Let's back it up a bit

...and go back two weekends to when I went adventuring in the south of France.

So. Looooong story but basically some of my friends had planned a trip down to the south and I begged to come along and they very graciously acquiesced. But because this was a popular travel weekend (four-day weekend for Ascension, the weekend of the Grand Prix, first weekend of the Cannes Film Festival) I couldn't find any trains to Menton, the town where we'd be staying. (The others had had a hard enough time finding trains, and they'd prepared well in advance of me.) So I was all bummed and thinking I'd have to figure out something else to do, when I had a stroke of genius. I found a map of train routes and started looking up trains to other towns in the same general direction, but not nearby, and then trains from those smaller cities to Menton. And as luck would have it, there was a train from Lyon to Orange around 7 am, and then another from Orange to Menton at 1 pm! (Sure, I'd have to transfer at both Marseilles and Nice, but whatever. I was gonna get there!) This plan would get me into Menton around 6:45 pm, and I'd get to explore Orange. Awesome!

That Thursday morning I woke up feeling not so great, rushed out of the house to the train station, made it in time, and went up to the platform at 7:20 to catch the 7:25 train. At 7:25, the station randomly decided to move the train to a different platform, so we all schlepped over there and then waited another 10 minutes for the train. When it finally arrived, I settled in happily (albeit still headache-y). I was on my way! (Little did I know that that would be the smallest travel problem of the day.)

I arrived in Orange absolutely starving, so I bought a pain au chocolat (croissant with chocolate in it) for 80 cents. It was still warm from the oven - awesome! Then I kind of explored the town - there was a market, so I walked around there for awhile, then I visited Orange's Arc de Triomphe. Now before you go thinking, "Hey, Orange, quit copying Paris and get your own damn monument," I should tell you that Orange's Arc de Triomphe is roughly 800 years older than Paris's. It's from Roman times and was built to honor the victims of the Gallic Wars. (Thanks, Wikipedia, for refreshing my memory on all that.)

The Arc de Triomphe in Orange.

After my trek out of town, I made my way back in to visit the Roman theater. Now by this point in my travels, I've seen a pretty fair amount of Roman ruins, and after awhile it's just like, Okay, here's another pile of rocks that used to be something important. It's really sad, but I've started to take stuff like that for granted a little bit. But this was FANTASTIC. The Roman theater in Orange is one of the best-preserved in the world (arguably THE best preserved in all of Europe), and is one of only three Roman theaters that still has its behind-the-stage wall intact. (The other two are in the Middle East.) The theater was, in short, really impressive and the audio tour was really good, too. That's how I learned this fun fact: See the statue in the alcove on the wall in the picture below? That's the statue of the emperor, put there to remind the people of Orange who was boss (since they were a conquered town). Even cooler? The statue's head was removable, so you could switch it out for another emperor later on down the road. Gotta hand it to those Romans, they were always thinkin'.


I spent a lot of time at the Roman theater (including a lot of time lying on the seats with my eyes shut and my head resting on my travel bag, listening to the audioguide and hoping my headache would disappear soon), so I made only a quick pass through the art museum across the street (my ticket covered both). I wasn't all that impressed anyway. Even though it was still a bit early, I decided to head to the train station. (It was a little outside of the center of town and I didn't want to get lost and be late, although it was fairly easy to find.) I was getting hungry again so I bought a croissant at the same bakery on the way back out of town, as the only other food around was at sit-down restaurants and I really didn't have time for that.

I got to the train station about 40 minutes before my train was set to leave, sat down with a book, and waited. And waited. And then waited some more, because my train was late. This was a bit of a bummer, but no big deal, since I had half an hour to make my connection at Marseilles. I'd been planning on getting some real food then, but if I had to wait until I got to Menton, so be it. (Nice would be a no-go for food-getting since I only had 10 minutes to make my connection.) The train finally pulled in and we set off. I slept a little bit and my head felt a little better. But then we remained stopped in one station for a long time. And then when we set off again, it was really slow going. And then we stopped again before backing up back into the station, where we then sat for the next ten minutes. Long story short: I was definitely going to miss my train from Marseilles to Nice, and I had no idea when the next one would be. Luckily, the conductor announced that there would be another train from Marseilles to Nice leaving at 3:57 pm (half an hour later than the original train). Thank God! Another woman in the compartment with me got out her cell phone to call someone and tell them she was going to be late, since she'd be taking the 3:57 train instead of the original one. Perfect, I said to myself. I'll just follow her.

