Chartres

It's been quite an exciting day - Chartres was amazing. (plus i'm in a very good mood because my roommates and I just sang Sara Bareilles. I miss singing so much...)

I don't even know where to start with Chartres. You get off the train, and literally, it's right there in front of you. It rivals Notre Dame in Paris in size, but cathedrals are more than sizes, stained glass, relics, and architecture I learned today.

The tour with Malcom Miller was phenomenal. He's pretty much the expert on Chartres, all the books I looked up about Chartres are written by him. He speaks cute British old man English - I was convinced that I'd see him later that day enjoying a cup of tea.

His tour with us lasted and hour and 15, but I honestly lost track of time. He taught us so much as a group that I can't even retain it all. He's also extremely witty and loves to tell funny stories. The tour was truly a one of a kind experience - I would do it again in a heartbeak.

A few things you should know about Chartres -

It was built in a city of approx 9000 people at the time, yet it rivals Notre Dame in size and detail. The reason? The clergy wanted to create a place for pilgrams. Why would pilgrams come to such a small village in France?

The garments of Mary, the mother of Jesus. This holy relic has been confirmed to be 2000 years old, which even if it's not holy - thats still an amazing thing to preserve. It's in bullet proof glass, and has survived World Wars, Civil wars, and fires. Amazing.

The architechture of the building is so unique. I can't even describe the nuances that are there - from the alternating pillars to the unique retangular ceiling (new to the gothic age), to the stained glass (also survived fires) to the breathtaking view you can get if you climb one of the towers. I've never see such a beautiful view of the French countryside - you can see for miles and miles of village and fields of green. I can't even begin to imagine what it would have been like in the dark (light) ages, before the time of multiple storey buildings. Chartres shoots out of the horizon even now - but what about hundreds of years ago? ahhhhh....

My favorite part was the labyrinth. Chartres was also the location of one of the oldest schools where the clergy was educated. Hundreds of scholars would teach here, and they had influence over the structures built in the church (everything - EVERYTHING has symbolic and even commentary of the Christian religion). The labyrinth is one of those structures. I walked the labyrinth today, meditating on recent occurances and discoveries about myself. Describing the power that I experienced when I entered the center - among the huge, ancient structures, the rose stained glass light warmed my back, while my focus was put on the altar that was at least a football field away, but I couldn't take my eyes away from a pieta. Everything seemed at peace. I left the labyrinth, feeling almost empowered by the millions that over hundreds of years had done the same thing.

My day peaked there, and I had a difficult time prying myself away from the church. I spent close to 3 and a half hours there - and could have stayed more. The last thing we did before leaving was climb the 300 steps up the late gothic tower. I recomend you do so. It's tricky as the steps are un even, its difficult because there aren't hand rails, the hallway is one way, ...and did i mention that it's a spiral staircase? The view, however, is more than worth it. I was pretty speachless as I circled the balconies.

The little town is picturesque of what you imagine when you think of the French countryside - narrow cobblestone streets, tiny shops, fresh markets, flowers, and people walking about shouting "bonsoir!" Kelsey and I both agreed that we could both live there. C'est parfait. I'll leave you with a few pictures of this historic town....

perdu

I seem to be doing a good bit of wandering around Paris when I'm on my own to run errands. Today I went in search of the embassy, and successfully navigated three metros. I had a bit of trouble with the police - apparently the Prime Minster of Israel was here, so there was a lock down on all the embassies. I couldn't even enter my own embassy.


"Pardon Monsieur, je regarde por l'embassy de Etats Unis. Ou est cet?"
"Mademoiselle, it would be best if you came back tomorrow, there is much going on."
"Je suis Americainne. Je veux aller a l'embassy."

I think they got my point. I am an american, move. I'm going to my embassy. I didn't get in, I was turned away and told to come back tomororw. Apparently, the Israeli PM is more important than me.

After that, I walked a bit and found the Tullieries garden not far, which meant that the Louvre was not far off. I explored a bit, and was a bit disappointed. I've really fallen in love with Luxembourg....It's hard to let it's perfection go.

I 'm still a bit lost, looking for something I can't seem to find. I know it doesn't exist in reality anymore, but I'm still looking. tu me manques, et tu ne sais pas.

I knocked out another very important museum today - the Musee d'Orsay. AkA - the Louvre didn't want impressionist art, so this is where you can find Renoir, Van Gogh, Degas, Monet, Rodin, etc etc. Masterpieces. I was a little disappointed to not find a few key pieces (at least for me)...Sunflowers by Van Gogh, Starry Night, Dancers in Blue, and most disappointing, The Waterlilies.

It was astonishing though, at how much I did see. I realized that these artists are more than just their famous pieces - they are the pieces that no one really cares to regcognize. Those pieces are just as important. I loved taking pictures (i know - but I want to share too) - the museum was fantastic.

