PARIS Pt.1

Instead of paying attention in class this morning I decided that a better use of my time would be to outline all of the things I wanted to say in this blog, and I discovered a small problem: I had nineteen bullet points. If I were to sufficiently describe the weekend that I spent in Paris, I would have to write a novella. This seems unfair, for I don't have enough faith in my writing ability to fully express how amazing this weekend was. (After all, it is Paris) I want to say too many things, but at risk of this blog running too long I will cut out the story of the wine tasting. I just wanted to let Claire and Bader know that I can tell them really cool things about wine now.

To begin at the beginning, I can only say that none of us could sit still in our art history class in the hour before our train left. I could listen to M. Dufresne all day, but I knew my attention floated out the window at the point in which I started doodling Mona Lisa with a mustache.

Mona Lisa with Mustache- QAVN 2012

 Nous y avons couru.  

Correction: We ran there with a quick pain-au-chocolat-pit-stop.

In all of the (good) movies that I've seen that have taken place in Paris, several major plot points rely on different aspects of life in the city. For instance, in Pixar's Ratatouille a rat becomes a world class chef based on not only his skills as a chef, but also Paris' abundance of fine cuisine and its affinity for creative stimulation. (For in the city, the most talented people could rise out of the gutter to show the world something fantastic) The list goes on, and maybe I'll come back to this point in PARIS Pt 2., but just know, that from the second I stepped off of the Glacière Metro stop to go to our hotel, I knew that in this trip I would discover a little bit about myself. Now don't accuse me of buttering up my accounts, because I didn't fall in love with Paris at first sight. I knew that I was in for a trip because less than an hour in, my toes were already blistering.

 

Now, the four newbs in our group have heard stories from the FIAP (The hotel where the fall group stayed for a month last year) but we could never fully appreciate how wonderful it was until we saw it with our own eyes. Unfortunately, I neglected to photograph the FIAP myself, so I am unable to fully convey how cool this place is. Just know this: French Commons is not as good as real Davidson Commons, save for the fact that they serve wine instead of Kryptonite.

Also, for those of you that don't know, I'm not in France because I'm a French major -- I'm in France because I want to learn the language and understand the way people think. I want to discover a little bit of what influenced the thoughts of great artists and thinkers that lived here throughout the centuries. I am a Theatre major, and after a month of living in France I finally saw a play. So in this voyage, a valuable use of time went to a small black box theatre in the Latin quarter to see Eugène Ionesco's The Lesson. I won't go into a review of the play itself, but I greatly appreciated being able to understand the majority of what was being said based on the strength of the teacher's acting ability. My ability to laugh with the French people, who do not always share my sense of humor, was comforting and made it easy to contort my mind around the absurdity of the play.

Sadly, as was said in a small bulletin that they handed to the crowed after the performance, the theatre is in trouble. Le Théâtre de la Huchette has been playing a double bill of La Cantatrice Chauve et La Leçon since 1957, and currently it is at risk of closing. If you are ever in Paris, it's a hop skip and a jump away from the Notre Dame. The performance is well worth the time and money.

There is a myth/rumor/tale/speculation that if one stands on the star in front of the Notre Dame, you are sure to come back to Paris at some point during your lifetime. So, as we left the theatre Friday night, Madame Kruger took us to do just that. It got me wondering if I unknowingly passed over the star the last time I was there with Dina, Diane, Francisca, Laurie, Tatiana, Margaret, Helenka, and Mme Imrem two years ago. If we did, I'm thankful, and this weekend I made sure that I am able to return again. When I saw the Notre Dame two years ago, it wasn't anything  like it was now. Now there is a giant christmas tree right out front.

