As some of you know, I did not have much luggage space coming over here, due to the fact that I decided to bring my Viola. (On a side note: I don’t actually play it that much, surprise, surprise, but I’m still glad I brought it. I know I would whish I had it with me if I didn’t.) Therefore my wardrobe choices are rather limited. There are really only two choice: expand or come up with new combinations. I am unwilling to add monumentally to my possessions in general, one because I have to take them back with me, and two because I’m not made of money. So far I’ve stuck to purchasing some scarves, a top, a shockingly short dress (to be worn with leggings :P) and a killer pair of boots. Too cool even to describe. I might buy a jacket. But most of the time I stick to what I already have, and try to find new combinations.
I would like to take this moment to destroy any illusions anyone might have about how fashionable and “European” I have become. I pretty much wear what I would wear at home, plus scarves. When I first got here I felt insecure about blending in, but then I realized that I felt far more comfortable in my normal, slightly weird clothes. Perhaps I have gone a little bit weirder. Sometimes I go to University in an outfit I liked that morning, but that I later decide not to repeat. For the most part it works out well. With slight alterations (tights instead of leggings for example), I surprisingly do blend in. What do we learn from this? Why, just be yourselves kids.
Normal garb: My boots, legwarmers, scarves, skinny jeans, leggings or tights with a skirt, other jeans, my new bracelet, I don’t know. Whatever I feel good in pretty much. I am choosing to believe that as a student I can get away with it.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Coolest Tandem Partners EVER
I’m not sure if I have tried to explain my Tandem class before, but I might as well again. Tandem is a language practice class that matches up a native English speaker learning French with a French student learning English. We are required to spend ten one-and-a-half hour sessions together, speaking both English and French. The idea is that it is less intimidating and more fun to speak a foreign language with someone your own age, you don’t have divide your time speaking with 20 other people, and you make a friend. (And making friends with French people without this is difficult, because they already have their own groups of friends. Unless you count those sleazy French guys who are always happy to talk to any girl, and I don’t.) The process of matching students up is completely random, so I am just very lucky to have been matched up with Morgane Fovelle.
Morgane’s best friend Elodie has an apartment in Vieux Lille, and on Friday Night they invited me and Rosie (one of my friends and Elodie’s Tandem Partner) over for dinner. Raclette. I actually spent a good portion of Friday whishing I brought my camera, and I am sad that I don’t have pictures. Descriptions will have to do.
Elodie lives in a one-room, cellar apartment on one of the most scenic alleyways in Vieux Lille. In fact, just that afternoon some of my friends were taking pictures of the alleyway, and I have often gone down it without knowing that they live there. The room is large and has an arched brick ceiling. The dining table is at one end; at the other is Elodie’s bed, a desk, bookshelves, and window. In between are some couches. It is pretty much the coolest apartment I have ever seen.
Raclette, for those of you that don’t know, is a meal where there is a sort of grill-oven thing in the middle of the table. You melt cheese on tiny trays and pour it over potatoes (which sit warming on top of the oven). You can also add meat, eggs, veggies, pretty much whatever. It’s a great meal, because everyone gets to eat more or less what she wants.
Over our meal and afterwards we had all sorts of interesting conversations concerning various cultural differences, as well as less serious topics. (You can’t really put four girls together and not have them talk about boys, can you now?) Among other things, we learned that there will be a Christmas Market in the Center of Lille in a few months. This is a little surprising, since France is so secular, but I’m not complaining. It also seems that Northern France is rather different from the South in many of its traditions. It’s more Flemmish than anything.
Perhaps my favorite part of the evening was when Rosie and Elodie started playing guitar, and we tried to sing together. It reminded me of hanging out with my music-nerd friends this summer. We all love the Beatles (who doesn’t), Elodie and Morgane don’t know Joni Mitchell, but seem to like the sound of her songs, and they sang us a tune in French. Then we discussed various different artists. Really, just like home.
Sorry this blog is long, rambling, and picture-less, but I hope you like it anyway. Also, if my grammar seems to be disintegrating, it’s difficult speaking well in two languages all the time. (Sometimes three.) When Elodie posts the pictures she took on facebook, I’ll be sure to put some up. As Rosie and I walked to the metro, she said, “We have the coolest Tandem Partners ever.” So true.
Morgane’s best friend Elodie has an apartment in Vieux Lille, and on Friday Night they invited me and Rosie (one of my friends and Elodie’s Tandem Partner) over for dinner. Raclette. I actually spent a good portion of Friday whishing I brought my camera, and I am sad that I don’t have pictures. Descriptions will have to do.