The highlight for me, was predictably the Degas room. I am a huge Degas fan. I remember almost 9 years ago, seeing the Little Dancer wax sculpture and just falling in love. I saw her today again. She hasn't changed, and she is beautiful. I loved that I could finally see (in full collection) all of Degas's statues. He was blind by the time he died, and moved from painting to sculpting so he could feel the product. Yet, in doing this, he seems to explore human motion. His sculptures are amazing - the horses and dancers especially. He really broke down what it means to move.

It has been a long day, and a well day spent. I'm pretty exhausted. I did have lunch with Allie Roisman, which was fantastic. Catching up , chatting, and finding strength for each other's uncertainties was a pleasant and very welcome surprise. It's been a long time since I've seen anyone (in person) that I know, and I've missed people. I miss you =)

Tomorrow, I'm taking a train to Chartres, and I'm overjoyed. Chartres is the most amazing gothic structure in France, and one of the most beautiful. We are also taking a tour with Malcom Miller - a famous authority on Gothic architechture. I'm not going to lie - I'm very excited. I'm also very excited to walk the maze that is hundreds of years old. Hey Josh - you have made a difference - I wouldn't know what to do, or how important this structure is in Christian practice if not for you =)

Much more tomorrow. Je suis tres fatiguee, et tres....

THIS MEANS WAR, EUROPE!

I can understand pickpocketing. I can understand preying on tourists. I can even understand preying on American tourists. But really, this is ridiculous.

I love my chacos. I loooove them. They have been the most comfortable shoes I've ever worn. I've never gotten shin splints since wearing them.

So naturally I wear them everywhere. I wore them tonight to go sit on that green out in front of the Eiffel tower. Everyone in our group was sitting together on blankets, munching on yummy cheese and pastries, and everyone had their shoes off.

(if you know this area, its known for having bottlecaps literally everywhere in the grass. there's glass from broken bottles, its a mess. shoes are a necessity)

when we stood up, only one of my shoes was there. we looked around, asked people around us, looked in my bags, other people's bags, EVERYTHING. no chaco. so i got to walk through the nasty streets of paris, through 3 metro stations, barefoot (singular). I scrubbed my feet when I got home. Nasty Nasty streets. Dogs poop, people pee, whatever. Nasty.

That's it Europeans. You stole my Passport. You stole my make up. You stole my Vera (actually 2 Vera bags and a JCrew wallet). You stole ONE CHACO. This means war.

Fete de la Music

I've been away for a bit, partially because I'm starting to buckle down with school work. I have three papers due Sunday/Monday, and this coming weekend will no doubt be busy.

I'm planning on a weekend trip to the Champagne region, full of wineries and vineyards. We're going to go wine tasting, and I'm very excited to learn about wines and their quality (especially about how to determine the quality). That'll be a two day trip, hopefully then an afternoon at Chartres, then Sunday will hopefully be at Normandy. It's supposed to drizzle, but I feel like that is more than appropriate in such a somber, realizing place.

Fete de la Musik was this past Sunday. Ohh what a night to remember. It's the longest day of the year, and everyone, EVERYONE in France celebrates with music festivals everywhere. The majority of the group went to go see Seal, Jason Mzraz, Beyonce, Kelly Clarkson, Etc, but Kelsey and I explored the Marais in search of a true European experience. The sun didn't set until 11pm at least.

Oh we found it. Every street corner... bands, djs, huge speakers...crazy dance parties...it was all there. The Marais is also a heavily gay influenced district, so we saw a good deal of drag queens, transgendered, and cross dressers. Let me tell you something - american drag queens are going to need to pick it up. I have never seen such fashionable and convincing queens in my life.

I' m starting to pick up in class with the readings and discussions. Now that we've been to Geneva, we can apply what we've learned to what we're reading and discussing in class. The discussions have gone more from procedural to how and why discussions. Much more enriching. I can't wait to do more site visits and more touring to help push those ideas.

Oh! So there was the one time when I was supposed to go to the Opera, but student tickets were expensive that night, so I just decided to romp around the area. I was just going into to look at Napoleon's tomb, totally randomly. Look who found me. =)
Emory debate rocks. Congratulations on graduating Brandon!!!

better

I made it back to Paris covertly - the students i'm with did an awesome job of hiding me as we passed through customs, where they weren't even checking passports.

I'm extremely lucky - my bag was found, contents were there excluding (as expected) my cash and ipod. I haven't seen my bag, so I could be missing more, but at least its found.

The thief left it out and the Geneva police found the bag 2 hours after we registered a police report. Nice.

I'm going to call to Geneva police and see if they will deliver the bag to maison de mines. hopefully that will work.

Thank you so much, to everyone at home, everyone who pulled strings - I am so appreciative. Today was rough - and I would not have made it through without the use of everyone's phones, extra change, extra effort to contact friends, embassy workers, US reps, the banques...everyone was spectacular. Thank you so much!

