Two hundred and twenty-two years ago this past Thursday, angry Parisians tore down an empty prison. OK, they were going after guns or something, but regardless, it ended up being the French national day. And so this American couple did our best to honor France on July 14th.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Mon mari, le chef de cuisine
Last night we had duck for dinner. Not just any old duck, but pan-seared with a honey citrus glaze...a recipe made up entirely by none other than Thomas J. Hunt! As any of you who have visited can attest to, Tom has really become quite the French chef over here. Besides duck, his specialties include: pork chops with a red wine mushroom sauce; crispy potatoes and sausage with creme fraiche gravy; roasted garlic, egg and warm goat cheese sandwiches (on a fresh baguette, of course); and frittata with fresh market vegetables. Are you drooling yet? It becomes even more impressive when I tell you that this is all made on a terribly finicky two-burner electric stove with one frying pan and one pot.
Tom has always been a creative and skilled chef- especially with meats- but being here in the land of "gourmandise" has really inspired him to take it to a new level. (That, and the fact that I don't get home in the evenings until 9pm, so he is automatically relegated to dinner-duty.) I have really enjoyed reaping the benefits of his talent and just wanted to take a moment to brag about it. :) Thank you, mon mari!
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| "How does my cooking always turn out so amazing?!" |
Monday, July 11, 2011
Boulangerie haikus
We love the French bakeries. As our homage before we leave, we wrote haikus to describe our feelings. Enjoy.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Fête de la Musique
Sometimes you get really terrible free music experiences (as we found out already) and sometimes you are absolutely blown away by the amazing-ness of free music. A couple weeks ago was "Fête de la Musique" in Paris (and all of France) and we were not prepared for just how awesome it would be! This festival is held annually on June 21st, to celebrate the longest day of the year, which is a pretty big deal here because it stays light out until 10:45pm. Public transportation runs all night long, which is also a pretty big deal because our train normally stops running at 1:30am on weekends and often cuts the night short.
Some of the highlights from that Tuesday night:
-Music- literally- on every corner...DJ's mixing hip hop, string quartets, drum corps, acapella groups, rock bands, 80's bands, reggae, brass...you name it, and it was rocking the streets.
-Open containers everywhere...we walked down the streets of Paris with a cup of beer. Paris, the capitol of France! Felt kind of like we were back in college.
-French people singing American song lyrics..it will never get old.
Last weekend, we went to another amazing music festival in La Defense (the sky scraper/business district of Paris) and danced the night away with...George Clinton and P-Funk! In case you were wondering: Yes, he is still rockin' out at age 70 (we did notice that he had to sit down several times, and his voice sounded pretty terrible, but you gotta respect his enthusiasm).
This music experience was particularly special, because the first time we danced all night to George Clinton and P-Funk was 8 years ago (our freshman year) at W&L's Fancy Dress ball, when I was Tom's date. :) I don't think either of us would've guessed that we'd be dancing to the same music in Paris, France as husband and wife! We've come a long way since then...
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| Tom enjoying some hip hop and beer on the street |
Some of the highlights from that Tuesday night:
-Music- literally- on every corner...DJ's mixing hip hop, string quartets, drum corps, acapella groups, rock bands, 80's bands, reggae, brass...you name it, and it was rocking the streets.
-Open containers everywhere...we walked down the streets of Paris with a cup of beer. Paris, the capitol of France! Felt kind of like we were back in college.
-French people singing American song lyrics..it will never get old.
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| An ironic sight, with a band rockin' out to "My Sharona" in front of this street mural |
This music experience was particularly special, because the first time we danced all night to George Clinton and P-Funk was 8 years ago (our freshman year) at W&L's Fancy Dress ball, when I was Tom's date. :) I don't think either of us would've guessed that we'd be dancing to the same music in Paris, France as husband and wife! We've come a long way since then...
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| Fancy Dress, March 2003 |
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Don't Leave Home Without It
It's a little hard to tell in the picture, but circled next to the magazine is undeniably a Torrey hair. IT HAS BEEN SIX MONTHS SINCE WE DROPPED HER OFF WITH FRIENDS IN COLORADO!!!!
(Torrey, for those of you that don't know, is our very, very hairy dog). I found this on the floor today while sweeping. All of our clothes here have been washed multiple times. We sweep daily. We are ON A DIFFERENT CONTINENT. Yet we can't get away.
I guess there are some things that will be rough to come home to. On a related note, thank you again to Nathan and Lydia, and Sarah and Ryan. We probably owe you new vacuum cleaners, as well as our gratitude.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Concrete Ping Pong
That, my friends, is an outdoor ping-pong table. It is in the park across the street from us, and it is 100% concrete. Margaret bought me a set of paddles and balls for my birthday, and we go play a few times a week now. It's light enough out to play till almost 10 PM.
As you can probably imagine, wind has a huge effect in outdoor ping-pong. You definitely want to be hitting upwind- you can hit it as hard as you want and it lands in. Even more fun is having a concrete net. You can have little games with yourself if you want, and all sorts of sweet bounces 10 feet in the air if you hit the top of the net.
It's a pretty delightful way to make up for being in a tiny apartment. I'll miss our outdoor table when we go home.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Defeated by the French...
...and their extreme fear of rain!
Margaret and I went to have a picnic in the park on Monday. We staked out a lovely place underneath some giant trees and were having a grand ol' time, as seen in picture below.
It even began to drizzle a little bit, which was nice because we were dry under the trees and got to sit and watch the rain fall.
Now, all the parks in France are completely fenced and gated, and most have signs on the gates that basically say 'this park will close in case of storm'. I always assumed that meant, you know, a storm. Maybe they are worried about people being in open fields during tornadoes or something. Never mind that we haven't seen any weather more intense than a soaking rain since we've been here.
It turns out that what those signs mean is that the park will close in the instance of any sort of liquid falling from the sky. After about 20 minutes of rain, a park ranger started driving his scooter around all the paths in the park, honking his big bad scooter horn constantly. He eventually came up to us and told us that we needed to leave immediately out the main gate!
I have no idea what they are trying to protect by closing parks when it rains. You aren't allowed to sit on the grass or play sports in most parks anyway. I would say that it is to save the park rangers from getting wet, but they all have shelters to stand in. Maybe it is just for job security, to justify having a person staff the gate of a park that is free to enter.
Anyway, we enjoyed the rest of our evening at home.
Margaret and I went to have a picnic in the park on Monday. We staked out a lovely place underneath some giant trees and were having a grand ol' time, as seen in picture below.
It even began to drizzle a little bit, which was nice because we were dry under the trees and got to sit and watch the rain fall.
Now, all the parks in France are completely fenced and gated, and most have signs on the gates that basically say 'this park will close in case of storm'. I always assumed that meant, you know, a storm. Maybe they are worried about people being in open fields during tornadoes or something. Never mind that we haven't seen any weather more intense than a soaking rain since we've been here.
