Small Victories

A couple weeks ago one of my coworkers told me that I wasted my time in France by not learning French. I was so livid about this for several reasons. First, the official language of business for the company is English. Second, I actually have learned a little bit of French; it just so happens that what I’ve learned (what I use on a daily basis) isn’t really applicable in the office. Third, the few times I have used French in the office I’ve been corrected in a very condescending manner--as if I’m being told that I should only speak French if I can do so absolutely perfectly.

So no, I don’t speak French in the office, but I do speak a little bit outside it. I also didn’t waste my time here by not becoming fluent, thank you very much.

I noticed a lot when I first moved to Paris that when I would try to speak French--at a shop or restaurant or gourmet bakery--people would roll their eyes and switch to English (which doesn’t help me learn). It was, and still is, annoying to me. But there have been several places where people accept the French I use, bad accent and incorrect pronunciation and all. I’m in France so it’s only natural for people to expect to speak French. Plus, I assumed this was because they didn’t know or weren’t comfortable with English.  But in one specific case, that’s not true at all.

My sister Hannah visited me recently. I had to work a few half days, so I instructed her to stop at the local boulangerie to pick up a croissant or chausson aux pommes for breakfast. She stopped by one morning and ordered a croissant...but was then asked (in French, bien sur) if she would like anything else. My sister politely said “Pardon?” in hopes of understanding a word or two, but when the baker repeated the question she still didn’t understand. So Hannah asked “Parlez-vous l’anglais?” And sure enough, the boulangère switched to English and asked Hannah if there was anything else she’d like.

Hannah chided me that afternoon for not telling her to expect a question and recounted the story for me. My mind was blown. I’ve been going to this place 2-3 times per week for SIX MONTHS and I had no idea the baker spoke English. No freaking clue. For the past six months, she’s greeted me with “Bonjour!” and a smile and sent me on my way with a heartfelt “Merci, mademoiselle. Bonne journée mademoiselle! Au revoir!” Even on days when I walk by without stopping in, she smiles and says hello as I make my way to the metro.

(And yes, I admit, I feel a little like Belle in the opening scene of Beauty and the Beast and I LOVE IT...because I almost always first pass the guy about my age setting up the tables at the Italian restaurant on the ground floor of my building who makes a point to say bonjour to me. Or, sometimes he yells “Bonne journée mademoiselle!” as he realizes I’ve walked past him while he was speaking with a delivery driver. So yes, it’s my 60 seconds of being Belle and I’m not ashamed. I would probably even be reading a book as I walked down the street if I wasn’t positive that I’d step in dog merde while doing so. There aren’t feces in princess movies, but there are in real life. Quelle dommage.)

Anyway, I couldn’t believe that the baker had been that patient with me for so long. This woman deserves an award. Along those lines, so does the owner (?) of the sushi shop who has memorized my order (embarrassingly enough because I can get Dr Pepper there) AND makes small talk with me while I wait for my order. So no, I may not speak French at work because it is utterly terrifying and induces anxiety attacks--the tu/vous dilemma is my biggest fear, honestly--but I speak French and there are some people who appreciate my effort and don’t make me feel like a total fool. To the baker and the sushi guy, I’m going to miss you immensely.

This Provincial Life

A few weeks ago there was a national holiday on a Thursday and I failed to make adequate travel arrangements to have a four-day weekend away, sooo... two friends suggested we all go to Fontainebleau for a bike ride through the forest for the day.

We met at the train station (I was wearing workout clothes and cannot tell you how many looks I got from Frenchies on the bus, silently judging me for not looking all put together--I will not miss this aspect when I leave) and took the hour-ish long train to Fontainebleau.  We loaded up on picnic foods at Monoprix, got bikes, and went on our way.

panoramic view from a spot in the forest

After a few hours of easy riding along the mostly paved paths, we took a break and hiked to find a picnic spot.  We enjoyed the serenity (and food) before deciding to take a more challenging route.  This one was not entirely paved and involved hills (mostly of the upward variety).  At one point, we had to maneuver ourselves around a felled tree that completely blocked the road and several other times we were dodging rocks while flying downhill.

I think the most surprising part of the day was the constant "Bonjour!"s.  I felt like I was in the first scene of Beauty and the Beast.  Everyone we passed said "Bonjour!" and of course, we responded in kind each time.  It was especially hilarious as we biked past groups of people, bonjours flying left and right.

