le bonbon

Engagement story

2011-10-17T10:11:00.001-06:00

You've already heard it, so you don't have to read this, but here's the full engagement story. Enjoy!

(if you have any questions about why Paul did something, or if anything seems strange, its probably because it was something that we did in Uganda)

Alright, here we go.

Paul: So I had been planning the proposal for a few weeks by this time (Monday, October 10^th), but was still working out a few details. I wanted it to be Uganda-themed and I needed to figure out how to keep it all a secret till it happened. I had ordered the ring (white gold with a pearl and two green stones) a week before and was expecting it this week. However, I got a call on Monday informing me that it wouldn’t be coming until October 24^th. Not wanting to wait that long, I decided to ask Sarah to marry me the next day. I got quite excited and slightly nervous at the thought. Tuesday morning, after dropping Sarah off at work, I got straight to work myself. Going to class was out of the question. First, I tried calling her dad a couple of times- we ended up playing phone tag for a bit. In the meantime, I went and picked up a holder ring that looks quite a bit like the real one, some food for our dinner, and two “t-shirt designs”. My mind was going about a million miles per hour at this point wondering how I was going to be able to pull it off, so I decided to stop by In-N-Out to grab an animal style hamburger and a strawberry shake to calm me down. On Monday, I had had the idea to borrow a motorcycle (like a boda-boda from Uganda) of some sort to pick up Sarah at the beginning of the “Uganda date”. Thankfully, some guy I didn’t even know was willing to let me borrow his very African-esque scooter for the evening.

At 1:15, I started getting nervous because I had not yet been able to ask Sarah’s dad for permission, so I tried calling him one more time, got the ok, and took a deep breath. I picked up Sarah from work at 3 and we talked for a while before she headed back to her house so that I could take a nap.

Sarah: Tuesday afternoon (October 11) Paul and I were at Paul’s house. After talking about our plans for the evening (making salsa, doing homework), I conceded that I should probably leave so that Paul could take a nap before our evening began and so that I could go running. Paul immediately jumped up and practically rushed me out the door. I was confused at Paul’s urgency as he practically pushed me out. I knew that he was going to propose sometime soon, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up that something would happen if it didn’t. So I shrugged it off, went back to my house, ran, and got ready to go back to make salsa.

Paul: My nap was very short-lived (surpise, eh?), after which I headed across town to pick up the scooter. I had never driven one on the street before, so it was quite a thrill to be zoomingdown Freedom Boulevard with no muffler and the wind blowing in my face. Sarah was planning on coming back at 5:15, but I needed to find some way to hold her there until 7:00 so that it would be dark outside. I had a final the next day I hadn’t started studying for—perfect. After studying for the final for about 5 minutes, I got crankin’.

Sarah:While I was getting ready, I wondered if tonight might be the night. I took a little extra care when straightening my hair and doing my make-up, but determined to not be disappointed if it didn’t happen tonight. Right before I headed out to go back to Paul’s house, I got a text from him saying that he was studying for a final and that he would pick me up at seven, in an hour or so. A final? In the middle of the semester? Really? Well, I actually knew that he had a block class, so it was perfectly possible for him to have a final, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about it earlier, so I was a little suspicious. Oh well. That gave me more time to write my paper for LDS marriage and family (irony?).

Paul: My roommate and I took out the couch in our front room and replaced it with a mattress. Then I cut some random rope I found outside and tied it between two poles on my front porch, and draped some clothes over it. Dinner was made, crossword puzzles were printed, headlamps were placed, a Ugandan flag was draped above the kitchen door, and I got into the usual garb I wore in Uganda before heading out. Oh, and I made sure to turn off all the lights.

Sarah: After my paper I started getting the tomatoes ready for our salsa and was almost finished when Paul walked in. He was wearing clothes that he wore in Uganda (khaki pants, blue button-up shirt, dirty sneakers, and a visor), but I didn’t connect that it was Uganda. I associated it with being outside and working, so I thought we were going on a hike. I even thought about changing my shoes because I was wearing ballet flats, but all Paul said was that we would have to make the salsa another time because the bowl of tomatoes “might be hard to transport.”

Paul: After driving over to Sarah’s place on the boda, I walked in to find her washing some tomatoes. Sarah looked beautiful, and she gave me a slightly inquiring look when I walked in with my visor and tennis shoes on at 7 pm. However, she didn’t say anything about it. I smiled and wondered if she knew something was up. Then I realized that carrying a huge bowl of tomatoes might make riding on a boda slightly difficult, so I told her we’d have to make salsa another time.

Sarah: Okay, I’m not stupid, so I knew by now that something was going on. I just wasn’t sure if this was the real deal, or just Paul planning something fun. Anyway, we walked outside and there was a scooter (much like a boda-boda) that didn’t have a muffler and the lights got brighter as you revved the engine. You know, really African. The whole time Paul is talking like a boda-boda driver, asking me for money and where I want to go and trying to get to know me. When we got to his house I saw that he had strung up clothes on a line, making it look like they were drying. We walked under the clothes and over the threshold into the dark house (the lights were off) with Paul saying, “Oh shoot. It looks like the power is out again.” Good thing he had headlamps ready.