Much love from across the pond at la maison de mines. j't<3

c`est mal, très mal

Passport. Credit Cards. Drivers Liscence. Emory ID. Cash. Insurance Cards. Make up (you wont understand unless you`re a female why this sucks to replace). Ipod. Keys to my maison. Paris metro pass.

gone.

I was literally singing the praises of the Swiss yesterday, and now I^m pretty furious. We had just finished a lecture from the main lawyer from the WHO, and were eating lunch. I had brought my back with me because I was drinking out of my waterbottle that was in it waiting for my meal.

I stood up after my meal, and it was gone. I had wrapped the straps around the chair so that I would feel someone lift it up and over my chair if they tried to take it. It was gone. Everyone at my table was astonished. We were sitting backs to the wall, four of us, and Tres was using the back of my chair as a prop. No one could get into where we were because the patio was gated. We were the only group on the patio. Whoever stole my bag must have cut the straps and either crawled to the table or it was a child. Iàm going to have to say it was a child. We could have seen an adult crawl, but certainly a child could get low to the ground and cut the straps and then run off. Tres, sitting beside me, was astonished. He never saw anyone close to us. Saul, the boy that faced me, didn`t see anyone.

I`m lucky to have lost so little, but what I did loose are important and hard to get back. My camera and laptop were very luckily with the hotel concierge. I am lucky to have made extensive copies of the contents of my wallet - and also of all my public records for identification.

The problem is now - my group was going to leave on the train in about 2 hours and cross from Genevé, Ch to Paris. They may or may not ask for my passport. If they do, I have a copy, and a police report from an hour ago saying it was stolen - but 90% chance is that I will not be permitted to cross the border.

There is a consulate office in Geneva, but no embassy. The only embassy is in Bern, Swiss. They closed this morning. They will reopen Monday. If I am rejected from the train, i will have to spend three days here, on my own dime, and then take a train to Bern Swiss. Best case scenerio - 3 hour ride to Bern, hopefully they make me a passport in a day, then 3 hour back to Geneva, then 3 hour to Paris. Best case scenerio, I make it back Monday night late.

If I am permitted to board the train, I can get my passport from the embassy there, retrieve money from my bank, and not miss class. This would be the best case scenerio. I will let you all know ASAP where I will be. Assume that no news is good - that means I got the train.

I wish someone would have just held me up - I would have given them cash, but really, an american passport that is marked for France entry only and no exit is useless. The hassle of this whole ordeal sucks.

Worst part of the day - I didn`t get to see the High Comissioner for Human Rights of the UN speak. I heard it sucked, but still.

I`ll keep you all posted.

J'aime le Swiss, et les montres Swiss.

I love the Swiss.

Like, more than Parisians. They are so cute and old. I think that's a requirement to be a Swiss citizen. Plus, you speak no English (unless you're under 70, in which case, WW2 forced Western culture on you), and your French accent is fun and sing song, not all nasal and quick in France. The Swiss are like the Southerners in the US - they're slow and friendly. The only thing they aren't are is cheap. Mcdonalds was roughly $11 for a freaking cheeseburger. A drink at starbucks? 7.50 for a venti minimum.

(also weird - the internet isn't really in any language I can figure out. It's like a hybrid of French and German. Ohhhh Swissians!)

So I bought my first souvenirs today (other than postcards). Someone lucky may end up with Swiss chocolate....

Geneva as a city is a little different for me. Saul and I agreed that it's an apathetic city - you don't really love it, but you don't hate it. The people are fantastic, and the scenery is pretty decent (although I was HORRIBLY disappointed when I didn't see snow covered Alps). Mont Blanc is here and pretty breathtaking - and I saw Lord Byron today when I had some ice cream (no kidding, in person, in wig and stockings).

Kelsey and I made an interesting observation the other night while walking on the riverside. French men ogle, talk, stare, whistle, and try to grope you. Paris can be pretty uncomfortable sometimes. I was walking in Luxembourg, and a guy came up and asked me in French if I wanted a drink, and I scream at him, I don't speak French. Usually that makes them bee line away, but the other night at The Frog and the Princess, two Parisian boys blocked me and were trying to make some serious conversation and take me home, until I told them how proud I was of my Navy Seal boyfriend who was coming to see me the next day on leave. I don't think I've seen Frenchmen run so fast away so quickly.

However, Swiss men are just as pretty as Frenchmen, but they just look at you, acknowledge you, and go on. It's so refreshing.

Buuuuuuuut the point of this entry was actually to talk about my experience at the Red Cross and later with an UN sponsored/supported NGO called World Vision. Those people who are on commercials with Save the Children? Yea - that group.

