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 Fin du Commencement

As classes start up again back at Penn, it is only fitting that here my first class is just wrapping up. Tomorrow will bring the end of the “intensive” French class, and with it the third mini-exam of the course. After that, its game on, as “real” classes start Monday, for me at 10am. Of course, that does not mean I’m actually registered for any classes, as that would be far too logical for France. Instead, for each class, we must attend the first session, and then speak with the professor to see if he/she will allow us to take the class (apparently there is a limit to how many international students can be in each section), as well as if we can take the final exam early, as their exam period is in the middle of January, at which point I will be back in Philadelphia. Another problematic aspect of class registration here is that there is absolutely no course timetable, so in order to get the times of classes offered, you must look at a certain board outside the office of each department in order to see what class happens at what time. Quite difficult. For this reason, I’m keeping it simple and only taking classes at IEP (Institute of Political Science, roughly translated) which, as I think I previously described, is associated with Lyon 2 but not exactly the same university. Long story short, there are 9 IEP’s throughout France, which you have to pass an entrance exam to get into (as opposed to other universities where you can literally walk in the front door and sign up for classes), and one of them happens to be in Lyon. So, I start there on Monday.

With a little bit of a break in the action, I finally want to actually present the family that I am currently residing with for these 4 months. The Rossi family has 7 children of their own, yet all above the age of 24 and thus out of the house. Thus, to replace them, they continually welcome exchange students into their home, and I am the third Penn student to live with them (plus various other students). The mother definitely runs the show around here, and although she has been overly nice to me (and hasn’t killed me with any egg-laced products, yet), there is definitely a feeling that things need to be done her way, or else. The father is a bit quieter, more of a deep thinker, who is big into movies and a true wine connoisseur. However, his defining feature is that about 5 years ago he had a serious bike accident that has left him paralyzed. In addition to this discouraging me from ever nearing a bike in Lyon (I told you it was dangerous for everyone involved), it prevents him from traveling excessively around the world or around the town, and makes even getting around the house a complicated task (the devices he has set up to get from one floor to the next are an engineer’s dream). It is this condition that first encouraged the family to invite exchange students to their house, as our stories and countries are sort of a way for them to experience the rest of the world. Touching? Absolutely, but also a whole lot of pressure to stammer through some French in order to explain complicated American things such as health care, Edgar Allen Poe, and Idaho (all topics of discussion at dinner to which it fell to me to explain). The family loves to have friends over (read: lots of wine and even more food), and tries to include us in everything, even if we give them blank stares in return. But both sides are trying, and so far it’s working out well.

Anyway, its off to real class on Monday, a welcome break from the opening two weeks which are, apparently, the two hardest of the semester. After looking at my possible schedule for the upcoming semester, I am really beginning to understand why its all downhill from here. As it stands now, I have 10 hours of class per week, spread out over 6 hours on Monday (two separate three hour lectures – fun times in any language), and two hours each on Tuesday and Thursday. So, in review, that is only 10 hours a week of class, no class before 10 am, and no class period on Wednesday or Friday. Again, this could all fall through in the blink of an anti-American professor, but for now I’m pretty content.

Otherwise, group is doing well, no swine flu (yet, apparently its coming?), and Lyon is, slowly, beginning to feel like home away from home.

Les Premières Jours

It’s day 5 here in Lyon, and I’m just starting to get comfortable in my new city. 21 of us brave Penn students have made it here so far, and have managed to get a good sense of the city, the food, and the French people. I’ll address each in turn.

In my last post, I noted that my host family’s house is on the top of one of the main hills of Lyon. When I first got here, that was a wonderful thing, highlighted by the amazing view from my window. However, the challenge is getting to this place. The only way to get into downtown Lyon (except by car) is to descend a massive set of stairs that make “The Exorcist” stairs in DC look miniature in comparison. To get to the University its about a 30-40 minute walk in total, and a metro route is complicated and indirect, so I’m a bit stuck. The highlight of Lyon transportation is the bike system, where you can pick up a velo from anyone of the 350 stations throughout the city and leave it at your final destination; yet, as most of you know, my skills on a bike are quite limited, and with narrow winding streets full of angry drivers, I’m not real anxious to show them off.

But, despite some transportation issues, the city is truly spectacular. Home to not one but two rivers (the Rhone and the Saone), Lyon was the capital of the Roman territory of Gaul back when Ceasar was still cool. A few remnants from that era remain, including a crumbling stone amphitheatre, mainly in my section of the city, dubbed old Lyon. Interspersed throughout the city are many medieval churches, and the center square’s statue of Louis XIV gives some continuity throughout the ages. Otherwise, the streets are narrow (like all of Europe I guess), there are bakeries, cafes, and ice cream shops on every corner (after all, it is the food capital of France), and all the buildings are low to the ground. The city is quite expansive in width, but like Washington, DC and Paris, it has few skyscrapers. Now, in DC and Paris this is done to protect the visual preeminence of such treasures as the Washington Monument and the Eiffel Tour. Lyon’s one building that dramatically stands out against the rest of the low-lying landscape? A Radisson Hotel. Classy.

The highlight so far has definitely been the food. The opening night food was just a small preview of what was to come; each dinner (and weekend lunch) is full of choices (sans eggs, of course) that, while at first may be new to this uncultured American, quickly become excuses to ask for seconds. Throw in the baguettes with every course and the diverse set of cheeses that get passed around at the end, and I’ve been quite well satisfied. Of course, there have been some bumps in the road of this immersion into French food. Take Saturday for example; we had guests over, so of course we had a lavish meal. The main course tripped me up though, as I reached for my serving and kindly inquired what it was that I was taking for myself. “Escargot” my host mother kindly replied. Sure enough, one bite later, my broken French comprehension was confirmed; I had just eaten a snail. After a minute or two the whole group asked me how it was, this first taste of escargot, to which I replied that it was a “new experience.” That’s about as nice as I can put it, because in the end, it’s still snails.

And then there are the French people. Remember that this all started with my disaster with the consulate back home in DC. Well, it turns out that the first day 7 people were missing from our program (and one still is) because of delays and problems with said Consulate. Similarly, we also got an email from our advisor at Penn alerting us people as to when the deadline to register for classes at Penn is, a scary thought considering all the preparation that has gone into this semester. Despite that, over here we have discovered that French people are relatively nice, at least compared to Lyon’s infamous reputation for being a “cold” city. All the host families are working out well so far, and most of the vendors and such have been patient with us as we bumble through simple sentences. The most humbling experience has been hanging around little kids, as they clearly are ahead of us in their language, despite being, oh, 14 years younger. But we are trying, and apparently the first 2 weeks are the hardest, so we’re pressing on. Only a couple times have I tried to say something in French and the people have kind of raised one eyebrow at me and said (in English), “Where are you from??” Tomorrow we start our intensive French class for 8 days, which, hopefully, will help.

So far, so good, that is definitely the prevailing feeling. Still a lot of work to do to settle in at the University (namely, sign up for actual classes), but it’s a good bunch of Penn kids and I think we all have a sense that this could be a pretty fantastic semester, and we all walk back to our respective houses feeling pretty good about what’s ahead.

That is, until we reach those stairs, which only me and one other poor student have to climb everyday. Apparently you get used to them (according to a like 60 year old guy who saw a couple of us struggling), but until then, show me the water.