Last Saturday, as predicted, I rode from Tours to the little up-river town of Amboise by bike. My host mom lent me a kind of old bike that belonged, she claimed, to her "voisin" a mysterious neighbor I've never met although this isn't the first time I've used his stuff. I went with my Bucknell friend Josue.
Despite the cold fall weather, the fog, and my out-of-shapedness for the distance of 49.8 kilometers (total), it was a great trip. My favorite part of the ride was when we turned into the forest for a bit of mountain biking (this probably wasn't prudent to do on a junky old bike that didn't belong to me) but it was fun to dodge around the trees and feel the wind in my face. After the forest we got lost (somehow...all we had to do was follow the river), but that gave the opportunity to ask a farmer for directions and then cross acres of farmland on an old dirt road. It was very "pittoresque" and "idyllique."
Once in Amboise, we checked out the castle façade and ate in Da Vinci's gardens. It's a cool little town and they had just decorated for Christmas. It's actually very odd that the French would choose to begin celebrating the day after Thanksgiving. But what may even be harder to understand is that the French actually celebrate Christmas publicly. In a society that forbids wearing crosses and burkas in public institutions, the municipal government puts up lights, wreaths, and Christmas trees on the main streets and blasts traditional Christmas carols (like Joy to the World) from P.A. speakers. Well, I suppose paradox is the essence of church-state controversy.
Speaking of paradox, I saw an important play last night at the "Centre Dramatique." Entitled "Kids," (or keedz) it explored the aftermath of the Balkan conflict through the perspective of nine Sarajevo adolescents who played, fought, and flirted as they tried both to understand the violence that left them orphans and to cope with the first day of peace. It was a heavy play, but with lots of strange songs and child-like dances, and a bi-frontal audience seating arrangement, we were kept from emotionally relating to the characters. This was the goal, as outlined in the program: "to grasp the reality of the war without falling into pathos," to consider the violence, poverty, and destruction from a "distance." This distance was certainly created at the end, when we see the teenagers recreate with great theatricality the horrors of war for "les journalistes de l'Occident" (Western journalists). To me, this threw the whole concept of the play into question. I'm left wondering what Western viewers are supposed to conclude or even reflect on after sitting through a piece like this. I can say, however, that it is as important now as always to wrestle with these issues of ethnic violence and to reconsider the West's response.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Church and Yesterday's Walk
Today, at church, the pasteur spoke from Luke 14:25-26. He warned us beforehand that it could be shocking, then he read: "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters, his brothers and sisters--yes, even his own life--he cannot be my disciple." And then he had us say "Amen," to this verse. Although I'm not completely satisfied with his treatment of this passage (I feel like he watered it down just enough till it was palatable--something I think we do a lot with God's word), it was a thought-provoking message that should prompt lots of reflection. I also just had a good conversation with my Spanish housemate about this verse, I, having returned from church, and she from Mass. She asked what I thought about this verse and I said that I wasn't sure, but that what I can say with certitude is that our lives our about God, not our family or our plans, and that are love for God is so much beyond all other loves. She said that was a good reminder for her. It's been nice to get to know her and talk about faith with her. In other news, she's sharing her culture with us tonight by making Spanish omelets.
Yesterday I walked 12 km up the Loire River to the town of Montlouis sur Loire and back again. The sun was shining all day and the sun was perfectly clear. I wasn't really sure where I was going...I'd driven through this town before but I didn't know how far it was. I just followed a bike bath that stretches along the river. There was a lot to see, the sandy island rivers, the medieval wine towns carved into the cliffs on the other side, lots of families walking doing the same thing as me. My favorite part of the journey was the unexpected turn through a patch of forest. I was feeling tired on my way back, so I lay down in the leaves there for a while and read a Balzac novel I had just started (I'm currently living right around the corner from one of the houses of this great French writer.)
One thing I like about French culture is most people love to walk in woods or sit by rivers and think. It's a very reflective society. It makes it hard, though, to find a place to rest that isn't already occupied. I do feel a sense of achievement in adapting to French culture, even if all I have to do is spend a day such as this one, an introvert's paradise. I did branch out, however, from the introvert mold half-way through, when I got my lunch.
