Le Monstre

Hoo boy I haven’t updated my blog in approximately 11 years. Just kidding, it’s been more like a couple weeks. But still, I’m outta the habit. So much to catch up on! Since I last was here, I’ve been inexplicably pointed at by my first Nantes homeless person, I’ve accidentally sat down on someone on a bus when it turned unexpectedly, I have hung out in Paris for the fourth time, I have been to Rome, I have taken my second and final Grammar midterm with Madame de Pous, and I have written seventeen pages worth of “devoirs à la maison,” otherwise known as big project papers in French. (It’s nice to be able to write this in English.)

Now it’s Thanksgiving and I just finished my morning classes of Construction of a European Union and Contemporary French Society and I’m sipping some Apple Cinnamon tea and eating Muesli with strawberry yogurt, sitting in the study room my friends and I have marked as our own (by always being in here and leaving our stuff in here and drawing pictures to pin on the blank white walls, not peeing in the corners. Gross.) and a pigeon just tried to fly in the window which is open a crack. I’m sitting in here alone so I’m glad it didn’t succeed in entering the room. Although the company would be appreciated.

When I sat down to write this it seemed like a pretty big feat given that A) there was a lot to say solely about Rome immediately after I got back, B) there is now even more to say because I waited a week and a half to update my blog, and 3) I have a horrible memory. I don’t even remember how I started this sentence nor how to

So anyway, I’m gonna do my best to recall everything that I’ve done since Geneva. Most emphasis is on Rome. I couldn’t decide what to call this blog post so I just sat down and made a list of possibilities.

“When in Rome”
“Rome sweet Rome”
“RAH RAH-A-a-aah Roma Roma-maah” (it's a song reference, Grandma, don't worry about it)
“Gaga for Roma”
“Grazie, Roma”
“Rome is where the heart is”
“Rome is where the pasta is”
“Rome, Rome on the raange”
“Romeward Bound”
“Just Rome-in’ Around”
“Rome and Coke”
“Row, Row, Roman Trip, this is dumb theme, merrily merrily merrily merrily, life is but a dream.”
“Why is everyone calling me Chowbella? Do they want to hear my Chewbacca impression?”
“Romeo and Juliet (just kidding, it’s me, Laura)”
“Welcome to my humble Rome”
“700,000 men and countless animals were brutally killed here... now that is what I call family entertainment!”
“I ruh roo, Rome.”
“How do you say ‘check please?’”
“We no speak Italiano”
“Hopefully they think I’m french...”
“SCUZIE!”
“Io prendo pizza?”
“Bonjourno, Michelangelo!”
“Sistene Chapel times 3. No, but actually.”

So to start, my week between Geneva and Rome was only three days of school, which consisted mostly of frantic room-cleaning, unpacking and repacking for my next trip. Thursday morning I got to the train station in Nantes as my train (carrying all my Romeward bound friends) left. I had allowed plenty of time to get there a half hour early from my house, but I didn’t realize that the trams were on vacation schedule and so my first one didn’t come until about fifteen minutes after I thought it would, and the second one about twenty minutes later. The soggy, sad, tired lump of nervously-shaking disappointedness that I was paid the twenty euros to switch to the next train to Paris, texted my friends to let them know I hadn’t made it on and I’d catch up with them later in the day, and went for a walk in the rain outside because after the ordeal of missing my train I just couldn’t handle sitting still.

Two hours later I was getting on my train in a much better mood with another friend that was headed to Paris. Once we arrived, I called my friends and, sans umbrella, traversed Paris via metro and foot, asking directions a few times, to catch up with them in the Musée d’Orangérie in the Tuileries to check out a Monet exhibit, which was very cool. I love impressionist painting so that mixed with seeing the faces of people I had just wanted to be with all day improved my mood immensely. Sharing broken umbrellas, being showered with torrential rains and walking against some surprisingly biting winds, we made a quick loop of some tourist sites in Paris (just quickly cause, I mean, been there done that) and ended up in a warm crêperie in a little side street. There, drenched from head to two and wearing boots of 80% water, I cheered up my tummy by eating a ham, cheese and potato galette.

Idaho in Paris <3

 My only must-do goal for Paris, even before leaving Nantes, was to get a Nutella-banane crêpe on the street (Nantes doesn’t have this glorious aspect of french cuisine, all of our crêperies are sit-in restaurants and let’s be honest, I am rarely prepared for that amount of commitment). So that’s exactly what we did for dessert and it was everything I had needed and more. Mmmm, heaven in a napkin. And sometimes you bite a little bit of the napkin they serve it to you in... it’s all part of the beautiful experience.