The Red Cross was this morning, and it was heavy heavy stuff. Within the first 15min of being there, we're being shown a film on the processes and activities the Red Cross participates and supports. One of the last things they show is a child soldier being returned to his family after 5 or 8 years. Seeing the family who was already shattered from conflict receive a loved one after thinking he was dead so long was overwhelming. I had no idea that the Red Cross connects more people to their families than any other organization. I thought they just did disaster relief.

The talk was pretty typical for me - I've seen a lot of informal info sessions on NGOs, so I wasn't all too impressed. The hard part of the lecture was after the intro, we did a crash course on International Humanitarian Law. I can't even write how enlightening that was. Did you know that Palestine justifies killing any Israeli because international law says you can only kill someone if they are in the military? They justify and say that since every Israeli serves in the military at sometime, they are all fair game. Did you know that there is a rule of proportionality? It basically means that if you have a military target, and some civilians get in the way, their deaths are "proportional" to the good that was accomplished with the success of the military operation. It's a trade off - what's the lesser of two evils.

We did the Red Cross historical exhibit on our own afterward. That was almost a mistake, at least for me. I could have used some moral support. I walked into a room where pre computer, notecards in notecard boxes with names handwritten on them were stored. Displaced people, POWs, detainees, those in hospitals...millions of names. I got goosebumps walking down that long corridor, almost feeling their presence.
Then I walked through the Red Cross through time exhibit. World War I - red crosses on nurses, chlorine gas victims dependent on the shoulder that bore the Red Cross. Incredible. The Holocaust. Letters given by victims in concentration camps, packages sent to victims undercover, names and names of thousands of people that post war, would serve to reunite them with family and friends. Incredible. The genocides, ethnic cleansing, and conflict in Africa room. I lost it here. There weren't pictures or letters on display. There were thousands and thousands and thousands of children's Polaroid pictures with numbers on them. Each child had a number. Children ranging in age from 0 - 19 years old. Children so young, that they had to be held to take the picture. Children whose faces were scared with wounds and anxiety, one child had been scalped, bandaged foreheads, others burned, malnourished, heads shaved to avoid lice. Huge white eyes against coco skin...huge eyes that begged questions, begged the truth. Are my parents dead? Did they leave me? Will I go home? Do I have a home? This exhibit didn't even scratch the surface of how many displaced, lost children there are registered with the Red Cross. Most children never see their parents. They wait and never find them, or die. Heartbreaking. Yet when reunited, the joy is so evident. Relief, realization, and love. I picked this up just looking at a few pictures.

The next exhibits I did were about detainees, in which Karl Rove (from my class) asked a Red Cross Executive, why do we care about reuniting people in Guantanamo with their families? they're there for a reason, right? The exec answered back coldly.

"One of the beliefs of the Red Cross is that everyone, no matter what side of conflict, race, beliefs, everyone deserves a right to talk to their relatives. There is no exception."

In the battlefield, the Red Cross does not discriminate who the soldiers are from the civilians, nor which side they fight for. They are treated according to the severity of their wounds.

Also interesting to note - the Red Cross does not hire American citizens. They only hire Swiss or Swiss carrying passport holders. Americans are too high profile and it would be dangerous. The American Red Cross will take Americans, but first responders from Geneva are always Swiss.

The more I learned of the Red Cross, the more I was drawn to it. Not necessarily the human rights aspect. I am so drawn to the humanitarian law aspect. Imagine the incredible field work...

My bleeding liberal heart was satisfied more with the office at World Vision. Learning how children recognize their rights - having them do exercises about tolerance with mixed religions, races, and genders - incredible work. I wasn't as taken aback by this organization - but point to ponder - There are only two countries in the entire world that have not signed the Rights of a Child Charter of the UN. Somalia is one. US is the other. Wow.

I picked up a ton of literature - I have so much to read on the Red Cross. I can't wait to learn more. It's getting late, so I'm going to hope into bed. Tomorrow is an early day (730am!!) at the ICC. I'm going to watch the defense of a Yugoslavian genocider. I am so excited. Excited isn't the right word, but in any case, it's going to be phenomenal.

Oh - other interesting point - Switzerland does not export it's wine or ham, both of which are exquisite. They do however sell Cuban cigars, and we're going to sneak those suckers in the States.

Le Pompi

Today was a boring day of class, (I’m still waiting for human rights to get interesting. Nothing has yet surpassed my knowledge from the UN debate topic a whole 5 years ago.) we decided to go museum hoping because it was raining. Paris seems so gray when it rains.

