Et Voila, C'est Tout!

(I realize looking back that this is by far my longest post ever (for-evah evah, evah evah?), but there was plenty to recap over the past three weeks, and even more to wrap up over the past four months. So please, bear with me)

It appears that my ambition to crank out many more posts some three weeks ago may have been a little bit beyond my actual ability to deliver on that promise. Apparently there was still plenty to do here in that wrap-up period some three weeks ago, from taking a couple more exams to completing some end of the year paperwork to doing much-delayed Christmas shopping. Additionally, everything was compressed into one week because I was off to Paris on that Saturday to meet up with my sister, and eventually my parents as well, for a week’s worth of traveling throughout France. Spending a week in Paris, a day in Dijon and three days in Lyon, we all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. For the other three members of our traveling circus, the trip served as an introduction to another culture, as combined they had only spent two days in France over the past 30 some years. For me, it helped close the book on this semester abroad.

I’ll quickly summarize the actual trip. In our time in Paris, we basically covered all the tourist sites imaginable, except perhaps the largest one; the Eiffel Tower. I personally walked underneath the tower on four separate days, but due to a laundry list of reasons (huge crowds, cold temperatures, French people closing the tower too early, etc.) we never did actually make it to the top of the symbol of Paris. In reality, however, it was not a huge problem, as we truly did everything else; museums including the Louvre and Orsay, icons such as the Arc de Triomphe and Versailles, and daytrips to Normandy (back to the American WWII Cemetery) and Chartres (very famous gothic cathedral). You name it we did it. Add to that the fact that it was Christmas, when we went to Notre Dame for the first Mass I have been too that was surrounded by tourists (cannot stand those people) taking pictures of the service and of course the Neuman family special of a mother-chosen romantic comedy, and you have yourself one fantastic celebration. Christmas in Paris is apparently a popular celebration, and the city looked its finest throughout the week. But we could not stay there the whole time, and on Saturday evening we packed our bags for a less-than-daytrip to Dijon, where we definitely accomplished our only goal for those 16 hours: buy mustard. With the spreadable gold in hand, we boarded the first TGV possible and headed to, the one and only, Lyon.

By the time we got to Lyon, only my parents remained with me, my sister not being brave enough to venture anywhere outside of Paris. But I still felt a distinct sense of pressure to positively show off the city that I called home for four months and had given such high reviews. On Monday, the city obliged by showing its best side; it rained and was just a notch above freezing. Still we hit the major sites, including the Basilica, Roman theatre and Place Bellecour, and wrapped the sightseeing up on Tuesday with a trip to my now shuttered university. My visitors were staying in the Renaissance quarter of the city (Vieux Lyon), and were quickly enchanted by the winding cobblestone store-lined streets, in addition to the Lyonnais cuisine. Monday night provided some entertainment, as my host family and real family met for the first time, and despite the fact that neither side coherently spoke the other’s language, I think we all agreed on the fact that it was a fun evening. Sadly, the trip did have to come to an end, and my parents headed to Geneva on Tuesday night to catch their morning flight back to DC. I stayed in Lyon for one final night with the Rossis, continually searching for the words to fully express my gratitude for the entire semester.

The trip was simply the final chapter on this four month long experiment and, somehow, that experiment has come to an end. I looked back at the first post that I wrote on here, back when getting a Visa was still an issue, and I did not know the pronunciation difference between Lyon and a lion (its Leeeee-on vs. ly-in). That nervous excitement feels like yesterday, but today I write to you as I head back to the States (and will hopefully post this from my own house in NoVA). The time flew, but it was without doubt time well spent, and I cannot imagine having missed out on such an opportunity.

When I officially decided to pursue study abroad back in January, I remember feeling as if I was signing myself up for something that I was not at all ready for. All the info sessions and power-points seemed all fun and games, but even then I knew that I did not truly grasp the concept of studying, and living, in a completely foreign country (having left North America for a total of 8 days in my whole life). The words on the page were just that, and even as I nodded along I was far from actually absorbing what advisors were telling me. I hit that “commit” button in April to lock myself into a program I was equally scared of and excited for. Even if it was spread out over several months, I hurtled through the abroad process only to board that August flight not knowing what to expect once I stepped off.