Which is exactly what I did. We got to Marseilles and I creepily trailed this woman onto the train to Nice. I sat across the aisle from her and breathlessly asked, "Est-ce que c'est le train à Nice?" ("Is this the train to Nice?")

"J'espère que oui," she replied. ("I hope so.") We got to talking a little after that (I managed to carry on a conversation! With a stranger! In French! Hurrah!). Turns out she was going to Cannes to see her father, who was in the hospital, and she was dreading trying to get around the town with all the festival craziness. I told her I was from the US, near Boston, and she said she'd been there once and it was a nice city. She was also a student at Lyon, she said, "a long time ago," and I told her I was loving it but that I was really looking forward to meeting my friends for a weekend off...if I could make it there.

We sat in the train. 3:57 came and went. Then 4. Then 4:30. Then 4:45. Finally, we pulled out of the station at about five past five. RIDICULOUS. I was not pleased with the SNCF, although I hid it better than the guy sitting across from me, who muttered disgustedly every so often and scoffed at the conductor's apologies over the PA system.

So on we went. At least it was a pretty ride. Menton is in the Alpes-Maritimes area, which is exactly what it sounds like: The Alps come right down to the Mediterranean coast. This is so bizarre for me, because when I think of the Mediterranean I think of warm breezes and soft summery evenings and palm trees and generally a more let's-live-it-up kind of atmosphere, while the Alps conjure up images of skiing, quaint mountain towns, Heidi and her grandpa in a mountain cottage somewhere, and Julie Andrews twirling around in a field warbling, "The hiiiillllllllllllls are aliiiiiiiiiiiiiive with the sound of muuuuuuusiiiiiiiiiic!" The Alps, in my head, are traditional. Cozy. Straightlaced. The Mediterranean is more free-wheeling and fun. Thus the whole idea of the Alps and the Mediterranean together kind of messed with my mind a little bit. (And maybe made me realize that I was basing all my assumptions on stereotypes from movies I only half paid attention to.)

We had another random, stupid period of being stopped somewhere between Antibes and Nice, but at least the view was a lot nicer than it had been at the Marseilles train station. I finally made it to Nice, checked the board, and saw that another train to Menton wouldn't leave for the next 40 minutes. I sighed. Just my luck. I was supposed to have been in Menton for like an hour at this point, not just barely making it in to Nice. Stupid SNCF. I picked up a refund request envelope (if the train's more than 30 minutes late, you're entitled to a full refund for your ticket), but I don't think I have all the proper paperwork to actually obtain said refund. Again, I say: STUPID SNCF.

I went to the Relay store (the convenience store that's in basically every train station or airport) and bought dinner, aka Pims cookies. (I'd never had them before, and I stand by my decision to make them my dinner. I want some Pims right now. RIGHT NOW.) I bought a bottle of water from a cafe kiosk thing, and then realized that there was actually a train to Menton leaving in the next minute and a half, so I booked it to the platform, settled myself in, and inhaled about six Pims before I managed to slow down enough to chug 3/4 of the water bottle (the first liquid I'd had all day). Made it into Menton, got lost on the way to the hostel, walked up a gigantic hill (the wrong hill), walked back down the hill, got not-terribly-enlightening directions from the hostel worker my friends put me on the phone with when I called them, managed to figure out, based on said directions, the right way, walked up another giant hill, and arrived at the hostel, hot, sweaty, gross, and exhausted. (But not hungry because I'd just eaten about 12 Pims.) The hostel put me in a different room than the other girls, but Nayab and Kelly and Amanda talked to the guy and he agreed to put me in with them for the night, but said I'd have to move the next day since someone else would need my bed. Whatever, it was better than nothing. A few minutes later he told us he'd worked it out so I could stay in that bed both nights. Excellent.

We headed outside to sit around and chat and snack at one of the picnic tables, and we were joined by Yoshi, a guy the others had met before I got there. He was from Japan and was traveling through Europe for awhile, so it was really interesting to talk to him and hear about what he was up to. Then we were joined by a guy named Jeff who'd just moved back to France from Geneva. (Before that, he was living in Antarctica, working at recording, I think, seismic and geothermal measurements. Cool!) That's what I really like about traveling, particularly in hostels: you get to meet all kinds of people and learn all kinds of stuff. It's really fascinating.

We sat around for quite awhile, which was fun, but eventually I was getting tired and still feeling gross from my travel day, so I took a shower and went to bed (as did Kelly and Amanda, although Jake and Nayab stayed out for quite a bit longer and ended up sleeping outside for awhile before having to climb over the gate to get back into the hostel, since they'd forgotten their key. Oh, adventures.)

