Monday, November 23, 2009
A Typical Dinner Buffenoir Style
Wednesday November 18
Ok, so living with a host family has been hands down the best part of being in France. We don't get to spend a lot of time together but I adore my family nonetheless. One of the most memorable parts of living with the Buffenoirs has been their classically french dinner parties, so I thought I'd tell you how it's done Buffenoir style.
Company usually arrives about 7:30, always carrying some sort of gift for the host, this evening it was my program director and his wife and one of our neighbors, which made for a party of 8. The night begins in the living room (that night my dad had even built a fire in the fireplace) We sit in the living room, drinking either a sparkling white wine/champagne or sometimes an aperitif alcohol- always served in the appropriate glasses depending on what we're drinking :) Snacks are passed around and the only critera is that they be some sort of bread based snack. In the past I've had bread pieces with melted cheese, covered with foie gras, salty crackers, pretzel sticks etc. The drinking/eating/breaking of the ice in the living room usually lasts about an hour and half, so by the time we sit down to dinner it's nearly 9 pm.
My host parents always consider the seating arrangement very careful, intermixing men and women and students and adults- not like the American's exiling the kids to a kids table :) The first course can vary a lot, that night it was greens covered in vinaigrette, a mini egg souffle and strips of smoked salmon. Bread is always passed around and must be kept on the table to the left side of your plate- don't worry about crumbs. The woman of the household is in charge of serving/refilling the water glasses while the man does the same for the wine. That night my dad brought out a double sized bottle- I think it's called a magnum- of wine that he had bought in 1985....props to drinking something older than I am. The second course was a spiced chicken vegetable stew that was served over rice. I don't know how they manage it but the conversation seems to cover nearly every topic, from something rather serious to a story that will have everyone in tears laughing. Next comes the dessert- apple compote filled puff pastries (a secret recipe of my host mom) served with vanilla ice cream. After all the dessert plates have been cleared come a round of coffee or tea for anyone interested. Next is some sort of an alcoholic digestif, depending on what my host dad decides to immerge from the alcohol cabinet. By this time we have spent nearly 2/2.5 hours at the dinner table and the party is moved back into the living room. A bit more conversation later and the goodbyes begin- it usually takes a good 30 minutes or so to make if from standing up and putting on coats to actually seeing the guests walk out the door. Overall it makes for some of the greatest 4 and even 5 hour evenings that I've ever had- full of warm conversation, great food and wonderful people who have so graciously welcomed me into their home.
Ok, so living with a host family has been hands down the best part of being in France. We don't get to spend a lot of time together but I adore my family nonetheless. One of the most memorable parts of living with the Buffenoirs has been their classically french dinner parties, so I thought I'd tell you how it's done Buffenoir style.
Company usually arrives about 7:30, always carrying some sort of gift for the host, this evening it was my program director and his wife and one of our neighbors, which made for a party of 8. The night begins in the living room (that night my dad had even built a fire in the fireplace) We sit in the living room, drinking either a sparkling white wine/champagne or sometimes an aperitif alcohol- always served in the appropriate glasses depending on what we're drinking :) Snacks are passed around and the only critera is that they be some sort of bread based snack. In the past I've had bread pieces with melted cheese, covered with foie gras, salty crackers, pretzel sticks etc. The drinking/eating/breaking of the ice in the living room usually lasts about an hour and half, so by the time we sit down to dinner it's nearly 9 pm.
My host parents always consider the seating arrangement very careful, intermixing men and women and students and adults- not like the American's exiling the kids to a kids table :) The first course can vary a lot, that night it was greens covered in vinaigrette, a mini egg souffle and strips of smoked salmon. Bread is always passed around and must be kept on the table to the left side of your plate- don't worry about crumbs. The woman of the household is in charge of serving/refilling the water glasses while the man does the same for the wine. That night my dad brought out a double sized bottle- I think it's called a magnum- of wine that he had bought in 1985....props to drinking something older than I am. The second course was a spiced chicken vegetable stew that was served over rice. I don't know how they manage it but the conversation seems to cover nearly every topic, from something rather serious to a story that will have everyone in tears laughing. Next comes the dessert- apple compote filled puff pastries (a secret recipe of my host mom) served with vanilla ice cream. After all the dessert plates have been cleared come a round of coffee or tea for anyone interested. Next is some sort of an alcoholic digestif, depending on what my host dad decides to immerge from the alcohol cabinet. By this time we have spent nearly 2/2.5 hours at the dinner table and the party is moved back into the living room. A bit more conversation later and the goodbyes begin- it usually takes a good 30 minutes or so to make if from standing up and putting on coats to actually seeing the guests walk out the door. Overall it makes for some of the greatest 4 and even 5 hour evenings that I've ever had- full of warm conversation, great food and wonderful people who have so graciously welcomed me into their home.
Chapter Next: The one in which Ireland steals my heart.
Saturday November 14
Ok. Ready to wrap up this Irish vacation and tell you about the most recent one :)
Our last day in Ireland we decided to go to the lovely village of Glendalough. We got up early and ran through the pouring rain for like 30 minutes to make it to the bus station. The bus ride out there was about 2 hours long and the scenery might possibly have been the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Honestly, Ireland combines the two places I love most in the world- the mountains of colorado, with the rolling fields of Missouri. I got chills just driving through the countryside and felt like a part of my heart already belonged there. The fields are placed in each mountain valley and everything is the most alive shade of green- even in the middle of November. Driving out we probably saw several thousand sheep- which the boys still couldn't get enough of- and enough beauty to last a lifetime. Trigg tried to take some pictures through the bus windows so when I find them I'll make sure they get posted.
We arrived at Glendalough, a sort of village/state park, and had several hours to explore. The main attraction are the ruins of a old monastic city. Several buildings including a tower are still standing along with an extensive graveyard full of mossy tombstones tucked into every corner. We explored for a little bit, but not really feeling like a history lesson when the rain had (finally!) stopped, we set out to explore the rest of the valley. About half way through our time, the boys decided it would be pretty much the coolest thing ever to try and climb one of the mountains along side the valley. I, being clearly smarter and more rational, did not want to spend my last 2 hours sloshing up a muddy, tree-covered, mountainside just to have one good view at the end, so we decided to split up. Predictably the boys said they spend about 1.5 hours in the forest hoppy fences and getting royally muddy but they did enjoy making it to the top.
I on the other hand decided to explore some of the extensive trails surrounding the park. I even hit up the visitors center to ask for a nice loop that would take a bit more than an hour to hike. I eventually headed up the mountainside on, get this, a dry and well -graveled path, to find one of the park's many waterfalls. I spent two perfect hours just hiking in some of the most beautiful countryside I'd ever seen with only the sounds of nature to keep me company. Needless to say I was blissfully happy, took entirely too many pictures, and vowed to come back some day for a much longer hiking/camping trip.
So after meeting up with the muddy boys- we caught our bus back to Dublin - and set out for the evening. It happened to be the night of the soccer final between Ireland and France so the city was absolutely packed! It felt like we hadn't even left France so many people had flown up for the game. We met up with about 8 other ND kids in my program who were also visiting Dublin/London and we settled into a cute pub to watch the game. France won but the Irish were very good sports and we all had a great time sitting around and watching. I had some Irish cider, which turns out to taste more like beer than cider- but it was a great end to our last day in Ireland.
