Actual Accomplishments

First of all, I promise this post is more interesting than the last. I have actually accomplished two whole class sessions, finding a church, and even visiting some touristy stuff. If you’re still not impressed, I dare you to do the same in a foreign country. Mollie invited me to a non-denominational church in Viña, so I took a micro all by myself for the first time (after my mother had rehearsed several times, with a map, which street I was to ask the driver to deposit me in…I didn’t ask the driver, but I have memorized this all-important phrase) and found the church without any trouble. O happy days! Union Cristiana is basically a Chilean version of New Community – super casual, pastors in jeans, in a non-traditional church building, lots of young people and young families smiling at anyone new, and a hefty sermon. I got there early, so after hanging out a while in the courtyard someone invited me into a little side room where people with small children could watch the service. I got a text and bounced back out into the courtyard to find Mollie (!!!) and a couple other exchangers from her program. We filled up a row in the church, where ushers worked throughout the service to help crowd more people in. It was nice to recognize quite a few of the worship songs as translations of songs from home, and I actually understood the majority of the sermon. I was glowing by the end, I was so happy that I got what he was saying and I was actually learning. I didn’t manage to take notes in Spanish, but I did make a list of vocab words to look up when I got home. After church I came home for a huge Chilean lunch. Paula was visiting with her boyfriend, so I think Gabriela (mi madre) was cooking a little extra fancy for company. We had sopapillas, a Chilean specialty. They’re basically fry bread, eaten as a savory side dish or with something sweet for desert. We also had cabbage with lemon, another Chilean dish. There was also some kind of roast meat and mashed potatoes. And homemade flan for desert. Chileans eat well. In the afternoon I met up with Mollie and co. to visit the Dunas, the sand dunes in a little touristy/rich people town a ways up the coast from Viña. We climbed the small mountains of soft sand and watched the sun set. It was cloudy, but normally you can see all the way to Valpo from there. We ran into some other students from Mollie’s program who happened to be there and watched them try to sandboard down the slope. A few zipped down quite successfully, others putsied along and later regretted necessitating the long climb back to the top. When we got back to Viña we went to El Guaton to eat. I’m not sure if El Guaton is a chain or just a type of restaurant, but they offer ENORMOUS sandwiches and completos, or hotdogs slathered with mayo and guacamole (which is apparently a Mexican term, here it’s called palta). Mollie and I split a sandwich, luckily. Even the sodas, served in 350 ml glass bottles, seemed large. After dinner we walked down to the flower clock, which is just what it sounds like: flowers/ topiary with some clock hands turning around them. I wasn’t too impressed, but I guess it’s a landmark around here and it’s one of the only mildly touristy things I’ve seen so far. It was fun walking and talking and trying to work on my Spanish. This morning I woke up early but got up late (upon request of Gabriela. I think she wants to feed me and be together, but I’ve been getting up early and everyone else is on vacation and sleeping until noon. We settled on a reasonable 9 for getting up.) We had bread and cheese and pastries with tea for breakfast, and it was nice to just be with her and talk some. She is very patient and speaks a bit more slowly with me since Chileans talk like New Yorkers. I then scampered off to meet Mollie downtown. We had planned to visit Quinta Vergara, a big garden in Viña, but there seemed to be construction at the entrance so we got pasties and walked instead. I’m so glad Mollie is here, seeing a friendly face every now and then makes a big difference. This afternoon I had my first two classes, Ecoliterature and Ecocriticism and Español Escrito. I think the Ecolit class will be interesting, the professor is enthusiastic and we get to take a field trip to see the most polluted spot in Chile. I’m sure I will be impressed. The professor immediately thought of Into the Wild when she heard I was from AK, and once again I had to say that I’ve never read it. I did not mention that many Alaskans just think the dude was stupid, but I really ought to read it before joining in on that. And at least to know what everyone is thinking about in association with me. In my written Spanish class there are 2 francophones; I did not reveal my intense interest and secret French skills, but I kinda want to ambush them at some point. There are also 2 Japanese guys who seem pretty cool, and everyone is American. It feels good to be back in a classroom. A word on transportation here: there are 3 options for people without cars or walking shoes. 1. Metro (I hear it’s orderly and easy, but I haven’t tried it yet) 2. Collectivos are kinda cross between a bus and a taxi; they take you to your doorstep, but have more set routes than the micros, only take 4 people, and cost more. I haven’t tried one yet, but I might never since 3. Micros (buses) take me basically to my door and let me avoid climbing the long hill to get there. The buses make an impression – they shudder and rattle along at incredible speeds and most of them seem pretty beat up. Drivers stop for about 2 seconds when you’ve flagged them down, and start moving while you pay them and they give you change. Their multitasking is truly impressive. They seem to personalize their bus with little stickers or messages, like Mercedes Benz logos or icons of the Sacred Heart. I really like the micros. They run at all hours, on a slow street they pick you up wherever you happen to be, they’re cheap, and the seats are actually quite cushy. And you won’t fall asleep. Another random fact: Dental floss here is shockingly expensive. I paid 4 bucks for one little package. It’s hard to know what is expensive and what is not – pastries are less than a dollar, a bus ride is like 50 cents, and dental floss is 4 bucks. Go figure.