I would go on further, but a.) my laptop has 4 minutes of battery life left, and b.) I have a crapload of stuff to get done before Monday, when my last week of classes (!!!) begins. If I get enough work done, maybe I'll write some more later.

Only in Lyon...

Currently (and for the past half hour at least) there is a man playing the tuba outside. Well, not so much "playing" as just "making noise with." I have no idea why, but there is definitely booze involved. Unless that was a bottle of apple juice he was swigging. (I have my doubts.)

Anyway, I realize it's been awhile since I've updated. Maybe later tonight I'll come back and fill y'all in on my trips to both the Alps and the Côte d'Azur. Stay tuned.

Lost - and found - in translation

Nothing terribly interesting happened today (except for this morning - we went to a theatre and got a behind-the-scenes tour of the whole building! Made me miss doing plays.), so instead of relating the particulars of the day (boring) I thought I would instead talk a little bit about weird translations/things that just don't translate into French. I think it's pretty interesting stuff.

In French, "plein(e)" means "full," but one must never say "Je suis plein(e)" to mean "I'm full" after eating a meal, since in French it translates as "I'm pregnant" or "I'm sexually satisfied." Talk about awkward dinner convos. (Instead, one can say "J'ai assez mangé," which means "I've eaten enough.")

The verb "visiter" means "to visit," but it can only apply to places, not people. If one "visits" a person in French, things suddenly become a lot less PG, if you get what I'm saying.

If you try to translate the adjective "excited" from English to French, you might end up with the French adjective "excité(e)." Don't use it. Unless, you know, you wanted to tell the world that you're sexually aroused.

It may look like it means "preservatives" (and some translators will translate it as such), but don't be fooled - the French word "préservatifs" actually means "condoms." True story.

There's no French word for "anticlimactic." I found this out at dinner the other night, when I was talking with ma famille about Hitchcock films and I mentioned The Birds. Ma mère loves it, but I don't; "Je n'aime pas le fin du film," I said. "C'est...comment dit-on 'anticlimactic'?" (Translation: "I don't like the end of the movie. It's...how does one say 'anticlimactic'?") We were all stumped. But eventually mon père said (in French), "Oh, I understand what you're saying. In France, we say 'il finis comme la queue du poisson' - 'it ends like a fish tail.'" I looked it up later, and sure enough, "finir comme la queue du poisson" is pretty much the only way to say "anticlimactic" in French; the dictionary translates it as "décevant" ("disappointing"), which is not quite the same thing.

Bizarrely enough, the phrase "to fishtail," as in "I hit a patch of ice while driving and fishtailed across three lanes of traffic" exists in France as well as English. Sure, "I'm full" or "I'm excited" don't work, but "I fishtailed" does. Go figure.

The Week in Review

Lundi/Monday
For the life of me, I can't remember. I think I just went to class, slowly died inside for six hours, and then came home. Yep, that seems about right.

Ooh! I did make my first trip to the discount grocery store, though, where I managed to get lunch (an apple, a yogurt with chocolate-banana granola included, and a six-pack of some weird chocolate-dipped waffle snacks) for a grand total of 1,88 €. Hooray for bargain shopping!

Mardi/Tuesday
The same, except today class lasted 45 minutes longer (and started 45 minutes earlier) and I only spent like 0,84 € on lunch, although after class I went out with some friends and bought a 1 € pastry, which I would have paid for in exact change had I not dropped my 50-cent piece into the grate surrounding a tree's roots as I waited in line at the outdoor counter. Boooooo. The people in line let me get back in my spot, though, after I ran to go get my purse (I'd left it with my friends while I waited in line). It was cool to be walking around Lyon that afternoon because there was a HUUUUUGE football (soccer) match that night, and Lyon was playing Munich, I guess to qualify for the championships or something. (I dunno, I don't follow sports...in this country or any other!) Anyway, there were tons of German fans in Lyon, wearing their colors, singing, chanting, and taunting the Lyonnais people walking by. There was definitely a buzz of excitement in the air, which was really fun.

I wanted to go to Place Bellecour that night and watch the game on the big screens set up there (not so much for the game itself but for the crowd and the noise and the fun), but we (Corinne, Philippe, and I) had been invited to dinner at Caroline's family's house. I figured if I could make it to Place Bellecour afterward, great; if not, tant pis ("too bad"). I never made it to the game; we were at Caroline's apartment until just after midnight, and it was a very pleasant evening; in addition to our two families, Laura (another friend from the group) and Prof. Tarnowski were there. We all had aperitifs and Caroline and her père unveiled the "Welcome, Prof. Tarnowski" sign they'd made together. (Seriously, the two of them are thick as thieves. It's adorable.) We had a very pleasant (and delicious!) dinner, and the dessert was especially good. I'll probably dream about that dessert for the rest of my life.

