After a week of frozen Paris weather and deathly boring methodology classes at Sciences Po, I found myself looking forward to my weekend trip to Nantes with more enthusiasm than I would usually feel for a train trip. I was up at 7am on Saturday to catch my 8:42am train, and after pacing around the apartment, I headed off to Montparnasse station, which is thankfully on the metro line closest to my apartment.
Two hours later, I arrived in Nantes, and it was like coming home--even more so than arriving in Washington DC. The train station smelled like home and the wait at the warm and sunny bus stop and subsequent bumpy ride was familiar as anything. I arrived at Dany's place and was warmly welcomed and invited to a concert that evening with her before I raced back off to catch the bus within the hour so my ticket was still valid. Once I arrived at Place Graslin, I headed off to meet up with Sydney for brunch at Tabl'o Gourmand--the usual of a Chocolat Inca and all of the bread and butters and jams I can eat. The rest of the afternoon consisted of hitting up all of the best Nantes stores--bookstores and paper stores and clothing stores and that bookseller who sells out of crates in his van outside of the cathedral. We finished our wanderings at Sophie Bakery, where we both picked up pecan pies and I took a slice of chocolate devil's food cake to go.
"And your other host family?" Sydney asked as we walked through Place du Bouffay. "Did you ever make contact?"
My reply of no was just on the tip of my tongue when the door of the Lestang's apartment opened and my high school host mother Pomme walked out. I nearly sprinted away from Sydney and wove through the people on the sidewalk to suddenly surprise Pomme, who admittedly did not at first know what to say. She greeted me and then called down my host father Jean-Philippe, who bought me a coffee and demanded I not only tell him what I had been doing for the past two years, but also why I hadn't emailed more. I tried my best to describe Morocco, George Washington, and Nantes and now Paris. Meije showed up and we were soon walking up to the flat. I saw Raphael and met the two new cats and listened to a family friend sing opera while Jean-Philippe showed me pictures of the family's excursion in Morocco. He informed me that Pomme was going to be playing viola at a concert and after some sleuthing, I found that it was the same concert that Dany had invited me to.
The concert was in a tiny cold church, where a local group performed Bach's Missa Brevis. I walked back to Bouffay with Meije after to join the operatic soloists and some intrumentalists for galette des rois and clairette. I made it back to Dany's apartment at 12:30 in the morning, exhausted and full of marzipan cake.
Sunday, I woke up and headed off to brunch with Sydney again, who had finally coaxed me away from Tabl'o Gourmand to Shefferville Cafe. After a short wait, we were seated and I ordered the fixed brunch menu.
Brunch at Shefferville consists of two plates. Sweet: fruit salad, two pancakes, and two slices of French bread dusted with powdered sugar. Savory: two sausages, half a tomato, three slices of bacon, two eggs, a green salad, and two cheeses. A bagel was served on the side, and the brunch came with coffee and orange juice. I ate everything except one slice of French bread and one pancake, which I handed off to Sydney.
We walked after lunch to let our stomachs settle, and found a church and I was so happy to be in Nantes that I bought a candle for Mary and sat in the church for a few minutes.
Our visit ended at the Jardin des Plantes, where we walked slowly and found the petting zoo full of goats, where one of the goats made an enthusiastic effort to eat Sydney's dress.
I got on the TGV back to Paris with my huge suitcase, two bottles of local wine, and cakes from my favorite bakeries, a weekend well spent, and feeling rested in preparation for starting my classes at Sciences Po.
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Monday, January 26, 2015
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.
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
La Quatrième Semaine
I have been here in Nantes for a month. One month and a weekend. I have gone through three weeks of classes, three IES organized trips, twenty pages of my writing notebook, and one jar of peanut butter. It is organic peanut butter; the only kind they sell at the Carrefour across the street.
This week saw very little changed from last week; I went to ballet and Arabic Civilization class on Monday. Tuesday I tried to go to Art History class, but the tram was cut short because of the pharmacists' strikes and so I gave up and went to IES early for theatre. So there was that; a tram line out of service because of strikes. I've been cast as the mechanical doll in the theatre production and perhaps this week I will bring my pointe shoes to rehearsal. We'll see what works best with the role. Wednesday I went to politics class and then rushed home and then rushed out again to ballet, which was incredible. The teacher is appropriately strict, the combinations appropriately challenging, and the teacher's assistant appropriately jaw-droppingly poised, flexy, and helpful. On Thursday I went to the history classes on Africa and Latin America and then went to IES to hang around for a couple hours just because I could.
