Done, da done, done...

I’m now officially done with all academic obligations for Université de Nantes! I turned in my last dissertation on Friday (an interview with a French student about the differences/similarities between French and American culture) and sat through my last 3 hours of Sociology make-up class. Because of the never-ending strike and the extension of the school year, many of my professors have tacked on extra class hours to make up for what was missed. This means multiple 4-hour long classes (often times with only about 40 minutes worth of material), classes held on Saturday mornings, and classes that began in the halls because the teachers don’t consult (or even really use) a master calendar to reserve their classrooms resulting in regular classroom conflicts. But that’s all very French. For the French its more fun to arrive at a situation where confrontation gets to take place (defending their liberty, equality, and fraternity) rather than to plan ahead and avoid a potentially thrilling showdown. Anyways, I’ve submitted all work that is needed for me to receive credit for the semester so I couldn’t be more satisfied.
People are trickling out of the dorms, which is promising because it means that the end of the semester is really happening and that I too will move on to bigger and better things. I went to the housing office to ask about getting my deposit back (usually it is returned upon check-out) but they told me that the University has yet to pay for a single month’s rent so me getting my deposit back is pretty much an impossibility. I’m not sure what’s more disturbing, the fact that I’m essentially a foreign squatter living in an unpaid room, or the fact that the housing office is used to and has no problem with delinquent payments of 5 months or more. Whatever, if someone comes to evict me in my last few days, I’d welcome the helping hand.

One of the great things about people leaving means lots of wonderful “farewell” meals and drinks in town! Some of my Anglophone friends (English, Canadian and American) and I went to a Breton Crêperie in town to say good-bye to some charming girls from Seattle last week and that was great fun. Afterwards we had some drinks at a pub and then cruised the streets for boxes (commonly found outside of restaurants) so we could ship things back to our respective countries of origin.

I check out of my room on Thursday May 28th and then leave the following day for my last bit of independent travel, to San Sebastián in northern Spain. There will be lots of time spent on the gorgeous beaches, hikes in the hills of Basque country, and a couple Spa treatments at the fabulous beachfront La Perla Spa (nothing gets the Grève out of your pores like a good salt scrub and algae wrap with an ocean view…) Then its off to Paris for 2 days to celebrate my birthday and then I’m repatriating my ass home! Can’t fucking wait! France is fun and lovely but I’m over this whole “idle foreign youth” phase and am ready to start accomplishing things again. Not that I don’t love it here but its starting to feel like being in a nightclub at 10:30 in the morning: The initial party was great but now the lights have been turned back on, my buzz has worn off, and everyone’s gone home. Looks like its time for me to go too.

FIRENZE

Florence rocked my world over and over. My world actually had a little trouble keeping up. I stayed at the greatest “campsite” of all time, located in the hills of the Oltrarno area of town, across the Arno River from the city center. I use the term campsite loosely due to the fact that the “tents” were more like well appointed canvas cabins (complete with wood floors and bunk beds with real mattresses), the toilette and shower facilities were recently renovated and spotless, and there was a magnificent outdoor terrace bar/café with the most phenomenal panoramic view of the entire city. Every day as the cathedral bells throughout the city announced 6pm, I would scurry up the hill (it was quite the climb) to get a front row table on the patio, in the sun, with the drop dead gorgeous view and enjoy a 2 Euro pint of Italian beer rendered excellently affordable by the 6-7pm happy hour. It was basically luxury camping with cheap alcohol.

I think I saw more art and architecture in Florence than I did in any other city I’ve visited thus far. I’ll spare you the laundry list of sights and just sum up my top five faves:
1. David at the Accademia- Just stunning. So what if his junk is small in comparison to the rest of his body, its still practically the size of your head so I wasn’t complaining.

2. The Bargello Gallery- There was a beautiful sculpture exhibition of Bernini’s work and the museum itself is in a beautiful old fortress. Lots of great Michelangelo and Donatello sculptural work there too!

3. The Basilica of San Lorenzo- Gorgeous painted interior dome, intricate sculptural work by Donatello, ceilings dripping with gold, and a lovely interior cloister that smelled of fresh orange blossoms.

4.The Duomo- One of the most beautiful cathedrals in the world. Greeted me every morning while I had my coffee on the terrace of the campsite café and gave me a reason to leave my tent and go to the bathroom in the middle of the night (the nighttime view of the illuminated dome from my campsite was both ominous and enchanting). After days of ogling the façade and its bell tower (Giotto’s Campanile) from the ground, I climbed to the top of the dome and the views of the city were completely ridiculous.