The downside was that little me couldn't handle my liquor. I didn't drink to excess and I didn't embarrass myself or anything - over the course of the evening I had two glasses of champagne and a glass of wine - but since I'm small and don't drink often my tolerance is basically nil. Unfortunately, alcohol doesn't really make me tipsy or silly or fun, it makes me incredibly sleepy and sometimes a little dizzy. I managed to bypass the dizziness, but it was hard to keep my eyes open from about 11:00 on.

But at dinner, Corinne said something that absolutely made my night. She said that they think I'm "the best," and that essentially I'm a good person to have around. "Bravo à tes parents," she said. (I don't think I have to translate that one, do I?) That put a huge smile on my face. =)

Oh, and by the way: Lyon lost. Boooooooooo. (It was the one time I actually cared about the stupid automated football-and-rugby-score texts that are constantly being sent to my phone at inconvenient times.)

Mercredi/Wednesday
Had class in the morning, spent lunch walking around with Kelly trying to find a suitably cheap and filling lunch (since we weren't near the discount grocery store...the reason why will be explained in a minute). We ended up each getting an avocado. I subsequently discovered that I don't really like eating plain avocados.

Anyway, that afternoon we were scheduled to visit the museum about the French Resistance movement in Lyon during WWII (or, as it's abbreviated here, la 2ème GM - for the deuxième Guerre Mondiale). So we got lunch nearby and ate in the plaza outside the museum, sitting and lying on the cobblestones to soak up the sun and the 80-degree weather. It was quite warm and lovely. The museum, however, while warm (it was super-hot and a little stuffy, probably because the AC isn't on this early in the season and it was hot outside), was not lovely. Not that there was anything wrong with the museum, just that the subject matter was grim. Mme. Villard let us get English audioguides because, she said, it's important that we understand everything. We walked around the exhibition, then watched a film of the trial of the Nazi Klaus Barbie in the late 1980s, and then we met with a Holocaust survivor who told us the story of his arrest and imprisonment by the Nazis. I was really impressed - this man, who is in his 80s, spoke animatedly and in detail about his experience, standing the entire time he spoke to us (maybe 30-45 minutes? I'm not sure, I'm a terrible judge of time) and gesturing to punctuate his points. I didn't understand a lot of what he said, since my French is still not up to par, but it was cool to hear his story and meet him.

I can't remember what I did Wednesday night...I guess it must not have been all that important?

Jeudi/Thursday
On Thursday we started class at 9:15 and ended at 13:45, but it felt SO SHORT compared to the three long days we'd started the week with (Wednesday lasted from 10 am until almost 5 pm). I got out of class and some of my friends were talking about going for runs, so I got inspired and decided to take one myself, since it was sunny and 80 degrees again. I ran up the Saone and crossed the pedestrian bridge on Quai Saint Antoine over to Vieux Lyon and ran back along the river on the other side, crossed back over at the other pedestrian bridge, then took a roundabout way back home to avoid getting ogled again at the construction site near the apartment. (And also because I was in the zone, man. Kidding(ish). Ha. Imagine if I were really like that.) Anyway, it was a nice run because there was a strong, cool breeze to cut through the 80-degree heat, and it was nice to be outside, looking at the trees blooming along the river and listening to my ipod and just kind of letting my mind wander. It wasn't a super-long run - three kilometers, tops - but it was quite pleasant.

I got back to the apartment, did some sit-ups, etc., cleaned up a bit, and then looked at the clock - it wasn't even three yet. I was like, "Oh my God, I've had so little free time in the afternoons that I've forgotten how to use it!" So I did what I always do - played around with facebook (the biggest time-suck I think I've ever encountered in my entire life).

Vendredi/Friday
Got out of class at 13h00 (wooohooooo!) and got pasta at a pasta take-out place with Nayab, Jake, David, and Rachel. Then they wanted to see Iron Man 2 so we checked out movie times. I had no particular desire to see it, but I figured I'd hang with them until the movie, since I had no other plans and let's face it, they're delightful company. We hung out in McDonald's for a little while, using the wifi, playing with dice, and doing card tricks, and then we walked to Parc de la Tête d'Or, which was near the movie theater. (It wasn't the closest movie theater by a long shot - there was one literally across from the McDo's, but all the theaters were showing the movie around the same time so we figured we may as well go to the one across town, since we could kill time in the park until the movie started.) We got to the park and went to the zoo, which was fun (still haven't seen all of it, though). Then we walked to Cité International, where the movie theater (and a hotel and some cafés and a casino) is. We got a little lost on the way but still managed to get there in time to see the movie (which I caved and watched, since I'd already come all that way and the ticket was only 5,95 €). The movie...meh. It was a lot of action, which is not really my thing, but I did enjoy staring at Robert Downey, Jr. for two hours. Yum.