Paul: I was relieved I had been able to keep it a secret, and hoped it would be a really special night for Sarah. I tried my best to work up a Ugandan accent on the boda ride, and couldn’t help getting a huge grin on my face with Sarah laughing so hard behind me. I was glad to find the lights were still off at the house.

Sarah: We walked into the kitchen where he had a meal of French toast and eggs prepared. We ate with our headlamps shining on our food and reminisced about Uganda, retelling our favorite stories and talking about the people we missed and the projects we enjoyed doing. After dinner we went into his living room where he had set up a mattress on the floor (which had necessitated him taking a couch out and putting it on the front porch). We sat on the mattress and just like old times we did crossword puzzles and listened to music on my i-pod.

Paul: By this time, I was getting really antsy and I don’t think my brain was working properly. After listening to one of our favorite OneRepublic songs, I went into my room to grab the first “design”. It said “Nice Time” at the top and had a picture of a bunch of kids smiling and waving, all jammed on a boda boda with the driver. She liked it.

Sarah: After a while Paul asked me if I wanted to see a design he had made for the t-shirts. Of course I wanted to see it, so he went into his room and came back with a piece of paper. The design was perfect and I told him so. We continued to listen to music for another five minutes or so, then Paul asked if I wanted to see another design he had. Without really thinking I said yes, but as he got up to go into his room to get the paper, I started putting two and three together. Why hadn’t he brought the second design out with the first?

Paul: So, by now, my heart was racing like crazy and I knew that the moment for me to be a man and ask was here. I went back into my room to grab what I had told her was a “second design”. Instead of saying “Nice Time”, it read “Nice Eternity” on top and had a picture of the Bountiful Temple (where we are getting married) below.

Sarah: At this point the thought crossed my mind, “either this is a really good fake-out, or its going to happen right now.” However, for some reason I didn’t get up, so when he came back out with the song from Tangled (“I see the light”) playing and a piece of paper that had the word “eternity” on it, I was still sitting on the mattress with an i-pod earbud in my ear. Paul got down on one knee and grabbed my hand as I ripped the earbud out of my ear and got up on my knees. He looked at me, set, yet shaking a little, and said, “Sarah, will you marry me?”

Paul: I brought out the design, knelt down, and took her hand. I planned to say her full name and something romantic, but all that came out was, “Sarah… will you marry me?”

Sarah: Now, I was expecting this, so I was going to have some witty response that would cause his heart to skip a few beats, like, “No…. way could I say no to that.” (Paul: I most likely would have died) But instead all that came out was an emphatic, “Yes!” Afterwards we headed downstairs to tell his roommates the good news and we were toasted with Martinellis, the toast including the hope that we would have: many children, long life, many acres of land, servants, a riding mower, a servant to drive the riding mower, and a George Foreman grill. The rest of the night was spent in spreading the good news to our families and friends.

Paul: J

Pius

2011-07-02T08:31:00.005-06:00

Pius is the man for several reasons:
1. He just graduated from university (hoorah!) and is already a full-time social worker for Child of Hope (the NGO I’ve been doing the most work with)
2. He’s friends with everyone and he knows everyone
3. Everyone loves him, even though he’s quiet and doesn’t say much (like when he neglected to tell us that he was graduating on Friday—as in yesterday Friday)
4. He’s really funny and good with kids
5. He’s super responsible and gets things done
6. He’s humble
7. Oh yeah and at 22 years old he lives in a two-bedroom addition to another house with four little boys between the ages of 11 and 13. He gives the boys the bedroom that barely fits two bunk beds while he sleeps on a mat on the floor. Nope, he didn’t tell us that either.

The only reason we know this is because we got caught in the rain once in Namatala and it was pouring rain, so he ran us to his house. And that’s how we found out. This is a man who walks the walk. He’s here to help the people and he’s taking care of four orphan boys who go to the Child of Hope school while being a social worker for that school. He goes out every day and tries to improve people’s living conditions while he himself sleeps on a mat on a concrete floor.

This is Pius, the man. I look up to him and he has my utmost respect and admiration, even though he is younger than me. I can’t imagine an American 22 year-old being willing to take care of four orphans that weren’t related to them, let alone let them have the good room while you sleep out in the front room that gets dirty when people walk in. He is super legit and I’m grateful to know him.

Grace

2011-06-18T08:20:00.003-06:00

Grace is in her late 30s, early 40s, has two daughters, and is the director over health for Child of Hope. She is super skinny, has a big smile, and is super funny. Her husband also works at Child of Hope as a teacher. Grace is one of those people that gets along with everyone, can scold while still being funny, and you can tell she gets really attached to people. She has worked with other NGOs but has worked at Child of Hope for four years. Whenever she sees us she comes out to greet us and asks us why we have not been by to visit more. Grace is one of those people who makes me sad when I think of leaving Mbale. I know that when I leave I’m going to miss her, her passion for helping the people in the slum, her humor, her cheekiness, and her example of hard work.