That night three of our group stayed at our hotel to blow dry their socks and cuddle up under the blankets while my friend Preston and I went back into Paris (our hotel was way out of town, near Orly airport because we were flying to Rome early the next morning). There we struggled through the complicated maze that is the Paris metro system until we finally managed to meet up with Guilhem Peruchietti (brother Ben’s old rotary exchange buddy) and his girlfriend for dinner. We went to a really good and really tiny hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant where we ate very interesting and authentic (and yummy!) food and had loverly conversation that was about 85% in french. It was really fun because the last time I saw Guilhem in person I was not near as comfortable speaking French as I am now, nor could I understand what he was saying in normal conversation at all, so it added a whole level to our interaction. The bad news is we forgot to take a picture of us, so you’ll just have to imagine us having a grand old time eating rice/coconut/almond(?) desserts wrapped in seaweed while sitting at a table we literally took minutes trying to get into cause it was so tiny.

Early Friday morning we hopped dulled-eyed and damp-tailed onto our plane to Rome and fell asleep immediately.

We knew before arriving in Rome that none of us spoke Italian, save the few words everyone knows: grazie, bienvenuti, ciao bella, bonjourno... It was bizarre to walk around for the first time since I visited France when I was little hearing everyone speak the same language to each other and not being able to understand any of it. Intently listening to a woman talking on the phone by me on the metro, I could pick out maybe three words that resembled what I knew in French or Spanish. Even though most people there speak English, I felt absolutely incompetent not even being able to start out speaking butchered Italian to them; in a café choosing what we wanted to eat for lunch, my friends and I kept pointing at things and saying, “ça?” (“that?” in French) because it just seemed better than saying “that?” in English. We were in “speak foreign language” mode but the only foreign language we know is French and that came to our brains very readily.

Smiling despite the gruesome Colosseum facts I just learned.

So Friday during the day we walked around Rome and saw the Forum of Peace which was built between 71 and 75 AD by Vespasian. Nope, didn’t leave out any digits there. Those numbers are in the TENS. It absolutely blew our minds to be standing outside of something that has stood there for one thousand and nine hundred years. I was thinking back to when I was little and would take long walks through the woods with my golden retriever Gabe. I was obsessed with the idea that it was not unlikely that I was the first person in the history of the world to step foot on the ground where I was walking. This blew my mind in the opposite way, trying to fathom the millions of different people who had walked exactly where I had walked and had seen what I was seeing. We went to the Colosseum and took a tour through it, learning that 700,000 men died there, they used to have fights between women and midgets, they would import and proceed to flaunt and then kill or put in battle hundreds of kinds of exotic animals. There was one door through which the dead only passed, leaving the arena. The only living who walked through the arc were slaves carrying dead bodies. There were 28 trap doors in the floor through which men would fall or starved, abused animals would be raised to attack awaiting men. “Arena” comes from the Greek word for sand, which covered the floor of the, well, arena, to soak up all the blood spilled on a daily basis. Needless to say, we learned a lot. The tour was fascinating and I’m really glad we took it.

Our tour took us next to the top of Palatine Hill, where we heard the story of Romulus and Remus and their shewolf (but actually prostitute) adopted mother. The view of the Roman Forum from the top of the hill was beautiful and, again, fascinating to contemplate all that it has seen.

After our tour, we headed to Piazza Nevona to people-watch, art-regard and gelato-eat. It was a good time to rest seeing that it was but the first day in Rome and our feet were already dying.

Then we explored around a bit more, and ultimately met up with a free walking tour that started at the bottom of the Spanish Steps and went for a couple hours (our feet were throbbing but so were our minds full of new knowledge! ) We ate dinner at a restaurant near the Pantheon. After we asked if we could get tap water, the waiter told us they weren’t allowed to serve tap water and we should get the water on the menu (that cost three euros! No way.) We had just finished the walking tour that taught us about how there are water spouts/fountains throughout the city, the water of which is monitored daily and very clean (we had also tasted it and it was really good) so we knew he was tryin’ ta pull a fast one on us. We said we wouldn’t get water then, and he ended up bringing us a carafe of tap water with our meals but told us not to tell anyone. Passed Rome’s first test.

Saturday was our Vatican City day. We had gotten tickets online beforehand thanks to Amelia’s tip (she was in Rome days before I was) so we got to skip lines and go right through the Vatican museums and the Sistine Chapel. It was amazing not only seeing Michelangelo’s ceiling on which there are numerous paintings I’ve seen in school since the beginning of ninth grade, but looking at the pieces by other artists on the walls, it’s just breathtaking to see the amount of detail and imagine that famous, unmatched painters were not only in that same room for endless hours upon hours, but they left behind masterpieces that have been cherished for centuries by millions and will continue to be for who knows how long.

Preston, Lindsay and Elise at Trevi fountain

 Our necks were sore from gaping at it, trying to soak in all we could. Then, trying to find a specific exhibit, we walked back through the Sistine Chapel because we thought we had passed it. We had, and we found it, but then we went back through the Sistine Chapel for the third time to find an exit. So I’ve been in the Sistine Chapel three times... how many people can say that, right? After the Vatican we walked to the Spanish steps, got some lunch, made a wish and took plenty of pictures at the Trevi Fountain.