Allow me to break it down: a. I went to a restaurant instead of eating my packed lunch (therefore subjecting myself to human interaction) b. I chatted for a second with the waitress (that is, engaging in small talk) c. I told her I had walked from Tours (i.e. bragging--the typical extrovert pursuit), and if that weren't enough, d. I thanked her for my meal (exhibiting social skills...am I even an introvert anymore?)
On my way back, I was pleasantly surprised to see a long way off the two towers of the cathedral marking my destination for the rest of my trip home. I think next week I'll go to the next town on the river, this time by bike.
Yesterday I walked 12 km up the Loire River to the town of Montlouis sur Loire and back again. The sun was shining all day and the sun was perfectly clear. I wasn't really sure where I was going...I'd driven through this town before but I didn't know how far it was. I just followed a bike bath that stretches along the river. There was a lot to see, the sandy island rivers, the medieval wine towns carved into the cliffs on the other side, lots of families walking doing the same thing as me. My favorite part of the journey was the unexpected turn through a patch of forest. I was feeling tired on my way back, so I lay down in the leaves there for a while and read a Balzac novel I had just started (I'm currently living right around the corner from one of the houses of this great French writer.)
One thing I like about French culture is most people love to walk in woods or sit by rivers and think. It's a very reflective society. It makes it hard, though, to find a place to rest that isn't already occupied. I do feel a sense of achievement in adapting to French culture, even if all I have to do is spend a day such as this one, an introvert's paradise. I did branch out, however, from the introvert mold half-way through, when I got my lunch.
Allow me to break it down: a. I went to a restaurant instead of eating my packed lunch (therefore subjecting myself to human interaction) b. I chatted for a second with the waitress (that is, engaging in small talk) c. I told her I had walked from Tours (i.e. bragging--the typical extrovert pursuit), and if that weren't enough, d. I thanked her for my meal (exhibiting social skills...am I even an introvert anymore?)
On my way back, I was pleasantly surprised to see a long way off the two towers of the cathedral marking my destination for the rest of my trip home. I think next week I'll go to the next town on the river, this time by bike.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Paris encore
I went to Paris again last weekend and had an amazing time. Here are some highlights.
- I didn't know much about the Norwegian artist Edvard Munch, but there's a special exhibition of his work right now at the Centre Pompidou, a large modern art museum famous for its architecture (with most of its piping/structural support on the outside of the building). The exhibit was called "Edvard Munch, a Modern Eye," and it featured a number of devastatingly captivating paintings and lots of auto-photographes. I started drawing/sketching this weekend, largely because I was so inspired by the theatricality of Munch's work.
In other news, the French pronounce his name like the word monk. And I don't know if I've said this before, but the Starry Night Dutch painter is pronounced van gogg, or vang gongg, if you're provençal.
- My hostel in Montmartre. A lot of people say that this neighborhood is one of the most dirty and touristy in Paris, and I never understood this till this weekend, where I ventured near the Moulin Rouge etc. The hostel I usually stay at in Paris, though, is situated in a quiet quarter, with lots of boulangeries and cafés, and at night you can see lots of locals returning home, climbing the giant staircases with their kids in hand. I also got to look down from my window on the plain of Paris and watch it light up for the night.
- I returned to the Musée de l'Organgerie, which has beautiful rooms with long panels of Monet's paintings of lily pads, water, and leaves. Everything is peaceful here. The rest of the museum has some powerful art as well. I was deeply touched two and half years ago by some of the art there. On my return to England when I was nineteen, I wrote these lines about my experience:
...the vamping strokes of pavement soft as two
who, naked, counter coldly in their arms,
are looks, impressions, where dead love once grew
and curled a town above the streets alarms.
The naked lovers were in fact imagined/interpreted by Picasso (didn't realize this before) and the dizzying self-liberating cities were depicted by Soutine. Although the transformative effect wasn't the same this time around, it was good to remember and reflect.