We visited the Pompi, the museum of modern art. [ Ok, I’m going to catch hell from you art freaks – but let me get this out. I have a difficult time understanding most modern art. Usually it takes too long to figure out what the artist is getting at, it falls in the realm of post modernist, existentialist, or beyond philosophy (ies) that I am not familiar enough with to comprehend, or its just something so plain I don’t get it. I saw a blue box today. Just a blue freaking box. Fantastic. It was artsy. There was a toilette seat. Art? Really…]

I think the only exhibit that I was most turned off by was ironically the feminist modern art floor. I enjoy feminist art. I do. However, sometimes I feel like artists, in their plight to be so radical, can fulfill every expectation of irrationality. I understand the repetition of images, the rhetoric and images that are graphic to stimulate your thinking. Yet, I think that some images are either overkill or serve to detriment the movement. I feel like the Booker T Washington of civil rights, and the feminist 3^rd wave is Malcolm X. In order to conquer the oppression of women, what it means to be a female, and still be ‘normal’ in society, the continued screaming of inequality must stop. You can’t explain, talk, or be social by yelling. Maybe this is my naivety, my views might have totally changed by the time I get home.

For the most part, I was very impressed with the art. I understood most every exhibit, except “untitled. The chicken experiment.” It was a video of a naked girl standing, holding a chicken by its feet. You stand and watch the chicken flap its wings and struggle, but the model keeps it still upside down. After a few minutes, the blood has rushed all to the chicken’s head, making movement of its wings nearly impossible. The model then puts it down, still nude, and kneels down as the chicken’s head is cut off. Then she stands up, holding the headless, blood squirting corpse of the animal. End clip. I just don’t see the appeal in killing an animal for art’s sake. I was pretty upset. Even if you want to show the strangulation, mutilation, and ultimate death of the female nude, there are other ways repetition of violent images.

So I’ve dwelled on this long enough. The next few special exhibits were phenomenal. I confess that I’m no art snob, and that Calder and Karinsky were new names to me. I recognized Karinsky’s work once I started wandering amid the literal hundreds of original paintings. I loved the mixing of colors and geometric forms, and I’m not quite sure. The best exhibit by far though, was the Calder. Two floors of his figurines, wire figures, and wire head portraits. I was absolutely in shock with the wire figure portraits of people’s faces when they were shadowed. The silhouettes of the wires were shocking – they so closely resembled the actual person. The wires seemed to come alive…it really was amazing. If you are unfamiliar of these two artists, they are worth looking up. Calder’s figurines really explore and push the image of the human body as just wires and ligaments, almost simplifying the whole body of mankind.

I snuck a few pictures of the masters that I do enjoy – Frieda, Miro, and a Picasso. I was so excited to steal away a few images to keep for a later date.

Oh! Point of interest – the Pompi is one of Paris’s tallest structures. We towered over the city, over Notre Dame. The pictures, although gray, are phenomenal. MonMartre is breathtaking…the whole city is beautiful. I’m really falling in love with this city.

jolie

today was a lovely care free day.

i went for my first real run in the Luxembourg garden today...it was HOT! i expected the morning to be a bit cooler, so i wore a long sleeved tee and shorts. i was drenched by the time i got home. the jardin looks fantastic. i didn't really explore the interior, and i can't wait to do so. i want to go visit the gardens again soon. it was fantastically beautiful. plus, you never know if you'll spot mirelle or robert =) there's a neat fountain (it's huge) that i might attempt to sketch. hey, it's paris, and everyone's an artist!

we all have papers due tomorrow, so Kelsey, Tres, and Matt packed up our books and headed to a park outside of Paris. we put down a blanket and our books and read our assigned readings (classically boring and dry). of course we had picked the park, as it just so happened there would be a live jazz festival playing all day. the music was great, Tres had brought a baguette to share, and we had our books. it was a lovely lovely day.

PS - if you want a postcard, seriously, send your address to me. i LOOOVE writing them! i wrote 9 tonight trying to put off my paper =)

Versailles

My posts are going to get shorter and shorter as we take more exhausting trips!

Today we toured Versailles. I've been before, so I forgot how impressive the chateau actually is. The front is being redone so that it can be gilded (the parts that are painted are phenomenal - the gold against a pale blue sky - ah it was transfixing!). The interior is mostly the same, tons of old oil paintings, a few tapestries, two bedrooms, the room of war, the halls of mirrors, and the room for peace.

oddly, taylor mentioned to tres and i about the unique situation that the war and peace room are in. the war room, of course decorated with images of hercules, mars, and caesar is located on one side of a wing. the peace room is located exactly opposite of the war room, and is decorated in french blue and female imageries. these rooms are connected by the hall of mirrors, and imfamous hall of chandaliers and mirrors. the rooms, symbolically are opposite of each other, but they are linked by a reflecting room. imagine being a dignitary, preparing maybe for war. you would walk from the peace room, all the while thinking, reflecting on the decision to go to war. once arriving at the war room, you declare conflict. the same vice versa. ooh the french were such clever symbolic people.