My two overarching abstract goals coming into this semester were to learn about France/Europe, and to learn about my own country. Some stereotypes about les Bleus proved to be true; the whole population smokes, strikes are a common occurrence (even if I sadly did not actually get to join one), and berets are fashionable.

But not all French people are snobbish, they do occasionally get up from sipping their cafes to do actual work, and they generally like Americans (thank you Obama!). There are aspects of French culture that I will truly miss, highlighted by the fresh bread and (stinky) cheese at every meal, while there are also those that I cannot wait to get rid of, like the fact that everything in the entire town is closed by 10pm. Walking down the streets, trying to go the library, reading the newspapers, I was constantly reminded about the stark difference between the United States and France: France is a nation of workers while the US is a nation of consumers. For us, if people want it, we will provide it, no matter the hour, in order to make that money, but there the flow of demand is tempered by the willingness of people to actually provide that service. Yes it is probably better for overall wellbeing, but who is to say that we cannot work past a certain hour if people are willing to make the sacrifice in order to earn that little bit extra? The social welfare state has its benefits (universal health care), but I was constantly reminded of its shortfalls as well. On the whole, however, I fell for this second culture, even if its popular culture is completely dominated by America’s. I can only hope that my future somehow leads me back to not only Europe, but more specifically France and this city on two rivers. Lyon may not have been a tourist destination, but it sure was the best possible place to live for a semester abroad.

As much as I profess my newfound love for French culture, I realized at different points throughout the semester that it most likely will always be my second culture. As cliché/Middle America/Sarah Palin-esque as it may seem, I am an American, and I do not think I will ever change that or want to change that. Maybe the future will hold something different, and I will look back on this and laugh, but during these four months I definitely noticed that, even abroad, I am an American above all. I found myself constantly comparing everything back to familiarities in the States, following the news in the US, everything short of going to McDonalds’ in order to reconnect with my long lost homeland.

Most of the other posts I had hoped to write before being swept up in end of semester fever revolved around the complex relationship between Europe and the United States, but since I missed that opportunity, and understanding that few if any of you actually care to hear a rant on that, I’ll spare you of that here (but consider yourself warned!). I’ll try to keep my political comments to a minimum, but I cannot resist from throwing a few in here, so bear with me. Despite what some people may say, the United States is still the most important country in the world, and it is a privilege to be a citizen of our country. Sure, we are not perfect, but every Frenchie I met was genuinely interested in talking with me solely because I am American (of course in addition to my stunning good looks, those go without saying). Learning English is not just a matter of broadening their cultural horizons, but necessary to succeed on an international level in today’s globalized world thanks to the dominance of America. The French news sources follow the actions of the US government (more than just Obama) closer than they follow the French government because they recognize the relative power of each of those two decision makers. While they may not always agree with America, Europe as a grossly-generalized whole recognizes that what the US does the world will follow; one could even argue that they want to follow America, and are more than eager to join in a supporting role. It is our job to take that responsibility seriously.

But enough with the ranting, this is about me ending my semester abroad. I should probably mention the supposed point of this semester, that being actual studying and coursework. That never really did take up a whole lot of ink on this blog because, frankly, up until the last couple weeks I did not actually study. With all of my classes formatted in a straight lecture style where for two hours the professor talked and the students listened (that is assuming the professor showed up for class), and only one final exam at the end (no homework), I was not exactly on the Penn academic calendar. That is not to say that this was an easy semester; instead, study abroad is a different kind of work. There is no way that you could handle a Penn semester in a foreign culture. The majority of my “work” here was spent adjusting to this new culture, overcoming the language barrier, adjusting to life with a host family, etc. While we supplemented it with some activities, namely tutoring in a local high school, these were all relatively minor compared to what we were all accustomed to back in West Philly. We instead were thrown into this new culture, and adapting to that required plenty of effort. Of course there was downtime, and study abroad definitely requires a certain level of personal independence, but after finding the right mix between school work, host family activities and Europe’s wonders, we all were able to find our daily rhythm.