- Laina. I saw a good friend from Bucknell too. It was great to talk and catch up, to explore new parts of the the city together, le cimitière Père-Lachaise (where Chopin is buried, among many other famous people), and return to favorite places, like the jazz club Caveau de la Huchette, which featured a smooth dixieland band.
I only have a month left in France. I'll try to post more as I make the most of the rest of my time.
- I didn't know much about the Norwegian artist Edvard Munch, but there's a special exhibition of his work right now at the Centre Pompidou, a large modern art museum famous for its architecture (with most of its piping/structural support on the outside of the building). The exhibit was called "Edvard Munch, a Modern Eye," and it featured a number of devastatingly captivating paintings and lots of auto-photographes. I started drawing/sketching this weekend, largely because I was so inspired by the theatricality of Munch's work.
In other news, the French pronounce his name like the word monk. And I don't know if I've said this before, but the Starry Night Dutch painter is pronounced van gogg, or vang gongg, if you're provençal.
- My hostel in Montmartre. A lot of people say that this neighborhood is one of the most dirty and touristy in Paris, and I never understood this till this weekend, where I ventured near the Moulin Rouge etc. The hostel I usually stay at in Paris, though, is situated in a quiet quarter, with lots of boulangeries and cafés, and at night you can see lots of locals returning home, climbing the giant staircases with their kids in hand. I also got to look down from my window on the plain of Paris and watch it light up for the night.
- I returned to the Musée de l'Organgerie, which has beautiful rooms with long panels of Monet's paintings of lily pads, water, and leaves. Everything is peaceful here. The rest of the museum has some powerful art as well. I was deeply touched two and half years ago by some of the art there. On my return to England when I was nineteen, I wrote these lines about my experience:
...the vamping strokes of pavement soft as two
who, naked, counter coldly in their arms,
are looks, impressions, where dead love once grew
and curled a town above the streets alarms.
The naked lovers were in fact imagined/interpreted by Picasso (didn't realize this before) and the dizzying self-liberating cities were depicted by Soutine. Although the transformative effect wasn't the same this time around, it was good to remember and reflect.
- Laina. I saw a good friend from Bucknell too. It was great to talk and catch up, to explore new parts of the the city together, le cimitière Père-Lachaise (where Chopin is buried, among many other famous people), and return to favorite places, like the jazz club Caveau de la Huchette, which featured a smooth dixieland band.
I only have a month left in France. I'll try to post more as I make the most of the rest of my time.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
dinner 8/11
Tonight my host mom had a jazz concert to go to, so she left and the other students and me to finish our dinner. Not to say that it's not pleasant when she's there, but whenever she leaves the house we have a rollicking good time. I like to think I started off the festivities by describing what the French word "concert" means to one of the new students across the table: "Elle fait le mosh pit." Another student didn't know what mosh pit meant, undoubtedly perplexed by my suggestion that Madame Saint-Louis could be capable of enjoying music as such, so I got up from the kitchen table to demonstrate with some solo moshing.
Then we tried sharing tongue twisters from our representative languages: English, German, Spanish, Korean, and Arabic. All I can remember from the German one is, "Whisky whisky whisky bisky trixie lixy hisky whisky."
Afterwards, the new Spanish girl Marisol proposed that we play "Telephone." Although I chose something silly to say and have repeated around our circle in each other's ears, the others instinctively chose proverbs from their cultures. For example, my German housemate said, "This wouldn't make sense literally, but we say, 'The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.'" Another good saying comes from South Korea: "Everyone makes mistakes in their life" or literally, "Sometimes monkeys fall from the tops of trees."
When the son of our host mom came home, he told us they call this game "Téléphone Arabe." We decided to call it "Téléphone Faloiz" after our new housemate just come from Kuwait. He was, in fact, the best at this game.
Dinner each night is truly my favorite part of the day.
Then we tried sharing tongue twisters from our representative languages: English, German, Spanish, Korean, and Arabic. All I can remember from the German one is, "Whisky whisky whisky bisky trixie lixy hisky whisky."