Ok. Ready to wrap up this Irish vacation and tell you about the most recent one :)
Our last day in Ireland we decided to go to the lovely village of Glendalough. We got up early and ran through the pouring rain for like 30 minutes to make it to the bus station. The bus ride out there was about 2 hours long and the scenery might possibly have been the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Honestly, Ireland combines the two places I love most in the world- the mountains of colorado, with the rolling fields of Missouri. I got chills just driving through the countryside and felt like a part of my heart already belonged there. The fields are placed in each mountain valley and everything is the most alive shade of green- even in the middle of November. Driving out we probably saw several thousand sheep- which the boys still couldn't get enough of- and enough beauty to last a lifetime. Trigg tried to take some pictures through the bus windows so when I find them I'll make sure they get posted.We arrived at Glendalough, a sort of village/state park, and had several hours to explore. The main attraction are the ruins of a old monastic city. Several buildings including a tower are still standing along with an extensive graveyard full of mossy tombstones tucked into every corner. We explored for a little bit, but not really feeling like a history lesson when the rain had (finally!) stopped, we set out to explore the rest of the valley. About half way through our time, the boys decided it would be pretty much the coolest thing ever to try and climb one of the mountains along side the valley. I, being clearly smarter and more rational, did not want to spend my last 2 hours sloshing up a muddy, tree-covered, mountainside just to have one good view at the end, so we decided to split up. Predictably the boys said they spend about 1.5 hours in the forest hoppy fences and getting royally muddy but they did enjoy making it to the top.
So after meeting up with the muddy boys- we caught our bus back to Dublin - and set out for the evening. It happened to be the night of the soccer final between Ireland and France so the city was absolutely packed! It felt like we hadn't even left France so many people had flown up for the game. We met up with about 8 other ND kids in my program who were also visiting Dublin/London and we settled into a cute pub to watch the game. France won but the Irish were very good sports and we all had a great time sitting around and watching. I had some Irish cider, which turns out to taste more like beer than cider- but it was a great end to our last day in Ireland.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Chapter Second: Fish and Chips
Friday November 13
Okay- so day two did not start out so hot when I had to put on my still wet shoes, but I was cheered quite a bit by Kyle's promise of delicious fish and chips for lunch because we were headed to a seaside town. After about a 40 minute train ride with beautiful views of the ocean we arrived in the very small town of Bray. It was- (get pumped!) only misting so we spent some time wandering along the beautiful pebble beaches enjoying the scenery. Ireland is a country of both mountains and beaches so we set our sights on the small mountain/really big hill that was in the distance. Clearly the boys wanted to hike it, ok I did too - minus the fact that it was ridiculously muddy- so we started up hoping to beat the rain.
It took us about an hour and a half to get to the top, stopping each little bit to enjoy the ever improving views of the city below. I was able to appreciate the rain only for the fact that it keeps the country gorgeously green even mid-way through November. We hiked through some almost fairytale-like clearings covered with green ivy and trees in full autumn glory.
A little bit of whining (obviously on my part) and some very muddy shoes later we made it to the top. I took entirely too many pictures- pretty much all of the same panorama- but I am going to try to splice some of them together. I did force the boys to take a picture of me so Mom wouldn't complain that there were no people in my pictures (I'm so good to you). Eventually we decided to head back down- via a farmer's field where I could not pry the boys away from looking at the sheep- seriously, the city boys wanted to jump the fence and catch one they were so fascinated.
By that time I had worked up quite a nice hiking appetite so we asked a local where the best fish and chips were sold. A few short minutes later I was holding a shiny silver bag generously filled with fresh from the sea cod and perfectly cooked potato wedges, coated in more salt and vinegar than one person should eat in a week, needless to say I was perfectly happy. We actually ate our delicious lunch at the home of a friend we knew in Bray- she had been a monitrice (kind of like teaching assistant) during our September session- and she told us if we were ever in Ireland to come visit. It was pretty funny to have a conversation with her were we the teachers and she the language student and we had a great time catching up. At that point it was (clearly) raining, more like pouring, so we braved the 30 minute walk back to the train station and headed back to Dublin. After not nearly enough time to dry off at the college we set out in search of a pub with live music, shockingly not a hard feat in Ireland. The place where we ended up had a lot of tourists but a great group with Guitar, violin and accordion. The singer had the thickest Irish accent ever and was full of delightfully so-stupid-they're-funny jokes. I put a video up on my picasa page if your interested :) .....So, at the end of 2 days we'd already covered: meat and potatoes, guinness, fish and chips, and a traditional Dublin pub- not bad for the Irish vacation checklist...on to day 3.
A little bit of whining (obviously on my part) and some very muddy shoes later we made it to the top. I took entirely too many pictures- pretty much all of the same panorama- but I am going to try to splice some of them together. I did force the boys to take a picture of me so Mom wouldn't complain that there were no people in my pictures (I'm so good to you). Eventually we decided to head back down- via a farmer's field where I could not pry the boys away from looking at the sheep- seriously, the city boys wanted to jump the fence and catch one they were so fascinated.By that time I had worked up quite a nice hiking appetite so we asked a local where the best fish and chips were sold. A few short minutes later I was holding a shiny silver bag generously filled with fresh from the sea cod and perfectly cooked potato wedges, coated in more salt and vinegar than one person should eat in a week, needless to say I was perfectly happy. We actually ate our delicious lunch at the home of a friend we knew in Bray- she had been a monitrice (kind of like teaching assistant) during our September session- and she told us if we were ever in Ireland to come visit. It was pretty funny to have a conversation with her were we the teachers and she the language student and we had a great time catching up. At that point it was (clearly) raining, more like pouring, so we braved the 30 minute walk back to the train station and headed back to Dublin. After not nearly enough time to dry off at the college we set out in search of a pub with live music, shockingly not a hard feat in Ireland. The place where we ended up had a lot of tourists but a great group with Guitar, violin and accordion. The singer had the thickest Irish accent ever and was full of delightfully so-stupid-they're-funny jokes. I put a video up on my picasa page if your interested :) .....So, at the end of 2 days we'd already covered: meat and potatoes, guinness, fish and chips, and a traditional Dublin pub- not bad for the Irish vacation checklist...on to day 3.
Chapter First: Dublin
Thursday November 12
Ok- So all I have to say is it rains in Ireland, a LOT. The first day we just spent walking around Dublin and got completely soaked in the process. We were staying with Trigg's friend Kyle who is also a Notre Dame student studying abroad in Dublin. He played tour guide for us, showing us the main sights of the city and explaining quite a bit of the history. I especially enjoyed visiting the beautiful Trinity college- if it had had more grass it might even have been as pretty as Notre Dame :-o And it's definitely true that there is a pub everywhere you look in Ireland- nearly every other buliding even- and each one seemed to have it's own unique charm.
