Marseille, je t'aime

“Par la mer:” By the sea

Relief to be back, “home” in France. We flew from Fez to Marseille and stayed there Saturday night (2/20). I fell in love with this town. It is in the South of France by the sea, and absolutely beautiful. Apparently the second largest city in France, it didn’t feel too large. There is a big marina filled with sailboats and surrounded by cafes and restaurants. We found a spot down there to eat dinner and grabbed some drinks at an Irish pub. On Sunday, the weather was beautiful and sunny so we sat outside by marina and had cafés and a petit dejeuner with croissants and bread. It was lovely to just sit outside at the café and people watch. There was a Sunday fish market on the marina that I wandered through, both interesting and disgusting to my eyes. Eely fish, and then a women cutting the eyes off of another…cool, but gross. Despite being a little fatigue from the previous night’s festivities, a few of us climbed the monstrous hill where the Cathedral, Notre Dame de la Garde, sits. It was a killer hill but totally worth it as the view from the top was breathtaking. You could see the whole city as well as the sea. I could have sat up there for hours just gazing out.

Sunday afternoon we headed back to Clermont-Ferrand via a van filled with seven people (picked up two gals in Morocco who are friends with Erin). We brought along some baguettes and about 4 ½ hours later we were back “home.” Who knew I would be happy to be “home” in Clermont-Ferrand, France. Haha. It was a great trip…I have to rest now and recover from vacation!

Salaam!

“Salaam:” literally “peace” in Arabic, also used as a greeting

The next, and probably most interesting leg of our trip was Morocco. We went to Marrakech first, and upon landing I was so excited to see sun! North African sun! The weather was pretty fabulous, in the 60’s during the day, yet it is rainy season right now in Morocco so the clouds will not hesitate to swoop in at a moment’s notice. We spent most of our time in bot

h Marrakech and Fez just wandering around and taking in the scenery. In such a vastly different culture, it is enough to just watch and observe everything. Our hostel was located near the Place Jamaa el fna, which is the big square in the center of the old city…filled with snake charmers, souks (vendors) of all kinds, and anyone trying to make some Durhams selling whatever they have. It was bit overwhelming at first to see this scene…the fruits and vegetables are just sitting on stands, people are chatting us up everywhere trying to make a deal in all kinds of languages, have us go up to their restaurant, or just plain begging. As Westerners, and specifically, Americans, the group of 8 of us stood out for sure.

If you take a side street of the main square, the souks are condensed into smaller areas where can find a plethora of different sounds and smells are you are walking. One moment the scent of curry and cumin, potatoes and chicken roasting, then fresh oranges, maybe a donkey passes and you give a whiff of urine or manure, pass a meat shop and you smell raw beef, dirt, car fumes, then one more step and you smell something delicious enough to make you hungry. Quite a sensation to span only a few moments. The sounds are also overwhelming, an orchestra of car horns and scooters whizzing by you (don’t even try to find a “crosswalk” or sidewalk), people speaking French, Arabic, English, catcalls, vendors coercing you to visit their stand, restaurant owners shouting their menus out, Arabic pop/rap music, the call of prayer echoing from the Mosques five times a day…sensory overload.

The Arabic written on shops, graffiti, menus, etc. was usually accompanied by French, so we were able to speak to and understand most people because the country is basically bilingual. The stylish strokes of Arabic, however, look almost to be art compared to the straight forms of the Latin alphabet. Even the simplest of writing on the Coke can I bought amazed me. The rainbow of colors was also a pleasantry in Morocco, especially coming from France where the color black is almost a uniform. Women were clad in bright pink, orange, lime green hijab and headscarves, against a backdrop or the reddish orange clay that makes up most of the architecture.

I tried as many different Moroccan dishes as I could, ranging from tagines, which are platters with vegetables and a meat, or vegetables alone and are served underneath a pseudo-cone shaped pot, to couscous, chwarmas (kebabs), mulawi (sp?), which is a delicious crêpe-like flat bread served at breakfast, as well as a cornbread made out of couscous. They also drink a lot of tea, which would be served out of these large silver teapots into small glasses, and the server would hold the pot very high above the glass pouring the tea in, quite a skill.

Overall observations of Morocco:

• Keep bottled water to drink all the time, brush teeth with, and when your shower stops mid-shampoo, to rinse the rest of your hair out with.
• Thankfully the weather wasn’t too hot as it was necessary/appropriate for the girls to wear long sleeves and long pants as to not show so much skin.
• No booze-drinking in Morocco, but lots of tea and fresh squeezed juice was fabulous.
• When restaurant catches on fire, don’t panic…who knew that putting pizza boxes on top of a stove would be a fire-hazard?
• Everything is super cheap…and everything can/must be bargained down.
• The vendors that fail in Morocco go to Mexico…if you think they’re bad in Mexico, you ain’t see nothing yet!
• Where you can’t get away from ham in France and Spain, there is no pig eating in Morocco!
• Watch out for snake charmers and the guys with the monkeys, they will put these animals on you and then ask for money!
• Didn’t see any camels but saw a camel head hanging in a meat market as well as camel burger on a menu…
• Dates are yummy, but be sure to open them before eating to make sure there are no bugs inside!
• Would stay in a old converted Riad-hotel if I went back…riads were the homes of the Aristocrats with an open courtyard and little pool in the middle and mosaic covered walls with finely carved archways

The rain in Spain falls mainly in Madrid

“Pichel de Sangria, por favor:” Pitcher of Sangria, please!