There's no homework here. I finally have an assignment for the class on the Law of the EU and it's my final dissertation project. I should get on that.
Friday, I met with Sydney for lunch and then we went to the Machines de L'Ile, a tourist attraction/cultural center of Nantes. Julie was supposed to accompany us, but since someone tagged along who was not on the list, there weren't enough tickets, so she handed me the stack of entry cards, slipped the "group chaperone: free" ticket into my pocket, and told me to lead the group to the gallery and the ticket counter after the carousel.
The carousel is themed "Marine Worlds" and consists of three levels: the seabed, the abyss, and the sea surface. This is to say that the carousel on the bottom floor has fantastically large squid with mechanical tentacles, enormous blue crabs with pincers that snip, and tiny lobsters with seats specifically fit for very tiny babies. The second floor consists of floating fish; fish that you find in the middle of the sea with large teeth and strange glowing lures that are the size of couches and equipped with leather seats in their tummies for the passengers. The very top floor is where we were allowed to ride the carousel and we did indeed have fun. I have video of Sydney riding a flying fish bicycle, Emy and Audrey inside a conch shell, Emiliana perched inside an over-sized walnut shell. I managed to get on the large flying fish with the other Megan in the IES program and it rose up and down as we operated its fins and pressed the level to open its mouth.
The gallery is where the famous elephant lives, and is also where the heron that flies, screams, and carries two basket seats takes flight; where the fifteen foot inchworm with a leather padded seat operates on a slick branch, and where the five foot tall ant that seats five is tucked away. Staff members operated the steampunkish, Jules Verne-inspired animals and strapped visitors into suspended seats that rose high above the ground or were lowered into deep dips in the floor.
The visit ended with a look at the studios where they build these machines and then a short walk along a large metal branch that will, in five years, be only a small part of a whole metal tree walkway above Nantes.
On Saturday we went to Clisson and then to a vineyard. Clisson immediately became the setting of my NaNoWriMo novel this year; a tiny, gorgeous city surrounding a decrepit but impressive castle. It rained at the vineyard, but not enough to dissuade us from taking the tour and attending the wine tasting. Wine tastings in France are not like ones in the US. In the US, I've seen wine tastings--I guess that's the first difference. I am twenty and it is wholly legal and chill for me to attend a casual wine tasting in France. But in any case, in the US, I've seen wine tastings with tiny splashes of wines in different tiny glasses. Sometimes people spit it out after they taste it. I don't quite know the details, but the quantities are small. Here, we were given one glass, and it was filled. Therefore, to taste the other two wines, it was necessary to drink the first one completely, which I did. Three times. They were quite nice wines but I do not want any more wine this weekend.
This week saw very little changed from last week; I went to ballet and Arabic Civilization class on Monday. Tuesday I tried to go to Art History class, but the tram was cut short because of the pharmacists' strikes and so I gave up and went to IES early for theatre. So there was that; a tram line out of service because of strikes. I've been cast as the mechanical doll in the theatre production and perhaps this week I will bring my pointe shoes to rehearsal. We'll see what works best with the role. Wednesday I went to politics class and then rushed home and then rushed out again to ballet, which was incredible. The teacher is appropriately strict, the combinations appropriately challenging, and the teacher's assistant appropriately jaw-droppingly poised, flexy, and helpful. On Thursday I went to the history classes on Africa and Latin America and then went to IES to hang around for a couple hours just because I could.
There's no homework here. I finally have an assignment for the class on the Law of the EU and it's my final dissertation project. I should get on that.
Friday, I met with Sydney for lunch and then we went to the Machines de L'Ile, a tourist attraction/cultural center of Nantes. Julie was supposed to accompany us, but since someone tagged along who was not on the list, there weren't enough tickets, so she handed me the stack of entry cards, slipped the "group chaperone: free" ticket into my pocket, and told me to lead the group to the gallery and the ticket counter after the carousel.