5. The Arno River- The bridges are just lovely and it gently emerges from the hills and flows along side the city like the chorus of a favorite song. It extends as far as the eye can see, soothing and beautiful and has a great breeze so you can stand on the middle of a bridge, look out, and have one of those Kate Winslet Titanic moments.

I took a fun overnight train getting there and back which was very sardine-can-esque. You have 6 people stacked on top of each other who speak up to 4 different languages (yet oddly enough all snore in English). Its very much like you’d imagine one of those natural disaster slumber parties in a highschool gymnasium. You don’t really want to see each other drooling while asleep or let on that you use the restroom 6 times a night, but you have no choice so it suddenly becomes ok.

I didn’t really have that quintessential amazing meal in Florence like the ones I have had in France, but the Gelato was always super delicious (and all over my face) and I did find a great locals-only lunch place where one could enjoy an impeccable glass of Chianti and a Parma ham and Pecorino cheese sandwich on a salty, crunchy ciabatta roll, while standing at the counter listening to the Italian equivalent of local, mid-day water-cooler gossip.

Italians came across as extremely friendly, gracious, and accommodating, and Florence definitely goes down in the books as one of my favorite European cities!

If you ran your house like France runs its country, you'd be homeless.

Nantes has had a renaissance since the end of La Grève, and everything seems to be brightening up. Spring has fully sprung, academic courses are running along like they’ve never run before (literally… They weren’t running at all before), and I have begun to appreciate France in new and exciting ways! Last Saturday I began my day with a wonderful morning run along the verdant banks of the Erdre River. There are always lots of other people who also enjoy a good morning jog along the river, so the words “Bonjour” and “Pardon” are exchanged frequently. (I also throw in a couple of mental “Get the fuck out of my way!”’s just for good measure. A lot of French people tend to run more up-and-down than forward and it can be a little bothersome. I call it the “slow-moving roadblock”.)

Post-run, I went into the center of town, bought a wonderful chicken sandwich from a great Patisserie (named Paul) and went to a Garden to enjoy it. I sat down and all was calm, tranquil, and filled with botanic beauty, but after the first bite it started to rain (torrential downpour) so I had to finish the sandwich under a tree. It was very Pacific Northwest style (pretty when wet), so I was ok with it. In search of shelter back in the centre-ville, I stumbled into a wonderful little teahouse run by a brigade of fabulous gay men and let me tell you, in terms of interior design, Martha Stewart’s got nothing on the French gays. Wonderful antique bookshelves juxtaposed with sleek metal tabletops, rustic wooden chairs, plush linen accent pillows, artisan chandeliers, and an impeccable display of cakes, cookies, and tarts in the window, enticing streetwalkers to come inside. Did I mention the coastal themed bathroom, complete with weathered wood and polished rocks lining the sink basin? Homeboys know their shit. I had a cup of tea called “Full Moon” (Pleine Lune in French), read me some of Thomas Friedman’s latest, and observed the fabulous local luncheon crowd (and the even more fabulous wait-staff!)

I went to La Galerie des Machines for my afternoon excursion and it was phenomenal! It is this gigantic warehouse/workshop (atelier) where mechanical engineers and artists come together to create these beautiful machines made out of wood and metal. The machines are in the shapes of deep sea fish, crabs, boats, insects, and there is even a HUGE elephant that walks around the island of Nantes (where the Galerie is located) carrying up to 45 people on its back and spraying water from its trunk! (See video below.) What moved me most about the entire thing was that all of the mechanics, architects, artists, and engineers come together and work on these machines for months (even years!) just to create something beautiful. The pictures do the machines more justice than I could ever do in writing.

It is Saturdays like that that make me relish the fact that I am here in France and help make up for the crappy Grève period.

I’m not gonna lie, the Grève was pretty difficult for me. I came here determined to love France and my study abroad experience but as the weeks of strike began to accumulate, it became harder to feel the love. I was angry about not having any courses, upset that I wasn’t able to meet and interact with French students at school, frustrated with the lack of communication with the Nantes study abroad department, and trying as hard as I could to suppress the little voice inside me that was whispering “FRANCE YOU SUCK AND I HATE YOU!” But, I never let that little voice whisper aloud, and through looking on the bright side, long hours in the library self-educating, and long evenings with Vin Rouge self-medicating, I feel like I’ve popped out the other end of things just fine. I’m finishing up my final research papers, credit is assured, and I’ve got two more European travel adventures on the horizon.