Saturday night we went to a free choir concert in a gorgeous cathedral that Hannah (a girl in our group) had discovered. Almost everyone in our group had been in a choir at some point in school, so it was a common interest and we all loved the concert. The choir was from California besides, so although we didn’t get a chance to talk to them we had a little connection to home with them. After the concert we went back to our hostel and Preston and I stayed up (the others went back to their hostel and the girl who was with us in ours went to bed) and went to the hostel bar to meet new friends. We succeeded! We sat down with some kids who turned out to be from the Netherlands and were really cool! They were our age and studying medicine somewhere else in Italy so were visiting Rome for a weekend just like us. We’re now facebook friends and if ever I’m headed to Amsterdam  or they’re headed to Idaho (or Iowa, or Texas) we can call each other up and have a little reunion. While I’ve heard some sketchy stories about hostels, all of my experiences have been great and it’s a really fun place to meet other kids who are our age and doing similar things. Plus they’re way cheaper and young people-friendly than hotels are.

Sunday morning Preston and I had breakfast at the hostel with our new(therlands) friends while the others in our group went to a market a ways away. When their plans fell through and our other plans didn’t line up with theirs, Preston and I ended up exploring  the city. We decided to pick and eat an orange from one of the many orange trees lining the street. They were a little hard, so we figured they might be a little sour, but we had no idea what we were in store for. I have a video of us eating THE. MOST. SOUR. THING. EVER. It was unbelievable. My tongue felt like I had burned its taste buds off for literally days after. So after traumatizing our mouths, we went to a park to find lunch (everywhere is closed on Sundays in Europe...) There were kids with parents everywhere, carousels, balloons, games, and then, the best thing ever: we came across a sort of Rollerblade party where there were cones set up in lines and a group of people (all in a club or team or something) were doing CRAZY tricks around them. A bunch of people were watching them and there was good music playing and we had just gotten lunch, so we decided to sit and watch them for a bit.

Wellll, we ended up staying there watching and talking and laughing and people-watching for about a good two hours. (Don't worry, I took videos.) When we finally tore ourselves away it wasn’t too long ‘til dinner time, so we went back to the hostel (saw a killer sunset on our walk back) for a little cat nap and then met back up with our group and went to dinner at a yummy Italian restaurant across from the hostel.

Monday morning before our plane left for Paris we went to St. Peter’s Basilica because there had been too long of a line when we had visited Vatican City on Saturday. We saw the meridian line and Michelangelo's statue Pietà which I was using in my art history paper that was sitting at home in Nantes waiting for me to finish. Then we got gelato at Old Bridge (best, cheapest place. So yummy.) and headed off to the airport.

Paris was POURING DOWN RAIN when we landed and we had to run with our broken umbrellas again from awning to awning to get to the train station. The ride back to Nantes was again soggy and tired and sore, so it was very nice to get back to my house and snuggle back into my warm familiar bed.

Since then, I had the equivalent of Grinnell’s Hell Week (the week before finals when all classes have papers, presentations and projects due) in France. It was tough but I feel accomplished having written all of those papers, and now the time I have left here seems so short.

[It is now Friday and this is a monster blog update so I might as well tell you how Thanksgiving went last night]

Although it was different, Thanksgiving in France was fun. IES had a dinner for the students and their host parents and all the professors/directors/aids of IES. Dinner consisted of smoked salmon and green salad as an appetizer (I’ve never had that on Thanksgiving, but it was yummy...), cooked but unmashed potatoes, turkey with no gravy, chestnuts (also had never eaten them before arriving in France) and farce, which was supposed to be like stuffing but more resembled a foie gras meat loaf. With cranberries on top. So that was interesting. Dessert was also a franco-interpretation of pumpkin pie, and tasted like someone pureed pumpkin insides and put it in a yummy crust without any spices. I was skeptical after the first bite, but the more I ate it the more I liked it. It followed the theme of the night: not Thanksgiving, but good nonetheless. There was a talent show after dinner which consisted of hula dancers (we have a couple IES students from Hawaii) and some musical performances. Talent shows can be very awkward, let’s be honest, but this was actually good. All in all it was an enjoyable night, despite my missing family and my usual Thanksgiving in Minnesota. I bonded a lot with my parents who were able to come with; my host dad kept throwing a paper plane he had made at me when I wasn't looking, and making fun of my faces in response to the non-Thanksgiving foods that kept being set in front of me. My friends were obviously there too and sat by me, so my host parents could finally see that I can be a functional, fun human being that can make people laugh and maintain normal relationships instead of being this loner that makes the language mistakes of a six year old and sits in her bed a lot (it's where I do my homework and read and play on my computer... it's the only warm spot in the house!) and now I feel a bit closer to them. So that was good.

It has been getting colder and colder here, I’ve switched from wearing a sweatshirt and leather jacket to my pea coat and scarf, hat and gloves. No snow yet, but it’s supposed to come on Sunday so Amy, Preston and I are going to Abigail’s house to make sugar cookies and gingerbread, listen to Christmas music, and be huggy warm and happy! I can’t wait. All of Nantes has Christmas decorations up, there is a Christmas fair down in the main square all around the fountain, with a carousel and lots of red and green Christmas booths with everything from food to vin chaud (hot wine!) to presents and everything in between. We will be hitting that up this weekend and the weeks to come.