All in all I think we biked about 30 km and my butt hurt for about 28 of them.  Seriously, that seat was mighty uncomfortable and was not made any more pleasant by the fact that I seemed to hit two potholes for every one that I managed to dodge.  Regardless it was a great day to be outside, enjoy the beauty of nature in the forest, soak up the sun (maybe a little too much) and end the outing with a beer before we all slept the whole train ride back to Paris.

Chocolate, Waffles, Fries, and Beer

I spent Easter weekend in Brussels, Belgium. After dropping off my luggage at the hostel, I ventured back into the main part of the city to see “The Art of the Brick” at the Stock Exchange.

I was totally mesmerized by all of the creations. Some abstract, some realistic, some representations of famous artworks or landmarks. All of it was simply fascinating.

“Create what you see. Create what you feel. Create what you have never seen. Just create.”-Nathan Sawaya

I ventured towards Grand Place to hunt down a famous Belgian waffle. In researching before my trip, I discovered that there are 2 kinds of waffles--Brussels waffles that are rectangular with powdered sugar sprinkled on top and Liege waffles with a less defined but still definitively waffle shape with sugar throughout the middle. Liege waffles are the way to go. The outside has a nice crunch to it while the inside is doughy, sugary bliss. In my search for a place to sit down to enjoy such a treat, I found Maison Dandoy and its terrace. Unfortunately, a guy in his 3rd floor apartment across the street had a rough night and decided my meal time entertainment needed to be him retching out the window. Absolutely disgusting.

Grand Place

I continued going through the shops around the Grand Place before searching for Mannequin Pis, the fountain of a little boy peeing. I couldn’t believe how many people swarmed the gate surrounding the fountain to get a picture of the underwhelming site. Being a good tourist (unlike 90% of the other tourists I encountered in Belgium), I snapped a pic and got out of the throng.

Mannequin Pis

I decided to have a traditional Bruxelles dinner and ate mussels and frites. I’d never had mussels before, but mastered the shells-as-a-fork technique in no time. After dinner I headed to Delirium village for a lambic. I went downstairs to the crowded bar, encountered too many rude people (not even drunk, mind you), gulped down a framboise lambic, and headed back to the hostel.

All around the hostel was a pretty miserable experience and I hope that future hostel trips won’t be as bad. I know--I got what I paid for, but it doesn’t change the fact that everywhere I went in Brussels I encountered people with absolutely no sense of common courtesy or decency.  (And I live in FRANCE, people, so this is seriously an issue if I’m commenting about it.)

Grand Place - Mini Europe

The next morning one of my hostel roommates crashed my party of one and tagged along with me to some attractions further out of town. We went to Mini Europe first, where each of the EU members has displays of its famous landmarks at 1/10 (?) scale. It was pretty cool to see some of the places--especially ones I have no desire to visit in person.

Atomium

After that we went to the Atomium and (rushed, not by my choice) through the exhibits and saw Brussels from the top atom. The tag-along and I parted ways on the metro back into the city where I bought a box of truffles at Godiva and enjoyed more beer at Delirium. I got my train times mixed up and thought I was leaving Brussels around 17h, but in reality I booked a ticket for a train leaving at 21h. Discouraged by the trip in general (crowds, excruciatingly rude people, and the whole vomit-out-the-window-onto-the-street incident), I went back to the hostel and read on my Kindle until it was time to head back to Paris.

moi parle jolie aujourd'hui

A friend of mine, and previous temporary resident of Paris, shared a link to This American Life : Americans In Paris. Surprisingly, it was an episode I hadn't heard before (I went through a pretty drawn out TAL phase during university) and when Ira Glass said David Sedaris was featured, I knew I had to drop everything and listen. I'm glad I did.

Part 1--"Him Talk Pretty Three Days"--is David's view of life in the French capital. David Sedaris is absolutely hilarious. I've loved his books and his previous features on This American Life. Somehow, I'd forgotten that he lived in Paris for a while. Please, go listen to it immediately if you have any curiosity about how I feel about living in Paris. Seriously, it's the truest account of life in Paris that I've come across, and about 85% of it is a dead on explanation of my experiences here.

moi mademoiselle's reflections on life in paris after hearing david sedaris's account

1.  If I smoked, I would most assuredly absolutely dread asking someone for fire on the occasion of my lighter running out of fluid. In fact, hearing David Sedaris detail this scenario is enough to keep me from ever trying a cigarette.