For me France has been like a Puppy. Its super cute and fun to play with but in its first couple of months, it does nothing but shit on you and you have no choice but to keep cleaning that shit up. Now, I feel like we’ve finally gotten past the “accident” stage and its become much easier to love something that you know won’t shit on you in return. France has finally become housebroken. Good Dog France. Good Dog.

Tour de France: City 6 of 6

Strasbourg
When I arrived in Strasbourg the sentiment was bittersweet. I was super stoked to prowl around and discover a new city but I was also a little sad because it was the last stop on my French (and Swiss) journey. But I made it count. Strasbourg was AWESOME! Its got a great German fairytale feel to it, with tons of colorful little houses, each boasting flower boxes and timbered façades, lining tranquil canals and city squares.

There is an immense Cathedral in the center of town with ornate detailing that gives Notre-Dame de Paris a run for her money (bitch better watch out) and to top it off, there is this crazy cool astronomical clock inside. Every day, at 12:30pm, 12 disciples, 2 cherubs, 1 Jesus, 1 rooster, and 1 skeleton with a stick, pop out of little holes in the clock and move around!

I spent hours strolling through the charming cobblestone streets and along the tree lined canals. I even walked to Germany! It took about 3 hours (turns out the border isn’t as close as I thought) but I walked across the bridge that traverses the Rhine River, connecting Strasbourg to Kehl, and took my first steps on German soil.

My hostel was absolutely phenomenal and I roomed with a Quebecois dude, a Japanese dude, and a dude who was always asleep when I came back to the room (I call him Sleeping dude). Very clean, fun bunk beds, a big shower, and maid service! On my last evening I decided to go to a traditional Alsatian Winstub (pronounced like “vin-shtoob”) for a hearty and relaxing meal. I marched in the rain towards a tiny restaurant (only about 7 tables) called Coin aux Pucelles and sat next to an Alsatian guy and his Japanese girlfriend who warmly welcomed me as a third member of their party. It turned out to be one of the greatest experiences I’ve ever had. The Alsatian (Antoine) told me what was good on the menu, helped me cut and consume my bone marrow, and was constantly offering me tastes of his own meal, everything from his Alsatian beer, to his crème brulée. The three of us chatted long into the night about Obama, Alsatian history, the great international airport terminals of Europe, and the prospect of playing wind instruments on desert islands. I ate a wonderful terrine of some kind of fatty bird liver (listen, when it comes down to it, a lot of birds have super tasty livers) served along side crisp white and violet cabbage in a light vinegar dressing, followed by a juicy, tender entrecôte of beef served with golden, buttery-crisp Alsatian potatoes. For dessert I had a chilled chocolate mousse laced with surprise ribbons of smooth caramel, topped with hazelnuts and fresh sweetened whipped cream. I really wanted to make sure that all of the leading contributors to cardiac arrest were adequately represented. The next and final morning of my journey, I had my coffee and read my Le Monde at a charming outdoor café with a view of the lovely pastel houses and the tranquil waters of the canal below.

The train ride home was a breeze and now I’m adjusting back to life in Nantes. With one minor alteration: No Grève. A report of the elusive and undiscovered academic side of my “study” abroad experience is soon to come…

Tour de France: City 5 of 6

Geneva
Geneva is exactly what you want Switzerland to be. It delivers. There is a gorgeous lake that extends as far as they eye can see, towering snow capped mountains, laughing cows that snacking away on the hill side, beautiful flower beds lining country roads, and sporty, Germanic looking Swiss people that speak French, love their brightly colored independent currency, and smoke more cigarettes per minute than all of France combined. No joke. Its sort of like taking a trip to the American 70’s where you can smoke literally everywhere. Restaurants don’t even bother with that whole “smoking section” nonsense you just smoke where, when, and how you want. I’m sure its all part of the Swiss neutrality thing. Tell people not to smoke? “Oh no!” say the Swiss… “Sorry, but we don’t take sides.”

So despite the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th hand smoke, I stayed with a great family friend, Chloé, and we had a blast! I went to a great karaoke beer-fest reminiscent of a barn party (They had this great wooden, tray-like device that had holes for about 20 beer cups. Buying a round is serious business. The Swiss aren’t fucking around.), thermal baths that were located in a niche between two mountains (So relaxing. Falling asleep in the tub has never been more fun!), strolls along the lake with ice cream cones, and leisurely visits with Chloé’s family on her mother’s terrace, which has one of the worlds greatest views. When my mother was young, she lived with Chloés grandparents, so there was lots of catching up, discussion of family news, and overall good familial vibes.

Chloé introduced me to all of her fantastic friends and we had a great time driving through the countryside, drinking loads of beer, eating tuna pasta, and singing along to the soundtrack of Mamma Mia.