Elodie lives in a one-room, cellar apartment on one of the most scenic alleyways in Vieux Lille. In fact, just that afternoon some of my friends were taking pictures of the alleyway, and I have often gone down it without knowing that they live there. The room is large and has an arched brick ceiling. The dining table is at one end; at the other is Elodie’s bed, a desk, bookshelves, and window. In between are some couches. It is pretty much the coolest apartment I have ever seen.
Raclette, for those of you that don’t know, is a meal where there is a sort of grill-oven thing in the middle of the table. You melt cheese on tiny trays and pour it over potatoes (which sit warming on top of the oven). You can also add meat, eggs, veggies, pretty much whatever. It’s a great meal, because everyone gets to eat more or less what she wants.
Over our meal and afterwards we had all sorts of interesting conversations concerning various cultural differences, as well as less serious topics. (You can’t really put four girls together and not have them talk about boys, can you now?) Among other things, we learned that there will be a Christmas Market in the Center of Lille in a few months. This is a little surprising, since France is so secular, but I’m not complaining. It also seems that Northern France is rather different from the South in many of its traditions. It’s more Flemmish than anything.
Perhaps my favorite part of the evening was when Rosie and Elodie started playing guitar, and we tried to sing together. It reminded me of hanging out with my music-nerd friends this summer. We all love the Beatles (who doesn’t), Elodie and Morgane don’t know Joni Mitchell, but seem to like the sound of her songs, and they sang us a tune in French. Then we discussed various different artists. Really, just like home.
Sorry this blog is long, rambling, and picture-less, but I hope you like it anyway. Also, if my grammar seems to be disintegrating, it’s difficult speaking well in two languages all the time. (Sometimes three.) When Elodie posts the pictures she took on facebook, I’ll be sure to put some up. As Rosie and I walked to the metro, she said, “We have the coolest Tandem Partners ever.” So true.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
11/10/08 (or 10/11/08 whichever you prefer)
Today two friends and I took a daytrip to Boulogne sur Mer. It’s the first time I have left Lille since my arrival here. On the way there the train was definitely taking the scenic route, which I did not mind at all, becayse it is indeed very scenic. Driving by the beautiful little red-roofed villages and haphazard farms reminded me of the things I love about Europe. As did the man fishing on the canal and the herds of fewer than ten cows. (You don’t seem to see those much in the United States.) It was a good time to reflect.
And after we got to Boulogne it became a good time to walk barefoot in the sand and wade along the edge of the ocean.
I made a special point of getting some pictures of myself. Normally there are none.I had a good Legolas moment walking on top of sand that looked as if it should be soft and sinking. I also enjoyed the sound the sand made when I skimmed my toes over it. Following our picnic on the beach we found our way to Centre Ville. (A very small Centre Ville.)
After scoping out the cafes, we settled on one with some potentially interesting-looking music equipment set up. We sat down inside, and were shortly joined by the café’s dog, who remained with us nearly the whole time. Ivana and Cait were delighted.
I think the bartenders must be the owners as well, and it was fun watching them greeting and chatting with locals who came in, some obviously friends and regulars.
Nor were we disappointed musically. The (English speaking) musician put on a show that set the saleswoman in the shop across the way dancing.
Here is Ivana’s paparazzi shot of the musician.It was a good day.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Vieux Lille
One afternoon in my first two weeks I was in the downtown shopping district with two friends. In a music shop I asked the salesman if they sold transformers. (It seemed like a reasonable question with all the aps and cables around, and besides I was quite desperate at this point.) He said no, but his friend’s shop sold them. And then he whisked me out the door and around the corner to that friend’s electronic shop. I got my transformer, but back at the music shop my friends had left (in search of me, as it turned out).
Feeling neither hurt nor disoriented to be left alone in a foreign city, I set out on my own explorations. The first place I stumbled upon, and which may have to be the subject of a future blog because it is presently my favorite place in Lille, was the book market inside the historic bank building.
Then, confidently “following after my nose,” I accidentally wandered into Old Lille, yet another district.
So far, my favorite. Vieux Lille has narrow, cobbled roads and delightful alleyways. As in most of Lille, the Christmas lights stay up year round, and I can imagine them lit up at Christmas, with everything decorated. It is going to be beautiful. The main “road” is lined with classy, but very expensive shops. At least they do not disfigure the old architecture. Following my new motto, “As long as I can find out where I am, I’m not actually lost,” I wandered at random, and covered quite a bit of ground. Much to my present advantage. I found that there is no metro stop (my number one plan for finding out where I was).
In the spirit of spontaneity I went down a sunny alleyway, and found the artists.
Jewelry makers have their wares spread out on tables. (How much would you pay for a bracelet made out of a fork?) American music blaring out of open windows, and you can see the artist painting right in his chaotic studio. Paintings for sale leaning right against the wall in the alleyway. And a charming looking restaurant.