the best part of versailles is hands down, the gardens. i had never been out into the gardens before, but this experience is one that i'd love to replicate. we stumbled across two weddings, children played in the massive mazes and labyrinths that could occupy hours of playtime. there is a lake where King Louie 16th staged mock naval battles, where now you can rent a row boat and go out on the lake. the fountains are spectacular, as are the thousands and thousands of ivory marble figures of greek deities (who i of course, knew all their names too. i'm promising you, mom and dad, a degree in classics isn't useless!) i wish i could have spent more time, wandering around. the colors of everything were awesome!

to take a moment for a commercial break - i love my chacos. i have worn them almost every single day here in paris. when i get home, i'm going to buy another pair. my feet didn't ache after a full day of walking around...and i was impressed. i normally would have had shin splits by now, but no! *impressed* these shoes are worth their weight. seriously. my tevas failed, tennis shoes didn't even make it, but these chaco flip flops are troupers.

annnnnyway, the sun just set, so that means it's now 11pm. (isn't that crazy? the sun doesn't set until around 10pm. it messes seriously with your sense of time. thats why people here eat so late, because there's still daylight left!) i'm going to pass out, and attempt to get up in the morning and (ugh groan) and write a paper.

je pense....

Instead of having class today, we had a free day (unfortunately it's the only free day we get to have).

My roommate Kelsey, and two boys down the hall (Gerry and Andrew) ventured out into Marais, a different part of Paris. We had a good time - there are lots of tiny tiny shops that are far away from tourists, and the best shops were clearly the flower and pastry shops. Normally in the Latin Quarter, a bundle of flowers is about 16 euros. thats like $20-22. we didnt want to spend that much money on flowers, but the flowers here are beautiful. they are so colorful and smell so fantastic; it drowns away the smell of the sewers and streets.

kelsey bought a bouquet of lovely huge red daisys for only 3 euro, and they are displaying now in the center of the room. they are quite lovely, and bring a bit of decoration to the room.

the pastry shops....oh, they were to die for. i'm sure i'm coming back to the states with diabetes, but they are so fantastically good. marais is known for their competitve bakers. i know kelsey and i will go back for treats the day before we leave to sneak them back.

the highlight of the day was in yet again, another church. we were just stumbling around marais, and found a relatively new gothic style church. it was clearly decorated in teh 1920s, there were patterned floors and lovely paintings on the walls that echoed byzantine art, but not quite. however, the most impressive part of the drop in was the music. all of a sudden, 10 min into our visit, two musicians show up to practice. a woman sat down the the harpsichord, and an older man put together a huge wooden recorder. and they played.

it was fantastic. i was once told that baroque music is so short stroked because the strokes would get washed up in the huge domes and ceilings that were popular in that time. i think i actually heard and understood today. the harpsichord was like and almost sharp, but oh that recorder was absolutely beautiful. it sustained itself over and over, building an building. absolutely fantastic.

after the mini concert, the day sort of just dwindled down...we grabbed dinner with the group and hiked up st marche to see the sunset. it was a lovely end to a day well done.

ouvrir la porte

the theme for today's journey was to open the door.

after a grueling two classes, i had decided that it was time to go pick up a camera memory card so i can start taking pictures compulsively again. little did i know that when i set out at 3:00, I would not return until 7:30.

i knew the walk to the 'surcouf,' would be long and awful. the trains and buses don't really run laterally the way i needed it to work, so i would have to walk to 2.8 miles to the store and back. my walk took me all the way from the Latin Quarter to on the other side of the Seine, then deeper into the lyons area. i was proud of my internal GPS - i never got lost once (bite it lasky).

as i was walking across the bridge, i noticed three familiar towering structures - two bell towers and a conical cross. i decided that on the return journey, i would deviate from my directions and use my impressive since of directon to get myself home from notre dame.

the journey back was long, but i did get to see a long of paris doing the everyday thing. parisians are a lot like new yorkers i'd like to think - honking and hollering at each other, bumping bumpers, and motorcyclists with deathwishes weaving through lanes and sidewalks.

i passed through the museum of natural histoire, the the "garden of plants," (the french are so amusing sometimes) and the outdoor modern art section. i regretably did not have my camera card, so i did not document those journies.

however, once i reached notre dame, i pulled out my camera. only of course, stopping and really taking a breath and feeling shivers go up my spine. it's not the first time i've seen her, and i intend for it not to be the last. every detail, figure, fleur,...everything is unique. every disciple's face, pope, priest, angel, and demon have a unique personality and poise. and that's just the double bell tower.

i looked over at the line to get in. i had forgotten that entrance is free. the door was open. the line had maybe 12 people in it, and so i jumped in.

i have forgotten so much. or rather, i didn't know to look the first time i was there. there was operatic singing as a mass commenced. the whole world seemed to close out - the temperature dropped at least 8 degrees, and there was darkness in the heat of the day. there were thousands of soft candles lit in memoram, singing of the mass floated through the air. the air was perfumed with the smell of ancient wood and stone. joan d'arc stood on my right, immortalized in stone. i followed the pillars up around her on the side where externally the flying buttresses are.