Victories: Build Me A Triumphal Arch with Toothpaste and a Microwave on Top

I have figured out the money, more or less. 500 pesos is about 1 dollar, and it costs only 470 pesos to get from Viña to Valpo in the bus. Fantastico. I also bought socks and toothpaste yesterday, how wonderful! The socks were a bit pricey, about 6 bucks a pop, but they have wool in them and I wasn’t about to complain. It is about 40 degrees here and humid, so I’m a bit chilly. I also successfully learned how to operate the shower today (you have to turn on a pilot light for the heater before any water will heat in the apartment) and horror of horrors, they leave the window in the bathroom wide open, literally blowing clammy cold air directly into the shower. I closed it for my shower and opened it again later to air out the steam. My host mom gently insisted that I borrow her hair dryer so I didn’t freeze to death. I am very grateful. They say summer starts in September… This morning I was awake quite early, thanks to jet lag. Everyone else was sleeping in on a Saturday morning, so I thought I would take care of myself like the big girl I am and find breakfast. My most important goal was tea – nothing better to warm up the hands. Only problem was, I had not yet been instructed how to turn on the gas stove or how to get the microwave to work. I opted to mess with the microwave more stubbornly after several failed explorations since it would be harder to blow up the house with and succeeded in heating water! This all sounds pathetic on paper, but let me tell you, I feel empowered and ready for crazy buses, getting lost in foreign countries, and speaking a new language. I can heat water, after all. PS: I met my host mom's boyfriend, who is a vet for racehorses at the sports club nearby. 750 horses under his care. He seems nice, he used to host international students too. PPS: Tomorrow I'm going to church with Mollie, I will get on a Micro (bus)and hope for the best.

¡Bienvenida en Chile!

