Where have I been the past few days?
I have moved into a new place, with a roommate, closer to the school and in a more commercial district. It's interesting how I usually get my way when I complain enough. That's what I did yesterday once I got done with class: repack all my stuff and find my way to the new place.
But this weekend, I took a trip to Normandy and Brittany. Friday after class I went out with a few kids and we bought vodka and Orangina at Monoprix (like Target, only actually French), picked up paninis at a small cafe, and headed over to sit under the Eiffel Tower for the evening. It's a spectacular sight at night, for those who haven't seen it, it gets lit up in blues and purples, and every hour or so it sparkles for a few minutes. I have photos that will be posted once my camera battery is recharged and the pictures downloaded.
Following the late night, I got up Saturday morning at 7 to meet the group at Trocadero at 7:45, and we departed for a day of traveling. Our first stop was the Memorial at Caen, a museum to peace that covers from the end of World War I up through September 11. The people who think the French don't appreciate what the US did in WWII either aren't paying attention, or know nothing about the French. Not only did they give us the land for the American Cemetry by Omaha beach, they also have as an exhibit in their museum covering a terrorist attack on our country, and saying how we need to remember what happened, and honor those who died.
But the museum itself was very elaborate. Like a maze and set up to ressemble a battleground or city in ruin or city under Nazi control (depending on where in the museum), it was filled with planes, tanks, jeeps, lots of little trinkets like a uniform and letters from soldiers. They had actual Nazi armbands and flags, as well as signed notes by Charles de Gualle. I enjoyed it, though everything they had written about the history I already knew. So instead of taking hours reading all the little placards, I got to just gaze at the photos and paraphernalia.
Then we continued on our journey to the next stop: the beaches of Normandy. First, we got off the bus for 10 minutes on a cliff overlooking the various beaches. After that, we stopped at the American Cemetery, where it was a good 20 minute walked downhill to Omaha beach that I walked with a friend. We decided the walk was worth it, to actually stand on the beach itself, and we also came to the conclusion that, given the extraordinary width of the beach, I wouldn't want to cross it (completely flat, very wide open) with people sitting on top of the hill shooting at me. And I wouldn't want to climb that hill carrying weapons and equipment, being shot at, with dead bodies all around. It was bad enough climbing it with a nice path and stairs, in mid-October (and not early June, when I bet it was hot as hell). The cemetery itself looks just like it did in Saving Private Ryan.
Our next, and final, stop of the day was Pont d'Hoc, where there are remains of a German bunker and the land is still riddled with giant holes in the ground, grown in with grass but still these enormous ditches, and every so often a chunk of concrete and barbed wire mesh scattered around. It was incredible. You stand on the ruins of the bunker, looking down a sheer cliff at the ocean where over 50 years ago, an army of men my age stormed the beach under fire and scaled the cliff for the freedom of people they've never met. And these holes in the ground that make for really fun running around were the result of bombs and landmines (of which there may or may not still be some around that area–you're supposed to only walk on places that have already been well traveled). Flowers are growing in them now, but people died there.
Finally, we arrived in St. Malo for the night; it's a port city surrounded by walls and well-known for its seafood and cider. The cider wasn't impressive, and the restaurant we chose wasn't either, but after dinner, a few of us wandered around and found the coolest bar I've ever seen. Instead of bar stools, there were swings hanging from the ceiling (you couldn't actually swing much, but that's not the point). Floor to ceiling, the place was covered in costumed figurines, some frightening, some adorable. It had a Carnivale feel to it. We split a bottle of cider (again, not impressed), then met up with others and walked around the ramparts of the city in the middle of the night. Got up early the next morning to go exploring before we left, and because the tide was out, I could walk to an island just off from Saint-Malo, with all kinds of rocks and fun slippery places. I ended up with wet shoes and socks for the day.
That's when we set off for Mont-St.-Michael. It's a famous French tourist site, so look it up on Google. Though heavily packed with people, it was spectacular. The sights . . . unfortunately, my camera battery died just as we climbed to the very top of the island (a very steep walk, up a large number of stairs). Which just means I'll have to go back. Fine with me. The tour guide rushed us through the abbey, and while I can understand why (we were a large group, with a time limit on when we needed to leave in order to make it back to Paris), I would much rather take my time. And it was frustrating that they don't allow you to see the original grotto and church that are much older than the abbey because the monks still use that area. Hmph. It's a lousy excuse.
At 9 o'clock at night, we got back Paris.
Monday was a hectic day, with class in the morning and afternoon, then getting back to my apartment, calling a taxi, hefting all my stuff downstairs by myself, and moving across the river. I unpacked and had dinner with my host family, who asked lots of questions and seem to be really nice. The only downside I've found is that six people have to share one toilet, but I'm finding that in Paris, this is common. How is beyond me.
Today, I got up and found my new way to class, and discovered that I've either got a cold or allergies. I don't know which I'd prefer. But stuffy nose, sneezing, coughing, not fun. After cours practique, I was done for the day academically, and hung out in the AIFS office until something interesting came up. Taking a short break to pick up lunch at a deli down the street, I was subsequently asked by a guy who worked at the deli for my phone number because I am "très belle". Odd thing, that. I gave it to him, but whether I answer or not is still in question.
What did come up that was interesting was a concert at Notre Dame. It started at 8:30, and featured a boys choir for only 10 euro. I went with a few other girls, after we got sushi for dinner and gelato for dessert. I sat in Notre Dame (which I can see out the window of my classroom, by the way, and it is really distracting) looking up at the ceiling, listening to these voices echoing around the space, wondering how on earth I got there.
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