Afterwards, the new Spanish girl Marisol proposed that we play "Telephone." Although I chose something silly to say and have repeated around our circle in each other's ears, the others instinctively chose proverbs from their cultures. For example, my German housemate said, "This wouldn't make sense literally, but we say, 'The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.'" Another good saying comes from South Korea: "Everyone makes mistakes in their life" or literally, "Sometimes monkeys fall from the tops of trees."
When the son of our host mom came home, he told us they call this game "Téléphone Arabe." We decided to call it "Téléphone Faloiz" after our new housemate just come from Kuwait. He was, in fact, the best at this game.
Dinner each night is truly my favorite part of the day.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Amsterdam (vacances part 3)
As I was leaving France to start my vacation, my host mom called out to me from the house, "Remember to change the clock back on Sunday! Méfie-toi." I guess I should have méfied myself. In any case, my long day of travel from Sheffield, England to Heiloo, the Netherlands was made even longer as I got to the station an hour early. No biggie.
I rode easy-jet into Amsterdam, passed quickly through border control (nothing like the UK customs lines) and figured out my train into the dark, unknown territories of Holland. It actually was very dark--my plane was delayed an hour and, of course, it was the end of daylight savings. The good thing about traveling in the Netherlands, though, is that everyone speaks English. Everyone.
Once on the train, I realized that I was nervous, and I little scared to continue this part of my fall break adventure. I was excited to be visiting another good friend from Capernwray, Rebecca, but all I knew was the town she lived in and her phone number. It sounds kinda silly now that I was worrying, but I really felt like I was going into the middle of nowhere, never to return. But I got off the train, called the phone number, was relieved that Rebecca picked up, and that her fiancé was waiting at the station for me, and I was welcomed with lots of food, a fresh brew*, a game of Settlers, and a nice warm bed.
* I relearned a lot of English whilst in the UK. Other favourite words include "to fancy," "dodgy," and the correct pronunciation of "Monty Python."
The next day I went back into Amsterdam, where I had just enough time (after getting pretty lost) to visit the Rijkmuseum. Most of the museum was being renovated, so they had moved all the famous paintings into a small corner. I found two of Rembrandt's paintings, Anna the prophetess and Jeremiah lamenting the destruction of Jerusalem, to be particularly moving. It was a beautiful day. Overcast and autumnal and first, but then, in fact as I waited in line to enter the museum, the sun broke out. I took time on my return to grab some gouda and look out over the canals as the leaves fell all around me.
That evening Rebecca and made for the beach on moped, arriving with time to walk on the beach as the sun set. It was so good to spend time with yet another Capernwray friend and catch up on each other's lives.
The next morning I headed back to Tours...riding in the first class car (somehow it was the cheaper ticket when I bought it). I always find it amazing how the staff on international trains manage. For instance, when I was served breakfast, the woman approached me saying, "Guten morgen/goedemorgen/good morning/bonjour." "Bonjour," I replied, and we continued on in French.
So it was a great trip with lots of new things to experience and lots of old things to remember. I have only about a month and a half left in France.
I rode easy-jet into Amsterdam, passed quickly through border control (nothing like the UK customs lines) and figured out my train into the dark, unknown territories of Holland. It actually was very dark--my plane was delayed an hour and, of course, it was the end of daylight savings. The good thing about traveling in the Netherlands, though, is that everyone speaks English. Everyone.
Once on the train, I realized that I was nervous, and I little scared to continue this part of my fall break adventure. I was excited to be visiting another good friend from Capernwray, Rebecca, but all I knew was the town she lived in and her phone number. It sounds kinda silly now that I was worrying, but I really felt like I was going into the middle of nowhere, never to return. But I got off the train, called the phone number, was relieved that Rebecca picked up, and that her fiancé was waiting at the station for me, and I was welcomed with lots of food, a fresh brew*, a game of Settlers, and a nice warm bed.
* I relearned a lot of English whilst in the UK. Other favourite words include "to fancy," "dodgy," and the correct pronunciation of "Monty Python."
