Winter Wonderland

I’ve decided that I’m over it.  I’m over the sitting-inside-because-its-cold.  I’m over the never-walking-to-the-tram-because-it’s-raining.  I only have a week and a half left in Bordeaux, and I’m not going to waste it sitting inside!

 

I formulated a plan… I had yet to visit the Jardin Public, which all of my friends had been to and said was absolutely beautiful, and I also wanted to visit the Marché de Noël, set up right next to Place des Quinconces.  So I braved the weather, grabbed a scarf, gloves, and my parapluie and headed out.

 

First stop?  Souvenir shopping, of course!  I picked up some wine-openers and some corks that were handmade and said “Bordeaux” on them, as well as rounding out my postcard collection to send out to my family members across the states.  From there, I headed back to Hôtel de Ville, where they have one of the many ice skating rinks that have magically appeared in Bordeaux since the start of the month.  I happen to be a horrible ice skater, but I figured that I might as well glide around a few times with the native Bordelais and give them all a good laugh when I fell on my face… plus, it was a bargain deal at only 3 euro for unlimited rink time and skate rentals.

 

You will be happy to know that I did not fall ONCE while on the rink, although I did stay pretty close to the railing the whole time and the high schoolers on the rink with me were spinning circles around me while balancing on one leg while doing inverse zig-zag patterns… I tottered off the rink, down the stairs, and headed for the skate return window… at which point, I tripped and fell flat on my face.  My fellow ice-skaters found that quite hysterical, and they proceeded to laugh and applaud for me… I decided that the only thing I could do (since, I’ll admit, it was pretty funny, probably looked pretty ridiculous, and the high-pitched squeal I let out as I was falling towards the ground sounded rather silly, I’m sure) was roll with it and take a bow, which is exactly what I did.  After gathering myself and dusting ice shavings off my jacket, Lauren and I headed for Monoprix to gather supplies for our picnic in the Jardin Public.

 

We gathered what we considered to be a “French meal” (cheese, bread, and some Pepperidge Farm Soft-Baked Double Chocolate Chip Cookies) and meandered through Bordeaux, eventually landing at the gates of the Jardin (absolutely splendid… green, trees, carousel, lake), where we sat back and enjoyed what had turned into beautiful weather.

 

Then it was off to the Marché de Noël, a small little market of little cabins lined up next to each other, offering you a splendid assortment of Christmas goodies and sugary delights.  I indulged in a freshly made gaufre (Belgian waffle looking-thing) topped with Nutella, and wandered through the stores.

 

Soon, after a short trip through the Christmas tree farm, it was time to head home and start studying for finals… a quick tram ride and I was back home, drying out my gloves and putting on thicker socks.  I would say that my early Friday morning weather-defying attitude turned out quite well.  Now I just have to get up the guts to visit the Miroir d’Eau in the freezing nighttime temperatures!

 

Bisous!

Donde esta la fiesta?

6 December 2008

 

We’re deprived.  Very very deprived.  No Chipotle, no taco sauce… “tortilla chips” means that you go to the store and buy overpriced “nature flavor” Doritos in a bag that is way too small to satisfy any kind of Mexican food urge.

 

But then, Erin’s mom took matters into her own hands.  She went to Trader Joe’s and purchased 1) tortillas and 2) beans.  Sheer magic in Ziplocs and aluminum containers.

 

Fast forward 10 days, and the package has arrived in Bordeaux.  This leads us to a frenzy of shopping for chicken, peppers, Tabasco sauce, and avocados.  I proceed to make the most amazing guacamole ever, and we compliment the lemony-avocadoy goodness with chicken fajitas… and a bottle of Bacardi (before dinner), a bottle of wine (during dinner), and a bottle of Mint Chocolate Bailey’s (after dinner).  Add in some drunk Skyping and the Miss France competition (brought to you courtesy of TF1), and you have yourselves a house party.