After that, we took a quick look in the casino, walked back through the park (it's so cute!), and then I splurged 1,60 € on the metro to get home in time for dinner with my host brother, Jacques, as Corinne and Philippe went to the country this weekend to do work on the house. Jacques and I get along fine but never really hang out, so I wasn't quite sure how a dinner with just the two of us was going to go. (In the past when Corinne and Philippe have gone to the country for the weekend, Jacques's friends have come over for dinner or one or the other of us has eaten out.) But it was fine - first we bonded over our shared aversion to Justin Beiber, who was being interviewed on a French talk show, and then I told him about frats and sororities at Dartmouth, since they're a much bigger thing in the States than they are here. I spent the rest of the night just kind of hanging out around the apartment.

Samedi/Saturday
Slept in, studied, skyped with Mom, and then at night went to Place Bellecour to meet Kelly, Amanda, and Nayab to go out someplace. As I sat in Place Bellecour (I got there early), two French guys came up and sat on either side of me, and one said something to me in French, to which I quickly responded "Je ne parle pas le français" ("I don't speak French"), as I was not in the mood to be chatted up by random guys (which I thought was somewhat apparent from the fact that I was texting and listening to my ipod). At any rate, this fix didn't work since the other guy spoke English, so I ended up talking to them for a couple minutes, which was awkward a.) because I am a somewhat socially awkward person, b.) I never know how to react when I'm being hit on (which I was), and c.) I was really just not in a particularly chatty mood. At any rate, I was still polite and everything, but when they asked if I was in the city on my own I made it very clear that I was waiting for friends and then they sort of figured I wasn't interested and went on their way. Not taking any more chances, however, I pretended to call a friend and had a fake conversation until my actual friends arrived.

We decided to go to a karaoke bar, and we found one in Vieux Lyon. My virgin piña colada was definitely not worth the eight (EIGHT!) euros I paid for it, but we had fun singing karaoke and making friends with the bouncer, who insisted that we come and get him when it was our turn to sing. We accidentally forgot to get him, so he missed our screamy rendition of Mambo #5, but before we left he got the DJ to bump us up to next in line so we could sing agian. We sang "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls, and our bouncer friend danced. It was insane.

Walking home in the rain without an umbrella, though, was less fun. I returned home looking like a drowned rat, with my hair matted down and my brand-new, off-white shoes (the ones I bought in Paris) a mess. I washed them in the sink and used shampoo to clean off some of the dirt, which seemed to work (kind of). They're gonna be wet for like the next week and the next time I wear them in the rain I'll probably leave behind a trail of shampoo suds, but whatever, at least I salvaged them.

Dimanche/Sunday
Woke up on the late side, did not study, took a shower, and then headed out to meet my friends for lunch at a bouchon Amanda had made reservations at. After a long wait despite the reservation (the restaurant was very small and there was another big party before us that took a long time to leave), we were seated and a very nice waitress (who actually reminded me a lot of my host mom) took our orders. I had a Salade de Chevre Chaud (warm goat's cheese salad), which was one of the only vegetarian things on the menu, but it was really good - lettuce with dressing and three pieces of toasted baguette with melted goat's cheese. Corinne had made this to go with dinner once and it was really good - even better than the restaurant's, I think. (Corinne's food is better than most of the food I've eaten here, and that's really saying something, since almost all the food in France is delicious.) For dessert, I had fondant chocolat et crème anglais, which was like a very fudgy brownie with an eggy vanilla sauce. I did get to try other people's desserts, though - Amanda's tarte au citron (lemon tart), Marielle's tarte aux pommes (apple tart), and Jake's pain perdu (France's version of French toast - it translates as "lost bread" since they use yesterday's baguette, and it had chocolate sauce on top). All in all, it was a great lunch (I ate a ton of bread, both on its own and with the cheese I stole from Amanda and Marielle) and I was full all afternoon.