The next day I went back into Amsterdam, where I had just enough time (after getting pretty lost) to visit the Rijkmuseum. Most of the museum was being renovated, so they had moved all the famous paintings into a small corner. I found two of Rembrandt's paintings, Anna the prophetess and Jeremiah lamenting the destruction of Jerusalem, to be particularly moving. It was a beautiful day. Overcast and autumnal and first, but then, in fact as I waited in line to enter the museum, the sun broke out. I took time on my return to grab some gouda and look out over the canals as the leaves fell all around me.
That evening Rebecca and made for the beach on moped, arriving with time to walk on the beach as the sun set. It was so good to spend time with yet another Capernwray friend and catch up on each other's lives.
The next morning I headed back to Tours...riding in the first class car (somehow it was the cheaper ticket when I bought it). I always find it amazing how the staff on international trains manage. For instance, when I was served breakfast, the woman approached me saying, "Guten morgen/goedemorgen/good morning/bonjour." "Bonjour," I replied, and we continued on in French.
So it was a great trip with lots of new things to experience and lots of old things to remember. I have only about a month and a half left in France.
Friday, November 4, 2011
the North (vacances part 2)
Well, as I believe I noted, I did not board the train for Hogwarts on Friday, but I left London for Sheffield, where I was to meet my Bible school friend Dan. Within minutes on the train, I was surrounded by the English countryside I fell in love with three years ago. And it only got better from there. That afternoon Dan and I went for a walk in what he called the Peak Country. Fall was finally taking hold in the trees, and our path winded through the woods, up hills, across meadows, and along a little creek, leading to a nice little pub at the top. I had a mushroom, steak and ale pie, and he had the biggest plate of fish and chips I've ever seen. It might have been a little dangerous, but we fumbled our way through the dark forest that night, making it back for the train with enough time to take in the stars. Creatures live in British forests, you know. Werewolves, dragons, centaurs...one can never be too careful.
Together with Dan and another good friend Nathalie, I returned to Capernwray the next day, the "castle" in England that I studied at three years ago. At times it felt so normal to be back, to sink into the chairs under the stairs, to warm myself by the radiators in the lounge, to descend from the road to the dining hall. Other times it felt so strange...there's not much that has changed since I was there May of 2009...was I really at Capernwray again? Some things were very hard, like walking through the Beehive where I lived for many months...definitely some sad memories. However, for the most part, I was flooded with good, fond memories of God's work in my life, of friendships I had, of all the fun things we did (Christmas concert, work days on the farm, American football games, camping out on the big hill to watch the sunrise.)
I also spent a lot of time drinking tea that day, chatting with the staff. It was funny how they would recognize us as old students, then when we ran into them again (it's a small campus), they'd recall our names. So good to catch up and to hear how things were going at my school. I hope to return again sometime (i.e. Capernwray 10-year reunion...not my idea, but it's happening, y'all.)
In sum, it was necessary to return to Capernwray and recognize how important this piece of my life was...and it was equally meaningful to see Dan and Nathalie, and many of the Capernwray staff again. I'm very thankful for this opportunity.
And the next day I made my way to Amsterdam...next blog coming soon.
Together with Dan and another good friend Nathalie, I returned to Capernwray the next day, the "castle" in England that I studied at three years ago. At times it felt so normal to be back, to sink into the chairs under the stairs, to warm myself by the radiators in the lounge, to descend from the road to the dining hall. Other times it felt so strange...there's not much that has changed since I was there May of 2009...was I really at Capernwray again? Some things were very hard, like walking through the Beehive where I lived for many months...definitely some sad memories. However, for the most part, I was flooded with good, fond memories of God's work in my life, of friendships I had, of all the fun things we did (Christmas concert, work days on the farm, American football games, camping out on the big hill to watch the sunrise.)
I also spent a lot of time drinking tea that day, chatting with the staff. It was funny how they would recognize us as old students, then when we ran into them again (it's a small campus), they'd recall our names. So good to catch up and to hear how things were going at my school. I hope to return again sometime (i.e. Capernwray 10-year reunion...not my idea, but it's happening, y'all.)
In sum, it was necessary to return to Capernwray and recognize how important this piece of my life was...and it was equally meaningful to see Dan and Nathalie, and many of the Capernwray staff again. I'm very thankful for this opportunity.
