Provence, Papes, et Ponts, Tout dans un Weekend

You want to know what my favorite types of trips are? The free ones. Or at least the ones that Penn pays for. Yes, I realize that these may have been factored into the cost of this semester abroad, but it still feels good to travel, sleep and eat all on Penn’s dime for a weekend. This weekend was the second of two such excursions, a two day affair in the Provence region in the south of France. Similar to the trip in Reims, we were immersed into French culture for this short period of time in regions just off the beaten track in order to show us the hidden gems of France. By now you know that I am not a big fan of tourist traps, thus a weekend like this was right up my alley.

An excessively early start on Saturday saw us leave Lyon for a three hour drive down l’autoroute to a small town called Uzès (no clue where it is on a map, but somewhere South). Fortunately, upon our arrival we did happen upon a farmers market where some of the vendors mistakenly offered up free samples, something us half-awake, hungry college students took full advantage of. After clearing the vendors out, and supplementing that with a picnic overlooking the valley below, it was back on the bus, and back to sleep for most of us. I think we all felt bad for our tour guide, because as a local history teacher, he clearly knew a whole host of things about the area we were in, and eagerly was talking over the bus loudspeaker in between each stop along the way. Problem was that he just knew too much, and after a series of loosely correlated tangents, one by one we all busted out the jacket/pillow, and eased our way back to sleep. No worries though, he kept talking.

The Pont du Gard turned out to be the highlight of the weekend, for a few reasons. First, it is a 2000 year old aqueduct (bridge for the water, not only over the water), no small feat within itself. With three separate tiers of arches, the whole of the bridge is still intact and dates all the way back to Roman times, one of the best preserved in the world. Second up is a more personal reason, but after emerging from the woods and coming to the Pont, I had a déjà-vu moment: I knew I had been there before. For the first time this semester, I remembered a specific part of my one week journey through France in eighth grade, the only other time I have been in Europe. I had completely forgotten about this stop along the way, so although I was visibly stunned and confused, I definitely enjoyed being transported back to 2003 and the good old Potomac School days. Third and final highlight of the bridge was not related to the structure itself, but instead the surrounding environment. While it was not a baseball field, I found basically the closest thing to it, namely a flat waterbed with a rocky shoreline: yes, I was skipping stones. While I eventually failed at teaching others this fine art, I did put my own brother’s instructions to good use, and could not help but enjoy one of my favorite pastimes. Later that night and throughout the next day my arm felt like I had just thrown about 7 innings, but after six months off, it felt just right at home.

As for the rest of the weekend, it was mainly focused around food, as is any good trip through the French countryside. When I had seen Avignon on the program sheet, I thought for sure we would hit up the two main attractions that the town has to offer: the Palais des Papes, and the Pont d’Avignon. For those of you who have been around since the beginning, you may remember that Avignon was a stop on my pre-trip travels, and the one day we spent in the town was a perfect length of time. That time around, we arrived in the morning, toured the Palais (the center of the Catholic church at one point in the 14^th and 15^th Century), and after lunch went onto the Pont (12^th Century bridge featured in the French children’s song, Sur le Pont d’Avignon) before heading out that evening. In, out, perfect. This time, with the Penn group, we did not do either fixture. We drove by Avignon at night on Saturday, and obviously spotted both all lit up, and then briefly hustled around the town on Sunday morning, but no going in or on either of them, simply photo ops from a distance. Surprising, but then again we are trying to become French for the semester, and thus did not want to seem touristy or anything terrible like that.

Instead, we explored the French countryside. We stopped briefly at a small medieval town protected by a menacing hill-side castle, and admired a similarly old (yet much smaller) Roman bridge. We sampled some of Provence’s famous olives, and even briefly strolled through a roadside olive oil museum (yes, an olive oil museum, about as cool as you would expect). Unfortunately, the rain and gray skies cut short our morning exploration, so we did what any good Frenchie would do: we ate! One four hour meal later, we were all deliriously full of amazing food, and let our food coma takeover on the way back to Lyon.

In between fits of sleep, I could not help but notice the lights of Chateaus spotting the hillsides. I’m sure whoever built those medieval towns did not imagine they would ever becomes roadside afterthoughts, but I am definitely appreciative of their effort. 12^th Century castles are not something that Americans do well, so I guess I will have to appreciate them while I can, even while rolling along into the night.

Bienvenue à Lyon

And so it begins.