If you go down a branching alleyway, you will find yourself at the Cathedral.
Most of it is old and gothic and be-gargoyled. For reasons that are unknown to me, however, it had a modern front. My timing that day was impeccable, and I stepped into the Cathedral to the sound of live organ music. It was incredible. An accurate description of the inside of the Cathedral would be both wordy and impossible, so I will skip that part.
Sunday I was in Vieux Lille again, and down a street from the Cathedral I ran into friends sitting in a cozy-looking café. I noted the address. My plan is to fill in my map with the good spots I might not find in a travel book.
That first day I headed down a street further to the left. I found the Park of the Citadel, which will also have to be the subject of a future post. Unfortunately there is a big fair taking up part of the park. Since I hate fairs, I only walked once around in the hope of finding Rosie and Dustin, and then turned around and went back the way I came.
I’m still not sure when, where or how I gained my sense of direction, but at no point would I say I was truly “lost.” I always had a general direction of the direction from which I came. And, there are always signs pointing toward the city center, and thus the main train station, the metro, and ultimately home.
Feeling neither hurt nor disoriented to be left alone in a foreign city, I set out on my own explorations. The first place I stumbled upon, and which may have to be the subject of a future blog because it is presently my favorite place in Lille, was the book market inside the historic bank building.
Then, confidently “following after my nose,” I accidentally wandered into Old Lille, yet another district.
So far, my favorite. Vieux Lille has narrow, cobbled roads and delightful alleyways. As in most of Lille, the Christmas lights stay up year round, and I can imagine them lit up at Christmas, with everything decorated. It is going to be beautiful. The main “road” is lined with classy, but very expensive shops. At least they do not disfigure the old architecture. Following my new motto, “As long as I can find out where I am, I’m not actually lost,” I wandered at random, and covered quite a bit of ground. Much to my present advantage. I found that there is no metro stop (my number one plan for finding out where I was).
In the spirit of spontaneity I went down a sunny alleyway, and found the artists.
Jewelry makers have their wares spread out on tables. (How much would you pay for a bracelet made out of a fork?) American music blaring out of open windows, and you can see the artist painting right in his chaotic studio. Paintings for sale leaning right against the wall in the alleyway. And a charming looking restaurant.
If you go down a branching alleyway, you will find yourself at the Cathedral.
Most of it is old and gothic and be-gargoyled. For reasons that are unknown to me, however, it had a modern front. My timing that day was impeccable, and I stepped into the Cathedral to the sound of live organ music. It was incredible. An accurate description of the inside of the Cathedral would be both wordy and impossible, so I will skip that part.
Sunday I was in Vieux Lille again, and down a street from the Cathedral I ran into friends sitting in a cozy-looking café. I noted the address. My plan is to fill in my map with the good spots I might not find in a travel book.
That first day I headed down a street further to the left. I found the Park of the Citadel, which will also have to be the subject of a future post. Unfortunately there is a big fair taking up part of the park. Since I hate fairs, I only walked once around in the hope of finding Rosie and Dustin, and then turned around and went back the way I came.
I’m still not sure when, where or how I gained my sense of direction, but at no point would I say I was truly “lost.” I always had a general direction of the direction from which I came. And, there are always signs pointing toward the city center, and thus the main train station, the metro, and ultimately home.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Musings
-Does knowing you care about people enough to miss them ever actually make up for missing them?
-When you arrive in a place and it is not quite what you expected, or just feels foreign, the thing to do is to find things to love. If you can find enough of them, maybe eventually it will start to feel like home. Spokane took eight years. I guess in the end, Whitworth made it easy. I loved it there from the beginning, and running in the back forty this summer made me really appreciate the wild beauty of Spokane for the first time.
-I heard singing from the mosque across the street last night. I wonder when Ramadan starts. And if they stay all night, why not the Christians? Where are the voices of monks raised in song through the watches of the night? (I wrote this last week. Ramadan is over now.)-What is up with the United States postal system: “Neither rain, wind, sleet, snow…Except on Sundays.”
-When you arrive in a place and it is not quite what you expected, or just feels foreign, the thing to do is to find things to love. If you can find enough of them, maybe eventually it will start to feel like home. Spokane took eight years. I guess in the end, Whitworth made it easy. I loved it there from the beginning, and running in the back forty this summer made me really appreciate the wild beauty of Spokane for the first time.
-I heard singing from the mosque across the street last night. I wonder when Ramadan starts. And if they stay all night, why not the Christians? Where are the voices of monks raised in song through the watches of the night? (I wrote this last week. Ramadan is over now.)-What is up with the United States postal system: “Neither rain, wind, sleet, snow…Except on Sundays.”
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