IEP, my university here, has a requirement that every student spends a full year abroad; at Penn, only about 25% of all students take advantage of some kind of abroad opportunity. I tend to side with the French on this one. By stepping out from the Penn bubble for a semester (or two), everyone benefits from a broadening of their horizons that in the very least will help them appreciate their “normal” life back in the States. For Europeans it is relatively easy to discover a different culture; they just walk across a nearby border (no more than a 3 or 4 hour drive away from any town on the continent). It is a bit trickier for Americans, as we have that large ocean in between, but it is a bit embarrassing how little of an effort we make to understand other cultures. With the assumption that the rest of the world will speak English to us, thus nixing any need to actually learn another language, we turn our attention inward, and lose sight of the rest of the world. Study abroad makes you see that need for change, as well as allowing you to benefit from a personal cultural exchange. More people need to take advantage of this opportunity.

I guess it is only fair that I wrap up this post, and this blog, by talking about myself. This whole concept boiled down to the fact that I thought that some people would actually want to read what I had to say, and the jury is still out on whether or not I was right in that belief. But if you for some reason have stuck with me this long, you probably are used to this egotistic side of me anyway, and thus will grudgingly read on.

The fear of eggs hung over me before I left for France, and after having been to the doctor numerous times in the weeks leading up to my trip, I was pretty sure that I was going to run into an egg laced munchies on about day 2. Because of that fear, I really had not thought what the semester would bring on a more global scale. I was going to a city that I had knew practically nothing about, in a program with people that I had either only vaguely met, if ever, or had lost touch with over the course of two years, and in a language in which, in hindsight, I was pretty much lost. But somehow it worked, and I think there are very few of the 23 of us that came out of this semester feeling disappointed. I would be quite surprised if the majority of us do not stay close as we return back to Penn.

But the semester was about more than just the cliché valuable friends; instead, it was about the cliché culture and city that was undoubtedly hard to leave today. After four months of getting to know each other, my sense of sadness in leaving was tempered by the fact that I now know, in some way or another, that I will be back for all the wine, bread, and cheese that France has to offer. And even if my level of French has probably reached its lifetime peak, and if it is all downhill from here in terms of communication, I still have a sense of validation that I made it through four months in this foreign language. I did not try a Croque Monsieur, did not make it to famed Southwest France, did not even learn how to ride a bike in a city built around them, but I literally survived. Talk about accomplishments.

And somehow you are still reading. For those of you anonymous readers (or followers, which I never did quite determine the point of) that did put up with these unorganized musings, thank you for sticking around this semester. I am sure that if you are still here, then the point of this blog will be easily accomplished, that of reconnecting once we cross paths again soon. Instead of having to answer everyone’s least favorite question, “How was abroad?”, which is perhaps the most common yet the most general/vague question you could dream up, we will just be on a whole different level. Not missing a beat coming back to the States, or at least minimizing the gap, is all I can really ask for.

So the ambassador is coming home, sad to leave behind what he gained, but excited for all that he is returning home to rediscover. I hope you all have an awesome New Year’s, and will hopefully talk to all of you in the coming days.

La Tour Eiffel? Ouais, C’est Ennuyeux.

I’m back to Lyon following my jaunt to Paris, and I’m returning to the daily grind of classes, exploring Lyon, and eating French food. I’m slowly starting to figure out the French university system, but first let me quickly recap my weekend in Paris.

Following my day long excursion to Normandy, I arrived in Paris a little travel weary and a bit sick from the lack of sleep the night before. But, I was quickly remedied with a few blocks on the Champs Elysées. Meeting up with my friends forced me to walk by the Arc de Triomphe, the Luxor Obelisk, and the Louvre. Welcome to Paris, I guess. I soon found that it is true that everyone in Paris speaks English, following an encounter with our waiter at a sidewalk café. I ordered a chicken dish, and explained to him, in French, that I could not have eggs, so if he could please ensure there was no eggs in what I had ordered, that would be great. Pretty standard action, nothing special. However, we (the four travelers) were clearly speaking English, and the waiter picked up on it, and wanted to throw a little joke out there to top it off. So he brings me the chicken plate, and I ask him again (in English this time) if there are any eggs, to which he replies “No eggs, but you know that this makes eggs, right?” with quite a wry smile on his face. It was one of those Fran-glais moments: did he mean to use that verb? Does he know what he just said? Eventually, us dumb Americans (a common theme in Paris) figured out his hilarious joke.