I came back to the apartment, procrastinated for several hours (see previous post), did a little studying, ate dinner with the family, studied a bit more, and then decided to write another blog entry "real quick before heading to bed early." And it's now twenty of one. Fabulous. I gotta go. Need to get up in time to get ready before the cleaning lady gets here tomorrow - last week I forgot to eat breakfast before she got here and when I got to the kitchen all the chairs were piled up on the table and there was no way I was gonna be able to sit down and eat breakfast that day. But not this week. I will outfox you this time, Nice Cleaning Lady! (Or, you know, just try not to forget that you're coming. Whichever.)

Spring Break, continued

Oh, hello again. I'm back. I should be studying for my midterms (which are coming up this week), but I know I'm gonna procrastinate and I figure that procrastination by blogging is slightly more productive than procrastinating by creeping around on facebook, so here I am.

Let's see, where did I leave off? Okay. Here we go.

Day Nine: samedi le 24 avril (Saturday, 24 April)
Actually woke up in time to take advantage of the hotel's complimentary breakfast! (It was nothing special, but for 60 € a night for one person, one has to take advantage of all the freebies one can, am I right? I also took super-long showers and stole all the complimentary toiletries. But then again, I do that everywhere.) Anyway, having eaten my bread and cheese and croissant and jam and downed my double-tall shot glass of OJ, I was ready to go explore the city some more. The night before, I had written out a plan for sight-seeing, including the names of places, the nearest metro stops, and the metro lines the stops were on. I was Miss Organized Tourist 2010. And I started the day by heading toward Sacre Coeur, known in English as Sacred Heart Basilica, up on the top of the hill. I just kind of started walking after I left the hotel, and the red light district (located uphill of the hotel) quickly faded away into quiet cobblestone streets lined with tall, faded buildings, a lot of which appeared to be residential the higher up I got. I climbed a set of steep stairs, huffing and puffing and sweating by this time, and continued my climb uphill. I wasn't really sure if I was even going in the right direction at this point, but it was a nice walk and I didn't want to whip out my Tourist Beacon (map), so I just kept going. As long as I'm headed uphill, I figured, I can't really go wrong. And for once, I was right:

Sacre Coeur: it's gotta be one of the more unique architectural landmarks in Paris.

The basilica sits up on top of a huge hill overlooking the city (maybe you remember it off in the distance in that picture from the previous entry). The view is ridiculous: the entire city stretched out before me, fading into the humid morning haze:

Just another thing I climbed to the top of in Paris. No big.

I can only imagine what the view must be like on a really clear day. Amazing. And a little dizzying.

I went inside the basilica but you aren't allowed to take pictures inside. (You're also supposed to be respectfully dressed - aka no shoulders, ladies - but I definitely saw a woman wearing a tube dress in there. And I don't wanna sound mean, but this woman should not have been wearing a tube dress anywhere - the beach, the pool, whatever - let alone in a church. Still not as bizarre as the strapless prom dress-wearing lady I saw at Notre Dame, though.) Anyway, I bought a couple postcards, one of which showed the inside of the church, and then headed back down the hill by the more traveled, more touristy way (avoiding all the people asking me to sign petitions, take surveys, buy light-up paperweights of the Eiffel Tower, etc.). This particular route deposited me smack dab in the middle of a bunch of cheap souvenir shops. You know what I'm talking about - they're all selling keychains, postcards, baseball caps, and the same four shot glasses. But I gave in to the urge and did a little shopping, buying some souvenirs for myself, some postcards to send home, and a little present for Tracey. After I made it back down the hill, I exchanged my travelers' checks and rewarded myself by buying a really cute minidress/long top and some cute flats at a cheap-y, hole-in-the-wall store. (Shoes = 4,95 €. Dress = 10 €. Me = ecstatic.)

Shopping bags in hand, I continued around Montmartre - it's very pretty (and peaceful once you get off the tourist-y streets), with a lot of art galleries (as it is known as the artists' neighborhood of Paris) and, for some reason, a lot of cloth and textile ("tissu") stores. But I was on a mission: I wanted to find Amélie's café (from the movie). The film itself takes place in Paris, particularly Montmartre, where the title character lives. (In fact, one of the film's international titles is "Amélie of Montmartre.") The café Amélie works at, I'd discovered during my hotel research, is actually a real place, and I was determined to find it. The only problem was that I had no real idea where it was (only that it was somewhat near Rue Aristide Bruant), no real recollection of the name (something about windmills, maybe?), and only the foggiest recollection of what it looked like. (Unfortunately, half the cafés in Paris could fit my "foggy recollection.") Nevertheless, I was intent on finding this place, despite the fact that I had little idea what I was actually looking for and my map didn't include Rue Aristide Bruant.