 

Needless to say, it was quite fun and enjoyable, and we all had a good time.  I probably could have used a little more water and some Advil, but all in all, the six of us (who I shall not name to protect their dignity) were thoroughly ridiculous, loud, and obnoxious… and had a ton of fun.  Nights like this just reinforce how great the life Bordelaise is, even if there is only one meal of Mexican food every four months… first stop when I get back to California?  Someplace where they’ll serve me a really big burrito.

Paris in the Fall… It’s not supposed to snow in the fall, is it?

November 28th-December 1st

The last out-of-Bordeaux trip of the semester turned out to be my weekend in Pair-ee… not exactly a bad way to end my semester travels, that’s for sure.  The weekend started off much the same as in Barcelona… 17:51 train to Paris, eat a lot of food on the way.  This time, however, there were 7 of our friends on the same train (repeat Geneva American obnoxiousness), and when we arrived in Paris at 10pm, we headed to a hostel via Metro, wandering in the right direction… this time, I was smart enough to get directions so we wouldn’t end up on the coast of Normandie.

 

Upon arriving at the hostel, which was in Montmartre (Parisian red-light district), Lauren and I were pleasantly surprised by the proximity to the Metro and the proximity to McDo, probably more important in the long run.  After checking in to our 3-person room (complete with bathroom, one hanger, and TV), we headed out to the Moulin Rouge to meet up with Erin and Jackie.  After taking lots of ridiculous pictures there, we wandered across the street to this bar called The Station… prime attraction? Live music.

 

Said “live music” just happened to be playing Sweet Home Alabama when we walked in… we took this as a sign and plopped our butts in the nearest booth, then proceeded to order food and drinks while singing along and cheering quite loudly… “loudly” probably because we were the only ones cheering and dancing in our seats.  Luckily, the waiter got a kick out of us and did not only point to us and then cup his ear every time the band finished a song (since we were evidently not being loud enough for him), he also came over and started dancing with us, next to our table.  We ordered a bruschetta and continued to sing along to a medley of old-school rock and roll.

 

We left just in time to catch the last Metro, returning to our luxurious hostel chamber to prepare for the next day’s tourist activities.

 

First stop on the Parisian sightseeing tour?  Cimitiere Père Lachaise, a massive 60 acre cemetery where one can find lots of famous dead people, such as Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf, and Jim Morrison.  The place is so huge that it even has street signs inside, and the newsstands outside the cemetery walls sell maps of the cemetery.

 

After taking sufficient “rock on” pictures with my good friend Jim, it was back to the Metro for the day’s second adventure: searching for Hard Rock and Starbucks.  After walking around in a circle for about 45 minutes (it should have been a 20 minute walk, according to Mr. Office of Tourism) and asking for directions at a pharmacy, we located not only Starbucks, but Hard Rock Café-Paris right next door!  You better believe I got a huge White Chocolate Mocha and batted my eyelashes all the way to a free shot glass. 

 

This is the part where we cue the soundtrack… the song is called, appropriately enough, “Aux Champs-Élysées,” and that’s exactly where we were headed next… find the NoFx version if you can, its quite entertaining…

 

Long lines, tourists, some sightseeing pictures, a marché de Noël, and one very overbearing heater later, Lauren and I had not only spent some more money, but were on our way to St. Michel (that’s near the Notre-Dame area) to meet up with Lauren’s friend Sara, currently studying in Paris via EAP.  She not only took us to a delicious crêpe street stand, but to Angelina’s, a hot chocolate and pastry mecca.  They basically served me a cup of melted chocolate to drink with some unsweetened egg whites as thickener (right, cuz I totally needed thickener)… and of course, I got a delicious berry cake thing to complement it.  Feeling sufficiently stuffed and on the verge of the food coma, we returned to our hostel to drop off our bags and see what the night held.

 

Turns out the night held one very sketchy late-night McDo run and some weird French TV (think American Gladiators, but with only one “gladiator” and mental exercises too, like putting together puzzles), since we wanted to go to bed early in preparation for our day at EuroDisney.