2.  I, too, frequent places where people don't mind my awful and broken French. Tonight, I went to dinner at a place I've been a good six or seven times now (Philippe's, or La Varangue). Philippe speaks English, but I ordered and spoke in French. As he ran my debit card, he asked me (in French) if I had been to the restaurant before; I replied (in French!) saying yes, 5 or 6 times. It really made my day that he realized I'd visited before.

3.  It takes so much less to make me happy in Paris than it does in the States. Honestly. It's a good day when I don't get chastised for my terrible French. It's a good day when I go shopping and find what I need. It's a good day when after struggling with my French the person with whom I'm speaking offers a sympathetic smile and uses Franglish or speaks more slowly. Heck, it's a good day when I can sit down on the metro.

4.  It makes me giggle when people guess at my nationality. I've gotten British (several times), Italian (what?!), and American.

5.  Thankfully, I have no issue eating alone in Paris. In fact, it's an experience I relish. Just me, un verre de vin, my Kindle...parfait. There are other things I won't do alone though...like going to certain travel destinations that pique my adrenaline-junkie interest for fear of getting hurt and having to go to a hospital and speak/gesture/make an idiot of myself in yet another language.

6.  I definitely judge other people doing stupid things and remember all of those instances and it makes me all the more self-conscious about my own behavior and French speaking abilities. Note: it hasn't really changed my behavior all that much.

My Routine

To say I’m behind on blogging is a gross understatement. My apologies to those of you glued to your computer or phone waiting for new posts.

I figured it was about time I do a post about my day-to-day life in Paris since that is what consumes 80% of my life here (and thus, the main reason I don’t get around to blogging as often as I should). To be honest, the routine isn’t much different from when I was living in Houston with a few small exceptions. I wake up in the morning and get ready (albeit in a half-size tub with a handheld shower). I walk to the metro stop close to my apartment and sometimes I’ll pop into the boulangerie on the way for a chausson aux pommes (flaky pastry filled with apple compote) or a croissant. The metro is usually a 20 minute ride and I read my Kindle the whole time, as long as the car isn’t utterly packed with people. I walk 10 minutes to work from the metro station.

I work until noon and usually someone from my department stops by and picks me up to go to lunch at the cantine in the office building. (Per French law, a company with 50+ people must either supply a place for employees to eat or provide lunch vouchers for use in restaurants.) Lunch is usually only 30 minutes long--sorry to disappoint all the American workers thinking we take 2 hour lunches. Fridays I usually eat outside the office, just for a change of pace. If it’s nice outside, lunch is usually an hour just to soak in the rare moments of Parisian sunshine on the Seine.

I leave work between 18h and 19h each day (depending on what time I get into the office), walk back to the metro, and read on the ride home. Once a week my dinner solely consists of a baguette from the boulangerie down the street and a couple glasses of wine...I have no shame in this. If I don’t do that, I head straight home (and up 5 flights of stairs) to change clothes and watch an episode or two of Friends--in English!--before heading back out for dinner at a reasonable hour (19h30 at the earliest). I go back home and tidy up or read or watch Netflix or do any of those while doing laundry as well.

Weekends that I don’t travel mean I sleep in (if the rest of Paris is still sleeping, why should I be awake?!) and run basic errands that I don’t have time to do during the week. I try to visit a museum or exhibit or landmark of some sort, but if the weather is nice I walk two blocks to Place des Vosges and sit on the lawn to read and people-watch.

So really, nothing all that spectacularly different than Houston. I still spend my entire day at work on the computer so the last thing I want to do when I get home is try to focus on blogging or uploading photos...sorry.  I will try to get better, but I’m not making any promises.

Flashback Friday: London, UK

My sister and I visited London after I graduated college 2 years ago. We stayed for two weeks and still didn't see everything we could have!

We sort of stumbled upon the Royal Mews. We hadn't looked into it before we got to London and it ended up being one of my favorite parts of the trip. The Royal Mews at Buckingham Palace is home to the Windsor Grey horses that pull royal carriages for events. It's also home to the coaches and carriages themselves, including the Gold State Coach used for coronations. The Mews also include the Bentlys and Rolls Royce Phantoms when the Royal Family chooses cars over carriages.

Windsor Grey

Gold State Coach

Destination:  London, Great Britain

Date of Trip:  May 2012

Purpose of Trip:  Sister vacation

Things To Do:  Royal Mews

Tips:  A guided tour of the Mews is free...and recommended!