My first break came in Place des Abbesses, where I found a posted map that included the road I was looking for - and it was only a couple blocks down! I set off, wandered back up the hill, found a windmill (Montmartre used to be covered with them - read all about it here), and in short had a very pleasant walk along some beautiful streets - but no trace of Amélie or her café.

Whooooosh.

All the streets not running "parallel" to the hill are steep and some are killer to climb.

I did, however, stumble across an SNCF boutique. Perfect, since I needed to get a refund on my return ticket from Milan (since I didn't ever make it to Italy) and get my ticket back to Lyon printed out for me. I waited in line for probably over half an hour (boring) and finally got everything taken care of. By this time it was around noon and I said to myself, "You'd better get going if you wanna do anything else in the city today. Just drop your stuff off at the hotel and take the metro over to the Eiffel Tower. You'll be mad at yourself if you spend the whole day looking for a café you may or may not have unwittingly seen already" (and I'd been taking pictures of all of them, just in case). I begrudgingly admitted to myself that this was good advice, and started wandering back in the general direction of the hotel. And there it was. No, not the hotel, you doof. The café!!! It was called Café des 2 Moulins, "The Two Windmills," because it's located between the Moulin Rouge and the windmill at the top of the hill. I recognized the name, but what's more is I recognized the big honkin' picture of Audrey Tautou on the back wall of the restaurant. What luck! I thought, and proceeded to take a million (or, okay, three) pictures:

Amélie's café!

So I returned to the hotel (after a brief detour to McDonald's to use the free wifi) feeling good. I dropped off my stuff and then headed to the Eiffel Tower. I got off not right at the tower but at a stop that was slightly further away (it was easier than transferring metro lines) and kind of blindly felt out my way toward the tower. I finally found it and approached it from the side with a very nice little park with koi ponds, etc. As I stood there, staring mesmerized at the fish, I got a text from my friend Nayab saying that a group of my friends had just returned from Prague and were in the city. I called her back to plan a time to meet, talked to Jake, and he agreed that they'd text or call me when they'd figured out their plans. I therefore figured I had some time, and I got in line to go up the Eiffel Tower - all stairs, baby, no elevators for me. Sure the stairs only take you up to the second landing (not the very top), but the student ticket was 3,50 € (as opposed to 11,50 € to go all the way up in the elevator). I steeled myself for a long walk and headed up. I made it to the first landing, took a crapload of pictures, and then headed up to the second landing, where I took another bunch of pictures of all the same stuff, only higher. Here's a sampling:

Let's play "spot the Arc de Triomphe"...

Keep in mind how this picture makes it look like you're close to the top...later you'll see that you're really not even halfway up.

Having had my fill of Eiffel Tower tourist-related hijinks, including, but not limited to: buying overpriced postcards (0,50 € each?!), counting the steps all the way down to the ground from the second landing (692), and listening to an American tourist make a failed attempt to thank a French security guard in his native language ("Gracias!"), I got in touch with the rest of the group (whilst fending off the million and one guys standing around trying to sell me yet another light-up Eiffel Tower paperweight) and found out that they were getting falafel, apparently at a restaurant called only "Falafel." I headed off in search of a metro station. Somehow I managed to get myself lost while doing this (despite the fact that there is a metro station at the Eiffel Tower - although it's really not the most convenient line for getting where I needed to go). As I was wondering around Paris, hot and sweaty and starting to get hungry, I got another text telling me that the restaurant was closed and that instead I should just text the group when I got off at the St. Paul metro stop. Okay. I found a metro, got on, transferred, rode to St. Paul, and was just about to send off a text when the group spotted me (thus saving me 20 Eurocents). We checked out St. Paul's cathedral and then went to Notre Dame (my second time, but the first time for some of the others). We walked up by the Pantheon again and then got Indian food for dinner, immediately after which we found a crêpe stand and bought crêpes (natch). It was starting to get dark, so we went back toward the Eiffel Tower to see it all lit up at night. Kelly and Nayab were absolutely enthralled. It was adorable. =)

We had a lot of fun taking pictures in front of the tower (Amanda and I took a bunch of pictures of us throwing the Kappa Delta sign, since I'm short and the sign actually covered my face in some of the pictures...booooo), and we got a fellow tourist to take a picture of all of us (he was super-nice), although the pictures didn't come out so great in the dark:

You can tell it's actually us and not just a random group of people because you can see me off on the right, being all short and whatnot.

La Tour Eiffel at night.