Now, you might be wondering the precise moment that I fell in love with Paris. Well, it was right after we decided to make the most of our night by walking along the Seine from the Notre Dame to the Eiffel Tower. The fact that we made this excursion wasn't what caused my coup de foudre, it was the process. I believe I actually felt my heart skip a beat when we wandered through the courtyard of the Louvre and I saw the pyramid lit up against the night sky (or it could have just been Keith scaring the bejeezus out of me in the hallway). We did make it to the Eiffel Tower, and yes it was magical -- more so than any piece of art, music, or poetry could possibly convey. Il faut la voir. The city is just so big, and she has such a great history. Just trying to wrap my head around all of the things that have happened within the city limits and how many people have gazed upon the Notre Dame or the Hotel de Ville baffles me. As Jane pointed out while we ventured through the night, an outsider can't really live in Paris, because eventually you will take all of the amazing things that the city has to offer for granted.

Needless to say, I slept very well Friday night.

I slept very well Saturday night, too.

We saw the collection of the late Diane Arbus, a celebrated American Photographer at the Jeu de Paume.

We took the metro that puts Chicago travel time to shame.

We ate Libyan food and some really poche pastries.

Then we went to Centre Pompidou and saw some really cool pieces. My personal favorite there was the room that looks like the statue in my parents' wedding portrait.

We ate at a colonial food restaurant and Sara didn't eat her shrimp tartare. I did. Aren't you proud of my ability to eat weird foods, mom?

Et puis, we went to this really sick jazz concert. I sat there for two hours staring at the pianist's gorgeous hands. 

You can tell I'm getting short, can't you? It exhausts me even to run through Paris in my mind.

Sunday morning, we woke bright and early to venture to the Musee d'Orsay, my new favorite museum.
It wasnt just the collection that the Musée holds, it's the building itself. The preservation of a nineteenth century train station is a marvel that amazes me, and as we walked through, I couldn't help wish that I could see the turn of the century in it's prime, at home and abroad. I am also biased towards impressionism and neo-impressionism for it presents a really nice change from all of the bizarre collections of trash bins in many other art museums.

I would've taken a picture of many pieces at the Orsay, but sadly, photography is forbidden. I managed to sneak one semi-legal photo of something truly bizarre. Look closely at the four on the ornate clock face.

Cool, right?

A lot of walking happened on Sunday. Blake and I discovered the classiest metro line and visited the National Library where you have to pay to get into the reference rooms and are not always guaranteed a spot. (I'm betting that they don't put out Legos in the beginning of December, either)

A great English teacher once told me that sometimes clichés are an interesting choice to make, but are risky and often make a piece of writing sound fake or uninteresting. Right now, I want to throw his advice out the window and use every over used phrase I can think of to get my thoughts out of my head and onto my keyboard, not because of a lack of creativity, but because people have just hit the mark so well when describing the city of lights, love, and inspiration. That being said, I have probably already used a nauseating amount parentheses and misplaced commas that a few overused phrases would hardly make a difference.  (I'll try to abstain none-the-less)

In short, This blog post turned out a lot shorter than I thought it would be. The only place where I can accurately relive my January 27th-29th is in my mind or on the page of scribbles of quotes in my grammar notebook. To be completley honest, I'd rather dwell on Blake's observation that it really didn't matter if neo-impressionist painters painted the sky yellow than the logical structure of tenses in phrases that describe multiple moments in time. I told Keith today that I would beat him in overall word count, but I don't think I did. However, I do think I succeeded in clearing my head, and maybe tonight I can sleep without unorganized thoughts infiltrating my dreams.

I can't wait to go back. There is still so much to see and I want to conquer so much more. I need to make the climb to Montmartre and find the Moulin Rouge. I must find the hostel that we stayed in during the Starsbourg exchange and actually take my camera into the cathedral across the street. Hey, I might even be up for facing some spiders in the catacombs. All I know is that I will go back thanks to the star of the Notre Dame, and ceci n'est pas le fin du blog.