The steamroller of cultural integration has begun – I’m exhausted and have a little headache, but overall culture shock is better the second time around. So far Chile feels quite European, with an agreeable bit of America thrown in. Huges spaces, vibrant cityscapes, more history than Alaska (which isn’t saying much, of course). Clothing seems to be much like Europe, with a few more bold colors. Think classic. Heating and humid winters also hit a euro chord. No one here has a central heating system, so I’m all bundled up in long johns and my little bed heating pad is my best friend (no dogs this time). My hair has exploded according to the humidity, and the fog and sudden sunshine seems to justify the comparisons with San Francisco. Cacti, nasturtiums, and yellow-flowered trees cover the red clay mountains, and both Viña del Mar and Valparaíso are right on the coast. My Spanish is limping along, and my host mom has told me about health care costs and earthquakes without too much miming. My sentences are awfully constructed, but I usually get my meaning across. I think, anyway. Once classes start I hope my Spanish will return and get better. To get more specific: Family: I’m living with a single mother, Gabriela, with 4 children, 2 who are out of the house and 2 who are studying at universities here (there are so many!). Gabriela is very patient and has welcomed me in warmly. She’s been hosting students for about 10 years, and is used to North American problems in Chile. Fernanda is a couple years older than me and is studying oncology. She is quieter than her mom, but is good at guessing the vocab word I’m looking for. Sebastian is 2 years younger than me and ready to start his first year of studies. He’s been more withdrawn and I haven’t seen him all that much, but he doesn’t seem hostile. There is a cat, Matilde, who belongs to Fernanda. There’s another student , a Chilean woman, who lives in the house, as a friend of the family. I’ve only caught a glimpse of her, I think she must be in class or working or something most of the time. Home: I’m in an apartment that overlooks Vina; the view is beautiful at night with all the lights. I love all the warm colors on the walls, and I have an adorable little room all to myself next to the kitchen. I’m upstairs now in the living room, enjoying the relatively tropical temperatures of the second floor (the little portable heater sends most of the heat straight up).

Universidad: Fernanda took me to an orientation session today. For some reason Arcadia thinks that their students only need one day of orientation while everyone else got a week, but since there are only 2 of us we got a lot of face time with the program assistant. First thing: Spanish placement test. My poor little head made it through an hour of estimations and horror of horrors, a small essay portion. I placed into the intermediate level, which is what I was planning on. We had a whirlwind orientation about the staff and security and family; after mandatory AFS camps that last days and days, this seemed so fast. Then we got to make our schedule. Insert new headache. Classes are organized by ‘claves’ or bells and each class is labeled with the bell number rather than the time of day. Turns out that the 3 classes I had singled out for history credit all overlapped, so I picked Latin American gender studies to get a little history credit. Then I have 2 Spanish classes (only one of which I will get credit for), Ecoliterature and Ecocriticism, and finally Contemporary Latin American Film. I have no classes on Friday and only 2 on Monday…but Wednesdays I’ll have 9 hours of class with a 45 minute break for lunch. Ufda. I think I’m going to ask about dance classes and volunteering too. As AFS drilled into us, exchangers must get involved, sometimes even though it seems like too much at the beginning. Our orientation also included a walking tour of a touristy part of Valpo. The sun came out a little and showed off the beautiful bright colors of the wild assortment of buildings. As our assistant explained, Valpo is one of the few cities of South America that was not laid out or founded by the Spanish; thus the roads grew up more or less willy-nilly. Valpo straddles enormous hills, and the famous elevators, or acensores, transport pedestrians up and down the mountainside. We took an acensor up to look over the city and leave the chaos of the port behind. Valpo is rather dirty and smells like fish, but it’s better up on the hill where the tourists are drawn. There’s really cool graffiti everywhere, as well as stray dogs. The dogs are all fat and in good shape, but they don’t really belong to anyone – people just feed them regularly. We admired the view and noted some museums before stopping for coffee. We had cortados and dulces Chilenos (lattes and Chilean sweets, which are a kind of layered biscuit thing with dulce de leche and a brittle, eggy crust). The assistant explained a little of Chilean culture for us, like the fact that Chileans like ‘gringos’ (Australians, Americans, Brits, Canadians) because they have money and dislike other blacks, Asians, Spaniards, and especially other South Americans. In fact, she didn’t even call the gringos immigrants; only the undesirable others were called immigrants. Chile is being marketed as a developed, stable country (and it is), but the high cost of living is about equal to the relatively low average income, so it’s not the place to save money in Latin America. Thus, not many gringos come to live in Chile, and Chilean students will go to the US to work for the summer to earn serious money. Things like housing and food are cheap, things like clothing and electronics are more expensive than the US. After our coffee we headed back down the mountain and went home with our families for lunch. Meals: Lunch is the main meal, while breakfast is how you want it to be. Once, or tea time, is around 4 or 5 pm and is a light snack of some kind before dinner, which is around 8 pm and is also quite light. The food, so far, is good. Lots of bread, nothing too wild yet. They have mayo like the Belgians. :D Belgian-style kissing is also welcome.The radio is also very familiar; songs like Sexy and I Know It that died out months ago in the US are still played, and lots of classics I have in my itunes account have been showing up in the home radio too. Money: I still don’t really get the money, the denominations are all huge and I’m not sure how they translate into dollars yet. I just buy what I need and assume I can afford socks or toothpaste. So that’s the next goal. Besides constructing coherent sentences and meeting up with Mollie!