Afters several hours of sightseeing- which included many rides on the famous double decker buses which comprise the main system of public transportation- we ended up at Phoenix park. It had stopped raining for a few precious moments and we were able to get life-threateningly close to some swans- I kid you not, and we goofed around on a really huge monument in part of the park. We had no luck finding 4-leaf clovers and when the rain inevitable returned we decided to call it a day and head home.
On the way we stopped at a pub for dinner where we were served- no joke- 7 different types of potatoes on one plate to go along with a healty portion of meat. I had my first sip of Guinness, and predictably, it tasted almost as gross as all other beer...I don't think I'll ever be converted. So there you go- first day in Ireland was pretty low key. We did enjoy once again being in an English speaking country and discovered several delightful Irish colloquialisms including saying "cheers" as sort of a thanks/goodbye - but more than anything we just got wet.
Afters several hours of sightseeing- which included many rides on the famous double decker buses which comprise the main system of public transportation- we ended up at Phoenix park. It had stopped raining for a few precious moments and we were able to get life-threateningly close to some swans- I kid you not, and we goofed around on a really huge monument in part of the park. We had no luck finding 4-leaf clovers and when the rain inevitable returned we decided to call it a day and head home.On the way we stopped at a pub for dinner where we were served- no joke- 7 different types of potatoes on one plate to go along with a healty portion of meat. I had my first sip of Guinness, and predictably, it tasted almost as gross as all other beer...I don't think I'll ever be converted. So there you go- first day in Ireland was pretty low key. We did enjoy once again being in an English speaking country and discovered several delightful Irish colloquialisms including saying "cheers" as sort of a thanks/goodbye - but more than anything we just got wet.
An Irish Vacation: An exercise in public transportation.
Wednesday November 11
Ok. So Wednesday was always supposed to be a travel day. Trigg and I were headed to Ireland and we had bought plane tickets from Beauvais airport and train tickets from Angers to Beauvais. Silly us, we had thought that this meant only two legs of travel that day. Boy were we wrong.
While waiting in the Angers station for our train I realized that our tickets listed a layover in Paris of an hour- ok, not something we planned on but whatever. Our train left at about 2:00 pm and thanks to its wonderfully speed we were in paris by 4:00. At that point we realized our tickets listed Gare du Nord as the departure station for our second train, where is the Gare du Nord you ask? Why all you have to do is take the 4 metro line 8 stops north...easy enough right? Well after our first experience- thank goodness successful- with the Paris metro we made it to Gare du Nord and boarded our second train and 3rd leg of the journey.
When they train dropped us off at around 6:30 we were expecting to emerge into the large crowded airport of Beauvais.....clearly this was not our day, and we discovered that we were indeed at Beauvais but at the train station only- how do you get to the airport you ask? Well all you have to do is take the 4 euro shuttle.....too bad we missed it by one minute and had to wait an hour and twenty minutes for the next.
Finally after our 4th leg of the journey we arrived at the airport- only to find it the busiest place in paris at 8:00 at night- it took us nearly 2 hours to get through tne lines for passports and security. We finally got on our 10:30 flight to Ireland haggard and swearing to never fly out of Beauvais again- with the added bonus of having to take a bus to where we would be staying upon our arrival. Thank goodness for once again being in an English speaking country because I made friends with the nice grandpa sitting next me and he offered to give us a ride because his wife was picking him up and would be driving right past the college where we were staying. Turns out they were both wonderful people and kept us entertained throughout the 30 minute drive to the college. I was overjoyed to finally stop moving, my stomach absolutely could not take anymore because I get motion sickness nearly every time I enter a moving vehichle.
Lesson learned- if you ever want to take 6 legs of transportation in one day- train, metro, train, shuttle, plane, car, feel free to fly out of the Beauvais airport....no thanks, maybe that's why the tickets were only 20 euros?
Ok. So Wednesday was always supposed to be a travel day. Trigg and I were headed to Ireland and we had bought plane tickets from Beauvais airport and train tickets from Angers to Beauvais. Silly us, we had thought that this meant only two legs of travel that day. Boy were we wrong.
While waiting in the Angers station for our train I realized that our tickets listed a layover in Paris of an hour- ok, not something we planned on but whatever. Our train left at about 2:00 pm and thanks to its wonderfully speed we were in paris by 4:00. At that point we realized our tickets listed Gare du Nord as the departure station for our second train, where is the Gare du Nord you ask? Why all you have to do is take the 4 metro line 8 stops north...easy enough right? Well after our first experience- thank goodness successful- with the Paris metro we made it to Gare du Nord and boarded our second train and 3rd leg of the journey.
When they train dropped us off at around 6:30 we were expecting to emerge into the large crowded airport of Beauvais.....clearly this was not our day, and we discovered that we were indeed at Beauvais but at the train station only- how do you get to the airport you ask? Well all you have to do is take the 4 euro shuttle.....too bad we missed it by one minute and had to wait an hour and twenty minutes for the next.
Finally after our 4th leg of the journey we arrived at the airport- only to find it the busiest place in paris at 8:00 at night- it took us nearly 2 hours to get through tne lines for passports and security. We finally got on our 10:30 flight to Ireland haggard and swearing to never fly out of Beauvais again- with the added bonus of having to take a bus to where we would be staying upon our arrival. Thank goodness for once again being in an English speaking country because I made friends with the nice grandpa sitting next me and he offered to give us a ride because his wife was picking him up and would be driving right past the college where we were staying. Turns out they were both wonderful people and kept us entertained throughout the 30 minute drive to the college. I was overjoyed to finally stop moving, my stomach absolutely could not take anymore because I get motion sickness nearly every time I enter a moving vehichle.
Lesson learned- if you ever want to take 6 legs of transportation in one day- train, metro, train, shuttle, plane, car, feel free to fly out of the Beauvais airport....no thanks, maybe that's why the tickets were only 20 euros?
A Weekend in the Vendée Region
Alright, so, exaggerations beside, we arrived at a rather abandoned looking parking lot 3 hours later- by which point night had fallen and it was pouring down rain. DE-lightful. But lo ho ho - a very nice looking french man popped his head into our bus, much too excited for that time of the night, and explained to us why we were there. Actually all he told us was that his daughter had studied abroad at Notre Dame the previous year and had absolutely loved it. He then proceeded to call the names of my classmates one by one- who, upon exiting the bus, were swept up by trench-coated, umbrella toting, French and quickly chauffered away from sight. Not creepy at all right?....well I'm happy to say that I, upon being called last, was met by a very sweet looking woman who promptly took me out of the rain and to her wonderfully cozy home. I learned on the ride over that we would each be spending the weekend with a family in the region who had volunteered to host an American - and each family would be planning their own itinerary of festivities.
Her family the Jolly's consisted of 16 year old Barbara, 13 year old Lise and 9 year old Robin - her husband, and....wait for it....a dog AND a kitty! Needlessly to say I made myself instantly at home in front of the fire with a kitten curled up in my lap while the rain poured outside. The remainder of the evening was very relaxed the family didn't deviate at all from it's normal routine and I felt like I belonged perfectly. Barbara had given her room to me for the weekend and I was in heaven with a big soft bed, personal bathroom and computer with internet - not to mention a late night visit from the doggy.