It turns out that what those signs mean is that the park will close in the instance of any sort of liquid falling from the sky. After about 20 minutes of rain, a park ranger started driving his scooter around all the paths in the park, honking his big bad scooter horn constantly. He eventually came up to us and told us that we needed to leave immediately out the main gate!
I have no idea what they are trying to protect by closing parks when it rains. You aren't allowed to sit on the grass or play sports in most parks anyway. I would say that it is to save the park rangers from getting wet, but they all have shelters to stand in. Maybe it is just for job security, to justify having a person staff the gate of a park that is free to enter.
Anyway, we enjoyed the rest of our evening at home.
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| The park ranger in the distance, off to honk his scooter horn at other innocent picnic-ers |
Thursday, June 16, 2011
The Words We Used
Telluride Bluegrass Festival starts today. Most of my favorite bands, a place more beautiful than imaginable, happiest atmosphere I've ever experienced: there are good reasons that this week was the one I was most dejected to miss when we decided to come to France.
Along with the thoughts of Telluride, there have been other reasons that have made the past week or so the most homesick I've had here. The end is in site, and my heart has definitely moved back to the States. This semester hasn't been very busy, class-wise, so I feel somewhat like time is being wasted. And because I haven't had many days of class, it's been hard to keep up regular interactions with people.
Rather than dwell on missing Telluride and accentuate the blue mood, I want to try to catalogue the many ideas, words, and pieces of art that have accompanied me through the past 5 months, alleviating homesickness and culture shock. For those reasons, I think the proliferation and ease of portability of our entertainment and culture has been one of the things I've been most grateful for this year.
The library to bring to France was a major decision last December. My all-time favorites, of course: the frozen poetry of The English Patient, Garrison Keillor's Leaving Home, the lonely companionship of Gatsby, the painful beauty of Till We Have Faces. Also, A Moveable Feast for Paris. And St. Augustin's Confessions, Mere Christianity, and The Brothers Karamazov to provoke thought.
As much as I keep harping on it, getting The New Yorker over here has been clutch. At times my language skills have felt like they were covered in felt, because of the simplifications required when most of our speaking is with non-native English speakers. Each issue of the magazine has been a weekly cleansing, reminding me of good words and well-constructed arguments.
And music has been a constant, with Margaret's iPod stereo dock playing almost non-stop when we are in our apartment. Rocking out, setting the mood, waking us up- having music at the tip of your fingers might be my favorite modern technology. And on days like today, it is a solace to be able to call up some DMB to provide the comforts of an old musical friend, or Darrell Scott to sing the beauty of the American spirit.
This blog has been an aid, too. Even when the posts have been blatantly self-serving (i.e., this one), it has helped me express myself and also feel in contact with friends. And really, I think all of the words and music we have used to keep us going over here can only maintain for so long. It's the deep conversations and brief joyful moments with good friends that you really miss in a new place.
Still you don't expect to be bright and bon vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home
Paul Simon's "American Tune", via the Darrell Scott version
Along with the thoughts of Telluride, there have been other reasons that have made the past week or so the most homesick I've had here. The end is in site, and my heart has definitely moved back to the States. This semester hasn't been very busy, class-wise, so I feel somewhat like time is being wasted. And because I haven't had many days of class, it's been hard to keep up regular interactions with people.
Rather than dwell on missing Telluride and accentuate the blue mood, I want to try to catalogue the many ideas, words, and pieces of art that have accompanied me through the past 5 months, alleviating homesickness and culture shock. For those reasons, I think the proliferation and ease of portability of our entertainment and culture has been one of the things I've been most grateful for this year.
The library to bring to France was a major decision last December. My all-time favorites, of course: the frozen poetry of The English Patient, Garrison Keillor's Leaving Home, the lonely companionship of Gatsby, the painful beauty of Till We Have Faces. Also, A Moveable Feast for Paris. And St. Augustin's Confessions, Mere Christianity, and The Brothers Karamazov to provoke thought.
As much as I keep harping on it, getting The New Yorker over here has been clutch. At times my language skills have felt like they were covered in felt, because of the simplifications required when most of our speaking is with non-native English speakers. Each issue of the magazine has been a weekly cleansing, reminding me of good words and well-constructed arguments.
And music has been a constant, with Margaret's iPod stereo dock playing almost non-stop when we are in our apartment. Rocking out, setting the mood, waking us up- having music at the tip of your fingers might be my favorite modern technology. And on days like today, it is a solace to be able to call up some DMB to provide the comforts of an old musical friend, or Darrell Scott to sing the beauty of the American spirit.
This blog has been an aid, too. Even when the posts have been blatantly self-serving (i.e., this one), it has helped me express myself and also feel in contact with friends. And really, I think all of the words and music we have used to keep us going over here can only maintain for so long. It's the deep conversations and brief joyful moments with good friends that you really miss in a new place.
Still you don't expect to be bright and bon vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home
Paul Simon's "American Tune", via the Darrell Scott version
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Breakdown
This is a little delayed in posting, but whoever guessed 5 months in the 'When will they break down and prepare themselves cheeseburgers, fries, and beer for dinner to satisfy patriotic longings?' poll, you win.
Right around the end of May I hit the wall with French food, so we went to the grocery for beef, hamburger buns, ketchup, and potatoes.
It was delicious. AMERICA!
Right around the end of May I hit the wall with French food, so we went to the grocery for beef, hamburger buns, ketchup, and potatoes.
It was delicious. AMERICA!
Pay For What You Get
This Saturday, Margaret and I went to a free concert in Parc St. Cloud, south of us on the outskirts of Paris. It was actually a really beautiful park with formal gardens stretching on forever. And it was nearly empty! Beautiful things abound around here, I guess, and it's too far out of central Paris for tourists to get there.
So that was nice. The concert was another story. It was actually a series of concerts, but we didn't get there till the last one. It was an Ethiopian folk singer and a Parisian jazz bassist playing together. Intriguing, right?
Well, all I can say is that they have unentertaining jazz fusion music in France too. It turned out to be dark un-melodic chanting over a thrumming, distorted bass line. Perfect for those contemplative evenings at home in a thunderstorm, or if the end of the world has come and you want to ponder the sins of your civilization. Not so much for a Saturday afternoon in the park when most of your audience is families with small children. People fled in droves.
But the park was beautiful, and we had a great picnic. And it was free.
So that was nice. The concert was another story. It was actually a series of concerts, but we didn't get there till the last one. It was an Ethiopian folk singer and a Parisian jazz bassist playing together. Intriguing, right?
Well, all I can say is that they have unentertaining jazz fusion music in France too. It turned out to be dark un-melodic chanting over a thrumming, distorted bass line. Perfect for those contemplative evenings at home in a thunderstorm, or if the end of the world has come and you want to ponder the sins of your civilization. Not so much for a Saturday afternoon in the park when most of your audience is families with small children. People fled in droves.