We finally arrived in Madrid on Saturday (2/13) midday. We took the metro from the airport to Plaza Espana, which was located on the big street, Gran Via. Since we were supposed to go to Salamanca that morning, we did not actually have a hostel in Madrid for the night. Most of the afternoon was spent backpacking around the city looking for a place to stay…slightly stressful, but I was happy enough to be Spain! There were people walking about everywhere, car horns, scooters, big buses, bright lights…big city! Unfortunately, Madrid was not much warmer than Clermont-Ferrand, however, we left about 8 inches on snow in C-F, and it was sunny when we arrived in Spain.

Saturday’s lunch was not so good, as we just stopped in a cafeteria while walking around because we were all famished. The dinner on Saturday, however, made up for a crappy lunch. After looking around for a Spanish restaurant, we actually unknowingly settled at a Brazilian one. It was terrific anyway! For an appetizer, we tried this fried mix of beans and shrimp, and for my meal I had part of a pumpkin filled with cheese and shrimp, with rice on the side.

Sunday was Valentine’s Day, yet unlike in the U.S., Spain did not seem to rub the holiday in your face and make you aware of your romantic status every chance they could. To the contrary, I did not see much celebration of the day of love besides a few signs and special menus. We took the opportunity of sunny (yet, still cold) weather to tour around the city by foot, stopping by the royal Palace, cathedral, and a few parks. For lunch, we popped into this little joint by Puerto del Sol to finally have some tapas. Ordering wine was a breeze, reading the menu, however, proved slightly difficult. We all just kind of ordered and awaited the result. I ended up with the best empanada I have ever had in my entire life; it was more like pastry layers with meat inside than a pocket pastry as I have had at home. In the late afternoon, we took advantage of free admission the Prado museum, which holds many classic paintings and works of art by the likes of Goya and Velasquez. It is a huge museum where I probably could have spent hours wandering around. My favorites were Goya’s black period pieces. For Valentine’s Day dinner, the five of us found a sushi place, and the three of us girls were given red roses.

Monday morning, we awoke to a snowy/rain mix and frigid temperatures…not exactly ideal for touring. We tried to do indoor activities, saw the inside of the royal Palace and Cathedral, the palace being obscenely ornate as palaces go. We also visited the Museum Reina Sofia, which is the modern art museum in Madrid. I admired Picasso and other cubist painters’ masterpieces…again, I probably could have stayed in this museum all day. For our last meal in Spain we found it prudent to try some Paellas. Kate and I shared a huge paella filled with chicken, rice and vegetables. Quite delicious.

Overall observations about Spain:

• Smoking is allowed indoors, and everybody smokes, therefore I felt as if I constantly smelled of smoke for three days.
• If you think French have start late with dinner and such, Spain starts about 2 hours later. Late afternoon is siesta time, dinner is not until about 10pm or so, and you go out at about 1am.
• Knowing French gets you nowhere in Spain.
• Things seemed to be slightly cheaper in Spain than France.
• Fresh Sangria = fabulous. I drank it every night in Spain.
• Best foods to eat in Spain: empanada, Spanish omelet, patatas bravas (which is like fried mashed potatoes) and paella.

Let vacation begin!

“vol:” flight

“annulé:” cancelled

Kate and Chip (from Kansas), Erin and Jonathon (from South Carolina), and I departed Thursday, February 11th for our 10-day travel extravaganza! We first took a two-hour train to Lyon where there is a larger airport to fly out of.

Waiting in the Lyon airport to go to Madrid, I felt the need to write a poem. The gang made fun of me, but here it is anyway!

Poeme de l’aeroport

Here we sit in Lyon at the airport,

Underneath an inflatable fort.

We are waiting for the EasyJet,

Which has not seemed to arrive yet.

Luckily we have a table with five chairs,

Amid many jealous French stares.

The birds are chirping above our heads,

While we wish we could have remained in our beds.

The cards are thrown as games continue to be played-

This delay will not make us too dismayed.

Hopefully soon we will be in sunny Spain,

Hey it’s better than waiting to go to Maine!

Our easy route from Lyon to Madrid ended up with a cancelled flight due to bad weather, a day spent in the airport, little access to internet…resulting in us renting a car in Lyon and driving about five hours to Paris to catch a Madrid flight the next morning. It was a minor hiccup in plans that put us a day behind on our vacation schedule, but, c’est la vie.