Phillip

2011-06-04T09:03:00.004-06:00

This is Phillip (telling Dane something). Phillip is the bomb. He's the nicest man I have possibly ever met and he gets things done. He's the acting director of Child of Hope, the NGO that we've been doing a lot of work with these past few weeks and he's been so great to show us around, invite us in, and respect us and our opinions, even though we're just college kids. He knows everyone in the slum where he works, he's a pastor for his church, and he's the director of welfare for Child of Hope when the directors are not in England fundraising. Even though he has a million things to do, he always makes time to talk to people. One time when he was showing us around Dane (the other volunteer I'm working with) expressed interest in an instrument this guy was holding. So Phillip stopped the kid and asked him if he'd made it, how much it cost, and how he could get them. Basically he's legit and I'm glad to be working with him.

I'm sad because I had a better picture of him (one where you can actually see his face) but this computer isn't recognizing it. Oh well.

P.S. I love how many things are going on in this picture. Phillip is telling Dane something that Dane's writing down. You can see the little kid peeking out from under Dane's notebook, and there's Devin in the background playing with all of those kids. I'm such a good photographer. ;)

Mercy

2011-05-21T07:07:00.003-06:00

This is Mercy. She's our cook. And when I say our cook, I mean she's our saving grace. I know that no matter what kind of weird thing I've eaten that day, I will have a fantastic dinner that night. She made us French toast once. French toast! Oh, and did I mention that she makes dinner for 16 people every night? On a charcoal stove? She went to culinary school and is therefore legit. She even killed a chicken that we all watched. I have video. She's also made us some traditional African stuff, like rice and beans and greens, but even that was delicious. She's from Kenya, she has two daughters and a husband (all in Kenya) and she dreams of having her own restaurant one day. Bascially she's a magician and we're all so glad that she's with us.

P.S. more about David: apparently last year the other Uganda team was having troubles with kids launching rocks over the wall and breaking up the tiles on the roof. One of the directors called David and had him switch places with that house's guard. Within two days the problem was solved. Apparently he spent a day scouting out all of the possible ways to exit the house and then when the kids came he cut through the jungle and tied up some twine or rope between some trees and close-lined the kids when they came running. Then he took them to their mothers. Their mothers put them in the public square to be publicly humiliated. David gets the job done.

David

2011-05-14T05:13:00.003-06:00

This is David. He’s our guard. He’s super funny, he likes to tease, he’s fun to tease, he puts banana on his face to take care of his scars or something, and he’s afraid of dogs. We got him a bow and arrow so that he can shoot people who trespass onto our property without giving away his position (in his words, "the fire from the gun will give away my position, and I can kill only one man). I don't really think that he has killed anyone. However, when he was talking to one of our country directors, he said that there was a kind of bow and arrow that is laced with witchcraft so that you cannot miss if you shoot it. "But we will not get that one. It is too expensive." TIA (This Is Africa)

Just now he walked by singing “it’s too late to apologize. It’s too late.” I would say that we are a bad influence on him, but western music is everywhere here, and I actually think that we're a good influence for him. He’s already really nice to everyone but we also have the missionaries coming over to teach him once a week. Pretty much, he’s awesome and we are extremely lucky to have him.

I'm leavin' on a jet plane

2011-05-04T10:04:00.003-06:00

I have some time here in the airport (read: I have been here for almost two hours and have one more hour), so I thought I would update all of my voracious readers. "Wait," you say, "the airport? Why? Where are you going?" Okay, so you're probably not asking yourself that, because chances are if you have had any contact with me in the last four months I have told you that I am going to MBALE, UGANDA! For those of you who don't know where what that is, here's a little map:

Yes, that would be Africa you are looking at. I will be spending 3 and a half months in this small country's (it is about the size of Oregon) third-largest city:

I'm going with HELP International and will be doing cool things like making square-foot gardens, building adobe stoves, teaching business classes, community health, etc. Basically, it's going to be an awesome summer. I'm going with a team of people who are pretty awesome and I am super excited to start making friends and getting to know about the culture of Uganda!

P.S. Thanks T-rev for this blog's picture header.

Meningitis?

2011-02-04T17:20:00.009-07:00

Note: The following is probably the longest post I have ever written (and I've written some doozies), and it doesn't even have pictures. Just giving you fair warning.

Last night, just past midnight, my roommate and my boyfriend took me to the E.R. I wasn't unconscious, or bleeding, or shot. Gosh dangit, I didn't even have a stomach problem (they did, however, ask me to rate my pain and I said between a 7 and an 8 and I immediately thought of Mr. Regan here). What I thought I had was meningitis.