After settling in Friday night, Saturday was our day to explore. We did not end up going to many different places, instead spending plenty of time just relaxing and taking in the sun at each destination. First was Sacre Coeur, where a Parisien street musician (of Spanish descent) butchered the words of Coldplay and Oasis as we tried to ignore him by looking out over the city from the mini hill of Montmartre. Then it was off to the Arc de Triomphe, where we took advantage of France’s “day of patriotism,” which meant that all the touristy state-owned monuments throughout France were free, and spent plenty of time up on the top snapping photos and looking over the Paris skyline. Again, I did not have a working camera at the time, so you’ll have to check out facebook (the picture today is from the American cemetery in Normandy). We capped off our sightseeing for the day with a promenade down the Champs Elysées, in which we encountered at least two McDonalds (or “MacDo” here) and two Starbucks.

Night brought the highlight of the trip for some of us: picnicking in a park (nearly) under the Eiffel Tower. We met up with some friends from Reid Hall and had an authentic French dinner, complete with French wine (perhaps not the finest, but the price was right), cheese, ham, and, of course, baguettes. A true Paris experience. As we were appreciating the cultural experience, the clock struck the hour, and the Eiffel Tower began to sparkle. Now, it normally is lit up at night, but we quickly learned that every hour it sparkles with fluorescent lights for about five minutes, and it is a sight to be seen. For us Lyonnais, this was unexpected and amazing (we heavily anticipated the next hour). Yet, the Parisiens among us were thoroughly not impressed. “It’s tacky,” or “so boring,” or “it really gets old after a while” were the only phrases they could muster as this spectacle unfolded. I just kind of looked at them blankly (albeit for only a few seconds as I didn’t want to miss the show), and wondered what a shame it must be when the sights of Paris are no longer exciting.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, marked by an early exit from the hotel room to catch a train back to Lyon on a gray and rainy Sunday. I finally had class on Monday this week, as the Professors decided to show up this time around. I had two classes in French (on European and International Institutions, and then on the United States in the 20^th Century), and this is where I really figured out the French system. First off, we were told when we came here by Penn that this would not be like the United States, in the sense that students wanted to be in class (a radical concept) and would truly be focused when they were there. False. Just like at Penn, most of the class is on Facebook, checking up on the world while the professor in vain tries to describe the subject material. If this professor is reasonably entertaining and interesting, the students will reward him/her at the end of every class with a round of applause, a nice touch. However, if this professor happens to be a bit boring, the French have no problem blatantly talking up in the back, so much to the point that the professor is drowned out by the class chatter. That is a bit awkward. Additionally, I tend to be someone who takes plenty of notes, and especially here I try to take notes on phrases that are helpful or other French words that stick out to me. Yet, I do not always get exactly what the professor is saying, as again, this is not my native language. So it is always enjoyable for me to see some French kids lean over to mooch off my notes (expecting to be wowed by their content), and then kind of slink back into their chair more confused than ever. Final point is that we really have very little work here. Yes there are readings for almost every class, but nothing like the daily work at Penn. For starters, we only have one session of each course per week, rendering daily work completely useless. Further, professors usually give out a “bibliography” at the beginning of each course of recommended books throughout the semester, ie a list of books it would be helpful to read, but no worries if you never get around to them. At the end of the semester, each class normally just has one exam on which your entire grade is based. No pressure, but you better be a good test taker.

Ah yes, university life has begun in France, and I am trying not to get bogged down in the class work. So far, so good.

J’ai Besoin d’Être en Congé

(Editor’s note: I meant to publish this yesterday once I found internet in Paris, however I just got online for the first time today…so allow me to take you back a day)

We are now finished with the first week of official classes at IEP, and after three whole classes, it feels great to get a break. As the week went on, professors did eventually show up to class, although still no explanation for Monday’s all around failure. Tuesday brought International Finance, focusing on the contemporary “dollarization” of the world, with a professor that is both engaging and welcoming to international students. No class on Wednesday (not sure if this will stick throughout the semester, but I’m inclined to make it work), but Thursday featured not only Multinational Firms and the Attractiveness of Territories, but also International Violence and Managing Conflict. The first showed that the French language has really not caught up to English in business terminology (instead they simply steal words such as capital, joint-venture, and multinational firm, albeit with some order inversion), while the second I attended because another first choice class was canceled, and, after being drawn in by its focus on civil wars around the world, I probably will take instead; you snooze, you lose. Also, apparently IEP has an English requirement, because for both of my Thursday classes, more than half of the readings are in English (despite the class being en Français), making it all the better for us exchange students.

