Vacationing again.

Once again, apologies for being a bit behind with these posts. And I suppose I should apologize again for the length of this particular one, but I'll try to keep it interesting :) The following shots are from my trip to Normandie and Mt. Saint-Michele with my program. It was a wonderful weekend and I hope you can have a little taste of the beautiful coast.

American Memorial

We began our first day at the World War II museum and then on to the American memorial. The museum was very nice, giving a perspective of the war as a whole, as well as some specifics about the French and their role, which was a bit refreshing compared the normal American approach: The Holocaust was horrible. We invaded. We won and saved Europe. Huzzah America.

I'm not trying to diminish the United States' role in the war. And neither are the French. There's a quote on a large wall in the lobby of the museum that said something to the effect of "For the 10, 000 men who died to liberate our country." They gave us the land for the memorial. We actually own it. But the French also do not forget that the war was more than just one more victory lap for democracy.

The museum's exhibit on occupied France really put that quote on the wall in perspective. There were propaganda pamphlets that the Nazis handed out to the people, photos of the grand monuments covered in wooden boxes with posters on them, descriptions of the POW's effort to paint murals to cope. I think it was hard for Americans across the sea then, as it still is, to comprehend that the Nazis' didn't just "possess" France, but enslaved them, not in the way the blacks were enslaved with whips and fieldwork but psychologically, helpless and completely ignorant of all that was happening. And I'm not sure which would be worse.

After the memorial, we went to the coast where there were giant holes from the bombs and cement hideouts and mounts for weapons. Some of the stuff had been destroyed, but these huge blocks of concrete are still there. 

In my class on Southern literature last semester, we talked about the American Civil War and how it makes the culture of the deep South different in that they were, and because of that still are, the losers. Everyone knows that France is not a military super power, but I find it easy to forget how that impacts a people. In this particular instance, I think it made them grateful. Grateful for the end of the war, for their their allies, for freedom. And that's something I think I can learn from. 

The Market

My program kindly booked our hotel by the harbor in Caen, which was just gorgeous as the sun was coming up that morning. The streets outside the hotel were completely filled with vendors for the Sunday morning market. I wanted to stay longer and eat my way around, but alas. 

But of course there wasn't just flowers and food for sale...

Mom, I took these just for you.

You would have loved it :) 

Why yes, that is a tower sitting in the middle of road.

The whole morning was exactly what you think of when you think of cute little French town. I wouldn't mind going back just for that someday.

Mt. Saint-Michele

This was one of the events I was most excited about for the trip: an island with a town that wraps around to the top where there's an old abbey and church. It was marvelous and we were lucky to have sunshine.

What's so unfortunate about this place is how touristy it's become. I heard that before I came and immediately thought, "Well, duh. But so is Notre Dame and that's still amazing." But this place is different. There are still something like 45 people who still live on this island but you would never know it. All you can really see are tourist shops and overly quaint restaurants and suddenly even the chipping paint just seems a little too perfect.

Thankfully, we had a really wonderful tour guide who gave us a lot more background on the island and made it seem more real, but even then, stories of saints and monks don't even really feel real now. 

This is a garden toward the top of the mountain. It's strange to feel the relief of this garden when you're surrounded by beautiful coastline, but it is a comfort nonetheless. I'm not exactly sure why.

From a window by the garden.

In the story of the founding of Saint-Michele, Aubert, Bishop of Avranches was visited in a dream by the saint himself. He told him that he was to build a church. Aubert didn't take the dream seriously, and so it repeated two more times. The third time, Saint-Michele put a finger to Aubert's forehead and burned a hole in it. Then the bishop decided he would build the church. Lovely story, huh?

Saint-Michele atop the steeple.

The meaning of all this church and the references to Christ throughout seemed so muddled to me. Perhaps it was because I was snapping photos the whole time. It was hard not to because everything looked so perfect in its wearied state. In truth, I much preferred the market. It was not exactly as impressive, but it didn't feel like a fantasy. You got to have a little grit or nothing feels real.

Until next time...

Chocolat Chaud.

Today's pictures are from my visit to the "Jardin de Tulleries" this afternoon. The sun finally decided to come out today and though it was a bit chilly, everyone managed to fool themselves into thinking that the weather was perfect. Perhaps it was.