Well, I had the first three symptoms. I had a high fever that started suddenly (literally, one moment I was fine and about five seconds later I was shivering uncontrollably), I most definitely had a very painful and very stiff neck, especially when I tried to touch my chin to my chest, and whenever I changed positions my headache flared with a vengeance, but I hadn't vomited, I felt like I was pretty aware, and I hadn't had a seizure (and sure as heck didn't want to have one), but I was willing to wait it out.

Because here's the thing. I have been to the hospital for myself exactly twice. Once when I was two and I fell off the top of a 15-foot slide, and in that case I was two. And it was quite a fall. The other time was when I was in 6th grade and I fell of my bike without a helmet on and I got a concussion. In this case I was definitely out of it (example: I was playing GoFish with my siblings (my mom told them to keep me awake) and I held my cards face out, not realizing anything was wrong), and even then my mom finished my paper route before we went. We are very responsible, us Blackhursts. I can't remember any other time I've been to the hospital for myself, but anyone else is free to remind me. The point is that I do not go to the hospital. Ever.

So why did I go?

I went because the speed of the onset of the fever kind of freaked me out. I had had a sore neck the neck day before, but it hadn't been too bad, and when I woke up that morning it was much worse (as was my headache), but I took two ibuprofen and was fine all day, well, until about 9pm when my neck suddenly stiffened up while Jeff and I were walking around the Museum of Art at a gallery opening (we had even been swing dancing right before that and I had been fine). And then at 10pm when the fever struck without warning.

So finally, after talking to my brother (a doctor), and a few other people and taking my temperature about 50 times (okay, not really, more like 10 times) over the course of about 45 minutes and watching it climb, I called my Dad, let him know that I was going to the hospital (and asked him which hospital I should go to), and off we went.

There was an odd moment when we wondered if we should go to the E.R. or the front entrance, but we decided on the E.R. They checked me in, got my vitals really quick, I told them that my pain was about an 8, and then they showed me to a room and said to each other,
"Eight. "
"Yeah, I was thinking eight too."
I don't know exactly what this encounter was about, but it made me smile.

Anyway, I got changed into a gown, a few minutes later a doctor and two nurses came in, they asked me some questions and then he (the doctor) said,
"Well, I'm a pessimist," (perfect) "and although we're not sure exactly what it is yet, from everything that you've told us it looks like you have meningitis."
Thanks, that's why I came in here.
"We can't be sure yet, so we're going to need to take a sample. Now, we can take blood from anywhere in your body, well, except your head because there's no opening there, but the problem is that what we need is not blood. We need to get to the fluid that surrounds your brain, so you can see our problem. Fortunately, the fluid that surrounds your brain also runs down your spine, but we don't want to poke a needle into your bone, so we're going to poke it at the base of your spine, where there's some of that fluid just sitting there."
Mmm goody. A spinal tap.

So he and the nurses went to work, sterilizing my back, numbing me up, and getting ready to poke me with a needle. Well, actually they poked me with a couple of needles. He numbed me twice, and then when he got ready to poke me with the big needle, he said,
"Now Sarah, I'm going into a space where there are nerves."
Thanks for the heads-up.
"I have a really good idea of where the needle needs to go, and I won't actually puncture any nerves, but it may brush up against it, which may cause some pain."
At least he didn't say that I might feel some "pressure" (look at about minute 3:15)
"If you feel any pain in your legs, let me know immediately, don't try to be brave and get through it on your own."
You got it, boss.

So he started the needle in and after about 1/2 second it felt like my entire left leg had gone numb. The kind of numb when you hit your funny bone, and it hurts. So I said tersely, "ow! leg!" and he immediately backed off, asked me which leg and went in again. I thought for sure he would have it, but after about a second, once again, my entire leg felt simultaneously tingly and on fire. "ow! leg!" and then immediately after "ow! leg!" again. He asked me if it was my right leg. Nope. Still my left. I think you're going to far to one side, doc. Try again.

Anyway, he got my spinal fluid out and as he was doing it he said that if I had bacterial meningitis that the fluid would look yellowy and puss-y.
Delicious.
But mine looked clear like water.
Oh good. What am I doing here again? Oh yeah, because it might be viral meningitis, which wouldn't show up as a color in the fluid.

After they were done, a nurse took a blood sample and then they gave me antibiotics because until they knew that it wasn't meningitis, they were going to treat me like I did have it. And then they left.

And we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

I'm pretty sure they said it was going to be about a half hour, but it was an hour before they came back and said.... (drumroll)..........."You don't have meningitis."

What I have was just a regular old virus of some kind. How anti-climactic. Well, at this point I'm glad that I don't have meningitis, but I'm also disappointed that I went to the E.R. when I didn't really need to, especially when I made Saundra and Jeff stay up til 3am just so they could hear that I was not, in fact, that sick. And all that I have to show for it is a little band-aid on my back and a tiny hole in my arm where they took the blood sample.

However, I am glad I went because I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't. For all I know, the fever might have gotten worse and might have caused a seizure. I don't know). I'm just glad that I'm better now.