Traveling Quincy

Walking on Sunshine

This blog post was brought to you in part by: Marshall Aid - keeping France electrical since 1947 (which coincidentally is also the best year for wine)
 
Those of you who know me well know that one thing in this wide world that makes me completley at ease is watching an episode or two of Jim Henson's Fraggle Rock. I mean no copyright infringement by linking this video, I just think it's a shame that so many beautiful songs were lost with the recognition of the show in the early nineties. So, I give you the second full episode of the show here, on my blog. However, If you really don't feel like watching an entire episode of awesomeness, I completley understand. Some of you go to Davidson College and don't have time to enjoy the smaller things in life -- you've got your sights set too high-- I know your pain.  I do ask, though, that before you read the rest of this blog, you will jump to 3:45 of the video below and listen to the beautiful song that Wembley Fraggle has to share with the world.

 

If you listened, this is what everyday in Tours feels like for me. I walk down the street and this song is stuck in my head...usually. Other times, people like Jane Morrison would get less jolly song wedged in between my lobes, like Adele's Someone Like You.

Wembley's Here to There was not stuck in my head last friday afternoon as Keith, Paisley, and I attempted to find the French Value Village. We wandered around the ghetto of Tours for approximately two hours before we decided that the bargain superstore called Active was nowhere to be found. During this time, my feet suffered enormously. When I finally returned to my bed and peeled off my shoes, I discovered that the toe end of  my brand new sock (yeah, I wear socks now) was soaked in blood. My toes dug into each other and created small gashes on their sides. The more we walked in the days that followed, the more I realized that my need for new shoes was becoming dire.

You know, we did actually find Active. It took the assistance of Google Maps and a little wandering, but we did manage to find the store on tuesday afternoon, but shoes to no avail. (I did manage to find this pretty sweet duffel bag, and Paisley created dashing ensembles for Blake and Keith to the effect of Blue blazers and t-shirts with a skeleton and a vulgar phrase) I have come to the conclusion that for the French, it's all about looking formidable. They don't believe in walking shoes. Even the most comfortable looking boots sported some thin heel. This is ridiculous, Blake can't give me piggyback rides forever. (Don't get me wrong, they're pretty awesome)

Active, Tours- As seen from google maps

 

 Value Village Mooresville, NC - As seen from google maps

Tuesday night was the first night we were invited Chez Madame Kruger, un vraiment joli pavillion, where we had the traditional Gallette du Roi. For those of you that don't know, it is a tradition in many countries to eat a cake in the period after Christmas to celebrate L’épiphanie. In this cake, there is a small toy or a bean, and whoever finds this bean becomes the Queen! Continuing to follow the tradition, the child of the party must get under the table and decide who gets what slice in order not to be biased. Fun fact: I am not the youngest in our group...Ashley is...by two days. I however am the shortest, and therefore most childlike. I was bestowed the honor of sitting under the table and indirectly deciding the King and Queen of the party (It was Dr. Kruger and Blake)

Tradition!!! (Courtesy of Paisley Lewis)

At this point, my feet are throbbing. The area around my arches felt tense, as though a very large man was putting all of his weight on the area just below my toes. It got so bad that I asked Dr. Kruger if I could borrow some nail clippers. She gave me John's (Dr. Kruger's really cool long time FWB). Fun fact: I have no problem sharing nail clippers.

The nail clippers did help, but my feet remained tortured. At the gathering of the gallette, Blake offered me his Dr. Scholls. I've never really worn insoles before, so when he delivered the goods fresh from his feet last night, I was a little skeptical. 
These are the sensations I felt after I received them:

1) Inquiry: Will they fit in my shoe?
           Answer: Yes
 2) Curiosity: How differently will my foot feel once inside?
          Answer: Like sitting and knitting by a fireplace after a long day of shoveling.
3) Fear: What if they don't work? What if I am truly doomed to eternal foot pain?
          Answer: Don't be stupid, Quincy.  These insoles might have an interesting smell, but you won't have much time dwell on it. You are about to lose your ability to think coherently becau...