The carousel is themed "Marine Worlds" and consists of three levels: the seabed, the abyss, and the sea surface. This is to say that the carousel on the bottom floor has fantastically large squid with mechanical tentacles, enormous blue crabs with pincers that snip, and tiny lobsters with seats specifically fit for very tiny babies. The second floor consists of floating fish; fish that you find in the middle of the sea with large teeth and strange glowing lures that are the size of couches and equipped with leather seats in their tummies for the passengers. The very top floor is where we were allowed to ride the carousel and we did indeed have fun. I have video of Sydney riding a flying fish bicycle, Emy and Audrey inside a conch shell, Emiliana perched inside an over-sized walnut shell. I managed to get on the large flying fish with the other Megan in the IES program and it rose up and down as we operated its fins and pressed the level to open its mouth.
The gallery is where the famous elephant lives, and is also where the heron that flies, screams, and carries two basket seats takes flight; where the fifteen foot inchworm with a leather padded seat operates on a slick branch, and where the five foot tall ant that seats five is tucked away. Staff members operated the steampunkish, Jules Verne-inspired animals and strapped visitors into suspended seats that rose high above the ground or were lowered into deep dips in the floor.
The visit ended with a look at the studios where they build these machines and then a short walk along a large metal branch that will, in five years, be only a small part of a whole metal tree walkway above Nantes.
On Saturday we went to Clisson and then to a vineyard. Clisson immediately became the setting of my NaNoWriMo novel this year; a tiny, gorgeous city surrounding a decrepit but impressive castle. It rained at the vineyard, but not enough to dissuade us from taking the tour and attending the wine tasting. Wine tastings in France are not like ones in the US. In the US, I've seen wine tastings--I guess that's the first difference. I am twenty and it is wholly legal and chill for me to attend a casual wine tasting in France. But in any case, in the US, I've seen wine tastings with tiny splashes of wines in different tiny glasses. Sometimes people spit it out after they taste it. I don't quite know the details, but the quantities are small. Here, we were given one glass, and it was filled. Therefore, to taste the other two wines, it was necessary to drink the first one completely, which I did. Three times. They were quite nice wines but I do not want any more wine this weekend.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Le weekend: Un Séjour à Saint-Malo et Mont Saint Michel
So on Friday, we had a scavenger hunt. Quite frankly, I had no intention of participating, but then again, I also had literally no other plans, so I ended up going, and I also ended up going an hour early to have lunch with Sydney. After a good couple minutes wandering around, looking for a bakery that wasn't Paul, we finally settled for little savory tarts. Mine was tomato, which translates just to a flaky crust full of tomato puree. It wasn't terrible, but next time I'll find something else. I also got a tiny chocolate mousse square and have decided that I need to get more of those things. Not to say that cakes are underrated, but I could definitely use a couple more of them in my life.
The scavenger hunt sent us all over Nantes, buying baguettes and post cards and finding the old names of monuments and searching for dates of events. My team got most everything done, even though a few of the required things on the list didn't exist, even after we asked staff members. We were sent to the Fnac to get a "cultural agenda" and I had to ask three different employees, none of whom knew what the heck that was.
After the scavenger hunt, several of us ended up at the Tabl'o Gourmand, a cafe that provides something called a "quatre-heure," or a gouter. We were told that it consisted of some bread, some jam, and a hot drink. It did indeed include a hot drink, but the bread was brought to us in baskets and there were about a dozen different jams and butters, from crunchy chocolate Nutella-style spread to cookie butters to milk jam to green tomato preserves. All of it was delicious and I essentially ate bread and sweet spreads for dinner. In fact, I spent so much time there that I unfortunately missed ballet class and could only eat about a cup of broccoli for my actual dinner.
Yesterday, I woke up with a terribly sore throat at 3am and slipped in and out of sleep until 6am, when I dragged myself out of bed and to the bus stop so I could get to IES by 7:45. We all stood there in the middle of the totally empty street, the whole IES group, before we were packed up in a large tour bus and headed off to Mont Saint-Michel and Saint Malo. I've seen Mont Saint Michel before, with Meije and Jean-Philippe, although not as in depth as yesterday. Mont Saint-Michel is gorgeous; the abbey there is awe-inspiring and free yesterday, thanks to the journées du patrimoine and we (Sydney, Miel, and I) spent a good amount of time standing at the abbey courtyard, looking off towards the sea. The views are incredible and the novelty of the location itself is awesome in every sense of the word, but the food and food service was not very good (Sydney ordered vegetable soup that ended up apparently tasting like rotten vegetables/Windex) and there are tourists everywhere (all signs are in French, English, German, and Japanese). I noticed a lot of French tourists brought their own little picnics to eat at the gardens, and if I ever come back I would definitely do the same and I would recommend others do the same.