But the park was beautiful, and we had a great picnic. And it was free.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Beer biking in Belgium
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162 miles, 25 beers, 5 days, 2 bikes and 1 happy couple....we took our long-awaited beer cycling trip last weekend and had a blast. For this beer geek and cycling enthusiast duo, it felt like we were returning to the Mother Ship.
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Monday, June 6, 2011
Hiking the Côte d'Azur
This entry is WAY overdue...
While Tom had to return to Paris for class, I was fortunate enough to spend the second of my two week spring break hiking the southern coast of France with Beth! (Yes, French primary schools not only get two weeks of spring break, they get two weeks of vacation for every six weeks of school. AND, every Wednesday off. I guess they're just trying to prepare for French adult life.)
We met in Nice (at a at a hostel which served 12 kinds of cereal for breakfast!), with no real plan other than to catch a train in Toulon- 120 miles away- 5 days later. And we were going to walk. And we were going to camp in whatever open beach or forest we found along the way. It was an ambitious itinerary, as we soon realized. But figuring it out is half the fun, right?
The trip turned out amazing: we hiked along two beautiful coastal trails, through the mountains and into small seaside villages. We walked through vineyard valleys and successfully hitchhiked twice- once with a hippie Swiss couple and once with a local girl on her way to work. The Cote d'Azur is definitely made more for stylish Parisian vacationers than budget backpackers, but one of the amazing features of the region was that every bus ride between towns cost only 1 Euro! Never mind that they always ended up taking twice as long as scheduled because of some accident or traffic jam, to which the bus drivers and riders contentedly just stopped and got out for a smoke break on the side of the road. It provided a convenient, legal way to hitch hike what we couldn't walk. :)
We found some amazing beach side campsites, that felt especially like heaven after hours of tromping through sand and rocks. Apparently the Germans love cheap camping too, because we were constantly surrounded by them. "Campeole" was the name of the camping chain, and they even made pain au chocolates to order for breakfast if you'd like! One night we tried camping in the forest (actually not allowed) and spent the entire night listening to hoof tromping and snorting-grunting sounds all around our tent. Wild boars, horses, mountain lions?!...we will never know, except that we were sure we'd get eaten alive.
We ended in Toulon on Good Friday, and made it just in time for a Stations of the Cross service at noon. We joined a congregation of hundreds and walked through the streets of the city singing, kneeling and reading the story of Christ's death. It was an experience we'll never forget- to be united with believers from all walks and stages of life, proclaiming the sorrow of that day.
The trip was a wonderful time of renewal, rest and adventure. I am eternally grateful for friends who will share in these crazy adventures and remind me what it means to love unconditionally.
While Tom had to return to Paris for class, I was fortunate enough to spend the second of my two week spring break hiking the southern coast of France with Beth! (Yes, French primary schools not only get two weeks of spring break, they get two weeks of vacation for every six weeks of school. AND, every Wednesday off. I guess they're just trying to prepare for French adult life.)
We met in Nice (at a at a hostel which served 12 kinds of cereal for breakfast!), with no real plan other than to catch a train in Toulon- 120 miles away- 5 days later. And we were going to walk. And we were going to camp in whatever open beach or forest we found along the way. It was an ambitious itinerary, as we soon realized. But figuring it out is half the fun, right?
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| Starting off in Nice, with our new street-bought sunglasses |
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| Cannes |
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| A view of the coast |
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| Hiking in the Massif L'Esterel |
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| Sun setting over the Mediterranean |
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| Unable to find the right gas for our stove, meals consisted of canned veggies/meats, pudding and baguettes |
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| Sunrise |
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| We've come so far! |
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| Coastal trail around the peninsula of St. Tropez |
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| What are those girls doing in hiking boots on the beach?! |
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| Coastal trail from Port Lucia to Saint-Raphaël |
We found some amazing beach side campsites, that felt especially like heaven after hours of tromping through sand and rocks. Apparently the Germans love cheap camping too, because we were constantly surrounded by them. "Campeole" was the name of the camping chain, and they even made pain au chocolates to order for breakfast if you'd like! One night we tried camping in the forest (actually not allowed) and spent the entire night listening to hoof tromping and snorting-grunting sounds all around our tent. Wild boars, horses, mountain lions?!...we will never know, except that we were sure we'd get eaten alive.
We ended in Toulon on Good Friday, and made it just in time for a Stations of the Cross service at noon. We joined a congregation of hundreds and walked through the streets of the city singing, kneeling and reading the story of Christ's death. It was an experience we'll never forget- to be united with believers from all walks and stages of life, proclaiming the sorrow of that day.
The trip was a wonderful time of renewal, rest and adventure. I am eternally grateful for friends who will share in these crazy adventures and remind me what it means to love unconditionally.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Loire Valley
When my mom came to visit, she took us on a weekend trip down to the Loire Valley as a birthday present/adventure. Here are the highlights of the trip.
We rented a car and had a beautiful drive down to the small town of Langeais the first night. Margaret did a great job of conducting our fearless Fiat Panda down the French highways.
We stayed that night in a bed and breakfast run by an older gentleman. It had amazing rose gardens and was directly across the street from the chateau. We got there a little late and walked to the only little family restaurant still open. Turned out to be a great meal with pitchers of the cheap local wine. Margaret and I had a room on the top floor and listened to the night showers on the roof as we went to sleep. The owner had warned us against taking the room that fronted the street because it might be a little noisy. See the picture below to grasp the contrast between Langeais busy streets and Paris busy streets.
We rented a car and had a beautiful drive down to the small town of Langeais the first night. Margaret did a great job of conducting our fearless Fiat Panda down the French highways.
We stayed that night in a bed and breakfast run by an older gentleman. It had amazing rose gardens and was directly across the street from the chateau. We got there a little late and walked to the only little family restaurant still open. Turned out to be a great meal with pitchers of the cheap local wine. Margaret and I had a room on the top floor and listened to the night showers on the roof as we went to sleep. The owner had warned us against taking the room that fronted the street because it might be a little noisy. See the picture below to grasp the contrast between Langeais busy streets and Paris busy streets.
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| My mom and I fighting through the hordes of tourists in Langeais. Chateau at the left, restaurant straight ahead, B&B just off-screen to the right |
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Public Transit Study
Here is a really good post from one of my favorite blogs critiquing a study on public transit that is in the news right now. Even though we bought a house next to a light rail station and I will be relying on public transit in the fall, there is no way that I think Denver has the 6th best transit system in the country. But the article that Nate Silver wrote about the study is very thoughtful and asks a bunch of interesting questions.
538 post on common sense and public transit
538 post on common sense and public transit
Monday, May 16, 2011
Shale Oil and Gas
Two interesting articles about developments in shale oil and gas.