A Little Fizz

I had a rough week...because of a select few guys being total and complete ____ (insert your expletive of choice here). Luckily, I had planned a trip to Epernay, the capital of Champagne, and it's just what I needed.

My day started with a tour and tasting at Moët & Chandon. Even though the tour started at 10h30, I opted for the tasting of the Grand Vintage brut and rosé (like I said, rough week). The tour included a video about the house and continued through a fraction of the 18 km of underground cellars before concluding with the tasting. Everyone else on my tour had the same idea of going big or going home, so it was Grand Vintage all around.  I appreciated learning about the process of making champagne--nerd alert!--and I especially appreciated enjoying the final product :)

Moët & Chandon Cellars

I stopped at a local resto for lunch before continuing on to the park at city hall to read until the next champagne house opened for the afternoon. I headed up the Avenue de Champagne to Mercier. Mercier definitely had a different feel to it than Moët but it was interesting all the same. The Mercier tour is done on a little train that snakes along the cellar before another tasting. Plus, it's home to the #2 prize winner of the 1889 World Exposition--a 23 ton wine cask that can hold 213,000 bottles of champagne! (First prize went to the Eiffel Tower.)

Le Foudre at Mercier

From Mercier I went to de Castellane. While waiting for the English tour to begin, I wandered around the museum and climbed to the top of the old water tower. Eight flights of stairs after two glasses of champagne at Mercier maybe wasn't the smartest decision I've ever made, but the view of Epernay was nice. 

View of de Castellane's old water tower from Place de Champagne

At this point I knew pretty much all there was to know about the evolution of champagne production, but the de Castellane tour included production facilities instead of just cellars. (de Castellane only owns 6 km of cellars in Epernay and buys most of the wine from other producers.) The Belgians on the tour with me were a little obnoxious about the photo taking, but it was an interesting tour all the same. Plus, it too ended with a dégustation, so no complaints here!

Avenue de Champagne, Epernay

It was about 16h45 when I was strolling back down the avenue towards the train station. I didn't have time for another tour, but decided that one last dégustation couldn't hurt! I went into the boutique at Champagne Collard-Picard for a tasting of 3 classic wines. I was a bit concerned that I would be cutting it close for time (my train left at 17h33) but c'est la vie, non?! I really enjoyed the champagnes I tried there, and it was nice to chat a bit with the hostess (en l'anglais, bien sûr). I ended up purchasing a bottle of their Prestige for several reasons. First, it can be served as an apero, with dinner, or with dessert. Voilà, versatility. Secondly, it "had more character" since its first fermentation is done in oak casks instead of stainless steel vats. Third, it is champagne and it was more reasonably priced than a bottle of Moët.

All in all the perfect end to a stress-filled week! It was an easy trip from Paris and most importantly--I learned that champagne goes with ANYTHING!

Mont Saint-Michel Magic

A few people had recommended going to Mont Saint-Michel, but no one was entirely able to explain why it was a "must see." I trust the judgment of everyone who had said it, my curiosity was piqued, and so I knew I had to go.

Yet another one of the Americans here went too. We took an early train from Paris to Rennes, then got on the bus from Rennes to the base of the St. Michel causeway, then took a shuttle to the hotel before continuing on to the Mont.

It's really quite a sight to behold. We picked up tourist maps and continued along the narrow and winding street. A man at the Maritime Museum got our attention and we bought the 4 museum pass. The maritime museum contained mostly model ships from various centuries.  It was a quick walk through before we exited on the walkway of the outer wall. We were surprised to see so many people walking along the silt and sand--especially since there was a warning sign for quicksand.

Up next on the museum tour was the Archeoscope. We were told the next showing would begin in 10 minutes so we browsed gift shops until we were let in. The Archeoscope is a sound/light/visual presentation about the history of Mont St Michel. The way it started, I thought it was going to be the lamest thing I'd ever seen. However, there were some really cool effects (like the fact that the floor of the "stage" was actually a pool and a model of the mont rose from its depth during the presentation) and I enjoyed it MUCH more than I expected.

Continuing on along the narrow streets and up the outer wall (and lots and lots of stairs) we went to the history museum next. It, too, was a quick visit, but had some interesting things. The French seem to be really into using creepy mannequins for their prison displays. The Mont has a long and interesting history, but it didn't seem that much of it could be adequately displayed.