Belgium Condensed

You always realize how much you love someone when it comes time to say goodbye. Sometimes I manage to hold it together until I leave the sight of the other person or people in an airport or at a train station, but that doesn’t mean I don’t cry. I’m on my own again; Karen and Dad are on their way back to Alaska and Marianne is back to her menagerie. I think I must be slightly insane, all this travel so fast is hard to keep up with psychologically and emotionally. Our two weeks at Marianne’s were a blessing. It was so good to find old friends and pets again and to taste some peach beer and laugh at my horrible French. I did indeed get some homework done, but I will be finishing it (hopefully) during my two-day journey. (There’s a tween watching Alvin and the Chipmunks 2 in front of me on this plane and he keeps turning around and staring at me. Either that or there’s someone or something really interesting just behind my head. Go on, kid, look at the Dutch-dubbed chipmunks. Ah yes, it’s the stewardess with emergency compartments. Alright then.) So. Belgium. Our first week, while Karen and Dad checked out Amsterdam, I got the most beautiful surprise – not only was Benjamin in town against all odds, but the two of us got to surprise a third buddy from school, Sharon. Now, to understand just how precious this gift was, you have to realize that I hadn’t heard much of anything from either of them in at least a year. Ben had virtually disappeared from the internet after deciding to go to Canada to contemplate joining Marie Jeunesse, and Sharon just doesn’t use the internet on a regular basis. I didn’t even know if Ben would be in the country, let alone free, and I had no idea how to get ahold of Sharon unless I walked up to her front door and knocked (I was gearing up to do just that). Turns out that Ben just happened to be back in Belgium, only for a month, and I just happened to catch him before his job started, and he just happened to be in town. God has been doing big things in his life, and it was such a joy to talk to him again. He called up Sharon and her family and told her that he wanted to visit, but that he had a surprise. I got to pop out of the back seat of his car when she walked up and casually say hi while her jaw dropped. And then it was bis and time to go get something to drink and eat some fries together. Ben and Sharon talked like old times, including Ben and myself trying to explain why God makes sense to Sharon, who thinks it all very interesting but not convicting. She is so open-minded, and Ben so eager to explain. It was wonderful. The next week Pepe took us to visit the boat elevators, which Dad really liked (it wasn’t another art museum, after all!) We also went to Ghent with Pepe. He hired a guide to tell us everything about the city center in English; we really confused him with a Francophone, two English speakers, and a Fleming (Jean-Pierre came too) as well as one American who seemed to get his French jokes. After a little explanation he did really well hopping between tongues. After the guide left we toured the Count’s Castle, which stands out in my memories for the collection of medieval weaponry and the torture museum as well as the lovely towers and spiral staircases. Karen, who had specifically requested to see a castle during her stint in Europe, was pretty happy. We also took a tour on a boat, enjoying the breeze on the water under the hot sun. I also spent some time admiring our guide’s awesome green spectacles, her shock of blond hair, and her ability to make jokes in 3 languages almost simultaneously without getting mixed up between the 3. Ghent was preparing for the Ghent Feast, a 10-day hullaballoo of free concerts and (paid for) beer. The last day of the festival is appropriately named “empty wallet” day. We missed the festivities themselves, but saw all the platforms and workers everywhere. Pepe piloted us out of the city without too much attitude from his gps. Karen and Dad also went to Bruges, and on Friday we all went to Brussels. The Magritte museum is still awesome, and I think he might even upset Van Gogh as my favorite artist. He’s a surrealist, but one that makes sense. Here are some of my favorites that we saw: Unexpected Answer