The first is from the NYTimes, on the shale gas potential of Ukraine. This is really big for Europe- Russia basically has a chokehold on Europe via natural gas supply. Being able to get a significant amount from Ukraine would be a relatively cheap way of easing the Russian dominance. European countries are currently planning on spending a fortune on LNG terminals and long pipelines from the Caucasus.
The second is a New Yorker article giving a really good summary of the shale oil boom in North Dakota right now. The amounts of oil there are pretty large. Not enough for 'energy independence' (a solely political concept), but significant. Unfortunately, the link is just an abstract, but consider it another hint from me to subscribe to the New Yorker.
All of these shale developments are great news for the U.S., because we have the expertise in the area. We're the only ones who have succeeded in it, and the rest of the world is going to be hiring us to teach them. And it's good for world energy supply, because there are huge amounts of oil and gas in shale formations (well, good in the 'delaying Peak Oil' sense. Not so good in the 'hey maybe we should stop using petroleum sometime soon because it is polluting' sense).
Shale oil and gas has come under a lot of unwarranted environmental criticism, in my opinion. The main critique is that the fraccing fluids can somehow pollute groundwater. From my one Reservoir Engineering course, this makes no sense at all. The fluids are injected literally miles underground, into rock that is too impermeable to permit migration of fluids upwards (which is the whole point of a shale formation). Blaming groundwater contamination on the fraccing seems ridiculous. There can certainly be large-scale pollution (groundwater or otherwise) from the rush to drill, the larger amount of surface area needed for shale drilling, and from over-eager companies not responsibly handling their wells. These things need to be well regulated.
The most interesting critique to me, though, is that fraccing uses a ton of water. Seeing as my former favorite fuel (biodiesel, and ethanol by extension) gets criticized frequently for the amount of water needed to irrigate the fields, fraccing seems to get a free pass because people don't associate petroleum with water usage. But the amounts are immense. I have no idea how it compares to the amounts needed to irrigate enough fields for a comparable amount of biodiesel... maybe that will be the topic of my next post.
The first is from the NYTimes, on the shale gas potential of Ukraine. This is really big for Europe- Russia basically has a chokehold on Europe via natural gas supply. Being able to get a significant amount from Ukraine would be a relatively cheap way of easing the Russian dominance. European countries are currently planning on spending a fortune on LNG terminals and long pipelines from the Caucasus.
The second is a New Yorker article giving a really good summary of the shale oil boom in North Dakota right now. The amounts of oil there are pretty large. Not enough for 'energy independence' (a solely political concept), but significant. Unfortunately, the link is just an abstract, but consider it another hint from me to subscribe to the New Yorker.
All of these shale developments are great news for the U.S., because we have the expertise in the area. We're the only ones who have succeeded in it, and the rest of the world is going to be hiring us to teach them. And it's good for world energy supply, because there are huge amounts of oil and gas in shale formations (well, good in the 'delaying Peak Oil' sense. Not so good in the 'hey maybe we should stop using petroleum sometime soon because it is polluting' sense).
Shale oil and gas has come under a lot of unwarranted environmental criticism, in my opinion. The main critique is that the fraccing fluids can somehow pollute groundwater. From my one Reservoir Engineering course, this makes no sense at all. The fluids are injected literally miles underground, into rock that is too impermeable to permit migration of fluids upwards (which is the whole point of a shale formation). Blaming groundwater contamination on the fraccing seems ridiculous. There can certainly be large-scale pollution (groundwater or otherwise) from the rush to drill, the larger amount of surface area needed for shale drilling, and from over-eager companies not responsibly handling their wells. These things need to be well regulated.
The most interesting critique to me, though, is that fraccing uses a ton of water. Seeing as my former favorite fuel (biodiesel, and ethanol by extension) gets criticized frequently for the amount of water needed to irrigate the fields, fraccing seems to get a free pass because people don't associate petroleum with water usage. But the amounts are immense. I have no idea how it compares to the amounts needed to irrigate enough fields for a comparable amount of biodiesel... maybe that will be the topic of my next post.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
4 months
So far, so good! We're still alive, still enjoying France, still feeling American.
April had some definite positives: vacation in Rome and Barcelona, a strong finish to my second semester of graduate school, a great birthday celebration for me, and the beginning of my mom's visit.
I got to live a bachelor life for a week while Margaret stayed on vacation with a friend. The verdict: fairly boring when you are in another country and have class every day.
I think we've made a little bit of a pivot in our mentality here. Up until now, we've been using the time and the change of pace to learn, think, and imagine. We've been able to see new perspectives, using the separation and foreign experience as a medium for thought.
Now that we are over halfway done, we're changing our focus to firming up the ideas and plans we will bring back with us. I'm trying to figure out how to incorporate the IFP's international oil perspective into the Colorado energy scene I will most likely join after graduating. Together, we're identifying plans for new endeavors and actions at home. It feels like a natural time to shift mentality, and I hope it will lead to a productive two and a half months.
The shift from counting up (time spent here) to counting down (time till we return to CO) also makes it easier to feel homesick. It's more natural now to feel frustrated with the effort required in daily life in a foreign country, and to miss Torrey! The return is close. I think the biggest challenge in the coming month is to stay in the moment and not let time disappear in the excitement of visitors, warm weather, and travels.
April had some definite positives: vacation in Rome and Barcelona, a strong finish to my second semester of graduate school, a great birthday celebration for me, and the beginning of my mom's visit.
I got to live a bachelor life for a week while Margaret stayed on vacation with a friend. The verdict: fairly boring when you are in another country and have class every day.
I think we've made a little bit of a pivot in our mentality here. Up until now, we've been using the time and the change of pace to learn, think, and imagine. We've been able to see new perspectives, using the separation and foreign experience as a medium for thought.
Now that we are over halfway done, we're changing our focus to firming up the ideas and plans we will bring back with us. I'm trying to figure out how to incorporate the IFP's international oil perspective into the Colorado energy scene I will most likely join after graduating. Together, we're identifying plans for new endeavors and actions at home. It feels like a natural time to shift mentality, and I hope it will lead to a productive two and a half months.
The shift from counting up (time spent here) to counting down (time till we return to CO) also makes it easier to feel homesick. It's more natural now to feel frustrated with the effort required in daily life in a foreign country, and to miss Torrey! The return is close. I think the biggest challenge in the coming month is to stay in the moment and not let time disappear in the excitement of visitors, warm weather, and travels.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Palais Garnier
This is for you, Janet!
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| The opera ceiling, by Marc Chagall |
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| Close up of the Eiffel Tower |
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| Foyer where concert-goers can spend intermission |
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Spring Break part 2: Barcelona
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| Basilica of the Sagrada Familia |
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Spring Break part 1: Rome
We wanted to go to Rome primarily for the history. I (Tom) especially pushed for it; I wanted to see where the Caesers ruled, where the early church had pivotal moments, and where the most powerful city in the world at one time transformed in to a modern capital.