 

The most exciting part of the Disney day started before we even left our creepy Parisian hostel corner.  As we left the hostel and headed for the Metro, we realized that the rain falling from the sky wasn’t quite right… examination of the flakes landing on our hands and jackets revealed that it was definitely not rain… it was SNOW!!!  That’s right, it SNOWED in Paris!! We were like little kids freaking out and running around, aside from the fact that it was melting as soon as it hit the ground and meant that it was cold enough to freeze the rain on the way down.  Nonetheless, it snowed!!  Snow!! In the fall!!  Gah its cold here.  Anyway…

 

As you can imagine, aside from getting up early, having to buy an expensive RER ticket to get home, it raining all day, and me losing a glove before I even got out of the RER station, Disneyland was indeed Disneyland, and therefore quite fun and fantastic. All the Christmas decorations were up and they’re celebrating their 15-year anniversary, so the entire place was decked out.  My favorite part of the day? (Aside from WAY TOO MUCH SHOPPING… I should have had a leash on me or something… too many shiny objects.)  The “souvenir mug, coffee, free refill, and Mickey-shaped brioche stuffed with Nutella” combo.  Delicious, and above all, warm.  Of course, we had to see le Père Noël too… he told us that he was going to give us French fiancés for Christmas.

 

After spending the day as a Mouseketeers, I returned to the hostel loaded down with Disney paraphernalia and a very angry credit card.  Our train was set to leave at 8:10am the next day (I had a 1:30 class), so we set the alarm for a ridiculously early hour (allotting time for the Metro) and drifted off to sleep, with dreams of Tinkerbell and Mickey brioche dancing in our heads.

Barthelonaaaaa

November 21st-24th...

 

It began with spit, continued to vomit, and ended with a lot of snot.  Weekend Barcelone.

 

In order to get to Barcelona the cheapest way possible, it was necessary to take a train to Paris, spend a whopping 8 hours there, and then fly to Barcelona… geographically stupid, economically smart.  After feasting on a delicious meal of quiche and Coca light, we arrived in Paris at 10pm.  Pulling an all-nighter is called “avoir une nuit blanche,” literally translated as “to have a white night,” but the expression is akin to “sleepless night.”  Here is the chronology of our nuit blanche.

 

22h00: arrival at Gare Montparnasse.  In the midst of our wandering out of the train station, Lindsay discovers an Uno piece on the ground (the McDo game equivalent to playing Monopoly with your soda cups and large fries)…. It turns out to be a free cheeseburger (!)

22h15: hocked loogies upon poor unsuspecting smokers below… then ran away fast.

22h20: We exit the train station (in the rain) and begin our walking tour of Paris.  Destination: Eiffel Tower.  Which turns out to be in the exact opposite direction that we were headed.

22h21: reversed directions.

 23h45: McDo trip to claim said free cheeseburger

01h30, Saturday November 22: found Eiffel Tower. Note: it turns off at 0100.

01h35: said “bon soir” to police with large machine guns… our hope was that being polite would make them less likely to shoot us.

01h45: found vomit on metro

01h46: changed metro cars

01h51: descend metro to find man passed out on floor. Dead (?)

01h53: arrival at Porte Maillot… we now have approximately four hours until the bus will whisk us off to the airport… our goal was to find some place warm to hang out that “homeless people weren’t already sleeping in.”

02h30:stumbled upon concierge bored and unfortunate enough to offer us shelter from the cold… Lindsay made her “pathetic” face, which greatly upped our odds of being welcomed in.  We obliged and spent the rest of the night making awkward small talk in this tiny hotel lobby, all in French, and declining several propositions to join drunken Frenchies up to their rooms. We also enjoyed a game of “find this united state” and “find this French city” on two badly drawn maps, which we succeeded at tremendously. We redeemed all of America in these three French people’s eyes… the Germans, however, were decidedly unconcerned with our geography skills and were very insistent on giving us a tour of “ROOM 19! NUMBER 19!”  Needless to say, we did not oblige. 

04h45: breakfast pastries arrive at the hotel… ingest croissant.