And the next day I made my way to Amsterdam...next blog coming soon.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
London (Fall break part 1)
Hey friends, I just got home a few hours ago from the best vacation I could have imagined. For those of you who I asked to pray for me as I traveled, thanks! Although I'm in the middle of moving into my third bedroom this semester (apparently to make room for the Uzbeks), but I'll take a little break to share about the first leg of my journey.
Some highlights from London:
1. Wandering out of customs to be met at the airport by my good friend Rochelle (a Bucknell student studying in London). We caught up as we took the tube to her flat in the very pretty neighbourhood of University College London. We also shared a pizza in Gordon square that night. It was fun to see another Bucknell face.
2. Occupy London. Thursday afternoon, I went to St Paul's Cathedral to check out the growing number of indignant Londoners who had started camping out in front. In other cities (Amsterdam, for example), this kind of protest is a little more welcome, but things were tense in London. The police were making stronger threats each day to force everyone out. In fact, the church had to close for a few days, and a leader in the cathedral resigned his post because he didn't want to play any part in a violent removal of the campers. Bearing in mind my study abroad program's interdiction of political protest, I just walked around reading the posters, poems, and artwork. It felt a little weird to be enjoying tourism in England during one of the most critical weeks of European history, where the success of all the reconstruction since WWII is on the line. History happens here too. I'm just trying to take everything in.
3. We saw a disturbing play about human trafficking in London, put on by Only Connect, a theatre company for prisoners, ex-offenders, and at-risk youth. It was stage in a black box theatre, with most of the action behind a square of screens, where video was also projected. We walked home a little scared that night, with an expanded view on UK immigration and London crime. We found that it was important to pray before going to bed.
4. Thai food. Green cury. The uzh. It's the real reason I travel to big cities.
5. Platform 9 3/4. Look for pictures on facebook. My last morning, we met up with Faria, another Bucknell student, to try to get to Hogwarts. There was a Brit who was a little embarrassed but equally enthusiastic about the platform, and we encouraged him to pose for a picture in front of it. We also had full English breakfasts--eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, baked beans, tomatoes, and toast, before I left for the (admittedly Muggle) town of Sheffield.
I'll try to post about the rest of my trip soon!... à bientôt...
Some highlights from London:
1. Wandering out of customs to be met at the airport by my good friend Rochelle (a Bucknell student studying in London). We caught up as we took the tube to her flat in the very pretty neighbourhood of University College London. We also shared a pizza in Gordon square that night. It was fun to see another Bucknell face.
2. Occupy London. Thursday afternoon, I went to St Paul's Cathedral to check out the growing number of indignant Londoners who had started camping out in front. In other cities (Amsterdam, for example), this kind of protest is a little more welcome, but things were tense in London. The police were making stronger threats each day to force everyone out. In fact, the church had to close for a few days, and a leader in the cathedral resigned his post because he didn't want to play any part in a violent removal of the campers. Bearing in mind my study abroad program's interdiction of political protest, I just walked around reading the posters, poems, and artwork. It felt a little weird to be enjoying tourism in England during one of the most critical weeks of European history, where the success of all the reconstruction since WWII is on the line. History happens here too. I'm just trying to take everything in.
3. We saw a disturbing play about human trafficking in London, put on by Only Connect, a theatre company for prisoners, ex-offenders, and at-risk youth. It was stage in a black box theatre, with most of the action behind a square of screens, where video was also projected. We walked home a little scared that night, with an expanded view on UK immigration and London crime. We found that it was important to pray before going to bed.
4. Thai food. Green cury. The uzh. It's the real reason I travel to big cities.
5. Platform 9 3/4. Look for pictures on facebook. My last morning, we met up with Faria, another Bucknell student, to try to get to Hogwarts. There was a Brit who was a little embarrassed but equally enthusiastic about the platform, and we encouraged him to pose for a picture in front of it. We also had full English breakfasts--eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, baked beans, tomatoes, and toast, before I left for the (admittedly Muggle) town of Sheffield.
I'll try to post about the rest of my trip soon!... à bientôt...
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