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| In the Forum |
Thursday, April 21, 2011
A benefit of being in France
One of my biggest pet peeves in restaurants is seeing the words 'haricots verts' on a menu that is otherwise in English. For those of you who do not parlez francais, this translates in to... green beans. If they are going to pick random words to write in French, why not do the whole menu? Why didn't they call their potatoes 'pommes de terre', which is at least more lyrical since it literally means 'earth apples'.
It's no secret that American restaurants, and American culture in general, use bits and pieces of French to seem more fancy, more cultured. To make green beans seem luxurious. And while reflecting over meals that week, I realized that has been a benefit to us.
We don't have a lot of money to spend over here. We try to get by for cheap, especially compared to European classmates who don't pay much for tuition and receive subsidies or sponsorships. Yet I still feel like we eat royally. This week, with Margaret gone, I have been getting by largely on bread and cheese and sausage, with some fruits and vegetables. But that means baguettes, and French cheese, and produce bought from a real French market! Maybe a pain au chocolate for dessert!
Since we are actually in France, these are staples of the diet, and can be found rather cheaply. Baguettes are 95 cents, pain au chocolate is 1.10. We only buy wine under 5 euros, which encompasses half the selection at the store. But since our American minds have been trained to think of anything French as fancy, the cheap stuff excites every night.
So that's nice. Almost nice enough to make me stay calm when I see haricots verts on the menu when I get back to the States.
It's no secret that American restaurants, and American culture in general, use bits and pieces of French to seem more fancy, more cultured. To make green beans seem luxurious. And while reflecting over meals that week, I realized that has been a benefit to us.
We don't have a lot of money to spend over here. We try to get by for cheap, especially compared to European classmates who don't pay much for tuition and receive subsidies or sponsorships. Yet I still feel like we eat royally. This week, with Margaret gone, I have been getting by largely on bread and cheese and sausage, with some fruits and vegetables. But that means baguettes, and French cheese, and produce bought from a real French market! Maybe a pain au chocolate for dessert!
Since we are actually in France, these are staples of the diet, and can be found rather cheaply. Baguettes are 95 cents, pain au chocolate is 1.10. We only buy wine under 5 euros, which encompasses half the selection at the store. But since our American minds have been trained to think of anything French as fancy, the cheap stuff excites every night.
So that's nice. Almost nice enough to make me stay calm when I see haricots verts on the menu when I get back to the States.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Generation Gap
While we were on vacation, the U.S. political system was entangled in budget negotiations. Missing news coverage about it was fine by me.
But being questioned about the U.S. by foreigners, and a daily reading of the International Herald Tribune's excellent news coverage, has forced me to think more clearly about political matters. Thus I have written one post on a political topic. Here goes...
But being questioned about the U.S. by foreigners, and a daily reading of the International Herald Tribune's excellent news coverage, has forced me to think more clearly about political matters. Thus I have written one post on a political topic. Here goes...
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Back
I'm back from Rome and Barcelona. We will give you a full post on the trip, but it will have to wait a week, till Margaret gets back from the South of France (with the camera). But it was a great trip all around. Barcelona especially was an amazing, fun, vibrant city. If you want a place in Europe to visit just to have a week of enjoyment, I highly recommend it.
I will now go finish the baguette I bought on the walk home from the train station. Cause there's still nothing better than a real French baguette.
I will now go finish the baguette I bought on the walk home from the train station. Cause there's still nothing better than a real French baguette.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Focus in/on month 3
The weather outside is somewhere between perfect and mind-blowingly beautiful as I write this. I am off from class today, and then all that stands between me and Spring Break is an accounting quiz and the presentation of an accounting project, both due tomorrow.
March was a good month here in Paris. The weather turned nice, we had family visit, classes were moderately interesting, and Margaret and I had some great times. But as I think back today (and this may have something to do with trying to work on accounting on a beautiful day), the concept that stands out over the past month is focus.
I've devoted a lot of energy to graduate school- working hard on all of the projects, trying to be the best in every activity, attending every class, being truly focused in every class. It's not that I've done anything truly sacrificial, or have lost any blood (or much sweat... energy economics doesn't really involve sweating). But I feel like I've expended a lot of energy on being focused.
And basically I've been doing this for 7 months straight, since Christmas break was completely consumed with Torrey's surgery, selling the car, moving out of the house, and moving to France. By no means is this torture, but I started to feel pretty burned out in March. I wanted to have time to go for a run/play frisbee when it's nice out, or linger longer over dinner instead of worrying about the reading I need to do, or have the energy to plan times with friends.
So I'm excited for vacation. When I worked a relatively stress-free job, I occasionally wondered why we put such a high value on vacation in modern culture. At times like these, though, the simple act of release inherent to a vacation explains everything. We're going to Rome and Barcelona, and it will hopefully be amazing. And completely unfocused.
March was a good month here in Paris. The weather turned nice, we had family visit, classes were moderately interesting, and Margaret and I had some great times. But as I think back today (and this may have something to do with trying to work on accounting on a beautiful day), the concept that stands out over the past month is focus.
I've devoted a lot of energy to graduate school- working hard on all of the projects, trying to be the best in every activity, attending every class, being truly focused in every class. It's not that I've done anything truly sacrificial, or have lost any blood (or much sweat... energy economics doesn't really involve sweating). But I feel like I've expended a lot of energy on being focused.
And basically I've been doing this for 7 months straight, since Christmas break was completely consumed with Torrey's surgery, selling the car, moving out of the house, and moving to France. By no means is this torture, but I started to feel pretty burned out in March. I wanted to have time to go for a run/play frisbee when it's nice out, or linger longer over dinner instead of worrying about the reading I need to do, or have the energy to plan times with friends.
So I'm excited for vacation. When I worked a relatively stress-free job, I occasionally wondered why we put such a high value on vacation in modern culture. At times like these, though, the simple act of release inherent to a vacation explains everything. We're going to Rome and Barcelona, and it will hopefully be amazing. And completely unfocused.
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| At a rugby game with Katie and Adam |
Monday, April 4, 2011
Food culture
We recently read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, which is a wonderful book especially if you're looking for garden inspiration. It made me miss our little garden so much! Barbara Kingsolver has some strong- but justified- opinions about American food culture which were particularly interesting to read while immersed in French food culture. In Colorado- and much of the US it seems- many people are trying to eat healthier, champion local and organically grown food, and grow our own little patches of food wherever possible. It's a movement in which people have invested a great deal of time and effort- ourselves included- and one that I think will pay off in the form of more thriving communities and healthier people.
