in Blois, and she was happy to see me.

In a bonus for coming back early, it turned out that university classes were held today.  It's very odd because the university had vacation when IES didn't and IES has vacation when the university still has classes, which is confusing and a little frustrating, but at least I came back in time.

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Un long week-end à Londres

So I spent the weekend in London with Jess after arriving in Victoria station on the British Pullman.  On the first night, we went with two of her friends to a real pub, so I checked that off the list.  I wanted some Irish coffee, but they were out of coffee, so I just stole sips of Jess's beer and shared pulled pork quesadillas with her.  After, we did some awkward grocery shopping: lemon cakes and yogurt and wine.

The next morning we caught the tube to Camden Market, where we ate pierogis, browsed a bookstore, and then got lattes and shopped more.  I acquired two items of clothing, both of which feature an owl pattern.  I also talked Jess into getting an enormous leather journal with a scary engraved pentagram on the cover.

We dropped our things off at her flat, put on tights, did our hair, and rushed off to tea at the Swan at Shakespeare's Globe.  On the way there, we found a man clicking away at a typewriter alongside the river, next to street performers.  The sign in front of his mint green typewriter read:

Literature While You Wait: short stories, poems, suicide notes.  Pay what you goddamn like.

I would not shut up about it as we reached the restaurant.

Tea was the usual tiny sandwiches, scones, and little sweets including a citrusy custard we couldn't identify (pineapple) and the darkest chocolate cake bite.  It was so rich it almost made me sick.  It took a while to get the check, but then once we did, we walked back along the river and I pestered Jess enough that we finally went back to the literature-while-you-wait guy.  After he explained it, I asked for a poem and we were told to wait for ten to fifteen minutes.  We walked around, passed several of London's floating chair people, and one accordion player playing right under a No Busking sign.  The typist eventually found us and told us that my poem was done, so I bought a poem for three pounds about missed connections in an art gallery.

We ordered Chinese food that night, popped the Orient Express champagne, and started our new novels.

The next morning, we woke up with every intention of doing tourist things in London!  Yes, we declared.  Today we will see Saint Paul's Cathedral and also maybe the British Museum.  Yes, good.  We debated for all of five minutes before we agreed that we did not in fact want to take a tour and instead we wanted food, so we made a quick reservation at the Swan, pulled our clothes on, and ran over for breakfast.  I had my first full English breakfast, Jess had eggs Benedict, and we both had mimosas, which masquerade under the name "Bucks Fizz" in the UK, apparently.  We returned to her flat after food, changed back into pajamas, and wrote.

That night, Leah showed up and we ordered Chinese food and wrote and discussed politics and it all felt very West Hall from last year.

I ended my weekend with another writing sprint the next morning and then I got on the last train of the weekend, which took me to Heathrow Airport.  The last exciting aspect of the trip was that I had the whole row to myself on the plane to Madrid and that I set foot in Spain, but it was only for two hours.

And next weekend is vacation too.

Monday, November 3, 2014

Un Voyage de luxe

This past weekend was my grand vacation.  It was incredible and exhausting and this post is going to have to detail the fact that I was on five different kinds of trains--four of them within 24 hours.

Now, I have little to no experience on trains.  Supposedly I learned to walk on a train in New Zealand, but I don't remember that.  I have very vague memories of being on a train to Virginia that was very late and had a few drunk businessmen on it.  In any case, this was the first time that I truly remember being on a train.

I left Nantes at 6pm from the Gare SNCF on a TGV (Train à grande vitesse/super fast train).  I'd sprung for first class on the train and booked a solo seat because if there are things I enjoy, it's wide, cushy chairs and being alone in a row on transportation so I don't have to bother other people to get up.

There were very few people on the train and it was very quiet, so I wrote a lot, read a little, and tried to look out the window, but it was dark already, so I ended up just looking awkwardly at my own reflection.  The train arrived at the Paris Montparnasse station and I had to take the metro to Gare de l'Est, which was actually very easy, except I think I broke the ticket selling kiosk.

The next morning, I had a ticket for the Orient Express.

It's not the same Orient Express that ran in the 20s since that train was sold at auction, but someone bought those cars and now the train runs anew.  There is a car on the train that was used as a brothel in WWII and everything is very old and very fancy.  I found that it existed after a short trip through Google and then realized that one of their Paris-London trips coincided with a long weekend when I had been planning on visiting Jess and Leah up in the UK.

I spent the night at a Holiday Inn right across the street from the station before getting up early and heading to the platform for check in at 8:30am, an hour before departure as was recommended.  The train was already waiting when I arrived--it was deep, glossy blue, with lettering in brass.  I was given my tickets and travel documents before a woman named Nastasia led me to the cafe to wait for my compartment to be ready.  She escorted me back to the train where I met the manager of the car, Pierre, who was dressed in a white double-breasted coat.  I'd written that the purpose of my journey was to celebrate my letter of admission to Sciences Po.  If you tell the Orient Express that you are celebrating something, I suppose they tell the entire staff, because everyone from a very distinguished tour guide to the stewards in their bright blue suits with their round blue hats congratulated me.

I had the 10:30am breakfast sitting, so I headed out of my private cabin early and ran across a tour and just sort of pretended that I belonged there, which allowed me to learn more about the history of the train.  Breakfast was actually brunch which was actually more like lunch.  I struggled with the scrambled eggs because I didn't know which fork to use, but it was delicious and topped with smoked salmon.

I love smoked salmon.

The second course was lobster with mashed potatoes and then the meal finished with caramelized apple cake and vanilla ice cream.  One super benefit of travelling by yourself is that every table got five chocolates, no matter how many people were sitting there, and so I got to eat all five of them.

We arrived in Calais at around 2:30pm, ready for our transfer to the coach buses that would take us through the tunnel.  I count the tunnel train, which could hold all of our coach buses, as the third train.  It was uneventful, but I was tucked away in a bus.

The fourth train was the British Pullman, a sister train of the Orient Express.  On this train, we had an afternoon tea: sandwiches, scones, and little cakes.

Some of the sandwiches were smoked salmon.

I arrived in Victoria Station in London, about an hour later than expected, and before my phone died I was furiously Facebook-messaging Jess, and fortunately she found me, put me on the tube, and we got to her place and even had the energy to leave again to go to a pub that night.

That was a lot of trains.  You can even count the Paris metro and the London tube as trains too, and then there were even more.