Yes world. I am temporarily relieved of foot pain. I thought of so many songs to describe how happy I felt last night, but I feel as though this song sums it up perfectly, for i've said this line plusieurs times throughout the day. How long will it last? I don't know. What I do know is that now, wherever I go, that's where I will be -- not anywhere else.

Traveling Quincy

Next Time: PARIS Pt. 1 (and the story of how Quincy got so classy on January 26, 2012)
    

Superman and Doctor Doom Are Dead

Cabinet crisis: Superheroes and Super villains reunited in crisis. Both heroes and villains are being killed by a mysterious culprit. Superman and Dr. Doom have been killed. The committee has to find culprit as soon as possible in order to avoid an all-out war between good and evil.

Mystique- Taken from Wikipedia

Now, those of you who knew me through high school knows that Model U.N. was never my thing. I debated, sure, but I head never entered into the world of a mock assembly. I never would've imagined that my first experience with MUN would be in France, in English, and concerning the well being and prosperity of our favorite members of the super community. Well, it happened. This thursday, Blake let me accompany him to the University Francois Rabelais Model UN club meeting, where we impersonated our favorite heroes and villains and worked to discover who dun'it.

Blake and I joined forces to advocate for Mystique, the X-Men villain who can impersonate anyone at will. It just goes to show that it's important to watch out for the underdog. In the first 15 minutes of the meeting, the other delegates didn't notice as Mystique changed to the Hulk before their eyes. You would think that someone would accuse a shape shifter of framing beloved heroes like Batman and Spiderman in the murder of some of their friends, but ultimately, we escaped unscathed. The most surprising thing that came out of this whole experience however was how well French English majors can speak English. Half way through, I forgot that the people around me didn't speak english as their first language. It makes me wonder about all of those American french majors out there...

(Just kidding guys, ya'll are thebomb.fr)

Otherwise this week has been pretty chill. Friday night I learned that the Chicago born high school band Kids These Days have gone international, when I heard some french guy playing them over his stereo. It blew my mind. Good going, Kids.

Yesterday, the Institute lead an excursion to two of the famous chateaux in the Tours region and they were pretty awesome.

Cheverny, the first chateau, was well... symmetrical. It was warm and inviting and there was even a portrait of a guy who looked exactly like @Chris Blanchard (Sorry Chris, no photos allowed in that hallway. You did have a pretty sweet dog though) This was probably the best thing about the Chateau though:

It was beautiful and terrifying as you can see by that mean old thing that scared me in the first few seconds of the video. Otherwise, I had never seen so many adorable creatures in the same place in my life.

Chambord was also pretty sick. Select members of our group wandered into some secret passage ways and did not get kicked out by the chateau authorities.

So many discoveries, and such a little capacity to remember all of the wild and crazy things that happen abroad.

Looks like i'll have to blog more often.

Traveling Quincy

(P.S: Does anyone know when the Superbowl is?)

Stitch's Revenge: L'Equipe "Q-KAPS" Voyage to Bordeaux

It could've been, would've been, should've been worse than you would even know.

I ask you to take a moment and envision yourself in the following scenario:
You are a student, eager to take every opportunity you can to explore the world around you. You hear of an exciting opportunity to travel for a very small cost to a land that you have never visited. Gleefully, you and five companions purchase tickets aboard a ship that would take you across the ocean for a very low cost, thinking that though rooms aboard the ship are high in demand and expensive, you would make it work with what you had. As it turns out, you and your companions discover that unlike the third class ticket you thought you had purchased, you end up in a room on the level below the ship's boiler room, with one bed, one blanket, and two pillows to keep four people comfortably lodged for a night. Lucky enough, for your 17 euro purchase, you are given a port hole through which to view your lovely voyage. Malheureusement, it is so mind numbingly cold outside of your room that the poor porthole is covered with an inch of  fog, impairing your ability to view the fantastic life filled world outside.