But, so much work is pretty exhausting after a while, and after celebrating the birthday of our program director on Thursday night, the weekend officially had begun. After failing in my quest to go last weekend, I booked my tickets early this time for Paris, and am currently on my way to the capital city right now. With the combination of Penn friends in the Reid Hall program (there is an unspoken rivalry between “that one” and Lyon), other travelers coming in for the weekend (both from Lyon and Barcelona, one of my fellow travelers from the beginning Brian Hwang), and the fact that, after all, it is Paris, I could not pass it up two weekends in a row.

However, first I decided to make a little side trip, and a historical one at that which has taken me back a little over 900 years. Since I still have my rail pass from the beginning excursion (of which I missed part), and the pass is valid for a certain number of days, not individual train rides, I decided to take my travels a bit further today before heading to Paris. This morning, after getting up way too early, I boarded a TGV in Lyon to Paris, but after a quick change of stations (love the Paris metro system), I hopped on another train, this time for Bayeux. This is a tiny little village in the Northwest of France close to the English Channel that is well known for two reasons. I will describe each in turn.

Bayeux itself is home to one of the world’s oldest and most fascinating tapestries, aptly named the Bayeux Tapestry. Now, I’m not much of an art connoisseur myself, but this 70 meter long piece was crafted in 1066 to mark the run up to and the bloody finish of that year’s Battle of Hastings, in which William the Conqueror (the Duke of Normandy) captured back the English monarchy from his traitor cousin Harold. It was remarkable to see the intricate detail of each little “scene” of the tapestry, and to easily follow the story line and main characters of the action just from the drawing. Combine that with the Bayeux Cathedral (also from the Middle Ages), and you have yourself a pretty solid way to spend the first half of the day.

The main highlight of it, and the reason I decided to make this daytrip, however, was the beaches of Normandy. A twenty minute bus ride from Bayeux brought me to the famous Omaha Beach, site of the 1944 D-Day landing, and the beginning of the liberation of France. I know this sentiment is not shared by all, but I felt that as an American who studies international politics, this would be an experience not to miss while in France. I was not disappointed.

The U.S. government financed and erected the cemetery to bury and honor all 9800 soldiers killed in the Normandy fighting, and topped it off with a powerful memorial overlooking the beach. In addition to the overwhelming grave sites, the monument provided historical background of the fighting, as well as names of over 2000 of those missing in action from the fight. Today was beautiful, and with the rows upon rows of plots marked by Crosses (or the occasional Star of David) combined with the crashing waves of the Channel below, it was a powerful scene. I eventually made my way down onto the beach itself and, despite the two horse drawn chariots racing by and multiple guys sailing in little cars on the sand (no clue what they were trying to do, but they were definitely failing at it), I appreciated the gravity of the location. For a second there, looking out into the Channel, imagining the scene from over 65 years ago, you could feel the fear in both the onrushing Americans, and the heavily entrenched Germans (average age of those killed in the invasion? 24 years old. Scary). Far more powerful than Arlington Cemetery, I almost forgot I was in France, as everything was in English and heavily American focused (in addition to the fact that the majority of visitors were clearly Americans like me). Then again, as I was snapping photos of statues and such, a French staffer came up to me to remind me that the park closed at 5pm, which was 20 minutes away. I told her it was no problem, and kept moving, however she felt it necessary to run me down and remind me again as I walked, as she clearly did not want any dumb American to ruin her French schedule of work (a whole different subject). For the record, I got out of there with over 5 minutes to spare, but I found it funny to be so sharply drawn back to the reality of France even in such a powerful site.

In all, it was a day trip definitely worth the early start, sore throat and all. I took plenty of great photos with my new and improved camera, yet forgot to both charge it and/or bring the battery with me, so I’m sticking with one of my Lyon shots for this post. As the train rolls on, I’m not sure how the no camera thing is going to work in Paris, but on the bright side, I guess now I have to come back?