After a light breakfast in the morning Mme Jolly had to do grocery shopping in town so she dropped me and Barbara and Lise off at the beach. We walked along the shore front of the little town with a big name, Saint Gilles Croix-de-Vie, and spent a delightful few hours chasing seagulls and (me) taking entirely too many pictures of really pretty sail boats. The girls talked really fast so I couldn't understand everything- but we got along great even with my minimal talking (can you believe it!)
When Mme Jolly picked us back up it was just like spending a normal day in a french family. We dropped Barbara off at dance practice and Robin at soccer, and she took Lise and I to the the neighboring town of Les Sables. We took another beautiful beach stroll and watched the kite surfers for a bit. On the way home we caught the tail end of Barbara's dance practice before Mme Jolly brought us home for lunch- uber duber super fresh salmon and sole fish. It was still whole- but she scraped off the skin and flayed off all the yummy meat for us- delicious!
Afterward we had very low key afternoon- I sat by the fire and got a bit of reading done for class with Robin intermittently explaining french pokemon cards to me. That evening we went out to an authentic Vendée restaurant and had a fabulous family meal. Afterward I went with Barbara to a soiree with her dancer friends. They were crazy hyper and talked SO INCREDIBLY FAST that I probably only understood like 20% of the words but it was fun to laugh with them at their own silliness. The night was well spent but it was great to go home, snuggle with the kitty and go to bed a bit early.
We woke a bit earlier on Sunday because I had to leave around 2:00. Since I had told them how much I loved the beach and the ocean Mr. Jolly offered to take all of the kids on another beach walk. We drove a bit farther away to some higher beach-side cliffs where the wind blew like I've never seen in my life. It was absolutely incredible to be walking along the cliffs, barely able to hear anything but the wind and the waves crashing against the rocks. There were a few spots were you could descend and get as close to the waves as you dared and I took some really great pictures. 
When the family drove me back to the bus that afternoon it was like a mini reunion with all the ND kids. It was amazing to see how quickly everyone had bonded with their families- I don't think we could have found a more gracious or good humored bunch of people. I could have honestly stayed with them for the rest of my time in France (do I say that about everywhere I visit here?) I regretfully said goodbye to the girls- never fear we are already great friends on facebook- and hugged Mr and Mrs Jolly. They sent me off with lots of presents from the Vendée- caramels, a brioche, chocolates shaped like anchovies, and a half-oyster shell freshly washed from my deluxe seafood lunch. The ride home was pretty much everyone talking a mile a minute about how incredible their families were and lots of really cute stories.....so I didn't get sold into servitude, but instead spent of the best weekends so far in France. :) missing the Jolly family already. R.
L'Abbaye de Solesmes
November 1st
This abbey has to be one of my favorite excursions that been on so far. One of our priests from Notre Dame, who is fluent in French, was in Angers for the Simone Weil conference and organized this trip for the ND students. We piled into the bus rather early because it was a longish drive and we had to make it in time for Sunday mass. I don't know if any of you have been to high mass in Latin before, this was only my third or so time, but it is one of the most beautiful things in the world. The mass was really for the monks in the heart of the church but they open up the very long, very thin aisle for the community to be in attendance. The specialty of these monks, and has been since the 1800's, is their absolute dedication to the Gregorian chant and its preservation. The entire mass was done in their beautiful plain chant and I've never heard anything so beautiful. It made mass feel like one continual perfectly sung prayer with no gaps or transitions between the parts. They also combined the noon hour of prayer, Sext, with mass which was even more beautiful. Anyway, if you're interested I loved it so much that I bought two CD's of their chant -I'm actually giving them as a present- but Kurt will let me burn you a copy if you want.
After mass we met up with the monk in charge of most of the welcoming of tours. He lead us around the cloisters to a small building where we could eat our picnic lunch. It was pouring rain outside so he built us a fire and pulled out not a small number of their bottles of homemade wine. While he had to return to his duties for a while, we ate and enjoyed the fire and the company of Father Driscoll and his wonderful stories.
When he returned he brought us supplies to make coffee- which we accepted gladly- while he spoke and answered our questions for nearly 2 hours on the monastic life and their specific way of life at the abbey. The rain outside combined with the warm fire and his beautiful welcoming spirit made me feel right at home and like I'd known him for years. I did venture out a bit in the rain to take some pictures of the abbey. It's situated right along a river and the colorful fall foilage made the whole place beautifully picturesque.
The last little highlight of the day was inside another welcoming room at the abbey. They have a certain number of beds allotted to travelers each night and it just so happened that a youth a cappella choir from France was staying there. Their instructor gave us a very detailed explanation of the school and their mission- it is apparently one of the most prestigious choirs in France- and he let us listen to one of their rehearsals. It was without a doubt one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard. These young kids, who looked like every other french teenager, had the strongest most pure voices I've ever heard. The acoustics of the building were perfect and just their small group of about 10 students filled the room with perfect harmonies- it honestly gave me chills. We were all reluctant to leave- everyone seemed as transfixed by their music as I was- but we finally tore ourselves away.
On one last note, I've decided I'm moving right next door to that monastery. I even found the perfect house right across the street from the church so I can skip over for mass any time I want. I promise you won't blame me when you see this house that is for sale- you can even come visit if you want. So if I don't show in December, you will find me with the monks, spending my life listening to their incredible music.
After mass we met up with the monk in charge of most of the welcoming of tours. He lead us around the cloisters to a small building where we could eat our picnic lunch. It was pouring rain outside so he built us a fire and pulled out not a small number of their bottles of homemade wine. While he had to return to his duties for a while, we ate and enjoyed the fire and the company of Father Driscoll and his wonderful stories. 
When he returned he brought us supplies to make coffee- which we accepted gladly- while he spoke and answered our questions for nearly 2 hours on the monastic life and their specific way of life at the abbey. The rain outside combined with the warm fire and his beautiful welcoming spirit made me feel right at home and like I'd known him for years. I did venture out a bit in the rain to take some pictures of the abbey. It's situated right along a river and the colorful fall foilage made the whole place beautifully picturesque.
The last little highlight of the day was inside another welcoming room at the abbey. They have a certain number of beds allotted to travelers each night and it just so happened that a youth a cappella choir from France was staying there. Their instructor gave us a very detailed explanation of the school and their mission- it is apparently one of the most prestigious choirs in France- and he let us listen to one of their rehearsals. It was without a doubt one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard. These young kids, who looked like every other french teenager, had the strongest most pure voices I've ever heard. The acoustics of the building were perfect and just their small group of about 10 students filled the room with perfect harmonies- it honestly gave me chills. We were all reluctant to leave- everyone seemed as transfixed by their music as I was- but we finally tore ourselves away.
On one last note, I've decided I'm moving right next door to that monastery. I even found the perfect house right across the street from the church so I can skip over for mass any time I want. I promise you won't blame me when you see this house that is for sale- you can even come visit if you want. So if I don't show in December, you will find me with the monks, spending my life listening to their incredible music.
Isn't Time Funny?