You would think that such terrible conditions would've dampened the spirits of team Q-KAPS on their trip to Bordeaux this weekend. (Quincy, Keith, Ashley, Paisley, and Sara; L'Equipe Q-KAPS JeBeK is the name I just made up for the entire Davidson group in France) But of course, we made the most of our voyage, because even if Stitch's Revenge (the name of our nautically themed hotel room appropriately given by Ashley) would've hit an iceberg and killed us all before the ship even sank, westill would have amused ourselves and took the most from a cloudy, cold, and anti-tourist weekend in one of France's largest cities. When I woke up this morning, I couldn't help but think of Modest Mouse's Dashboard to sum up the kind optimistic mindset we had throughout our most excellent adventure. (I have provided access to the video above)

To give the world a little geographical context, please look below:

It took about three hours to get there early yesterday morning, but we made it and safely wandered to our two star hotel. Now, one would think with such great prices on hotel rooms that there would be a lot going on in one of the busiest metropolitan areas in France, right? Well, there was a circus... that opens in two days. There was a wine and cheese tasting tour... that started before we arrived. There are even some pretty sweet chateaux... that we had no idea how to get to. So what we did was hop off a young TGV and walk until we found interesting things!

The Rue along the river- Bordeaux, France

In our 27 hours in Bordeaux, we managed to visit at least four Gothic churches, encounter more than one hundred pieces of littered dog poop, and experience one magnificent view of the city that only our bird friends get to experience on a daily basis.









In the beginning, I must admit, with the clouds and the unseasonably cold climate, I expected Bordeaux to be a nightmare. Team Q-KAPS found ourselves lost in an unknown city surrounded by really sketchy establishments who kept their garbage in the streets. Funnily enough, we ended up finding the most interesting things from the citizens. Political movements from youth came in the form of large cardboard placards in one of the city's squares, and outcries of reform came from grafitti on some of the most sacred monuments in Bordeaux.

Bordeaux itself is known for many things, including its wine and its well prepared duck (which we had the opportunity to taste) but also some rich history, which unfortunatley, we learned nothing about do to the untimeliness of our travel. I would love to go back in the spring with some preplanning or read the wikipedia article to fully appreciate the city and all of it's splendor.

Our short and sweet voyage was, in short, very french. Today, we closed our journey with a trek up and down town to find the museum of contemporary art. There we got some insight on what goes on in the minds of some very postmodern thinkers of Europe and North America. The location inspired me to create the following short series entitled: "People Looking at Art: Modern Photography of Contemporary Artviewers".

1. Ashley

2. Paisley

3. Sara

4. Keith

 Yeah, I'm pretty proud of it, too. There are more, but I haven't completley worked them into the collection yet. I must say though, that my work doesnt really fit in with the mission statement of the museum of contemporary art in Bordeaux. However, I do happen to have a vital prerequisite to achieving a spot among the greats:

 Though I'm pretty sure that I will never step foot into the Hotel Stars, I am certain I will never forget it, for this weekend was a different type of fun -- full of close bonding, knowledge of new places, and most of all, a better understanding of the wide world we live in.

Traveling Quincy

For the dashboard may have melted, but we still have the radio. 

The international "DO NOT TOUCH" symbol

You know you're in for a good semester when you have a chandelier in your classroom.

Permettez-moi expliquer un peu.

Tours, France is the heart of the french chateau country and many things here are either really old and historical, or really modern replacements for stuff that was destroyed by the war. (As the father of my french host mother liked to point out "Les Américains...") So when walking in Tours, you might find yourself surrounded by really old pillars of a former church, with little shops and boulangeries that popped up in between.

The town itself is very pretty. All of the buildings are white and every thing is really smushed together. No one here knows how to drive. (Among our group, bets are being placed upon who will be the first one to get hit by a car) The best pain au chocolat (the best lunch food there is) has been found on rue nationale, the equivalent of Michigan avenue in Chicago.