Short films are strange

Word of the day, "abstrait:" abstract

This past week Clermont-Ferrand celebrated its most famous event, "Le Court Metrage," the short film festival. There were hundreds of short films shown at cinemas throughout the city, French and International. Outside every cinema or auditorium there were long lines of people awaiting an 1-2 hours of a session of short stories. Each session had about 6-8 short films. I ended up attending three different sessions, and really, I had no idea what to expect with each film. The length of the films ranged from about 7-30 minutes, some long enough to tell a story, others maybe just a message.

The first session I attended had films from Brazil, South Korea, Canada, Iran, UK, and Germany. Fortunately, each film was played with both English and French subtitles, although for the Scottish one I had to read the French subtitles because I could barely understand their accents! More often than not the films were depressing, but I suppose those types of movies spur more contemplation then others.

The second session had films from Denmark, Germany, Spain, China, and Argentina. My favorite was made in Spain about Ernest Hemingway called, "Notes on the Other," which described some of his experience when he would visit Spain as well as his final moments before killing himself.

Finally, a little something different for the third session, as it was a Zombie-themed session! Ha. Most of these films were fantastically full of cliche zombie situations, without which you could not have a zombie flick. (young blonde girls running up the stairs clad only in underwear, lots of screaming, rigid zombie movements, and the like). My favorite was one called, "The Zombie Family," a parody of a family sitcom show including fake laughter and applause. All together the zombie films were totally bizarre but definitely entertaining.

Café Culture

Word of the day "Ne t'inquiete pas:" Don't worry

I actually wrote this little piece when I was studying in Paris in the Fall of 2007, but change the name of the city and café and you have the same scene here in Clermont-Ferrand.

Café Hugo, Place des Vosges, le Mariée, Paris, France. Un café crème, s’il vous plaît. This is where I have had a chance to halt the busy city life for a cup of coffee with a couple of friends. It allows us to recover for a moment from a busy day of classes and the wandering through streets of Paris. At home, a coffee break is a quick dash into Starbucks for my grande café latte, to go of course, and then gulping it down along the way to my next destination. Here, I can sit for fifteen minutes, an hour, or more and not only enjoy a warm cup of coffee (often served with a small piece of chocolate!) as well as stimulating conversation with friends. From our daily happenings, love lives, to political debates, the conversation at the café varies and seems quite endless. It is only when the server brings the check and gives us some encouraging eyes that we finally arise and move on with the day.

The café culture in Paris is quite different than at home, as mentioned above. Here, it can be a quick espresso at the bar along with a friendly chat with the barista over the day, or the weather. It can be a sit down with friends, meeting with an old acquaintance, an informal date. Also, it can just be a time to sit back alone with a good book or with some observant eyes. As observed though my café experiences, I have seen all of the above. Sitting next to a window to view the outside or in the corner of café, I can observe both the outer world and that of which joins me for a break at the shop. I find myself developing personal stories for those I see, trying to figure how they have gotten to where they are. Has that old couple been together for years, coming to share a coffee every Sunday afternoon? Are those clad dressed pre-teenagers talking of boys and makeup just as I did at that age? Is the boy buying coffee for the girl he sits with her boyfriend, or is this a first date? It is free entertainment for me to conjure up my own tales for these strangers, and although, without the different language, I can make these same observations at home, there is something a little more special about watching the Parisians. I feel as if there is more of a relaxing feeling in them: less pressure and stress to move on. They will sit until they are done with the aura, the feeling of the coffee shop, or the book they are reading, and not just until they are done with their cup of coffee. Do we find this difference just because our American culture is a faster paced society, or do the Parisians actually enjoy more so the café culture and being in a relaxing atmosphere among other people? I do know that I will miss the cozy chairs and delicious French coffees that I have experienced here.

Sometimes, we just need to slow down and relax with cup of coffee, or even a glass of wine (after five?). Paris is quite conducive to relinquishing the stresses that are caused from a rushed day, or even just offering a quiet spot to gather one’s thoughts. I must search a little harder when I return home for something other then a quick fix at Starbucks, somewhere that I can my coffee alone or with friends, and spend as much time as I would like doing so.

It's good we can all make fun of ourselves...and others

Word of the day: "Rire:" to laugh

This week I am taking the class, "Strategies for Growth," which happens to be in English with a French professor. (It would probably be better for me to have chosen an elective this week in French to better my language skills, oh well) The prof is great though, and adds interesting insight to the French ways of thinking...despite what we may think, the French are also able to make fun of themselves and others...Here's is the funny tidbit he Prof. Ubaud said in class yesterday when describing the cultures of differing countries nearby:

The French are the chefs, the Italians are the lovers, the Germans are the organizers, and the British are the diplomats,

but all goes to hell when,

The Italians try to organize, the British try to cook, the Germans try to be lovers, and the French try to be diplomats.

Ha. I laughed. J'ai ri.