Reading this book, though, made me think about two particular differences I've noticed between food culture here and the new food movement in America, and ways in which we might take a lesson from the French:
The first being that, this focus of "local" and "sustainable" in America, translates into gardening, homesteading, buying organics- all broad production based activities which are mainly done as a hobby or way of life, not a vocation. In France the food culture seems to thrive on specialty production as a vocation. You've got your fromager who only does cheese, your charcuter who only does pig, your boulanger who only does bread, your grocer who only does produce.
Because of this specialization, it seems like many more people are able to make a decent living in food production over here. Especially because there are both the producers and the preparers for each type of food. Many of the cited reasons for our new ways of eating food in America are to provide better food and a better living to those who make food. Is our way of doing that sustainable in the long term if it doesn't create adequate jobs? Subsidies play a huge role in all of this, and I'll admit that I don't know a whole lot about food subsidies over here. From a little research, I do know that the Common Agricultural Policy commits almost half of the EU's budget to agricultural subsidies and programs ( €49.8 billion in 2006). The USA spends about $20 billion in agricultural subsidies each year...significantly less. That probably has a lot to do with making a decent living. But the EU is also making efforts to give money based on environmental protection and good animal welfare practice, and protecting farmers' way of life.
The second thing I noticed, is that much of our food culture in America is negative. We are constantly focused on abstaining from something, whether it be hormones in meat, carbohydrates, fast-food or genetically modified vegetables. The overwhelming feeling about food here in France is very positive. People are incredibly proud of their food and almost obsessed with finding the the best in quality and taste. For instance, I was offered a yogurt the other day with the attached claim that "this yogurt won the gold medal for 2011". It could be that we just don't live in a thriving dairy production area and if I were from Wisconsin that statement would sound normal. But it struck me as a little amazing that yogurt here is actually ranked and judged. I couldn't even find on the container what percent milk fat it contained. Kingsolver mentioned this point in her book and I agree with her- that for our food culture to really evolve into something healthy and lasting, we need to have a more positive view towards it. Who wants to base their eating habits around what they should avoid, if they could instead base it around what is delicious and special?
Both of these observations are inextricably linked: specialization could not exist without consumers who appreciate the quality of good food. So, could a greater focus on specialization help us be more positive about food in America, and have a healthier, more sustainable food culture? I hope that the organic-local-sustainable food movement in America is here to stay, but maybe we could also learn from a country that has built a healthy food culture and sustained it for hundreds of years.
Reading this book, though, made me think about two particular differences I've noticed between food culture here and the new food movement in America, and ways in which we might take a lesson from the French:
The first being that, this focus of "local" and "sustainable" in America, translates into gardening, homesteading, buying organics- all broad production based activities which are mainly done as a hobby or way of life, not a vocation. In France the food culture seems to thrive on specialty production as a vocation. You've got your fromager who only does cheese, your charcuter who only does pig, your boulanger who only does bread, your grocer who only does produce.
Because of this specialization, it seems like many more people are able to make a decent living in food production over here. Especially because there are both the producers and the preparers for each type of food. Many of the cited reasons for our new ways of eating food in America are to provide better food and a better living to those who make food. Is our way of doing that sustainable in the long term if it doesn't create adequate jobs? Subsidies play a huge role in all of this, and I'll admit that I don't know a whole lot about food subsidies over here. From a little research, I do know that the Common Agricultural Policy commits almost half of the EU's budget to agricultural subsidies and programs ( €49.8 billion in 2006). The USA spends about $20 billion in agricultural subsidies each year...significantly less. That probably has a lot to do with making a decent living. But the EU is also making efforts to give money based on environmental protection and good animal welfare practice, and protecting farmers' way of life.
The second thing I noticed, is that much of our food culture in America is negative. We are constantly focused on abstaining from something, whether it be hormones in meat, carbohydrates, fast-food or genetically modified vegetables. The overwhelming feeling about food here in France is very positive. People are incredibly proud of their food and almost obsessed with finding the the best in quality and taste. For instance, I was offered a yogurt the other day with the attached claim that "this yogurt won the gold medal for 2011". It could be that we just don't live in a thriving dairy production area and if I were from Wisconsin that statement would sound normal. But it struck me as a little amazing that yogurt here is actually ranked and judged. I couldn't even find on the container what percent milk fat it contained. Kingsolver mentioned this point in her book and I agree with her- that for our food culture to really evolve into something healthy and lasting, we need to have a more positive view towards it. Who wants to base their eating habits around what they should avoid, if they could instead base it around what is delicious and special?
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| Our substitute for a garden...basil seedlings |
Monday, March 28, 2011
Le Printemps
"When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest."
A Moveable Feast, Hemingway
One perfect spring day erases all memories of bone-chilling January. We've had enough for a year of Januarys over the past week or two.
There's a reason people write songs about Paris in the spring time. It is the air that captures me. Spring air is exhilarating everywhere, but it is perfect here. Perfect humidity that feels like velvet on your skin. A temperature so welcoming that windows seem to open by themselves. And the scent is heavenly- every flower seems to burst in to bloom at once, and I've felt like I've lived in a perfume bottle the past week or two.
It got to the point where I was overwhelmed with feelings of guilt when I walked to the bakery after class last week. I couldn't believe I got to experience that afternoon, that perfect weather and perfect bread, without doing anything to earn it. I'll probably have to pay for it in July with a strike on the Metro on a 95 degree day. But it will be worth it.
Hemingway wrote about that spring in Paris from old age, looking back on a halcyon portion of youth. Living in it now, I know that spring, even in Paris, doesn't eliminate the trials of life. But he was still right. Spring is joyful for its own reasons, and it is easy to be happy in spring in Paris.
A Moveable Feast, Hemingway
One perfect spring day erases all memories of bone-chilling January. We've had enough for a year of Januarys over the past week or two.
There's a reason people write songs about Paris in the spring time. It is the air that captures me. Spring air is exhilarating everywhere, but it is perfect here. Perfect humidity that feels like velvet on your skin. A temperature so welcoming that windows seem to open by themselves. And the scent is heavenly- every flower seems to burst in to bloom at once, and I've felt like I've lived in a perfume bottle the past week or two.
It got to the point where I was overwhelmed with feelings of guilt when I walked to the bakery after class last week. I couldn't believe I got to experience that afternoon, that perfect weather and perfect bread, without doing anything to earn it. I'll probably have to pay for it in July with a strike on the Metro on a 95 degree day. But it will be worth it.
Hemingway wrote about that spring in Paris from old age, looking back on a halcyon portion of youth. Living in it now, I know that spring, even in Paris, doesn't eliminate the trials of life. But he was still right. Spring is joyful for its own reasons, and it is easy to be happy in spring in Paris.
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| St. Sulpice, perfect place for a late evening picnic |
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| Spring in Tuileries |
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| Happy in front of Notre Dame |
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Spring flowers
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| Inspired by these (it's snowing flowers!).... |
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| I made these! |
Our walls are pretty bare here, and its a challenge to come up with decorations that we won't mind throwing away in a few months. Tissue paper flowers were a perfect solution today.