16 October 2009
So just a random story that made me laugh...Kurt is leaving Notre Dame today to fly to Arizona and hike the Grand Canyon for a week with his family. He is going to call me around 1:00pm before he leaves - 6:00pm my time. He will then fly to Phoenix, going from Eastern time to Mountain time and making the time difference 8 hours instead of 6. However, Phoenix does not observe daylight savings time so it will actually be 9 hours. So, when he arrives in Arizona- around midnight- he will call me and it will be 9:00am my time. In case you didn't follow all of that he will call me twice in one of his days and reach me in the early evening of one day and then the bright morning of another...isn't time funny?
Ps. I discovered that France does actually observe DST but it falls back a different weekend than the US (how confusing!) So for one week the time difference will only be 5 hours but will then return to 6. Just in case you were wondering :)
So just a random story that made me laugh...Kurt is leaving Notre Dame today to fly to Arizona and hike the Grand Canyon for a week with his family. He is going to call me around 1:00pm before he leaves - 6:00pm my time. He will then fly to Phoenix, going from Eastern time to Mountain time and making the time difference 8 hours instead of 6. However, Phoenix does not observe daylight savings time so it will actually be 9 hours. So, when he arrives in Arizona- around midnight- he will call me and it will be 9:00am my time. In case you didn't follow all of that he will call me twice in one of his days and reach me in the early evening of one day and then the bright morning of another...isn't time funny?
Ps. I discovered that France does actually observe DST but it falls back a different weekend than the US (how confusing!) So for one week the time difference will only be 5 hours but will then return to 6. Just in case you were wondering :)
October 4th- 24th I promise it was boring....
Ok, So honestly I did pretty much nothing noteworthy during these three weeks except school. The first week consisted of picking out our classes- we had to take another placement test and despite my actual trying to do mediocre they placed me in the higest level of French. Basically this means that I have to write a 3000 word memoir on a topic in daily French life- two thumbs down. I can tell you now that I've chosen French retirement/nursing homes so I've been visiting really old people and collecting stories for my paper- it's due in 2.5 weeks and I have about 400 words, great.
Ok- after week one we had to choose definitively our schedule and start attending classes. I am taking 6 hours a week of required language class- we basically talk about our memoire, take written and oral exams, and are right now in the middle of reading a novel.
I am also taking history of France- with a rather adorable professor who smiles at the most nerdy things and knows more about French history than any one person should. I've been busy cramming my head full of about a thousand people named Clovis/Charles/Louis and lots of germanic tribes and kings.
History of Art is with an amazing firery read-headed woman who must weigh 80 pounds wet but is typically artsy and knows how to make a class interesting. We are covering pretty much every time period of art ever starting with Prehistory- with megaliths (which I saw and wrote a post about) and cave paintings- and continuing on through roman, romanesqe and gothic art/architecture. We talked about some beautiful illuminated manuscripts and the architecture involved with a typical roman city. Right now we are working on churches and I am wishing I had time to visit all these great sights.
English to French Translation is probably my hardest class- we take english texts and painstakingly translate them to french, considering multiple options for every single word and discussing which would be the best choice. Our teacher is incredible though, he is french and probably knows english better than I do.
My last class is Grammar where we cover random topics that most foreigners find difficult about french- we spent the first few weeks just talking about prepositions- probably one of the most frustrating aspects of the french language, and have now moved on to the three main past tenses- making prepositions seem easy.
So I had two weeks of just going to classes and not a lot of work at the beginning. We didn't have any orgainised excursions but there were a few rather disappointing ND football watches thrown in (don't laugh Jamie) I had some great dinners with my host family, including one where we invited the neighbors and it lasted 5 hours! I'm not kidding. I honestly can't remember anything else to write home about during that time and I'd rather tell you what's going on now so I'm going to leave it at that. Sorry for getting so far behind. Hoping to be all caught up by Thursday :) Love, R.
Ok- after week one we had to choose definitively our schedule and start attending classes. I am taking 6 hours a week of required language class- we basically talk about our memoire, take written and oral exams, and are right now in the middle of reading a novel.
I am also taking history of France- with a rather adorable professor who smiles at the most nerdy things and knows more about French history than any one person should. I've been busy cramming my head full of about a thousand people named Clovis/Charles/Louis and lots of germanic tribes and kings.
History of Art is with an amazing firery read-headed woman who must weigh 80 pounds wet but is typically artsy and knows how to make a class interesting. We are covering pretty much every time period of art ever starting with Prehistory- with megaliths (which I saw and wrote a post about) and cave paintings- and continuing on through roman, romanesqe and gothic art/architecture. We talked about some beautiful illuminated manuscripts and the architecture involved with a typical roman city. Right now we are working on churches and I am wishing I had time to visit all these great sights.
English to French Translation is probably my hardest class- we take english texts and painstakingly translate them to french, considering multiple options for every single word and discussing which would be the best choice. Our teacher is incredible though, he is french and probably knows english better than I do.
My last class is Grammar where we cover random topics that most foreigners find difficult about french- we spent the first few weeks just talking about prepositions- probably one of the most frustrating aspects of the french language, and have now moved on to the three main past tenses- making prepositions seem easy.
So I had two weeks of just going to classes and not a lot of work at the beginning. We didn't have any orgainised excursions but there were a few rather disappointing ND football watches thrown in (don't laugh Jamie) I had some great dinners with my host family, including one where we invited the neighbors and it lasted 5 hours! I'm not kidding. I honestly can't remember anything else to write home about during that time and I'd rather tell you what's going on now so I'm going to leave it at that. Sorry for getting so far behind. Hoping to be all caught up by Thursday :) Love, R.
Last 2 Days in Africa
October 2 & 3rd.Ok, so the last 2 days weren't nearly as packed as the first, and we were starting to get a bit worn out from vacation so things went at a much slower pace. On Friday we went to Morocco's version of a botanical garden, which is basically more varieties of cacti than you can possibly imagine. I don't know how I have successfully killed two terrariums of cacti in a row (hopefully mom is working her magic on my 3rd try right now) while these people can grow 20 foot tall monstrosities. Anyway- we just walked around the gardens for a bit before heading to a Moroccan palace. The palace was nothing like the French or Spanish varieties- absolutely no furniture and the ceilings were the only highly decorated portions- the walls were completely white. Not terribly impressive but we appreciated it nonetheless. We hit the souks again for a bit more bargaining and headed home to rest up before dinner. Our tour guides from the day before had yet again proposed to us an evening spectacle. In hindsight they built it up to be a lot cooler than it was but I'll tell you anyway.
That evening they picked us up in their van and drove us to the outskirts of town to a strip of large resort-ish things. We were seated in a beautiful multi-colored tent, partial open to the outside, surrounded by many small fires and costumed Moroccans playing drums and other instruments. It was basically Africa's equivalent of a dinner theater and throughout the night they piled our table with amazing food while dancers, fire breathers, and musicians filed through the tents performing. The highlight for me was definitely the ENORMOUS haunch of goat that they pretty much plopped in the middle of our table. They didn't give us any silverware but instructed us to eat it Moroccan style- with our fingers. We were all ridiculously hungry and probably looked rather scary tearing into that giant hunk of meat. There were also some wonderfuly spiced cous-cous dishes which in all their glory comprised an entire dinner course. After tea and dessert there was one final horseback performance outdoors with lots of random gun shooting and whooping. There was another appearance by camels and the chance to ride them again but the line was too long. The part that we didn't really enjoy was that they specifically told us we had to tip the dancers and our driver even though we had paid an all-inclusive already too-expensive price. We decided to let it go though and called the evening a success. 