We were hungry and in Bretagne, so naturally, I suggested crepes. We went to La Sirene for lunch. Best crepes I'll probably ever have here, since I got them at the source. I went for my standard galette--ham, cheese, and mushroom--and finished with a banana and homemade salted butter caramel crepe for dessert. It almost goes without saying that we had a pitcher of cider, too.

We went to the abbey next. It was a bit of a wait to get tickets, but it was worth it. The abbey was built in four major stages and seems much larger than you would think by just looking at the map. Nothing in particular really struck me side aside from the view from the cloister garden. (Of course, I don't have a picture of it because it was the focal point of every tourist's photo.)

We had talked about going to MSM a few weeks prior, but put it off to properly arrange it to be longer than a day trip for the sole purpose of seeing the tide come in. During periods of high tide, Mont Saint Michel becomes an island. We finished touring the entirety of the abbey (and gift shop of course) around 16h15, so we went to the gardens to watch the tide come in. There's no good way to explain what we saw, but it nearly felt as though the island was sinking instead of the water rising around it. I keep thinking of the scene from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang where they think the car is going to get stuck until it changes just in time...so, watch that to understand what I mean :)

The Abbey at Mont St Michel reminded me a lot of the monasteries at Meteora, Greece. Isolated and high atop mysterious rock formations, somehow frozen in time. The whole experience is rather difficult to put into words. Mont St Michel almost seems like another world entirely, as though reality has been suspended while you wander the fortress. The phenomenon of the rising tide is simply magical and adds to the mystique of the experience.

After watching the tide for about an hour we set out for the last museum--Tiphaine's house. The only reason I really cared about seeing this (other than getting my money's worth) was because one of the prized possessions of the museum is a chastity belt.  (Side note--I went through the whole museum and still have no earthly idea who Tiphaine is.) We headed towards the entrance of the island, picked up some treats at La Mere Poulard Boutique, and tried to go back the way we came. However, the wooden walkway was underwater, so we found a "secret" exit and headed back to the hotel. We stopped at the supermarket and bought some salted butter caramels (oh my goodness so delicious) and some salted butter caramel bon-bons (like Werther's Originals but infinitely better) before we went to the most filling four-course dinner at the resto across the street.

The next morning we took the bus back to Rennes to explore Bretagne's capital before our evening train home to Paris. We ate at an organic restaurant before heading to Les Champs Libres. Les Champs Libres contained a library, the Museum of Brittany, and the Science Museum & Planetarium. Two engineers--we bought tickets to the Planetarium and science museum. The planetarium show was really cool! I even understood most of the presentation which was entirely in French! The rest of the museum was geared towards younger children, but we enjoyed practicing our French and playing with the hands-on displays anyway.

Rennes is pretty forgettable (and backwards...everything opens at 14h), but the day at Mont Saint Michel was worth the entire trip!

My Heart Belongs in Oslo

This past weekend I went to Oslo with one of the other girls in the program here. We left work to head straight to the airport. There’s not much point in detailing every aspect of our transportation (it’s dull and there’s so much more to write about from the actual trip), but I must say that security was a breeze. The agent was actually JOVIAL. It’s rare enough that someone in Paris smiles or laughs (and speaks English, no less), but this man did that in addition to being the equivalent of a TSA agent. Mind blown.

We arrived in Oslo around 11 PM (23h for the Euros reading this) and got on the airport express train into the city. We accidentally got on the wrong train, but remedied the problem by taking a taxi the rest of the way to Cochs Pensjonat, our hostel. After checking in and getting situated in the room, I left to visit my friend who lives in Oslo. I only visited for a short while (I was exhausted and he had an early train the next morning), but he gave me some great suggestions of things to do and see over the weekend.

The next morning we thought we would start our day around 9:30. Unfortunately for us, Oslo likes to sleep in and nothing opens until 10. We strolled the block until the nearby coffee shop opened and we had a delicious breakfast and jolt of caffeine to fuel our walk to Frognerparken.

Inside the sprawling park are dozens and dozens (200+) of sculptures by artist Gustav Vigeland. Bronze statues flank either side of the bridge leading from the park’s main entrance and granite works surround the famous monolith. Usually modern art is a hit or miss for me, and some of the statues were—in my honest and humble opinion—ugly. However, all of them have a theme of family and love. And sometimes, neither may be pretty. (Admittedly, some of the statues of children had really disturbing/quasi-demonic faces which were unsettling.)  Walking around the park and looking at all the statues brought on a pang of homesickness, but thinking of silly poses with the statues helped keep it at bay.