Also, we've been thoroughly enjoying our bike lately. It's purple and white and really beat up, but a blast to ride around town especially with both of us on it.
Also, we've been thoroughly enjoying our bike lately. It's purple and white and really beat up, but a blast to ride around town especially with both of us on it.
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| Tom showing off his mad skills on the BIKE |
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| and riding off into Flower-land... |
Friday, March 18, 2011
Attack of the Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goons
In lecture today the professor used a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon to make a point. It's one where Calvin doesn't want to learn math, and his dad is trying to teach him. Calvin says he'll never need math, but has dad challenges him to name a job that doesn't need addition/subtraction. Our professor was making a joke about geologists, and thus changed it to have Calvin claim he wanted to be a geologist.
I think I was supposed to be proud of learning math enough to be an engineer/economist/whatever, but really it made me proud of something else:
Without even thinking about it, I knew what Calvin actually claimed he wanted to be in that cartoon (I'm at least 95% sure it was 'a caveman'). So, I guess the message is, thanks to mom and dad for giving me money to buy every single one of the Calvin and Hobbes books at the Scholastic book fairs that came to middle school every year, and for not nagging me when I read every one of those books dozens of times.
(If anyone wants to fact check me on the answer being caveman, feel free!)
(p.s. the title of this post is the title of my favorite Calvin and Hobbes book)
I think I was supposed to be proud of learning math enough to be an engineer/economist/whatever, but really it made me proud of something else:
Without even thinking about it, I knew what Calvin actually claimed he wanted to be in that cartoon (I'm at least 95% sure it was 'a caveman'). So, I guess the message is, thanks to mom and dad for giving me money to buy every single one of the Calvin and Hobbes books at the Scholastic book fairs that came to middle school every year, and for not nagging me when I read every one of those books dozens of times.
(If anyone wants to fact check me on the answer being caveman, feel free!)
(p.s. the title of this post is the title of my favorite Calvin and Hobbes book)
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Home
Statement 1: Paris is not my home.
Question 1: What is my home?
Question 1: What is my home?
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| 1056! |
Obviously this is the best answer, and I miss our house dearly (and Torrey). It seems somewhat flat and cheap to define home as only this building though. We have resided in it for less than two years. Being definitively not at home in Paris, I have been trying to digest what home means to me. The easiest answer seems to be the things I miss the most, the scenes and people I find myself thinking about with a smile, or focusing on when feeling isolated and 'home'sick.
In class I often find myself daydreaming of restaurants and bars in Denver, places that are fun, bright, and familiar. Places, however, that I rarely visited. We don't go out to dinner or for drinks very often, so to define home as these rare occurrences is odd.
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| With can of Dale's in treasured Dale's coozy. |
I also frequently crave (and write about) the good beers I can have in Colorado. But in reality, drinking beer is not the foremost activity of my leisure time in Denver, nor are my happiest times there associated with tasting good beer. In reality, I am happiest at home when I am busy and challenged, and my craft beer experimentation generally is a function of free time and boredom. Last fall, between graduate school, frisbee, and planning for France I bought perhaps a handful of beers in 4 months (while this was partially due to the backlog of homebrew we had, we didn't even come close to finishing off the homebrew either). Thus, while Colorado beer may be a taste of home for me, it is not a foundation of home.
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| Some of my best CO memories are with these people, and only one lives in CO now. |
And of course, dreams of home are first and foremost dreams of friends and family. But neither is this paradigm linked to a concrete home. We live in a transient and new city in Denver, and our connections run shallow. There are many, many people that we are proud to call friends in Denver, but in reality they are only a part of the close relationships with which we are blessed. We have no immediate family within a thousand miles (albeit very loving members of Margaret's more extended family). Nearly all of our closest high school and college friends are on the East Coast. I certainly am not complaining, but can I really call it a longing for home when I find myself missing good times with my pledge class, or playing cards with family in Indiana?
Question 2: Why can't my daydreams and longings in Paris define my home, and what are they defining instead?
Looking at the previous three paragraphs, I am struck by the thread that all three dreams of home are dreams of indulgences and times of pleasure. This is a good thing- I am no masochist yearning for times of pain and hardship. But relying on daydreams to define home is really defining our earthly pleasures, which is not the goal of this search. Home, to me, cannot just be a source of pleasure because I do not think man is meant solely to search for pleasure; man and home are both meant to be more productive. Our home should also be a place of growth, of solace and challenges, of nurture and labor, of procreation and aging. It should be enmeshed in community and productivity, not just sustenance and frivolous pleasures.
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| Fruits of our labors. |
Question 3: Who cares? Why are you trying so hard to define your home?
Neither Margaret or I have a default place to call home from our upbringing. Each of us moved around multiple times before high school, and our parents had moved away from the town in which we attended high school before we graduated college. So perhaps there is some innate questioning and rebelling from that. On a larger scale, I think this sort of searching is a facet of our generation. The generations before us succeeded in shrinking the world, and perhaps marveled at their ability to move across continents or communicate across the globe. For us, mobility is perhaps taken for granted, and the hyper-specificity of engagement allowed by the internet means interest groups no longer take much dedication or work. There is a significant subset of our generation that is engaged in exploring what it takes to have firm roots in the face of these issues, and I think Margaret and I fall in that category. I am more interested in the slow-ripening fruits of physical community than the shallow, obligation-free communications of the internet or the jaded elitism of global travelers.
On a more personal scale, this feels like a pivotal moment in our lives. When I graduate I will most likely enter employment in an industry with jobs nearly anywhere on the globe. We are young and don't have children (though we do have a mortgage), and will have very few obligations. We may never have a greater opportunity to decide where our future will be located. Being removed from many daily activities during our time in Paris means that we have had a great deal of time to think all of this over. Defining home is the first step.
Question 4: So, where are you from?
Denver, Colorado. But it takes time.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
French Beer!
Due to the preponderance of wine, France is not a hotbed of good, interesting beers. That's not to say they never drink beer... I would guess that a good percentage of people getting early evening drinks as they sit and chat in cafes have beers. But it is really just a choice of Budweiser-types (Heineken, Kronenberg, etc). Not really my type, so I haven't tried much beer here.
Yesterday afternoon, however, we went to Cave à Bulles, a beer store in the middle of Paris. We found it on some of the American craft beer websites, where it was highly recommended as the best (only?) source for good beer in Paris. It certainly lived up to that reputation. It's actually a very small shop: maybe a 15 ft. x 15 ft. room with shelves on all four walls. Far smaller than I was expecting, but it still looked like an oasis. They sold bombers or single bottles of only French beer. Honestly, France doesn't have any distinct unique styles of beers, just variations of standard European styles. But apparently there are a few small craft breweries pumping out those styles, and the guy who owns the store seemed very enthusiastic about them.