My weekend activities

2010-10-16T20:32:00.004-06:00

So this is what I did last weekend. I probably won't make it a weekly or even monthly habit (if I ever decide to do it again), but it was a riot last week.

Yeah, we went dumpster diving. Not because we have to, but because we want to.

(what trash officer?)

We went to a pastry shop. And yes, Hilary and I (and a roommate or two) did actually eat the stuff we picked out of the garbage can.

In our defense, they were in a sealed bag at the very top (so, no actual diving occurred), and they had just been put there maybe a half hour before. So its not that bad.

Or maybe it is.

I haven't gotten sick yet, and it was something fun and spontaneous, which means it was something I can check off of my list for becoming a more fun person.

Bachelorette party

2010-07-02T12:04:00.007-06:00

One of my best friends got married last week-end, so naturally we had a party for her. To be more specific, we had a bachelorette party for her. This is not to be confused with a bridal shower. The bridal shower is the one you invite your grandma to. The bachelorette party is the one you don't invite your grandma to. For example, you would not invite your grandma to a bar.*

Also, you wouldn't try to convince your grandma to follow the bar with... more drinking!**

Nor would you invite her to partake of a dessert that everyone affectionately calls "Satan"***

However, that is exactly what you would do at a bachelorette party.

Before you start worrying about my eternal salvation and stuff,
*Spark is a non-alcoholic bar
**this drink is Martinellis cider (with quite a bit of head, I might add)
***this is a delicious dessert that Jessie (the reason for the party) made for us girls freshman year--we call it Satan because it has pudding, cream, oreos, fat, more fat, sugar, more sugar, and more fat. In other words, it will probably destroy your body. But it is oh, so good.

Copycat

2010-07-01T12:23:00.000-06:00

My sister is really cool. She has two beautiful boys, operates two blogs, runs about a million miles a week (only a slight exaggeration), and somehow finds time to cook awesome food. Really awesome food. So its no wonder that I want to be just like her. I have to tell myself that so I don't feel bad that I am so uncreative that I have to do exactly as she does.

Here's what I did: while I was in New York Lizzie made homemade granola. This might sound repetitive, but it was awesome. Naturally, as soon as I got home I wanted to get the ingredients to try making it myself.

(her pictures look better)

I did okay until it came time to put in the honey. A while ago my grandpa gave us a HUGE bottle of honey, and because I thought we still had a lot left, I didn't bother getting any at the store. Oops. I had to scrape out every single drop of honey we had in the apartment.

Poor little honey bear--being sacrificed for the sake of my tastebuds.

After that everything went well...

...until it was time to take it out. Apparently things don't need to cook as long in Utah as they do in New York. Or maybe my oven burns hotter than Lizzie's does. Regardless, the granola is still edible, but it's not awesome. And I'm not going to post a picture of it.

Sigh. Maybe I shouldn't be such a copycat.

A measly 3 minutes

2010-06-30T12:38:00.002-06:00

I left on Saturday with two hours and 15 minutes before my plane left. Or at least I thought it was 2h 15 min. It was actually only 2h and 5 min. While I was in France they changed my flight time to be ten minutes earlier. I didn't think it was that big of a deal. Apparently it was. So, running ten minutes behind I got on the A train towards Howard Beach station. Oh, did I mention that the A train is an express train? Except for on weekends. And when you really need it. So it stopped at. every. single. stop.

So I'm running a little late (but I've still got an hour and 15 minutes or so) when I get on the Airtrain, which isn't super slow, but slow enough for me to want it to go faster. I get off the Airtrain with just over an hour, and walk my way to the Delta terminal. When I got there a nice man told me to go to the self check-in before I got in line. No big deal. Everything is going well and then I push the button that says I need to check my baggage and a screen comes up telling me that it's too late for me to check my baggage and to talk to an attendant. This was about 8:53.

So I talk to an attendant and he says "Oh yes. Oh yes, you are too late. You're going to have to talk to one of these ladies at the counter to get on the next flight."

I'm sorry. What?

Apparently, Delta makes you check your bags in at least an hour before your flight. So even though my flight left at 9:50, I had to wait another seven hours for the next flight to Salt Lake. But at least it was just seven hours and not thirteen, like the woman I talked to had to wait (but that was because she got to the airport a day early). Oh, and that big group (50 people) of youth from San Diego who had spent the past week volunteering in Haiti, who missed their flight and had to wait until the next day to be re-routed. I actually talked to one of the guys in charge and he told me that they were a church group who had gone down to do repainting and repair stuff. He kept saying, "the Lord's hand is in everything" and all I could think was, "Yes, I totally agree. I just don't know how me coming late three minutes was so important." I don't know if I really needed to miss my plane or not, but after that conversation I've been thinking more seriously about doing my field study in Haiti. I had thought about it before, but now I'm thinking that if I can combine it with an internship, I will. We'll see.

I'll keep you posted.