We explored the base of the tower a bit and briefly considered going up, but in the end we decided to just go grab a spot on the lawn to watch the tower sparkle, which it does every hour on the hour for a couple minutes. It was very nice. I believe we sang some Disney songs and Kelly and I split a bar of dark chocolate with quinoa in it. (It tasted like a super-delicious Crunch Bar.) And then the tower started to sparkle and there was a collective "oooh" from the crowd:

Ooh, that's right. It's a video. We're gettin' all high-tech up in here.

Believe me, the video does not come close to doing it justice. It's really pretty when it's all sparkly like that.

When the tower finished doing its thing, we went back to the metro station and took it to Pigalle so that I wouldn't have to walk in or near the red-light district by myself to get back to the hotel. (Kelly kindly offered to get me a discounted room at the Marriot with them, which would have been super-fun, but I'd already reserved three nights at my hotel so it would have been a waste of money. I was a little bummed to miss out on bonding time, so I took an extra-long, extra-hot shower to console myself, and then finished my book. Lovely.)

Anyway, people were also interested in seeing the Moulin Rouge, and I wanted to see it at night myself (something I would not have been able to do on my own). Since there were five of us (and we had a guy to protect us, haha), we braved the red-light district and made it to the Moulin Rouge, which looked all classic and whatnot lit up at night:

The (in)famous Moulin Rouge at night

Then everyone walked me back to Pigalle, at which point I said I felt like I could do the rest of the walk on my own. It was only across the square and down a side-street, after all, and there were people out and about that would certainly hear my distressed screams should I feel the need to make any. We parted with strict instructions for me to text Nayab as soon as I got back to my hotel room. Okay. Done. I started walking, whistle in hand just in case. I crossed the square. There was a guy walking close behind me, not following me per se, but muttering to me (at me?) in French as I went. I ignored him and crossed the street. He remained on the other side. Whew. Walk, walk, walk. I ignored another guy as he shouted "Excusez-moi, mademoiselle! Excusez-moi!" at me from across the street. Then my walking buddy crossed back over and walked behind me some more, continuing to mumble. It was a little creepy, but by then I was only about one door down from my hotel and could see the lobby light spilling out into the street through the open door, so I wasn't so much afraid as just a little freaked out. I walked into the lobby without turning back, got my room key from the desk, and looked around. The guy was nowhere to be seen, on the sidewalk or otherwise. I went up to my room, texted Nayab, took the aforementioned extra-long shower, and went to bed.

Day Ten: dimanche le 25 avril (Sunday, 25 April)
Woke up and went down to breakfast, where the waitress remembered me from the morning before and brought me my orange juice without me having to ask. I texted the group and, after checking out, met up with Kelly, Amanda, and Nayab outside the Louvre. I sat with them as they ate breakfast on the lawn and then they headed in. Since I'd already seen the Louvre and only had until about 2 pm before I had to head off to the train station, I opted to stay outside, catching up on some reading for class, listening to music, and sunbathing. I headed to the train station around 2 pm, bought some lunch at Brioche Dorée (my favorite French food chain, hands down), accidently ran over my new shoes with my suitcase wheels, leaving ugly black marks on the cream colored canvas, did some French swearing over that, and then waited for my train. Once I got on, the trip passed pretty much without incident. I caught up on most of my school reading (if only I could say the same today), and read a few pages of Pride and Prejudice (I like to read it every spring and every summer...I'm a little behind on that this year.). Once I'd arrived back in Lyon I decided to make the 40 minute-hour long walk home rather than taking the metro, since a.) I'm frugal, and b.) it was a beautiful day, even hotter in Lyon than it had been in Paris. I got home, texted Jacques (my host brother) so I could get into the building (since I'd left the key at home to keep it from being stolen), avoided the hobo that sometimes hangs around outside, lugged my stuff up the stairs to the elevator (yes, you have to go up some stairs to get to the elevator. I don't really understand the logic of it, either), and then crashed in my room, exhausted but tan (yesssss!!!!!!!) and happy with my spring break (even if I still harbor resentment toward a certain island nation and its lava-spewing mountains).

And that's it, I think! Whew, it's almost 8 pm and I still haven't gotten any studying done today. I should probably go get on that. Or upload vacation pictures to facebook. One of the two. If I actually get anything constructive done, I can come back here and give a run-down of what's been going on since I got back (a dinner party, a football match, a karaoke bar, and Iron Man 2 all come into play), and then I'll be all caught up! =)

Ta!

One of my favorite pictures of the Eiffel Tower from this trip. But, yeah. Check out how far the second landing is from the top. Pretty far, right? Not nearly as close as it looked when I was actually ON the landing.