The Return

Realm of Arnaheim

We also did the mandatory picture with Mannekin Pis (the peeing boy statue) and dawdled a while in the Grand Place. I was so proud of myself, I remembered how to get around and even found the same cheap Chinese restaurant Julia and I enjoyed so long ago. The food was still cheap and good – we had a 3 course meal for 9 euros each and Karen could eat all of it. Don’t judge us, Asian immigrant food rocks. Then we headed out to spend the night at Jean-Pierre’s place, deep in the heart of Flanders, just a 20 km from Antwerp. We needed to call him to let him know when we were coming, and we couldn’t figure out the pay phones and their card system before the train came, so we hadn’t called. I was so self-conscious to ask someone for their phone – I was wearing my GU tshirt and I speak like 3 words of Dutch and I was with two other obvious tourists. And then I was brilliant and used French instead of English. So no one lent me their cell phone, Dad got a taxi driver to help us, and I relearned my lesson about looking grungy in Europe. Never wear American t-shirts in a European public space. The next day we bummed around Antwerp, revisiting places JP had showed Julia and me a few years ago. We toured the Rubens house again. Everything and everyone in Western art is so obviously copying or at least quoting Rome, it makes me laugh now. Even his garden looked like a mini triumphal arch with statues stuffed into niches to add to the effect. The woodwork and leather/gold leaf wall coverings were just as cool as I remembered though. Then we walked about town, looking in the Cathedral and looking out over the schelde/l’escaut (the river that runs through Antwerp, Ghent, and Tournai, among other places). JP took us down Antwerp’s tiniest road, not much bigger than a hallway, to find this old 15th century cellar that is now a café. A gentleman who offered to show us the upper part of a home from 1533 for a small fee stopped us just outside the cellar. We took him up on it, and weren’t sorry – the house was stuffed full of replicas and live chickens and lit candles that all screamed ‘1533!’ It was really neat, and he had an informative and quirky shpeel to go with the house. We learned about chamber pots and using mussel shells for toilet paper (how Belgian. I think I prefer the nice fluffy kind with little colored designs on it though), as well as keeping rabbits and other critters in the attic, as there was no room for a garden. After we’d poked around a bit and slithered up and down the teeny staircases we had a drink down in the cellar. It’s hard to beat the ambiance of a cellar from 1400, but I wouldn’t show up there on Halloween(not that Belgians celebrate that anyway). Saturday night we enjoyed dinner at Denis and Martine’s home with the Coquay clan. The boys have grown up so much since I last saw them; Romain is Karen’s age, and boy has he changed. He’s speaking good English, some Spanish, and has shot up at least a foot. Antoine’s voice has dropped, and Maxime is styling his hair. Everyone else hasn’t changed much; Denis and Martine still make and incredible amount of incredible food and Pepe still enjoys every single bite. Robert still loves to sing to Denis’ improvisations on the baby grand, Marianne still humors Denis’ insistence on her trying to play musical instruments from his collection, and Cecile still takes photos to remember occasions. Dad and Karen had fun too, and the Arabian couscous, veggies, and chicken with candied lemon stole their hearts. Pepe sent champagne corks flying into the goldfish pond (les poissons rouges, mais les pois son verts!) and we left full and happy. Sunday Belgium changed kings (ask me the mayo joke sometime) and celebrated the national feast day. A few flags hung out of windows, and the radio talked about what the new queen was wearing, but otherwise everything was pretty calm. We did go to the artifoire, which was a little fair with old crafty things in it, along with plenty of beer and some music. We stood around and drunk things and tried not to die in the heat like good Belgians. Julia (the Finnish one, not the Icelandic one) and Jade got back from their month-long camping trip in Scandinavia the second week, so Karen and I hung out with them and just chatted. I’m really glad I got to meet Julia, I’ve heard a lot about her and she’s quite delightful. Her beautiful French accent makes me want to cry a little bit, but since she wants to go into translation for her profession I can forgive her talent and 4 or 5 language ability. Jade likes her studies at the Tourism school and seems happy with Julia. Yesterday we went and bought beer at the Carrefour and just sat around talking and eating chips and chocolate for hours while we tried to avoid the heat. We also watched Fracture in English with Dad (good movie- I won’t spoil it, but it’s worth watching). Late that night Stephanie and her family came over – the daughter of the neighbors who has been living in Chile. Her husband, Philipe, is Chilean, so the both of them had some friendly advice for me. I’m really glad they gave me some heads up; apparently Chileans don’t think much of dogs, don’t hate Americans, and don’t believe in using clocks. They also speak at an incredible speed – I couldn’t understand anything Philipe said in Spanish, but when Stephanie talked I could get the gist of it. Jade couldn’t even distinguish the words when he talked, and she speaks Spanish after 6 months in Costa Rica. I’m pretty nervous about my language skills, I haven’t been keeping up my Spanish and now my head is solidly in French mode, even if my French was limping a bit after 2 years neglect. I am prepared to understand nothing and smile a lot. I do know who my host family is now, but I haven’t talked with them much. I sent an email last night and haven’t heard back. They don’t have any pets, so that will be a change! I keep drumming into my head the old AFS motto : “It’s not good, it’s not bad, it’s just different.” Hopefully that will help me get my head on straight to take in all of this in a few more hours. Fin, bref – I can never find a way to thank the people in my life. Everyone in Belgium has been so hospitable, Marianne inspires me and loves me, Dad and Karen gave me their time and patience among other things, the Coquay family took me under their wing, Jade and Julia made me laugh. And God put each and every single one of them into my life. I’m nervous, I’m a little sad I’m not on my way home, I’m not ready, but there’s also much to rejoice in. Andiamo!