Bluemarble

2010-06-29T12:04:00.000-06:00

For my last night in the big apple, we had a picnic in the park, tossed the frisbee around, and then ate ice-cream at Bluemarble. Delicious. I was convinced that I needed to try the ginger ice-cream. I must admit, I was a bit skeptical. I was even a little apprehensive. I needn't have been. It was delicious. Next time I go to Brooklyn I am going to make a return trip. Unless I can find one closer.

P.S. While we were tossing the frisbee around, Micah was holding Simon and either Lizzie or I threw a way-off pass, but he still ran after it with Simon in his arms, and caught it. A lady behind us yelled, "Did you see that?! That guy just caught that with a baby in his arms!!" Yeah. Go Micah.

The Sights, Sounds, and Smells of NYC

2010-06-28T15:09:00.006-06:00

I don't know why, but I took an immediate liking to New York. Maybe it was because the smell of pizza was pervasive. Maybe it was because it didn't reek of cigarette smoke and b.o. (like Paris sometimes did--not always, but sometimes). Maybe it was because I could understand what people were saying, even if they were speaking with a New Jersey accent (which made me happy). Or maybe it was because there is an energy in New York. From what I saw, people were friendly, they joked and laughed, they talked quickly and loudly, and I loved it.

As for the sights...

a proper Brooklyner

2010-06-19T15:34:00.000-06:00

Simon has a bit of a Brooklyn accent. And its awesome. Its not really strong but he pronounces 'nine' like 'noine' and 'work' like 'woik.' Of course I don't know how much of this is Brooklyn and how much of it is just being young, because he also pronounced 'Baked Alaska' kind of like 'baked disasta' or 'big disasta.'

But no matter. Its adorable.

Vroom Vroom!

2010-06-18T15:17:00.003-06:00

Simon took quite a liking to this toy at the Apple store. He kept hopping on and off and wanting Oliver to be put on it too.

He's so cool.

This Apple store was super cool, by the way. It had a bunch of old, vintage-y things like this coke machine that actually had coke in it that you could buy. Well, I'm not actually sure you could buy it because the security guard had to open it up for the kid who put in his dime. But at least the kid got one, right? (not this kid, another kid)

After we left this store we got real New York pizza, which after six weeks of French pizza (which is not real pizza), this totally hit the spot. Mmmm!

just try

2010-06-18T14:44:00.009-06:00

Even though we were an hour-and-a-half early for our train from Nice to Paris, my friend and I almost missed it because we didn't ask anyone where to go. You see, there were two trains, but we thought there was only one. We looked up and down the first one and part of the second one, and we thought they were connected somehow. They weren't. And we almost got stranded in Nice because of it. Thankfully we started talking to this girl from New Jersey who, five minutes before the train was supposed to leave (we were wondering why they wouldn't open the doors) asked one of the guys in bright green vests where to go. He pointed to the other train. She motioned to us. We got on just as the second-to-last whistle was blowing.

I was glad we got on, but seriously? I had just spent 6 weeks in this country trying to learn the language and this girl from New Jersey (my same age), who has been in France for about two weeks and knows none of the language had more guts than I did to communicate with a French person. How embarrassing.

Also, when my friend and I got to Paris we met up with her parents who had flown in the day before. When we got there we found out that her mom had just had her hair cut. She doesn't speak French. The barber didn't speak English. And yet it looked fine. I would have never had the guts to do that.

So in addition to my needing more guts, here's an idea: just try. If it doesn't work, if nothing was communicated, at least you can say that you tried.

a little distracted

2010-06-18T14:21:00.006-06:00

I'm sorry that there haven't been any updates recently, but since I left Paris (which was an adventure in and of itself), I have been in New York visiting my sister and her family (as most of you reading this already know). You can plainly see how I could be distracted from blogging when I have Thing 1 and Thing 2 to play with.
Thing1

Thing 2

And oh yeah, this to visit.

But lets rewind a little bit and restart at me leaving Nice...

the week in Nice

2010-06-11T15:26:00.005-06:00

I didn't blog much this week because I wanted to sit back and relax. So this is what I did.

Monday: I saw a museum, saw the view of an old fortress, went shopping, and had FHE.
The museum was small and not very interesting, but the one we wanted to go to was closed.
The fortress was super cool, and because of a tip from an old guy who gave us directions, we took the elevator and not the stairs, which was a very good idea. The view was phenomenal and there was this cool waterfall.

Shopping was great, and I finally got the one thing that I told myself I had to get while I was in France: the striped shirt.
FHE was essentially a party, and after that I partied with my friends.

Tuesday: I saw a Russian Orthodox Church and spent the afternoon at the beach.
The church was cool because it definitely didn’t look like it belonged in Nice, but apparently there are a lot of Russians who spend their vacations here, so the royal family had it built way back when.
As for the beach…when will I ever learn? I know that in the last hour of my stay, I will always get burned. The three hours before that mean nothing. If I had left an hour earlier I might have been a little pink, but because I stayed that extra hour I spent the next three days gingerly moving around.