ok, if you don't know anything about gothic architechture, you should just visit a gothic cathedral. you'll understand why during the enlightenment people built these towering structure. i could almost hear Hobbes when i looked at the gargoyles, yet i could feel the impression that the architech would have wanted to imprint on visitors. i followed the lines of the pillars up, and as you do, you bend your knees ever so slightly, as your head falls back and you stare stunned toward the heavens. the stained glass catches your periphial vision ever so slightly, but if you keep your eyes focused on the crucifix that is so high above you and barely visible, you feel as if you are in a vision, a dream. there is Christ before your eyes, and a glow of lights envelopes your senses. that, is just a taste of gothic architechture. gothic lines draw one up to the heavens, to connect you to God. pretty incredible.

of course the stained glass is more than exquisite. it is one of a kind hundreds of years old hand crafted. so many pieces of glass. too many colors that my camera can't even capture them. all i have is a blur - and how well represented in a holy place? it's as if that experience is holy in it's one time vision that will never be the same.

i made my way out of the church, the crowds began to thicken. i made my way to rue st. jacque, which happens to be the rue j'habite. that's right, i live less than 2 miles from notre dame. yea, i had no idea. i started the hike uphill home, but became distracted by another gothic church not too far into my journey. Le Eglise Sevenis, another gothic inspire church, was on my right. there was no line, no crowd peering at it. the door was cracked. i had to almost heave the door open...it was a foot and a half thick of solid wood. it was worth it.

inside, a light filled sanctuary with grey white stone bathed in colors from its stained glass windows. it was a tiny piece of church - maybe a sixth of the size of notre dame. it almost was better than notre dame. the church was almost as old as the our lady, yet the tapestries were more vibrant, i could actually read the latin and french inscriptions, and there were maybe 4 people in the whole church with a monk and father. it was a phenomenal experience. i had a whole sanctuary to myself, to explore, touch, and learn about. that is an unusual experience for a tourist.

i excused myself, and began to walk home some more, but now taking in the sights, instead of using them as city markers so i wouldn't get lost (lucky for me though, i can't loose my GPS if it's in my head!)
There were so many doors, so many opportunities to explore. Rue St. Jacques is in the heart of the Latin Quarter, where students live and attend the Universite. I passed countless universite buildings, and looked at them each inquisitively, yet the wroght iron indicated that i should not pass.

i must have looked like a serious tourist...i started taking pictures of doors. beautiful, curious, small, tall, forbiding, colorful, doors.

toward the maison de mines, i found another open door. i wasn't entirely sure what it was an open door too, but the sign said in french that "the doors are open." i took that as my invitation. a small french woman scurried past me, through double thick wooded doors that were at least 18 ft high. i saw the vat of holy water as she dabbed a bit on her fingers when we entered. i had found another church, in the midst of the city. another gothic inspired church, less than a mile from notre dame.

yet this church was unique. it was not set up to be an amusement site for tourists. i was alone in my wandering; every other person was partaking in mass, praying dilligently. the service was being held deep in the back of the sanctuary. i moved between the corinthian pillars that had bases of at least eight by eleven feet, sneaking around the church, taking in details of the woodwork. this was a more modern church (1800s), and the woodpaneled floor indicated little wear. the organ...the many equisite organs...i could touch their ornate decoration. when i did, i realized that there was something familiar about the carving. the medium stained wood reminded me of something.

my bedroom suite at home. i have an antique bedsuite at my house, and if i may say so myself, it is an excellent piece. in the grain of the wood you can see two devils or goats if you please, yet there is a floral design - three carved leaves to every flower with 5 petals and a button center. this carving (while i'm sure was popular at the time of the organ's making) was on my bedroom suite at home. astonished, i stumbled out of the church, and walked a block or so back to the maison. i was lucky my camera was still out, because the door of the maison was in fact (and unusually) open.

listening - "losing sleep," parachute

il pleut

it's quite chilly and rainy here. it's not been sunny at all since we got here, and it's supposed to rain until thursday of next week.

i wish i could go for a run, but each time i set out to run, it starts to poooooour.

it feels so weird being here. i actually feel like i'm half a world away from everyone, in every sense. communication has been nearly impossible. i've only talked to dylan since i've been here via gchat, and thats because he's awake at 7am and thats when i'm in my last lecture.

i'm starting to miss a few things...
1. driving
2. sweet tea
3. veggies
4. heat
5. puppies
6. my zillions of pillows

i'm supposed to be listening to a lecture on the electoral systems of europe, and i honestly think i might clock out. i for sure did this morning in human rights, but that wasn't me just being a slacker. the maison lacks thick walls, so literally you can hear the person in the next room breathing.

the french are such a peculiar people. i'm convinced that the baker down the street finds it amusing to listen to me order breakfast in the morning. he always smiles and ignores my mistakes in french. this morning his son rolled his eyes at me when i asked for "unne croissant" instead of "un croissant." whoops.