05h30: left the hotel (after exchanging emails and phone numbers) and ventured out into the (freezing) cold

06h00: nuit blanche ends, as it is definitely the morning and we are en route to the airport…

 

The weekend continues…

 

Upon arrival at the airport, we check in, fly to Girona, and take another bus to Barceona.  After this, we all took naps in our hostel room, which overlooked the lovely Plaça Reial and was only steps away from Las Ramblas.  After waking up and taking a shower in the most disgusting shower I’ve ever seen (I brought shower shoes, don’t worry), it was time to explore the city and do some souvenir shopping.  Post-money spending, we returned to the hostel to enjoy happy hour and make some Brazilian, Canadian, French, and Romanian friends… and take advantage of the 2-for-1 happy hour deal at the bar.  We got in the dinner line just in time (dinner is included in the hostel price, but they don’t cook for everyone, so once they’re out, they’re out), and were the last three people to get food… which was then shared with our newfound friends, who were all in line behind us.

 

Being such kind and considerate people left us rather hungry, so Erin and I took advantage of the vending machines in the bar/common room… and then we proceeded to ask the clerk at the front desk directions to the nearest churro con chocolate store… the proceeded to leave the hostel, have a conversation about Barcelonian attractions with two Frenchmen, walk to Las Ramblas, run into our Canadian friends, and finally make it to the Café de l’Opera, where we ordered a pitcher of Sangria and three servings of churros con chocolate, which was basically a platter of churros (just the fried dough, not rolled in sugar) and a coffee cup full of hot, melted chocolate for each of us.  We then ate all of it.  Tasty.

 

Sunday morning rolls around, and we are determined to be touristy.  Following our free breakfast and the purchase of futbol tickets, we headed out to the Parc Gueil (aka the Gaudi Park).  For those who don’t know (I had no idea before I came here, don’t feel bad) this mosaic artist named Gaudi had a huge influence on Barcelona… architecture, style, art, everything.  Barcelona even calls itself the “City of Gaudi.”  If you’ve ever seen a movie set in Barcelona, then you’ve probably seen this park… it offers panoramic views of the city (forest and beach) and is absolutely gorgeous… Gaudi’s old house is partially converted into a school and partially into a museum… there are mosaic’s everywhere up this steep hill, which offers those of us not-stair-inclined escalators to pull us to the top.

 

After Gaudi, it was lunchtime… cheap kabobs, anyone?  Post-Pita Inn, it was off to the Picasso Museum, which chronicled his life through his paintings… very interesting, and very cool… Picasso did a lot of other stuff besides paint, which I had no idea about (lithography, pottery), plus it turns out he was kind of a perv and kind of a pimp.

 

Art appreciation led us to gelato consumption and then a metro ride to the futbol game, in the largest stadium in all of Europe… Barcelona tied 1-1, and the security guys even let us move up a couple rows! (Not like it made a huge difference, we were in the nosebleed section anyway).

 

The night concluded with some more common time in the common room, then packing and off to bed… which had a sheet hanging across the bottom bunk when I woke up… guess we all know what the Australian dude did last night!

 

Monday was another day of traveling… metro, bus, airplane, bus, train, tram... home in time for dinner!  Overall, a very successful and slightly ridiculous weekend.  And I can now speak one Portuguese phrase and do some very silly impressions of Romanians, Canadians, and Brazilians.

 

PS: If you’re wondering where the aforementioned “snot” came in, I seem to have developed a slight cold and spent a lot of time sneezing…

Les Grèves de 20 novembre

“Aucun tram et bus ne circule.”

 

This means “no trams or buses today.”  Why, you ask?  Well, according to the TBC website, there was a strike/demonstration today (a grève), planned to coincide with the strike by the national teacher’s association… meaning that in addition to me having no way to get to school, which I actually needed to go to, my homestay brother, Balam, got to sleep in and didn’t have to go to school.  Evidently, they passed out fliers announcing the planned absence of all staff that day.

 

My story begins with me standing in the freezing cold waiting for the bus at 7:45am… after getting up at 6:30am.  The bus is late, but I suspect that if it’s already 5 minutes late, then its not going to show up (this has happened before) and I’ll have to wait for the 8:01 bus and deal with the tram being very crowded. There is one other guy standing at the bus stop waiting with me… he’s also waiting for the 34; I recognize him from prior days at the bus stop.  Then, a series of rather strange and certainly unusual events occurs.