Wednesday: I left the country.
I went to the principality of Monaco. Yeah, that’s right Monaco. Not Morocco, like I keep saying whenever I talk about it, but Monaco. You might remember it from the movie Casino Royale. If you don’t remember it, watch that movie again because part of it takes place in the Monte Carlo Casino. I’ve been there.
While I was there I also saw the royal palace and the royal cathedral where Princess Grace Kelly Grinaldi is buried. Those Monacoans really did like Princess Grace. Her name is everywhere.

Thursday: this was kind of a hodge-podge day.
I did laundry (way too expensive and half of my clothes now have mysterious red streaks on them, so not worth it), took a nap, went to the store for some last-minute shopping, nearly got blown away by the wind, and then went to dinner with the group in Old Nice. Old Nice by the way, is super cool. It has a ton of shopping and eating places and GELATO! There was this place with about 50 flavors (beating the pants off of Baskin Robbins), some of which were fig, rose, lavender, speculoos, avocado, tomato-basil, black olives, pepper, and beer. After the gelato we walked back to the residence along the pier, which was probably the coolest thing I’ve done in Nice. The wind had died down to a cool breeze, there were lights every few yards, people strolling along, and colored lights on the buildings. Awesome.

Friday: this was a bad day full of finals and tracking people down for a study I’m helping with. However, at the end I ate dinner with friends and ate more gelato.

There wasn’t a whole lot of relaxing in there, but I’m glad I did all of it.

Nice

2010-06-06T09:36:00.000-06:00

Nice is nice (sorry, lame joke but I had to). Its humid, but its not too bad. It was quite an adventure getting here, with people losing passports and whatnot, but we’re here! Our accommodations are not too shabby.

(the bedspreads are my roommate's, not the residence's

And I’ve already hit the beach and gone to church. Church was awesome! The members here were so much more open and friendly than the ones in Paris. I talked to two or three people in French and I never talked to anyone in the Paris ward in French—it was always English.

How to get into the French heart

2010-06-06T09:29:00.000-06:00

Its easy, just draw a moustache on yourself with eyeliner (see post below). Really—that’s all. After we made our movie I had more French people start up conversations within twenty minutes than I had during the entire month before, simply because I had a moustache on my face. Seriously. Everyone who talked to us mentioned it. I even got to experience the French sense of humor, which hadn’t happened yet. Here’s the story:
I had to go to the bathroom really bad and I asked this restaurant owner if I could use the bathroom if I bought something. He said no at first, and then asked if I wanted champagne or whiskey, after which he winked and left. So after a moment’s indecision I darted into the bathroom (it was touch-and-go for a moment), and when I came out I asked him how much fries would cost (I had to buy something because he had told me no earlier and I had used the bathroom). He asked me if I wanted a plate and while I fumbled for a response, he smiled and said: “I wuz keeding. You can go.” I am convinced it was because of the moustaches because some guys talked to us on the metro, one man (who I think was drunk) laughed and asked us if drawing moustaches was a normal thing to do in America, and a couple of people outside of a store called us the three moustaches (there were three of us at the time).
So, to break through that cold Parisian exterior, simply draw a moustache on yourself. C’est tout!

The recipe for the perfect way to end your stay in Paris:

2010-06-06T08:56:00.000-06:00

Ingredients:
One glorious sunset
One Eiffel Tower
Four or five vague story elements (this may take some prior preparation)
Eyeliner (black and brown)
Several baguettes (varies according to how many people you are with)
One or more digital cameras
A loss of all sense of propriety
Hundreds of People
Five friendly French boys

Directions:
Spread out the glorious sunset all across the sky. Then place the Eiffel Tower in the middle. Now, with your fellow cooks, hash out the four or five vague story elements. Use the eyeliner to draw moustaches on your fellow chefs.
When you have done that, take the baguettes in hand, and take out the digital cameras. Use the cameras to film your fellow chefs using their loss of all sense of propriety by fighting each other with the baguettes in front of hundreds of people.
When you are close to the end of filming, get the five friendly French boys to take your picture in front of the Eiffel Tower. And then let some of them be in your picture.

Mix all together and enjoy.

*We used my friend’s camera for everything, so when she sends them to me or puts them on facebook or whatever, I will illustrate this little recipe for you.

Bookcase

2010-06-05T12:49:00.001-06:00

This has got to be the coolest woodcarving I have ever seen in my life.

There’s only so much you can take

2010-06-05T12:35:00.000-06:00

I’m glad that our bus trip ended today. Its been a lot of fun, and I genuinely loved looking at all of these châteaux, but there comes a point when this has lost its charm.

(not me, the building behind me :)

Also, I feel like I’m no longer taking unique pictures—they all look the same.

(oh wait, maybe because they are the same!)