After spending a few days relaxing in Southern France, I have now officially arrived at my final destination; Lyon, the city where I will be spending the next four months of my time. It’s one of those days that I had circled on the calendar long ago, but never thought would actually come. However, the time has flown, the summer has passed, and the new semester is here.

I was able to stave off thinking about classes and work and all those other bothersome things for a few more days while spending almost a full week in the cities of Aix-en-Provence, Avignon, and Montpellier. Thanks to a missed connection at the start of the trip, I was unable to drop my bags in Lyon, and thus was lugging around everything I will need for four months through the streets of medieval cities, not exactly designed with an overweight L.L. Bean roller bag in mind. My exploration was distinctly hindered thanks to that deadweight, but I still was able to see plenty of the three cities.

Aix-en-Provence was easily the largest and most tourist friendly of the bunch. Every sign was in English, the town squares were mobbed, and sidewalk cafes were everywhere. Most of them had single chairs and tables on the very edge of the restaurant’s property facing the street that were strategically placed to improve people watching. As such, every person utilizing said seats gave us a dirty look as we walked by; “stupide Americains.” But this was a town you could spend three or more days in, as there was plenty to do.

Avignon was a day trip for us, and that seemed like the perfect amount of time to spend there. The highlight was the “Palais du Papes”, which during parts of the 14^th and 15^th century served as the seat of the Catholic Church. Very impressive indeed, with intricate paintings, imposing walls, and cavernous ceilings. The second biggest tourist attraction was the “Pont d’Avignon”, loosely translated as a bridge built in the 1200s which then connected Avignon to the world, but now does not even cross half of the river. So as you can see, a day was plenty of time to see all the sights. One not to be missed was in the middle of this historic town. A couple of retailers lined the square, and outside of one was a Chicago Bulls jersey of Joakim Noah. For those of you that don’t know him, consider yourselves lucky because he is a tried and true bum. Yet, he gets prime sale space in Avignon, France? Ah, globalization.

Montpellier was the final stop of the trip for us, as it was west of Aix and right in the middle between Barcelona and Lyon, our respective destinations. Because Brian and Spencer had to rush off early to Spain to get to their orientations, I had some time on my own to get a walking tour of Montpellier. Again all my bags were with me so I may have sweat a bit, but I definitely saw a large majority of the city, both good and bad. I still cannot get over the narrowness of the streets, and the prevalence of town squares; it is a testament to the age of the cities I suppose, but there is simply no comparison from what I have seen in the States (far from exhaustive, but perhaps representative). These cities have been very conducive to wandering, and almost dare you to drive a car through them. Anyway, the highlight of the central square in Montpellier was a man playing and singing his guitar. No, not that rare, but as I got closer to him I realized that I recognized the famous chords of “Sweet Home Alabama” coming from his guitar. Of course, this is France, so when he got to the chorus, he started off with “My home in Alabama”, and continued on from there with his butchering of the song. Just reminded me how far I actually am from Alabama.

My travels finally came to a close this afternoon as I boarded the train to Lyon. I realized that even as I felt the same relief as when I board a train for Philadelphia in the sense that it is where I belong, I had no clue where I was going. Considering how much time, effort and agony went into choosing a college out of high school, with the numerous applications, interviews and school visits that went along with those shenanigans, this time I had chosen Lyon out of the blue, especially the Universite Lumiere-Lyon 2. Right now, I could not tell you how many kids go to Lyon 2, what type of school it is or even what their mascot is (a very important factor), if they have one. Yet, for some reason, I’m not that nervous.

After a few delays on the TGV, which is really letting me down these days, I met Mme. Rossi (my host Mother) at a very crowded train station in the heart of Lyon. We made the drive over and then under the city’s two rivers, and then up a winding road to their house. Tomorrow I will head into town to sort of get my bearings, so I’ll give you a full recap of Lyon once that is complete, but let’s just say that Lyon is a city of 3 major hills, and my house is near the top of one of them, looking back over the city. Amazing.

When I got to the house, there was (surprise!) another student already staying with the Rossis! Henry is a couple years younger than I am, from Columbia by way of Miami and Toulouse, and knows how to relax with the best of them. But for now I will just say that the three others were very nice and welcoming to me, and I’ll leave the full description to another post. Upon my arrival, Mme. Rossi made dinner for the four of us, and Henry had warned me that she was a good cook, yet still I was blown away; after spending four days in a foreign country constantly focused on not killing myself and not necessarily enjoyment, this meal was perfect. Food coma quickly set it, and I had earned it.

Finally, I’m here in Lyon, the “city of light,” and, for the next four months, my city.