We had an afternoon flight on Saturday so we decided to use our last morning, suprise, exploring the souks. There were a few last minute purchases and shady encounters with locals in back alleys. At one point I turned around to find a snake (I found out later it was wooden) being thrust in my face. Needless to say I screamed and ran about halfway through the souks before the rest of the group caught up with me. Just prior to that I had left the stall of a vendor who was unwilling to give me the price I asked for, mid-way through tears and being comforted the same vendor came back trying to finalize the purchase. He thought I was crying about our unsuccessful bargaining and gave me the price I wanted on the spot- so if you're really dedicated you can add crying on command to the list of how to bargain in Morocco. Finally with the day halfway spent we returned to our hotel to check out. There was a brief panic when all of the girls crap didn't fit in our backbacks but we resolved this by making the boys each carry an extra bag :) One still-rather-scary taxi ride to the airport later and we changed in the last of our Dirhams and said goodbye to Africa. Overall it was one of the most incredible and out of my comfort-zone experiences that I've ever had. (I've heard that's good for you, Jamie) Even though Africa and I didn't get along so well at first I'm positive it won't be my last trip there- I'm just going to bring lots of empty bags next time and all of you to help me. :) 
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Quest for Camel Kisses
So bright and early the man from the travel agency showed up with a van to take us on our excursion to the Atlas mountains. It was about an hour and a half drive and the scenery was beautiful as the mountains came into focus. We stopped throughout the day at several co-ops where they sell different types of hand-made goods. I'm sure the guides must make deals with the vendors to ensure their shops are included on the trip. Our first stop was at a pottery store where the bargaining recommenced and several of you aquired more presents :) 
Thirdly, and clearly the most important part of the day, we stopped at a road side vendor who was offering camel rides! I'm pretty sure I was beaming the ENTIRE time - we took about a half hour ride through a small trail in the mountains. Sitting on top of a camel, being rocked from side to side (camels move both feet on the same side of their body so it's pretty bumpy) enjoying the glorious heat and magnificent mountain landscape, I don't think I could have been a happier camper. At the end the guides let us take pictures with the camels - a privilege I benefited from muchly as I'm sure you've seen from all my pictures :) How you see this adorable split lip with little wiry hairs and not see uber cuteness?Ok, next came a place where they made beautiful organic rugs. This may have prompted a very early and expensive phone call to mom that went like this
Me: "Mommy!"
Mom: Hi! how's Africa?
Me: It's great, do you want a rug?
Mom: huh?
Anyway, after debating about shipping a very large and very beautiful rug to the US I decided I'll just have to come back another time.
Next stop was lunch, a happy event in and of itself but this was one of best memories I have of Africa. As you drive higher into the mountains there are lots of little hillside villages, just small communities of people literally living on the side of an African mountain. Anyway, almost every one of these villages had 2 or 3 roadside restaurants. Now I know what you're picturing but these were literally roadSIDE- if you leaned to far back in your plastic lawn chair you might catch the side-view mirror of a passing van. We chose one were we could walk down and eat right beside the river that runs through the mountains. It was one of the most picturesqe spots that I could have ever imagined, not to mention the food! :)
I had an spicy curry vegetable soup, followed by a tagine of chicken and dates. The dates were so sweet they almost tasted like candy but combined with the savory chicken- again curry based :) - it was one of the most incredible things I've ever tasted. Dessert was oranges and some sort of native melon sprinkled with brown sugar.
We eventually pried ourselves away and piled back into the bus to head home. It had been a long day so we went back to the hotel and went to bed early.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
I make you good price!
1. Having spotted something you're interested in buying- pretend to not like it.
Keeping a general aura of indifference will get you far in the Moroccan markets. If you even let on how much you like something the vendors will never make you a fair price.
2. Avoid speaking English to most vendors.
Let's face it- everyone pegs American tourists as being rich- bust out your french or arabic instead and make them wonder... Standard discourse:
Vendor: "Hello!, you are American, no?"
Us: "Bonjour"
Vendor: "Francais? Oui? Alors, pas trop cher!
note- occasionally speaking English helped us- when we would find a vendor who had a soft spot for Americans, and they usually always figured out that we spoke both languages so most conversations were a mix of the two.
3. Decide what you're going to buy, how much you're willing to pay, and ask the price.
While this is a good idea in essence it doesn't actually get you very far considering there are no set prices - here's how the conversation usually goes..
Us: Ça coûte combien? (How much does it cost?)
Vendor: How many you buy? I make you good price? Pas trop cher!
The number of things you're buying from one vendor really does make a difference. So plan ahead and have whispered conversations with your friends to decide how many relatives you have who might possibly appreciate a wooden camel.
4. The vendor offers initial price- which you are obliged to laugh at.
This is just the jumping off point of the process- the man, full well knowing no one will ever pay the price offers something exorbitant. (You have to basically divide by ten in your head considering 1 euro = 11ish Durhams, if you want you can then multiply by 1.5 to get to dollars but that's just depressing)
5. You offer a ridiculously low price.
The trick is to offer something really low- much lower than your willing to pay- but without completely offending the man. If he thinks you aren't serious he won't bargain with you
6. Discussion of quality
This is always a fun part of the process- he goes on and on about "Made by hand!" you tell him that you've seen the same thing for much cheaper and he goes off about "NO NO, not the same- feel this, feel this, the quality!" It is also in this step that the girls usually get dressed/draped/donned with whatever we are considering buying- nothing inappropriate but I hope you don't mind being touched by strangers.
7. Repeat steps 4, 5, 6.
Each time you go through the cycle he will offer a price slightly lower and you one slightly higher. The vendors absolutely thrive on this and honestly get enjoyment out of it. They appreciate this even more than if you were to just walk in and pay their price up front- it is clearly a thing of pride to them.
8. Throw in an occasional "I'm a just a student" or "I think I'll go look somewhere else"
This always elicits the response, "Oh, you are student? I make you good price!" "Ok, since you are student, I give you special price" Come up with any reason you can and they'll lower the price "just for you" The "because you pretty girl" discount never hurt my feelings either :)
9. Play hard ball
When you've finally arrived somewhere in the middle of the price range, no matter how much they say they won't go lower, don't budge. Stick to the price you originally picked out. Even if it means just standing there for 10 mintues saying no to every offer.
10. Walk away
This is always the best part- it made me feel so bold like my daddy- after you've haggled- about 10-20 minutes at this point and if the vendor still isn't giving you your price, you have to walk away. This will let them know you're serious. Even if you put a good 50 feet between you and the stall I promise you that 9 times out of 10 he will come running through the crowd to drag you back to his stall and offer a different price. This walking away usually needs to be repeated 2 or 3 times before he finally gives in, you shake, and after he squirrels away your money and offers you wrinkled bills in return the purchase is complete.