if you keep up in the news, you know that the european parliment just held its elections. the posters are still up, especially here in the latin quartier. the posters are so artistic considering they're political posters. one of the candidates is in a colorful navy suit, holding an empty picture frame around his face. another representative had a faux hawk.

i've not said much about where i live, but the maison de mines is in a great part of town. we're on the 6 1/5 floor, which is odd. i'm also in a triple for the first time in 2 years. revisiting freshman year isn't too difficult for me, but the other two girls i think are a bit frustrated with living with two people. there's only one ethernet port, and three twin beds. i must say that i'm still frustrated with the tube pillow, but i can't seem to find a pillow anywhere. i miss target. to some extent (maybe desparation) i miss walmart.

i'm working on not killing karl rove and dubya - two kids in my class that will go unnmaed. they ahve essentially the same look and beliefs, which fall beyond neo conservatism. the kid justified torture yesterday in human rights. i don't know whether to admire his audacity or label his unintelligence loudly.

naptime!!!

du fromage

i thought it was a stereotype, but the french really do put cheese on everything.

i ordered a salad, and they brought me a vat of liquid cheese. Why? to pour over the veggies obvi.

more later.

ici!

bonjour yall!


i made it to paris, finally. i think i forgot just how miserable traveling is.

british air was actually nice, but i like any airline that feeds me (peanuts don't count). we had chicken lo mein and bagels and yogurt for breakfast. i was basically in love.

i landed at heathrow, where i did not see hugh grant, and i was particularly irritated. i became even more irritated with the 2 hour line i stood in at customs, and then the hour line i waited in for security. i missed hartsfield more than ever.

Charles de Gaulle wasn't too bad, until i retrieved my baggage. All the good that british air had provided was diminished when i found my ruined suitcase. the zipper around the bottom of the bag was ripped off. i cursed british air as i walked to the RER. surely the walk to the student housing wouldn't be so bad.

wrong. i got off at Luxemburg, and circled the garden, twice. the directions i had been given were to say the least - awful. it told me to go the opposite way from the maison. i finally gave up with the map and used my poor french to ask a shopkeeper where to go. I had to walk 2 miles. uphill. fortunately it would start raining after i got to my barracks. the huge zipper hole in my suitcase was a little bit of a problem. stuff kept sliding out of my suitcase. like my books and shoes. old women came up to me and told me i was dropping everything on the street. fantastic.

the barracks slash my "dorm" have been named fondly by previous students as the "ghetto," and i'm not talking about shiny rimes and bling bling. the other ghetto. after dragging my luggage up to the 6th floor, i attempted to open my door. failure. keys didnt work. the ghetto manager was not pleased, and cursed me in french. whatever. i was running on 4 hours of sleep.

my group had already left for dinner, so a TA and scurried over to the restaurant. i was hoping since we were late that they would be mid dinner, and wouldn't take so long. Nope.

four hours and 4 glasses of wine later, we're still sitting in the restar-u. kill me.

upn return, i attempted to wash up. failure again. the water is either scalding (and trust me, i like hot showers,) or icy. the additional problem of there not being a shower head is beyond explanation.

i feel asleep, exhausted. at least they had bedding for us. i only mean sheets and a wool pullover. the "pillow" item given is a cotton stuffed tube that is three inches by 36inches. i woke up this morning and cracked every bone in my body.

today in class, i was saddened to learn that we are going to have class four hours a day, instead of two. i guess this should have been expected, but i was still bummed that i'll be sitting from 10am to 3pm.

in the good light, my french has improved dramatically. i kinda had to though; there are only about 4 of us who have had french previously, so we are responsible for translation. the internet is also in french, which is interesting.

my computer lit up weirdly last night, like with the pixels of the screen in a rainbow of colors. i', praying that i dont get a blue screen of death. someone please pray with me.

i know this post sounds terrible, but i'm particularly grumpy today. i've had only 3 nalgenes of water, and some m&ms. i'm not feed and i'm sleepy. disaster.

i'm excited to be here, if that counts, and as soon as it stops raining, i'm going to run in the jardin de luxemburg and visit the place where robert and mierelle fell in love (god i love french in action movie plots).

contact

skype - sarahelizabeththomas (search for me under sethom2@emory.ed)

Maison de Mine
270 R Saint Jacques
75006 Paris

limbo

i'm looking at my empty suitcase and bookbag.

do i put stuff in it?

it seems like saturday won't ever come, but at the same time, it's going to be here so quickly and i'm going to be knocked off my feet.

it's kinda weird, waiting in limbo. i'm so ready to go, but the nerves are starting to kick in. JT will be here soon...and that means i'll leave.

i only have two more mandatory things to do before i leave - get my allergy meds together, and get my hair cut. the latter is the more important.