Oh yeah, and during the moth of January, the entire nation of france goes on sale during the month of "Soldes" to completley liquidate their stock of clothing at the end of the winter season. Yes folks, 30%, 40% up to 70% off this week! I've only made one purchase, the contents of  which shall not be exposed for a while.

Anywho, because the town cant decide if it wants to be 15th century or 21st (I finally know what time we live in, thank you Jim and Dennis), the Intsitute that the group takes classes in has three buildings. One very modern one with automatic doors, one with a computer lab, and one is as my host brother discribes "a real chateau" and has chandeliers in every classroom with a grand staircase in the entry way! Yeah, it's pretty malade.

The institute is very cool. In my class, there are four American girls, one Italian from Florence, two Colombians, three Kuwaitis (that occasionally show up), three South Koreans, one from Taiwan, One from Spain, and a 40 year old libyan doctor who uses a Jonas Brothers pencil case that would look really classy save for the picture of Kevin, Joe, and Nick on the back. My teacher, Marie-Jose is the french Glinda the good witch who threatens to kill anyone who uses a pencil in composition.

At the institute, Davidson students have also discovered the presence of free cooking and wine/cheese tasting classes! Guess who finally learned how to use a knife properly...

Also, did I mention how good Hugo, the new Martin Scorsese film, is? Did I also mention how good it was the second time in a french version? If it's still available in the states, please go see it. I'm still smiling.

The institute also offers excursions to go visit the regions various chateaux. For all of you humes heroes and heroines, I'll actually be visiting Mont St. Michel in a few weeks and I will finally understand everything that we were supposed to learn about european gothic style in architecture. Another humes point, I'm very glad I took last semester humes. Being at my level of french, knowing something about renaissance art before hand is really helping my comprehension skills in the institute art history course.

Last weekend, we got a real hands on learning experience when we visited the chateau Langeais and (I'll butcher the spelling) Azzay-le-Rideau. At Langeais, we truly felt as though we were part of the wedding of the famous Charles VIII and Anne of Bretagne as some of group joined the mock wedding party that took place during our tour. As we soon learned, not all historical sites are so keen on letting its vistors really absorb the fifteenth century experience. At Azzay-le-Rideau, alarms would go of if you stepped into an unroped portion of a room.

Whatever. Not everyone understands that the large red circle surrounding a little picture of a hand with a line through it means that you can't have fun.

Don't worry ya'll. I'm 48151623.42% sure that I'm not going to get kicked out of France. 

Traveling Quincy

(P.S: Roll Tide)
(P.P.S: All of my blogs are written in real time and I don't edit them. Ever. So I apologize if I make blatant errors that make me sound slightly foolish.)

Je te deteste, Clavier

So you know how awesome travel is? Pretty great. Especially when you are trying to learn a new keyboard, or in some of our cases, a keyboard (clavier) in which the keys dont correspond to what you are typing. (Or when you have to press shift for a period and not an exclamation point; I think id rather be over enthusiastic all of the time rather than take the extra effort to end a sentence!) 

In Tours, I can tell the world the weather and how to navigate myself from french house to french school. Thats about it. (You know what else grinds my gears? The fact that the french dont use apostrophes. Now I know what its like for a french person to read my writing without correct use of accents.)

As far as the flight over, me and Keith Thompson were pretty lucky with the flight, unlike Ashley who got stuck in D.C. Just saying: Water For Elephants isnt all its cracked up to be. CDG was a nightmare, but the first class train tickets were really legit. The moment I hit my bed finally was the best feeling in the world. I ate cheese.  Jetlag inspires short and sweet sentence structures.

Tours is great; I just wish there were more sun. The Coke is so much better here, and everyone speaks english. It was really embarrassing when the person at the McDonalds counter assumed I was American (She was really proud of her english speaking ability)

Oh yeah, and I fell down french stairs.

Traveling Quincy