 

First, the guy waiting next to me gets a phone call.  He mumbles something in unintelligible French and hangs up.  30 seconds later, he gets another phone call, mumbles again, and walks away. 

 

Event Two: There is a middle-school aged girl who lives in the house directly across from the bus stop.  Every morning, she meets her friend outside and they jaywalk across the street to the bus stop.  Today, she meets her friend outside and they head to the crosswalk.  Weird, I think, but I guess they’ve decided to be safe this morning... except that instead of turning back towards the bus stop when they cross the street, they keep going, meaning that they’re not talking the bus this morning and they’re walking wherever they need to go.

 

Event Three/Realization #1: The people waiting for the 34 on the other side of the street (as in the bus going in the opposite direction as the one I’m waiting for) walk away.  I realize that I haven’t seen any bus at all in any direction… and I should have seen about four by this point in time.

 

Event Four:  The French guy waiting for the bus next to me (a new French guy) looks at the bus schedule and says “Je crois qu’il n y a pas de bus aujourd’hui.” (Translation: I don’t think that there are any buses today.)  Greaaaaaaat. 

 

I walk home and my homestay mom says “there’s no bus?!” Me: “Nope.”  I check the website, which informs me that “Aucun tram et bus ne circule” due to a strike.  Meaning that I have no way to get to school, save walking or biking or driving… and no one else in the city of Bordeaux has the ability to get anywhere either.  Thankfully, my homestay mom has a lunch date in Talence (where campus is) at around 11:30, so she drives me and Lauren to school… and then comes back and picks us up at 3:30, since we were basically stranded once she dropped us off.  I missed my first class and my second class, but I did indeed make it to my third and final class… then returned home to check the times for the SNCF (railway) strikes to make sure that we wouldn’t have any problems the next day with our TGV train to Barcelona… thankfully, the email from SNCF that informed me of the strike (with precise hours) reassured me that this voyage would be sans problèmes.

 

Ah, la France.

Oversized, Overpriced, Overcaffinated Beverages (11/14-11/16)

This past weekend I took a trip to the lovely Swiss town of Geneva (or Genève, as the French and French-speaking Swiss would say).  It was approximately 50 degrees all weekend, but miracle of miracles, the sun was actually shining and not hidden behind clouds!

 

Our flight left Friday night, thankfully from Bordeaux… after arriving at the airport (thanks to my wonderful homestay mom Guadalupe, who dropped me and Lauren off) and browsing through a cheesy souvenir shop, Lauren and I headed to the gate, where we found five of our fellow EAP-ers sitting around.  After a half an hour delay, we finally made it on to the white and bright orange EasyJet plane, all seven of us sitting together, and proceeded to be loud, obnoxious, American girls.

 

We landed at around 10:30, grabbed our baggage, and went our separate ways… some to the train, one to Interlocken, and me and Lauren to the taxi… yeah, the train was probably cheaper and just as adequate, but the ride in the heated Mercedes was quite lovely.  That was basically the end of the night, since it was nearly midnight at this point and “tired” was an accurate statement of how I felt.

 

Saturday morning, we got up bright and early, headed to the free hostel breakfast, and then headed out to Old Town… not that this was extraordinarily older than any other part of town… it was fully equipped with several supermarkets, an H&M, and a McDonalds.  We browsed the streets for a while, taking full advantage of the lovely walking path around the lake, then eventually worked our way to the cathedral… not before stopping at Starbucks, however!  It was the most expensive Starbucks I’ve ever ordered… and you better believe I got the venti Dark Cherry Mocha in celebration of red cup season.  And you also better believe that I took pictures with it… and asked someone else to take pictures of me with it in front of Starbucks.  “Professional tourist” is one new thing I’ll be able to add to my résumé when I get back, that’s for sure!  Back to the cathedral…  Lauren and I climbed all the way up the tower, which permits those who survive the extremely small and tight spiral staircase to partake in the breathtakingly fantastic panoramic view of the city.  And, as our luck would have it, it just happened to be turning noon right as we got up to the top, so we were serenaded by the church bells ringing the hour, and then were able to hear other bells ringing all throughout the city.  Quite lovely, if I do say so myself.