Update

thought I’d give a little update. This morning Dad and Karen set out for Amsterdam until Saturday; they’ve got a museum hit list (including some boat museums that will be more fun to Dad) and a hostel reservation. Karen has been using her French a little and listening attentively a lot; Dad has been managing with mimes and smiles. I think Marianne would like to be able to talk to them, she says it’s too bad they don’t speak French. Everyone remarks how pretty Karen is. I tell her afterwards. Karen has also found some chocolate here without milk that she loves. I convinced Dad to get some for him and me too, so we are all munching happily on chocolate belge. They’re learning how to do bisous gradually, but Gilles had to tell Karen to be more manly about her face-bumping. I have heard from Benjamin! He happens to be in Belgium for a break before heading back to Canada; we were both so excited to find each other online on skype! He went to an slp and his voice is entirely changed. Only 3 or 4 visits, and he has his own voice now. It’s still weird for me to hear! We’re going to go visit Sharon and surprise her Friday night (she doesn’t know I’m here), so that will be wonderful. Touchtou and 36 and Piout are all asleep on my bed after playing ball – it’s like old times.I'm remembering where everything goes in the kitchen and how important it is to not stress out. I'm so glad to have a chance to be here again. Bis!

La Belgique

Well, I’m back! And Karen and Dad are discovering Belgium. Marianne hugged me and actually picked me up and spun me in a circle when she came to get us from the station. Touchtou remembered me and still jumps all over and gives me kisses like a mad thing, Piout is still queen of the other dogs despite her stature, and my room is still as green as ever. It’s good to be back. We’ve visited Cecile and Pepe, and yesterday we had a huge meal with the pony club group and Gilles. Dad and Pepe hit it off as fellow pilots despite their language barrier, and mimed crashes and air patterns to each other with occasional words. Today I showed Dad and Karen my old school and the store, and we took the dogs for a walk along the river in the afternoon. We’re all relaxing and gathering ourselves. Karen and Dad have some sightseeing to do in Amsterdam and a few Belgian cities, and while I will accompany them to Brussels, I think I’m going to hang out here for the most part. I have my homework to do from Rome still, and I’m not going to miss an opportunity to be in this crazy household! Two years have passed, but some things don’t change all that much.