#11. Bonus advice
Don't get so caught up in the adrenaline of the process that you forget why you are even buying something..... who am I kidding?- go crazy! You can worry later about how you are going to drag all the stuff you bought home and whether or not that sweet Moroccan tribal mask will look good with your mom's horse decorations. (:
TIA: This is Africa
30 September 2009
Where to even start? This is the sight that greeted us after we stepped out of the plane into the 90 something degree sun in Marrakesh, Morocco. We had left Madrid - a bit later than expected thanks to yet another delay by EasyJet- ridiculously excited but also about apprehensive about our trip to Morocco. The mantra of the few previous days had been "Guys, can you believe we're going to be in Africa tomorrow?" and after a 2 hour flight with extremely impressive flight attendants - how did they know exactly which of their 4 languages(Arabic, Fench, English & Spanish) to speak to each passenger? - we had finally arrived. I don't really know what I was expecting, but in all honesty Africa didn't really great us with open arms. The glee of getting our passports stamped and entering a third continent, or even a forth for some, quickly dissolved upon the arrival of armed guards to herd us through full-body thermal scanners- checking for slight elevations of body temperatures possibly indicating the swine flu. Our hopes to stay calm and remain together throughout the security checkpoints quickly disappeared when the guards pulled aside Rachel after the scanner indicated she was running a fever.
They took her into a back room - the rest of us completely lost as to what to do- but she thankfully emerged several minutes later amidst some guards talking sternly in Arabic. Apparently they had decided that her fever wasn't high enough to prevent her from entering the country- I can only imagine what we would have done if this decision had gone the other way. Reunited but already feeling rather shaken, the exchange of our beloved euros for large strange bills didn't make matters any better. Knowing that we were being royally ripped off by the taxis, but having no other options, we piled into two very small Mercedes and headed out into the strange country.
We quickly learned that Morocco has absolutely no traffic laws. The streets are rarely labeled, the lines on the road are clearly option as the taxis literally drove directly in the center to make for quicker passing on the left and right, and nearly every citizen rides about on these ancient, rickety and some must have been homemade motorcycles. In the first few minutes alone I saw 5 or 6 motorcyles- not meant for more than one person- being riskily shared by two adults- the second teetering on the back and holding his legs off the ground while zooming through traffic at breakneck speed. The further sighting of a man- driving one handed and holding a baby to his chest with the other- coupled with the not-so-picturesque drive through the poor shanty suburbs of Marrakesh did nothing to soothe my anxieties. By the time we arrived at our hotel I could have almost cried. After a final incident with our taxi cab driver -him getting out of the vehicle and screaming in Arabic at people he had no business approaching - I was left just hoping to survive Africa let alone have any sort of a vacation. We pulled ourselves together enough to check in to our hotel and thankfully their wonderful hospitality stood in stark contrast to our first hour in Africa.
Heartened a bit by the comfortable lodgings and brief respite our growling stomachs finally convinced us to leave the oasis of our hotel. After a delicious first lunch- with even better prices- we were feeling bold enough to search out the famous Moroccan souks (markets). The walk - nearly 40 minutes was a mixture of admiration and unease. Crossing the busy streets required complete concentration and very good timing- we still hadn't seen any stoplights and apparently the motorcycles have the option to stop at crosswalks- and the open gawking and comments of locals made me wish I was safe behind the full body dresses and head scarves of the local women.
We kept on however and finally arrived at Place Jamal el Fna-home to one of the biggest markets in the world. Warned that getting lost for several hours in the maze of stalls was a real possibility we stuck together fiercely. At the end of the day- and after the purchasing of several items- we had learned how to navigate the crowded aisles, and to look for some sort of sunlight to indicate an exit- groundbreaking right? Lugging our purchases the 30 minutes plus back to our hotel I wasn't feeling well at all- feverish, achy headache - so I called it a successful- if you consider not dying successful- first day in Africa..
Meanwhile: The rest of the group was feeling brave enough to venture out for dinner. The brief version of their night is this: While walking around looking for a restaurant they were shadily approached by a man on the street. He told them that he worked for a tourist agency and wanted to to know if they'd be interested in an excursion for the next day. Apparently he wasn't too creepy because they went with him to check out the agency. Long story short they agreed to go on an excursion to the Atlas Mountains the next day. After completing the transaction the man suggested a place that they should eat for dinner and even drove them there. They were led up the back staircase of some building- putting more faith in this man than I would have at this point- and emerged on the roof of a building overlooking a square. Everything turned out for the best though- because it was a private, invitation-only restaurant where they were served an exquisite Moroccan meal seated in their own colorful, silk tent. They had a great evening and came home to tell me all about it- I was sorry to have missed it but was very much looking forward to the next day- having been promised that camels would play a large role :) Oh morocco, all you had to do to redeem yourself was to promise me a ride on a somewhat smelly but uber cute pack animal- am I an easy sell or what?
Where to even start? This is the sight that greeted us after we stepped out of the plane into the 90 something degree sun in Marrakesh, Morocco. We had left Madrid - a bit later than expected thanks to yet another delay by EasyJet- ridiculously excited but also about apprehensive about our trip to Morocco. The mantra of the few previous days had been "Guys, can you believe we're going to be in Africa tomorrow?" and after a 2 hour flight with extremely impressive flight attendants - how did they know exactly which of their 4 languages(Arabic, Fench, English & Spanish) to speak to each passenger? - we had finally arrived. I don't really know what I was expecting, but in all honesty Africa didn't really great us with open arms. The glee of getting our passports stamped and entering a third continent, or even a forth for some, quickly dissolved upon the arrival of armed guards to herd us through full-body thermal scanners- checking for slight elevations of body temperatures possibly indicating the swine flu. Our hopes to stay calm and remain together throughout the security checkpoints quickly disappeared when the guards pulled aside Rachel after the scanner indicated she was running a fever. 
They took her into a back room - the rest of us completely lost as to what to do- but she thankfully emerged several minutes later amidst some guards talking sternly in Arabic. Apparently they had decided that her fever wasn't high enough to prevent her from entering the country- I can only imagine what we would have done if this decision had gone the other way. Reunited but already feeling rather shaken, the exchange of our beloved euros for large strange bills didn't make matters any better. Knowing that we were being royally ripped off by the taxis, but having no other options, we piled into two very small Mercedes and headed out into the strange country. We quickly learned that Morocco has absolutely no traffic laws. The streets are rarely labeled, the lines on the road are clearly option as the taxis literally drove directly in the center to make for quicker passing on the left and right, and nearly every citizen rides about on these ancient, rickety and some must have been homemade motorcycles. In the first few minutes alone I saw 5 or 6 motorcyles- not meant for more than one person- being riskily shared by two adults- the second teetering on the back and holding his legs off the ground while zooming through traffic at breakneck speed. The further sighting of a man- driving one handed and holding a baby to his chest with the other- coupled with the not-so-picturesque drive through the poor shanty suburbs of Marrakesh did nothing to soothe my anxieties. By the time we arrived at our hotel I could have almost cried. After a final incident with our taxi cab driver -him getting out of the vehicle and screaming in Arabic at people he had no business approaching - I was left just hoping to survive Africa let alone have any sort of a vacation. We pulled ourselves together enough to check in to our hotel and thankfully their wonderful hospitality stood in stark contrast to our first hour in Africa.