Vigeland Sculpture Park

We walked to Majorstuen to take the metro up to Holmenkollen Ski Jump. My friend recommended going to the top to see all of Oslo and maybe we’d catch some cross country skiing too. The metro was JAM PACKED with people going to Holmenkollen for a cross country skiing championship. (It’s a month after the Olympics--is there really a need for a world championship this soon?!)  We were somewhat herded towards the skiing spectacle, not realizing there was a turn for the jump, so we wandered a bit trying to figure out what to do. We decided to head back down towards the restaurant we’d passed to figure things out (crossing our fingers for free wifi). It started raining, then pouring, then hailing. We warmed up by the restaurant’s fireplace and had a drink while we regrouped. Once the rain cleared we tried for a second time to get up to the jump. We looked up to the top of the jump and realized the flag couldn’t be seen...which meant there wouldn’t be any visibility. Back to the metro!

view from the bottom of Holmenkollen Ski Jump

Lauren found an odd museum in our guide that decided to find next. We explored a little bit of Karl Johan’s gate and headed to the Mini Bottle Gallery. This little gem deserves a post all its own, but it’s an experience I’m bursting to share with everyone!

Molecule Models - Noble Peace Center

We left the Mini Bottle Gallery and headed to Aker Brygge to visit the Nobel Peace Center. The center had a thought-provoking exhibit featuring European photographers on the ground floor. Upstairs, the center displayed an exhibit detailing the work of the latest Nobel Peace Laureate, the OPCW. I honestly didn’t know anything about the organization before it was awarded the prize, so it was interesting to learn about their work. My favorite part of the center, though, was the Nobel Field. It’s difficult to explain (so see the picture below), but it’s neat to walk amongst the displays and read more about the laureates.

Nobel Field - Nobel Peace Center

We continued on walking around Aker Brygge trying to find a restaurant that served a Norwegian specialty--reindeer. Unfortunately, we only found a TGIFriday’s and a handful of French restaurants. (I did NOT travel all the way to Oslo to eat more French food.) We finally found Sake, a resto catering to our second choice of fare, sushi. What a great second choice. It was the BEST sushi I have ever had (and may ever have) in my entire life. We got a tasting menu and literally everything on the plate was incredible. The fish was the freshest I’ve ever eaten, the rice was cooked perfectly, and the rolls were delicious.

Our AMAZING Sushi Presentation

After sushi, we headed back to the hostel for a nap. Which then turned into sleeping for the night...almost. We had a couple (trio?) next door having some fun of their own and once they stopped the bar downstairs pumped up the music. Oh well, c’est la vie, non?!

Wandering Karl Johan's Gate

The next morning we woke up very early, packed, and set out for breakfast. Like I mentioned earlier, Oslo likes to sleep in, especially on a Sunday. We wandered Karl Johan’s Gate for quite some time before settling on a sketchy McDonald’s. After eating and chatting for a while (aka wasting time), we continued wandering and waited in a small park for the National Gallery to open. We explored the twenty-something rooms of the National Gallery, not far behind a tour group. The museum is relatively small, but had some impressive pieces considering. Because France (and more specifically, Paris) was/is the center of the art world and because Norway didn’t have an Institute of Fine Arts for quite some time, many of the Norwegian artists studied technique in Paris and returned to Norway to paint their homeland. The collection included a few pieces from Degas (my favorite), Monet, Manet, Rodin, and Picasso.

Claude Monet - Spring by the Seine - National Gallery

Of course, the highlight of the museum is Edvard Munch’s The Scream. He made four versions, the supposed first of which hangs in the National Gallery. Two subsequent are located in the Munch Museum in the east of the city and the final was sold at auction last year.  We’d caught up to the tour at this point and we listened as the guide explained the story of the painting. Munch had been walking and noticed that the nature around him seemed to be screaming. Overwhelmed by such intensity, Munch began screaming himself. The painting is the representation of his experience.