While I'd seen Mont Saint-Michel before, the only thing I knew of Saint Malo was from a line in Santiano, and therefore all I knew was that it probably had a connection to trade and sailing. It definitely does; the beach and port are right there and there's a close relationship to Quebec and its trade lines. I did find Saint Malo a little more interesting than Mont Saint-Michel; at least, to me. It belongs to the genre of town that I call "cute French towns that are surrounded by walls because once they were juicy targets for attacks." It's a bit of a mouthful, but Saint Malo is indeed adorable and indeed surrounded by battlements. After spending a while circling the town and looking out at the sea, we got ice cream (my dinner) and then spent some time in a bookstore, where we found an amazing amount of locally published mystery thriller books centered around cities in Bretagne and Normandie that had titles like Barbeque Mortel à Saint-Malo. I did not end up buying any, but I did take pictures.
I searched for a cute mug for several minutes in five different stores before it was time to head back to Nantes, and while I didn't find what I was looking for, I can probably find something here in the city.
The scavenger hunt sent us all over Nantes, buying baguettes and post cards and finding the old names of monuments and searching for dates of events. My team got most everything done, even though a few of the required things on the list didn't exist, even after we asked staff members. We were sent to the Fnac to get a "cultural agenda" and I had to ask three different employees, none of whom knew what the heck that was.
After the scavenger hunt, several of us ended up at the Tabl'o Gourmand, a cafe that provides something called a "quatre-heure," or a gouter. We were told that it consisted of some bread, some jam, and a hot drink. It did indeed include a hot drink, but the bread was brought to us in baskets and there were about a dozen different jams and butters, from crunchy chocolate Nutella-style spread to cookie butters to milk jam to green tomato preserves. All of it was delicious and I essentially ate bread and sweet spreads for dinner. In fact, I spent so much time there that I unfortunately missed ballet class and could only eat about a cup of broccoli for my actual dinner.
Yesterday, I woke up with a terribly sore throat at 3am and slipped in and out of sleep until 6am, when I dragged myself out of bed and to the bus stop so I could get to IES by 7:45. We all stood there in the middle of the totally empty street, the whole IES group, before we were packed up in a large tour bus and headed off to Mont Saint-Michel and Saint Malo. I've seen Mont Saint Michel before, with Meije and Jean-Philippe, although not as in depth as yesterday. Mont Saint-Michel is gorgeous; the abbey there is awe-inspiring and free yesterday, thanks to the journées du patrimoine and we (Sydney, Miel, and I) spent a good amount of time standing at the abbey courtyard, looking off towards the sea. The views are incredible and the novelty of the location itself is awesome in every sense of the word, but the food and food service was not very good (Sydney ordered vegetable soup that ended up apparently tasting like rotten vegetables/Windex) and there are tourists everywhere (all signs are in French, English, German, and Japanese). I noticed a lot of French tourists brought their own little picnics to eat at the gardens, and if I ever come back I would definitely do the same and I would recommend others do the same.
While I'd seen Mont Saint-Michel before, the only thing I knew of Saint Malo was from a line in Santiano, and therefore all I knew was that it probably had a connection to trade and sailing. It definitely does; the beach and port are right there and there's a close relationship to Quebec and its trade lines. I did find Saint Malo a little more interesting than Mont Saint-Michel; at least, to me. It belongs to the genre of town that I call "cute French towns that are surrounded by walls because once they were juicy targets for attacks." It's a bit of a mouthful, but Saint Malo is indeed adorable and indeed surrounded by battlements. After spending a while circling the town and looking out at the sea, we got ice cream (my dinner) and then spent some time in a bookstore, where we found an amazing amount of locally published mystery thriller books centered around cities in Bretagne and Normandie that had titles like Barbeque Mortel à Saint-Malo. I did not end up buying any, but I did take pictures.
I searched for a cute mug for several minutes in five different stores before it was time to head back to Nantes, and while I didn't find what I was looking for, I can probably find something here in the city.
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