We bought four bottles and tried the first one last night. It was called Biere de Brie Ambree (an amber ale), and it was excellent. I would describe it as a brown ale, with a very delicate fruity flavor. None of the nutty, toasty flavors I associate with most American-style ambers or browns. Instead, it had a light, but good, aroma that was sweet without being tart (maybe apples or really ripe berries?). The taste was very smooth with a sweet flavor well balanced by some earthy hops. It was 7.5% but didn't feel like it- not thick and heavy at all. We really enjoyed it. It kind of reminded me of a darker oktoberfest (a little more malty than the Spaten oktoberfest, or a lighter version of Avery's The Kaiser).
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Firsts
This weekend I did two things for the first time in over two months (i.e., since before we left Colorado).
Monday, March 7, 2011
Month 2
This post is a few days late, but we have now lived in France for two months. You can see my post from the first month here. Since I haven't written much the past few weeks, I'll use my monthly review to give a little bit of a synopsis.
February was a bit of a struggle, as February often is. It always feels like the coldest, darkest month, the month that has to be lived through to access the joys that come other times of the year. The days never seem to slip by in easy moments... you have to earn your victories. And the cold certainly makes you grateful for a warm house, loving spouse, and full belly.
Most surprising evening of the month: some of the Spaniards in my class invited us over for dinner on a Thursday evening. I was expecting something low-key and relatively quick, as we had class the next day and some studying to do (clearly I had never been to a Spanish dinner before). They had 12 people in the room, making miracles happen with our student-living arrangements. We ate raclette, a French dish/experience kind of like fondue, but 3000 times better (the smell of fondue disgusts me). Our dinner party that evening included 3 Spaniards, 3 Americans, 2 Russians, 2 Venezuelans, 1 Peruvian, and 1 Nigerian. We sat and talked and enjoyed an ebb and flow of courses and by the time we excused ourselves at 11:45 I had laughed harder than at any time up til that point in Paris. Of course, 11:45 was early for them, and 6 or 7 people were still deep in conversation when we left. Made me very excited for going to Barcelona in April.
Worst part of the month: French germs. I normally don't get sick very often, but kept catching minor colds and infections in February. Don't worry, I defeated the French (germs).
Second worst part of the month: French homework. I know I said we don't get much homework, but we do have a project due for each class, 3 or 4 of which were due at the end of the month. We still had class all day, but of course our minds were with the projects. So we spent all day having our time taken away from the tasks we really needed to be doing, and then had to finish up the important tasks on our own time late at night. Kind of like a bad week at a real job, which is unfortunate because I thought the whole point of graduate school is to escape the working world for awhile (kidding!).
Haircut: Successful, once I persuaded her that I didn't want it tres court (very short). No buzzcuts for me, thank you.
Baguettes: Still awesome. I want to devote a whole blog post to my love of the baguette, but still haven't decided on the proper form. So you'll have to wait.
Looking forward to: Rome and Barcelona! We booked our tickets for April break and leave in a month.
OK, that's enough for now. I should be back to regular blogging, now that all the projects are done.
February was a bit of a struggle, as February often is. It always feels like the coldest, darkest month, the month that has to be lived through to access the joys that come other times of the year. The days never seem to slip by in easy moments... you have to earn your victories. And the cold certainly makes you grateful for a warm house, loving spouse, and full belly.
Most surprising evening of the month: some of the Spaniards in my class invited us over for dinner on a Thursday evening. I was expecting something low-key and relatively quick, as we had class the next day and some studying to do (clearly I had never been to a Spanish dinner before). They had 12 people in the room, making miracles happen with our student-living arrangements. We ate raclette, a French dish/experience kind of like fondue, but 3000 times better (the smell of fondue disgusts me). Our dinner party that evening included 3 Spaniards, 3 Americans, 2 Russians, 2 Venezuelans, 1 Peruvian, and 1 Nigerian. We sat and talked and enjoyed an ebb and flow of courses and by the time we excused ourselves at 11:45 I had laughed harder than at any time up til that point in Paris. Of course, 11:45 was early for them, and 6 or 7 people were still deep in conversation when we left. Made me very excited for going to Barcelona in April.
Worst part of the month: French germs. I normally don't get sick very often, but kept catching minor colds and infections in February. Don't worry, I defeated the French (germs).
Second worst part of the month: French homework. I know I said we don't get much homework, but we do have a project due for each class, 3 or 4 of which were due at the end of the month. We still had class all day, but of course our minds were with the projects. So we spent all day having our time taken away from the tasks we really needed to be doing, and then had to finish up the important tasks on our own time late at night. Kind of like a bad week at a real job, which is unfortunate because I thought the whole point of graduate school is to escape the working world for awhile (kidding!).
Haircut: Successful, once I persuaded her that I didn't want it tres court (very short). No buzzcuts for me, thank you.
Baguettes: Still awesome. I want to devote a whole blog post to my love of the baguette, but still haven't decided on the proper form. So you'll have to wait.
Looking forward to: Rome and Barcelona! We booked our tickets for April break and leave in a month.
OK, that's enough for now. I should be back to regular blogging, now that all the projects are done.
Faire du Jogging
This past Sunday, I ran alongside 30,000 other athletes in the 19th edition of the Semi-Marathon de Paris. Every form of running- as sport- is called "jogging" here, which is terrible when I have to talk about my interests. Saying that I "make jogging" doesn't even sound like it should be a sport, and removes any sense of challenge that "running" invokes.
Despite the lack of appropriate french vocab, I was impressed by the turn out of runners. The slowest start line category you could be in was 2:10, and the course closed at 2:50 after the start. No semi-marathon walkers allowed in Paris, apparently! We began the course at 10am in front of a castle (how European), ran through a huge park and into the city along the Seine, to the Bastille and back through the Chinese district. All sorts of ethnic bands played for us along the way while fans yelled "Allons y!" and "Allez allez!" They even printed everyone's name on their bib, so we could receive some personalized cheering. :)
The free-sample-loving American in me was a little disappointed by the post-race fare: oranges, bananas and Powerade. I could've done without the plastic trash bags before and after, in exchange for a peanut butter bagel or breakfast burrito. But everyone else seemed more focused on the free post-race massages, which was a decent perk. Overall it was a great race with excellent fans and beautiful weather; what more can you ask for?
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| Just another stop along the Metro...no big deal, it's only a castle |
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| Another view of Chateau de Vincennes, where the race started. |
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| The ridiculous white trash bags we all got to stay warm |
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| In the wake of the start |
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| All the white trash bags discarded. Tom watched as an industrial sweeper machine sucked them all up in less than five minutes |
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| Running towards the Bastille |
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| I did it! 1hr51min |
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| Tom loved these urinals. It's really unfair that nothing comparable exists for women. |
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| Semi-marathoners! Marcos, myself and Juan Pablo |
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