Edvard Munch - The Scream - National Gallery

Unsure of how to spend our remaining few hours in Oslo, we walked along Bogstadveien--one of the most expensive streets in Europe--and admired the shops (which were all closed). Realizing we were close to Majorstuen and the weather seemed to be cooperating, we decided to sprint to the finish of our time in Oslo and head back to Holmenkollen Ski Jump. It was quite a hike up to the museum and jump, but we made it! We skipped the museum (thankfully...because I have no interest in the evolution of the ski and its associated paraphernalia) and got on the lift to the top. We climbed the last flight of stairs to reach the VERY top of the ski jump and WOW. I was so overwhelmed. That view alone made the entire trip worth it. The fjords, the water, the mountains, the city below. Just incredible. 360 degrees of pure Norway and I soaked in every second of it. I am eternally grateful that my friend told me that it was a “can’t miss experience” because I hadn’t come across it in any of my pre-trip research. The pictures just can’t do it justice, though I took plenty in an attempt to try.

View from the top of Holmenkollen

View from the top of Holmenkollen

Panoramic of Oslo from the top of Holmenkollen Ski Jump

From the Ski Jump level of Holmenkollen

We spent a pretty good amount of time admiring the views before we started our sprint (yes, sprint) to the airport. A route through the gift shop before the downhill trot/jog/run to the metro which we nearly missed. A hurried walk from Majorstuen to the hostel to get our bags and a power walk through Slottsparken to the Nationaltheateret station. A quick chance to catch our breath before hurrying through the metro/train station complex to buy Flytoget tickets and finally we were on the last leg to the airport. We made it through security rather easily, grabbed some quick food, and boarded our plane home to Paris. It was a tight time schedule, but definitely worth it. I must say, Oslo has my heart for sure.

Flashback Friday: Niagara Falls

During the summer I interned in Iowa, I met another plant intern, Blaine, during our corporate sessions in Omaha.  Blaine and I have kept in touch, and once we found out the other was a hockey fan, we decided to take a weekend trip to see the Blackhawks play in Toronto.

We flew into Buffalo, NY to save money on flights and to see the Falls on the way to Canada.  Unluckily for us, Buffalo got hit with a winter storm before our arrival.  Temperatures hovered around 10 degrees Fahrenheit, with wind chill going well below 0.  I don't think I have ever been that cold in my entire life.  (Note:  3 days after our visit, the Falls froze over.)  We had planned to see Niagara Falls from both the US and Canada but we felt on the verge of frostbite and wanted to eat and get to Toronto before another wave of snow came through.  Plus, because the Falls hadn't frozen, it was difficult to see since the mist froze solid in midair.

 

Niagara Falls from the Observation Deck

Goat Island

Blaine & Me (the poor guy we asked to take the photo was NOT happy)

Destination:  Niagara Falls (USA)

Date of Trip:  December 13, 2013

Purpose of Trip:  Hockey weekend in Toronto

Things To Do:  Niagara Falls State Park (more attractions open in summer)

Tips:  If you visit in winter, BUNDLE UP!

Awe-Inspired at Sainte Chapelle

So yet again I've fallen into the trap of not posting as often as I should. Or even posting in any sort of regular manner. Oopsie daisy!

A few weekends ago, a friend was in from the States for several days and mentioned that she'd never gotten to visit Sainte Chapelle when she lived in Paris. I told her that I'd been hoping go that weekend, so we (and another friend!) decided to go first thing on (a cold and wet) Saturday morning.

Sainte Chapelle is carefully tucked into Île de la Cité, nestled near the Conciergerie and the Palais de Justice. I never really knew of its existence until I knew I was moving to Paris and someone said that I absolutely needed to go. Notre Dame steals the limelight for French Gothic Cathedrals, but in my opinion, Sainte Chapelle is the real star.

Unfortunately, it isn't the easiest building to photograph due to its proximity to the Palais. It is also currently under construction for the restoration of seven of its stained glass windows, which doesn't make anything easier. So, no pictures of the outside.

Inside there are two chapels, one built on top of the other.

Sainte Chapelle - Lower Chapel

Then, after climbing a narrow and winding staircase, you reach the upper chapel. And it is utterly breathtaking. I could spend hours in here, just soaking in the blues and purples of the illuminated Bible stories.

Sainte Chapelle - Upper Chapel - Main Altar

My only regret about visiting was that I didn't have binoculars. I know it sounds silly and touristy, but 90% of the stained glass is beyond the normal neck-craning range. (Thank goodness for a camera with 18x zoom.)  Of course, my favorite window was the story of Esther, but that's not much of a surprise.