Not much explanation is needed. I know you're probably all sick of park pictures already, but I couldn't help it. It was just a beautiful day.

At one of the fountains, you can rent these boats to sail on the little fountain on the side of the park. I remember Madame Morellec, my French professor at Hillsdale, saying how she always wanted to sail one when she was little, but she didn't get to because she wasn't a boy. I can understand her frustration. I wanted to sail one too!

A Parisian and a tourist. 

Haha...I don't know if you can see in this picture, but this Parisian was definitely observing the same. She had a good laugh :)

I went to the park today with a friend from the program named Maggie. We stopped a this really expensive restaurant/pastry shop just outside the garden to get "chocolat chaud" or hot chocolate. This is not the hot chocolate, however, they serve at Starbucks, but cthick, gooey melted dark chocolate. Expensive, but we both agreed totally worth it. Warms you all the way down to your stomach. 

The place where they keep the heavenly goodness :)

Maggie and her chocolate.

We sat and chatted in the park while we finished our hot chocolate. These two little boys were kicking a little "Cars" ball around. I loved their little matching red jackets and wispy little boy hair.

Mama and little brother.

And big brother.

Love his little smile.

We finished the day at "l'eglise de Saint Madelaine," a gorgeous old church with impressive Roman inspired architecture. I've been there several times before and it's one of my favorite places. Unfortunately, the photos of the inside don't do it justice, but the outside, as you can see, is incredible. 

From the Place de la Concorde.

Maggie and I sat by one of the big pillars to rest before heading home. As we looked out, we both had one of these moments that sneak up on you and give you this little thrill; you stop and suddenly remember, "I'm in Paris!" We got to see and experience things today that we'd only dreamed of before and so many long to see. And we got to experience this day, see this view. How exciting. 

We resolved to try to do something each day this week and speak French as much as possible when we're together. It's funny how so many of the afternoons I have here where I have nothing planned end up so wonderfully. Blessings abound. And God is good. 

The real Heritage room.

When you go abroad, the tendency for many people when they are homesick is to become a hermit. They go to class, grab food and go home and listen to sad music and cry. I carefully tried to avoid this trap in my first few weeks here and was very proud of myself for only doing that the first day until I realized I just had a variation on this problem. I wanted to hole up not in my room, but in the library.

I blame Hillsdale entirely for this. Because of my time spent at Hillsdale, I have this absurd notion that all college experience looks something like this:

2 hrs of class/day + 2 hrs of eating/day + 5-6 hrs of sleep a day + 14-15 hrs of studying = education.

I am more and more convinced each semester I spend at Hillsdale that this is a gruesome, yet wonderful way to be educated. And I think every graduate would love to think that after they graduate they have one-upped every other undergraduate in the world because they have just spent four years searching for the good, the true, and the beautiful and because of that can answer obscure questions about the history of their preferred denomination of the Christian church. I would like to think this would be enough to thrive in a world who never has the opportunity to study in depth like we do, but I'm afraid that's not the case.

I've met a lot of people since I've been here. People from all different places and people who think all sorts of things, and I've had more time than I could have imagined to enjoy them and everything around me. Yet my first instinct is to go to the library and I think now I know the reason. When I study French grammar, I know when you conjugate "avoir" in the present tense it looks like this and in the imperfect like so, and I might not know the passe simple, but I can look it up and tell you exactly what it is. And it will look like that now and forever. 

When I talk to people in French, or in English, I don't have my books with me. I can't just look up anything I don't know. And when I talk, I will inevitably make some grievous mistake that I will see then or be thinking about when I'm supposed to be paying attention in lectures. Sometimes I can go look up the problem and know I will do better next time, but other times I can't.

I've only been to the library once this week and I'd like to say it was because I was out being super adventurous, but it wasn't. I was just tired. I took these pictures when I went last week. I was reading "Le Petit Prince" in those chairs and looking out at that view, listening to people walk the creaky floors behind me. I love this room and I think I could be content coming everyday and spending my afternoons reading, but I know I can't. And why should I? I'm in Paris! How many times in your life do you get to live in Paris?!

But as I realized and I see more an more everyday, a fox is just a fox if he is not tamed. The only way this trip will be worth it is if I leave the library. I'm going to find me some roses and I'm going to learn their names. Ready or not, here I come.