Heartened a bit by the comfortable lodgings and brief respite our growling stomachs finally convinced us to leave the oasis of our hotel. After a delicious first lunch- with even better prices- we were feeling bold enough to search out the famous Moroccan souks (markets). The walk - nearly 40 minutes was a mixture of admiration and unease. Crossing the busy streets required complete concentration and very good timing- we still hadn't seen any stoplights and apparently the motorcycles have the option to stop at crosswalks- and the open gawking and comments of locals made me wish I was safe behind the full body dresses and head scarves of the local women.
We kept on however and finally arrived at Place Jamal el Fna-home to one of the biggest markets in the world. Warned that getting lost for several hours in the maze of stalls was a real possibility we stuck together fiercely. At the end of the day- and after the purchasing of several items- we had learned how to navigate the crowded aisles, and to look for some sort of sunlight to indicate an exit- groundbreaking right? Lugging our purchases the 30 minutes plus back to our hotel I wasn't feeling well at all- feverish, achy headache - so I called it a successful- if you consider not dying successful- first day in Africa..
Meanwhile: The rest of the group was feeling brave enough to venture out for dinner. The brief version of their night is this: While walking around looking for a restaurant they were shadily approached by a man on the street. He told them that he worked for a tourist agency and wanted to to know if they'd be interested in an excursion for the next day. Apparently he wasn't too creepy because they went with him to check out the agency. Long story short they agreed to go on an excursion to the Atlas Mountains the next day. After completing the transaction the man suggested a place that they should eat for dinner and even drove them there. They were led up the back staircase of some building- putting more faith in this man than I would have at this point- and emerged on the roof of a building overlooking a square. Everything turned out for the best though- because it was a private, invitation-only restaurant where they were served an exquisite Moroccan meal seated in their own colorful, silk tent. They had a great evening and came home to tell me all about it- I was sorry to have missed it but was very much looking forward to the next day- having been promised that camels would play a large role :) Oh morocco, all you had to do to redeem yourself was to promise me a ride on a somewhat smelly but uber cute pack animal- am I an easy sell or what?
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Madrid: Palaces and Flamenco
29 September 2009
For our last day in Spain we decided to check out the Royal Palace of Madrid. The palace is still used by the king and government for daily business and ceremonies, so it is only open to the public in the mornings. The tour was pretty impressive- yay for student discounts and audio guides! - unlike the chateaux's I've seen in France the palace didn't seem to have ever needed restoring, everything was still in perfect condition.
We weren't allowed to take pictures in the palace- (which I learned the hard way and had several scary guards threatening me in Spanish) so I you'll just have to go see it for yourself. The ceilings, walls and entrances were all spectacular, not to mention the most elaborate collection of furnishings I have ever seen. (They had a whole room displaying the silver collection) I did manage to get one picture before almost being kicked out so you'd better like it :) We also visited the palace's armory where we saw their incredible collection of arms- some of the stuff they wore back in the day was insane. They even had entire suits of armor for the horses more elaborate than anything I've ever seen. Basically the whole place was dripping in wealth and the morning was well spent gawking at beautiful things.
After lunch we split up for the afternoon. Kathryn, Matt, Trigg and I decided to head for Gran Via- one of the biggest streets in Madrid. It was a lot like Michigan avenue and what I imagine 5th Avenue looks like- expensive shops and ginormous Starbucks as far as the eye can see. We didn't do much shopping (pretty sure they wouldn't have accepted IOU's as payment) but just wandered down the street taking in the sights. There were several small stops along the way to figure out why our ND credit union debit cards wouldn't work and then a rather expensive and tense long distance phone call in which Kathryn reminded me so much of my father ("I'm in Madrid, my card does not work, you are my bank I want to know how you're going to fix this for me." haha) After all that drama we headed back to the hotel where, I'll admit it, I took a nap...We'd been walking at least 6 hours a day at this point in our vacation!
That evening we met up in front of our hostel next to a statue of a bear eating from an orange tree (I'm told it's something something something spanish symbol) but we affectionately called it the Bear and the Broccoli for obvious reasons.
We walked from our hotel to Corral de la Moreria, a little hole in the wall place but widely recognized as having the best flamenco show in Madrid. We hadn't bought tickets that included dinner but we did get a free drink during the performance. More sangria? yes please! It was literally a one room show with a small stage surrounded by about 25 tables. I didn't know what to expect but the performance was one of the most breathtaking things I've ever seen. The dancers come out in beautiful and vibrant dresses and then proceed to tap, click, stomp and move their feet about a thousand miles an hour. All keeping time to a small group of musicians (guitar) and singers belting out what honestly sounded like islamic prayer calls and clapping their hands louder than I thought possible. They were all keeping different rhythms not to mention the song and the dance that accompanied it. For someone who can't tap her hands in two different tempos at once it was ridiculously impressive. (Here's a video of the same corral but not the same performance that I found on youtube.)
After the performance we were all on a bit of a Madrid high. It was a beautiful night and we took the long way home walking past the palace that we had been to earlier that day. We wandered down some streets, reluctant to let the night end, and stopped for a bit of gelato.
The city was beautiful by night and it had been raining so all the streets were clean and shiny. I didn't want to stop taking pictures but we finally conceded to the night and our early flight the next morning and went to bed.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
...Toledo
For our second day in Spain we decided to make a day trip to Toledo. We got up early and hiked to the train station. The train that we wanted was all sold out so we had about 2 hours to kill before the next one. We just walked around the streets and randomly stumbled onto the grounds of a beautiful building- from what I could decipher in Spanish it was called something about distinguished persons...anyway, we had fun exploring it and saw the tombs of several assassinated Spanish leaders.
On the rest of our adventure we hiked down the other side of Toledo and took some pictures of the great old walls. We also saw an abbey completely decorated with statues and random chains and just generally pretty sights of the city. We stopped at one point and had lunch- yes I'm going to mention lunch despite the number of comments I have received about my mentioning food too much :) - ...lunch is worthy of mention because it was my first time eating paella. It is this glorious spicy rice concoction (Yes I am bowing to the wonder that is a rice-based dish Jamie) that usually has seafood in it but can also be ordered with sausage or beef. Anyway it instantly became my new favorite dish and I'm pretty sure I had it about 4 more times in Spain. 
Eventually we all met up for dinner at a cute outdoor restaraunt. It was a beautiful night with great conversation and lots of laughing.(I'm pretty sure the locals thought we were crazy) The waiter brought us wonderfully sweet Sangria and we sat there until it was time to head back to the train station. The trip back was uneventful. The 30 minute walk back to our hostel was killer- probably because we'd already walked nearly 6 hours that day, so when we finally arrived everyone went straight to bed.
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