Paris: Museum Max

We’ve been enjoying the French language and food now for 3 days from a cozy little hotel in Montmartre. We have a little balcony with a table and chair, as well as a shower stall and a sink shoved awkwardly next to the bed. There’s one way up, and that’s a rickety, gaudily painted spiral staircase to match the one toilet on the floor. Dad and I get up in the morning to profit from the free breakfast of hot chocolate, a baguette with butter, a croissant, and some juice and say hello to the twin daughters of the hotel owner. I think Dad is warming up to the continental breakfast, slowly. Karen sleeps until we come back, and then we giggle at her grogginess. Ah, family. Our first afternoon we grabbed some lunch at a smoothie joint before we dove into the museums with one of my favorites, Musée D’Orsay. It was crowded, but because it’s in an old train station it was doable and not too claustrophobic. Karen gobbled up the Rodin and Monet and Courbet before we turned our noses towards gobbling something for our stomachs back in Montmartre. We found a place in our guidebook that offered something Karen could eat, a steak tartare. I had forgotten what exactly a tartare was, but it came rushing back when Karen’s plate arrived: a raw hamburger patty with an egg yolk on top. Karen’s face was priceless. She tried a bite or so, and then her valiant older sister offered her cooked burger and ate the tartare herself.

On Wednesday we slept in and rejuvenated our tired little selves before taking on the Louvre in the afternoon. We also stopped to fortify ourselves with some omelets. True to form, we got thoroughly lost and made at least one complete circle back to where we had started. It’s those darned stairs…the docents tell you to take a right like it’s the simplest thing, and then you go around the stairs for two flights and have to take a turn on your new left. In one of the galleries we were sitting down to rest when we heard singing. We found the source to be a middle school choir doing a sort of flash-concert in the echoing gallery. It was a high, calm, beautiful piece and they sang very well. Dad really liked it. Karen liked the Egyptian gallery as well as the Leonardo paintings and Michelangelo slaves and everything else in that castle. We emerged victorious and tired after 5 hours to go find supper on Montmartre. We climbed up to see Sacre Coeur Basilica (not too impressive after St. Peter’s, but it’s kinda mandatory) and then descended. We found this little abandoned restaurant with an eager waiter that served a selection of couscous dishes, so we gave it a shot. I ordered a cidre too, for Dad to try, but it was a stouter variety and he wasn’t a fan. Oh darn, I had to finish it…We left full and happy and managed to get down the rest of the stairs without rolling down them. Thursday we spent the morning at a little flea market Karen had looked up. She learned about the markets in French class, so it was cool to see them in the flesh. We pawed through old jewelry and scarves and found a few treasures before we turned our attention to lunch. Karen’s stomach was paying for having cheated on her allergies, so she had a pear and Dad and I munched on a wheel of camembert and some bananas (yes, I know that’s a weird combination, but they travel well). We happened to sit down just as a model shoot started on the tree-shaded avenue. The model had her hair all slicked back with golden slacks and a big poofy fur coat – she looked like a chic Macklemore. It was kinda fun to see her smile and be a real person from time to time, as well as the circling of all the cameras. Karen snuck a shot of her, and she saw Karen and stuck a little pose for her. We continued wandering through the business district towards one of Paris’ big names I’d never seen before: Centre Pompidou, the modern art museum. I really like modern art because you don’t have to be reverent and it’s fun to talk to other people and see their reactions. And it’s just so weird. Poor Dad found about 3 things that he liked in the 3 floors of art we looked at, but Karen and I had fun looking at shlopped paint and jagged pieces of metal. We were also very happy to have escalators up the 6 stories too; plus the glass casing offers a great view of the city. They had a special exhibit of Roy Lichtenstein with good English explanations that we all liked, and I really liked the Miro and Matisse paintings. I have an ambition to imitate some of the simple pieces on my furniture someday (thriftstore+paint=funcolorsinmyhouse). It was a nice change of pace after all the madonnas and annunciations we’d been looking at, but even so we were ready to leave after 3 hours. We proceeded to Notre Dame to attend Vespers. I remember the first time I came into Notre Dame I felt so tiny and God felt so big…it still feels like that. The Gothic architecture was designed to point towards heaven and it still moves people that way. Karen liked it, but she didn’t see why it would be a bigger fuss than anything in Rome. The more we see of Europe, the more I see that Europe is basically copying or imitating Rome: the architecture, the religious iconography, even the straight roads. For dinner Karen had roast duck while Dad and I ate omelets. It’s so nice to be in a culture that likes eggs again. This morning we’re off to hit the Eiffel Tower and Champs Elysees. I don’t think we can take any more museums; we’ve finally maxed out. Tomorrow we’ll be in BELGIUM !