Sainte Chapelle - Window Depicting the Story of Esther

Officially, Sainte Chapelle is my favorite "landmark" in Paris. It is stunningly beautiful and I can't even imagine how much time and effort went into the planning, design, and installation of the windows. Modern buildings can be beautiful (but not Tour Montparnasse...seriously, it's a huge pimple on the face of Paris), but Gothic architecture will never cease to amaze me with its intricacy and detail. If you're ever in Paris, make sure Sainte Chapelle makes your "must visit" list!

Misadventures in Paris

Sometimes, Paris is a bust.

Misadventure #1:  The one where no one told the author her event was invite only

My grandparents had shared with me that Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat Pray Love) would be doing a talk in Paris my second day in the city.  I'd gotten the run around with opening a bank account and also locked out of my apartment, so I thought that getting out of my apartment to be bookish sounded good.  I followed her on Facebook and she posted all day about the event, so things were looking up.  Until I arrived at the Columbia Global Centers | Europe.  I told the guard I didn't speak French and then asked in English where I could go.  He rudely scoffed and pointed at a woman with a clipboard.  I told the woman I didn't speak French and she asked me where my ticket was.  I said I didn't have one.  She asked if I was a student there.  I said I wasn't.  She explained it was a ticket-only event that was already at capacity.  Apparently, no one bothered to tell Elizabeth Gilbert that before she posted up a storm on Facebook about seeing her in Paris.  Defeated, I left.  Just in time for the rain to start.

Misadventure #2:  The one with the terrible day that got worse

Then, the following week, I had a terrible day.  I booked tickets (my first week in Europe) to Oslo to see a friend who plays hockey there.  Of course, the odds were not in my favor and the hockey gods scheduled an out of town exhibition game in Sweden for the same weekend I was supposed to be in Oslo.  MAJOR bummer.  Both my friend and I were out the money for the tickets AND we wouldn't get to see each other.  (I have since rebooked the tickets, incurring "only" change fees.  Of course, the hockey gods laughed at me and said to the team "Thou shalt have a team trip and it shall be when Emma is scheduled to visit."  C'est la vie.)  I spent the rest of the day really frustrated and thought I would go to the resto (where my landlord dropped off my new apartment key for me to pick up) near my apartment for dinner.  I waited until 7:30 to go down for dinner, went inside and asked for a table for one.  The guy looked at me and asked if I had a reservation.  I looked around the half-empty restaurant and said I didn't.  He said they were all booked up for the night and I would need to visit another night.  Seriously?!  I am but one small person.  Who eats rather quickly.  Who doesn't take up much of the space you supposedly have reserved.  I tried not to punch something, said a meek "merci," and went home to my apartment to eat a bowl of knock-off Special K red berries.

Misadventure #3:  The one with the long lines

On Valentine's Day (which I did NOT spend in Oslo as anticipated), the RATP sponsored an event where 4 metro/train stations were set up with Studio Harcourt photo booths.  For those of you who don't know, Studio Harcourt has done [mostly] black and white headshots for celebs since 1934.  The photos are iconic and all of the official shots have the studio's mark in the bottom right corner.  The photo booths were FREE (a total rarity in Paris, especially for something like this) and you got to keep the photo that came out.  I was SO EXCITED about getting my very own Harcourt photo without paying 1200 Euros for it.  I left work at 5:00 PM to venture to the closest sponsoring station and when I got there at 5:15, the line was long.  So long, in fact, that most of the people in front of me wouldn't have the chance to get their photo taken before the even stopped promptly at 6.  (Each photo took at least 2 minutes for set-up, taking, approval, printing.)  What a waste of metro tickets.  Thanks, RATP!

Flashback Friday: Capri, Italy

All of the exploring I'm doing in Paris is making me reminisce about my past travels.  I hope to post some photos from most of the places shown on my map.  This week, I'm starting with...

Capri, Italy

Capri is still one my favorite places that I've been.  It's beautiful and romantic and I wish I'd had the opportunity to explore more.  If (when) I go back, I'm going to snorkel the blue and green grottos.

Marina Grande

Picture taken from the Augustus Gardens

Grotta Verde 

Lighthouse of Punta Carena

Destination:  Capri, Italy

Date of Trip:  March 2007

Purpose of Trip:  High School Latin Class Trip

Things To Do:  Take a boat tour around the island!  Stop by the Carthusia Perfume Factory for a small bottle to remember the scents of Capri.
Tips:  Save money by staying in Sorrento (mainland) and taking a boat to Capri instead of staying on the island.