 

Post-tower adventure, I grabbed a hot dog from a street vendor (the fact that it was indeed a street vendor advertising “American style” hot dogs, which were definitely not what I would call American style, made me feel like I was in New York, but still… fondue is expensive!), then headed back to the hostel to drop off the morning’s haul of loot… basically, I was lazy and didn’t want to carry it around all day.  Lauren and I headed back out to the wild and crazy Genevan streets, directly towards MANOR.

 

Yes, MANOR does need to be in all capital letters.  It is a huge mega store “where you can find everything,” as the woman at the Office of Tourism so eloquently put it.  Seven floors of anything and everything, and my guess is that you could indeed purchase a kitchen sink as well.  Luckily for me, I was not in need of plumbing equipment but of souvenirs, and that is exactly what I found, as the bright red “Switzerland!” display basically attacks you from the moment that you walk in the door.  After fighting small children and angry old ladies in the chocolate department, I successfully paid and headed out, walking past the fully stocked grocery store and its sushi bar.

 

From MANOR it was back to Old Town, where my shopping was completed… I got a Swatch and probably spent way too much money on various Swiss paraphernalia and a gourmet meal from McDonalds.  Pre-McDonalds I made a short stop at another large and very well stocked supermarket in search of Swiss sausage (saucisse Suisse seche), basically Swiss salami, which is incredibly hard to find and everyone at the meat counter gives you a funny look when you ask for it… nonetheless, mission accomplished.

 

Lauren and I found a paper for a free concert at the cathedral, so we headed back there to enjoy the free choir concert… until walking in and realizing that 1) everyone had tickets, 2) the concert was not free but 60 francs for the good seats and 30 for the cheapos, and 3) there were no good seats left, so our choir experience would have consisted of staring at a large stone pillar about four feet in diameter for an hour and a half.  Needless to say, we passed on that experience and headed to (where else?) Starbucks!

 

After sufficiently caffiinating ourselves, we realized that there was basically nothing to do in Geneva after dark (unless we wanted to spend far too much money on fondue), so we stayed at Starbucks and continued our strict regiment of overpriced caffination.  Eventually, we meandered our way back to the hostel and called it a night.

 

Sunday morning marked our final day in la Suisse, and a short one at that, since EasyJet only flies one or two flights a day on the Bordeaux-Geneva route, and our choices were either 7:30 am or 3:30pm… we opted for the latter.

 

Free breakfast and check-out (during which I had a mild panic attack… one of the other people in our room locked her key in the bathroom and borrowed mine… unbeknownst to me, until I tried to open my locker and went to the front desk, she accidentally switched our keys… I ran through the hostel and almost started screaming “Lauren! We need to find the Italians!” because I was extraordinarily worried that they had already checked out and my stuff was going to be locked in the locker forever, luckily they had yet to depart)… then we went back to Old Town and back to Starbucks!  The barista didn’t quite understand “one White Mocha” so Lauren ended up with two grande White Mochas and one venti Cappuccino… I had no qualms finishing them both, to say the least.

 

We made a quick pit stop at McDo for some Chicken McNuggets (I think chicken nuggets are a universal fast food item… very reliable) and then to the hostel, to the train station (free train ride since we stood for the five minute trip!), and to the airport, where our flight was delayed for half an hour.

 

The seven of us snagged seats together again and repeated our obnoxiousness; upon arrival in Bordeaux, we all went our separate ways, as my homestay family was waiting for me and Lauren to emerge from the black hole called baggage claim.  We made it home in time for dinner, but I think I’m having Starbucks withdrawals…  this will soon be remedied, as the Starbucks Store Locater informs me that my next destination, Barcelona, is home to 20 stores… ahh, the joy of knowing I’m getting ripped off for the pleasure of holding that red cup and having someone take a picture of me…