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.

Joyeux Onze Novembre!

Not sure if you are personally celebrating, but in case you are, happy November 11^th! Because us Americans are used to this day being marked on the calendar, yet not earning us time off from school or work, we may simply write it off as nothing, and I think I will forgive you if you missed it this year as well. But, as are most things, this is different in France, or at least chez-moi. My university was completely shut down today (if only I had class on Wednesday to miss…), stores were closed throughout Lyon, and the whole country celebrated the Armistice which ended the First World War. To top it off, the sun came back out again. As I said, it was quite a day.

The Rossi’s decided to take the party aspect of the day one step further. Let me first give you some background. As I mentioned earlier, my host father had a pretty serious bike accident some five years ago which has left him paralyzed from the waist down. Needless to say, all the tasks that he had become accustomed to doing in the garden were no longer possible from a wheelchair. Their house here, which up to this point I have only marginally described, is situated on a good sized piece of land for being in the city, and their property is right smack in the woods of the hill; clearly, there is plenty to keep a gardener busy. My host mother described to me how, at the time of the accident, she thought that she would be forced to hire a gardener to take care of all the greenery. Quelle horreur.

Fortunately, it was friends to the rescue. Not sure who initiated it, but a tradition began the following year that, on every November 11^th, their friends would come from all over France to help out in the garden. Despite everyone having the day off from their normal jobs, about twenty people every year are willing to get down to business a little after 10am in the Rossi garden. For me, it was really an understood cost of my lodging here, and I really had little choice but to help out. But, it turned out to definitely be a day well spent.

The formula is simple: everyone comes over to the house in the morning ready to work, and in the afternoon, they are rewarded with a grand French meal. For two hours straight, people are up and down around the property “preparing the garden for winter”, that is to say folding up outdoor furniture, bringing plants indoors, and cutting hedges throughout the yard. Not sure if Smokey the Bear would have approved, but all the leaves and debris collected from the yard were marched to the top of the hill, and promptly burned in a pile. Somehow, a forest fire was not started, but, I’ll admit, I had my doubts. It was quite a sight to see the 21 of us, most above the age of 55, running around cleaning up this yard, everyone trying to find their specialty (mine, you ask? That would be bringing the potted plants inside, as everything else required way more brainpower or French). After 2 hours, we were all covered in dirt, a bit exhausted, and very content with the progress made. Let the eating begin.

The meal was more than worth the work; after starting off with some champagne, of course, we went onto have a very heavy meal of “choucroute,” which is basically a few types of meat and sauerkraut (but is not German! I nearly lost a few fingers when I asked that of my host mother while she was brandishing a knife. Apparently it is distinctly French). Everyone was seated at a massive table I had not seen before, and having a great time, especially as the wine bottles continued to empty. Most people wanted to talk to me about what I thought of France and Lyon, and how much they loved New York. It was one of those meals where we all had a great time, but at the end I was glad that no one had to drive home as we are in France, and walking or the train would suffice.

While a bit confused at first, I eventually realized why this was such a great deal for all parties involved. For the Rossis, they really do not have to do a whole lot; my host mother was simply directing traffic all day, while my host father was snapping pictures of the proceedings, which he found exceedingly funny. Plus, they do not have to hire a gardener, or anything nearly as shameful. The rest of us put in a little bit of physical labor, and were rewarded with an amazing meal. Some people come every year, and this is an easy way to stay in touch with friends, as chatting while pulling weeds is a great way to catch up. This has become a definite tradition around the Rossi household, and I can definitely see why so many people keep coming back every year.

No, it may not have been a wild excursion to a foreign land, but it was definitely an enjoyable day for this American abroad. While I may not have followed every conversation flying around me, and needed to ask a couple times what exactly that thing was that I was supposed to go get, it was still an immersion in French culture that you can only get from a home-stay program like this one. Tiring? Possibly, as I went for a nice siesta after working hard, both in the garden and at the lunch table.

But in terms of fully taking advantage of a French family experience, I think I can now safely check that one off my list.

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.