Finishing Florence

We have said our farewells to Italy and are snuggled up in a Paris hotel at the moment in Montmartre. Karen is sitting out on our little balcony sketching, Dad is catching up on some shut-eye, and, well, I’m typing this instead of doing Fr. Maher’s homework. Finishing up Florence: The hostel dinner was great. We all ate too much, and had a good time trying to figure out what flavor the sorbet was until we realized it was labeled on the menu. Meh, guessing was fun too. After sleeping in we had a great day rambling around the city. We started off at the Mercato Centrale, kinda like a farmer’s market on steroids. We bought some dried fruit and nuts for candy before finding a great little sandwich shop mentioned in our guidebook. We weren’t brave enough to try the tripe, but Nerbone’s boiled beef and roast beef sandwiches were hearty, fresh, and satisfying. Karen liked the beef too. We then did some shopping among the repetitious but still popular stalls of leather, clothing, and mini Davids. Karen found a pretty linen dress and a belt that I can’t wait to see her wear. We walked over to the river to find a gelato place and were not disappointed with Gelateria de Neri. Dad and I had gorgonzola/nut with dark chocolate while Karen had stratticella and black cherry. It was quiet, few tourists, and the gelato was incredible. They also had a tv playing Top Gear, dubbed in Italian. Jeremy doesn’t sound nearly as snarky in Italian. While we were walking around, Karen and I darted across a street to take a photo – I avoided being hit by a dinky little purple car. All I could think of was, “…got run over by a crappy purple scion.” Luckily, that was not my fate, we didn’t have to say goodbye in 50 ways, but Karen and I had a good time telling some of Train’s lyrics to Dad afterwards. We dawdled across the river (caught a nice breeze on the bridge…better than air conditioning) and climbed up to Piazza Michelangelo for a great view. We also found this great little church, St. Minitias, that was everything an Italian church should be: free, full of art, cool, and peaceful. The medieval paintings and ceilings were all in beautiful condition, and we spent a beautiful few minutes praying and sitting in the cool church. We meandered back down the hill to find some dinner, and then back to our hostel to grab our bags and wait for the overnight train.

Finding the proper train car is harder than you might think. Things are not super well-labeled, you have about 5 minutes to get you and all your stuff off the platform and into the train before you’re left behind, and the cars are not consecutively numbered. After some shuffling up and down aisles and between cars we finally found our car – which had originally been numbered for 6 people on the outside, but only 4 on the inside. The 4 on the inside also didn’t include one of the numbers on our ticket. We got it straight about the same time our co-passenger arrived in Bologna. We talked to him in the morning after a night of bumping and rocking along in our respective bunks. He lives in Rome, was going to Paris. Karen says he reminded her of what a 40 year old Tarzan would look like: dreds, long beard, scruffy clothes. He spoke good Italian, French, and English, and we shared a little breakfast with him. He was interested in Alaska, so we talked about that a bit. Dad stared out the window, I read some Tess D’Ubervilles, and Karen napped some more until we got to Paris around 11 am.