P.S. They do exist! (and apparently they make stuff)

What’s really in the west wing

2010-06-05T12:31:00.000-06:00

In “Beauty and the Beast” Belle is forbidden from going into the west wing, supposedly because the rose is in there. Well, I have visited the west wing, and I can tell you that it is not true. She couldn’t go in there because the Beast didn’t want her to know that he had girly bedding.

“In a cottage, by the glen!”*

2010-06-05T12:02:00.000-06:00

Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel, Hansel and Gretel, various other literary characters—I’ve seen all their houses. And I did it in just one day. Find out how you can too by reading on! All one has to do is go to Château Chenonceau and go to the part of the grounds that says it’s a barn. Sounds boring, doesn’t it? If I had known that it advertised itself as a barn, I would have skipped out, so I’m glad I did because it is a lie! Its actually a magical fairyland of hope and happiness! Or just where a bunch of cool buildings are. Don’t know which.

Oh, and these are the three châteaux that were the purpose of our visits (Azay, Chenonceau, and Amboise).

The kitchens in Chenonceau were my favorite.

*name that movie

Food! Glorious food!

2010-06-02T15:47:00.000-06:00

So, after that first sketchy dinner, things have only gotten better. The highlight of Tuesday was the dessert, crème brulée.

(they gave us two! And that’s a shell-shaped Madeline in the background)

Tonight was amazing. I don’t know the names of anything (sorry!), so you’ll just have to be satisfied with pictures and some rather incomplete descriptions.

fruity drink

A type of salad with dried beets or something on the left and a shrimp, parmesan cheese/sesame sandwich on the right

Veal, potato pancake-type things, puréed squash, and some kind of wanton-thing with dried fruit in it

This dessert had some interesting combinations: strawberry, raspberry, basil and pistachio. One word: fabulous.

Oh yeah, all of these stories take place in France…

2010-06-02T15:46:00.000-06:00

I was forcefully reminded after our two visits today that many fairytale stories take place in France. Case in point: Angers.

This castle is famous for its huge tapestry (I heard my professor say it’s the largest in the world, but I could have heard wrong—it wouldn’t be the first time) depicting the book of Revelation. The tapestry was pretty cool, but doesn’t this look like where Beauty could have tamed the Beast? Especially because it is strongly fortified, it would be very difficult for Belle to escape.

(these pictures don’t really do it justice—it was huge)

Case in point 2: Langeais. Doesn’t it look like where “Ever After” was filmed?

Ah, the scent of brine and salt.

2010-06-02T13:52:00.000-06:00

Today was our last day by the sea before we head into the Loire Valley. We saw Mont Saint-Michel and Saint Malô, a fortified city with big walls and ramparts and everything.

(this second one isn’t actually Saint Malô, it’s a little fortress you can see from the city wall)

It was, as you can see, very foggy and wet this day, but it really only rained once. The rest of the time there was this pervasive, cool, fine mist (cool as in awesome and fine as in not thick). I wasn’t actually able to see much of Saint Malô however because we only had an hour there and I spent 45 of my 60 minutes making copies (thank you two years of experience at Cougar Creations).

(the money in the foreground is ten-centime pieces because each copy was ten centimes, and as you can see from the stack of papers, I had a lot of copies to make…one. at. a. time.)

The coolest part may have been the “biscotterie,” which, as you may have already guessed, is where they make cookies! More specifically, they make the cookies that Mont Saint-Michel is famous for, which were really good (they had free samples. I may have taken three, or four, or maybe six. Broken pieces don’t count, right?). However, they had other stuff for sale there as well. Fun, no? I’m thinking about a new picture heading, what do you think?

A little more on Monday night

2010-05-31T15:58:00.000-06:00

So here’s a little more info on what happened tonight. First of all, we’re staying in Etap Hotel, which is apparently code for, no privacy hotel. Yes, there are holes in the shower.

Also, dinner tonight was an adventure. Take a look at what I sampled and see if you can guess what it is (and I’m not talking about the fries). I do have to say that it didn’t shine like it is in the picture, so it looked slightly less gross in real life, but only slightly.

Bus Trip Day 1 (since I can't think of anything more clever)

2010-05-31T15:41:00.000-06:00

This morning marked the end of my stay with the Burlot family and the beginning of the program’s bus tour to Normandy and the Loire Valley, which is in the NW of France. What this means is that I will be staying the entire week in this:

Spending my nights here:

And seeing things like this:

Okay, well not only things like that. Today we went to the Bayeux, which is famous for its tapestry which is about a million feet long (I heard someone say that it was almost the length of a football field—I don’t think it was that long, but it was really long) and about three feet high. It tells the story of William the Conqueror (of Normandy, France) invading England and installing himself as king. It was made in the 11th century, and it is still in very good condition, hence all of the hoop-lah about it.

My personal favorite activity of the day was, however, the one back to America. Yup, that’s right. Today I walked on American soil. Or at least, the part of land that France gave to America because of the American soldiers who gave their lives there.

Omaha Beach was a lot more impactful on me than I was expecting. It’s hard to describe, so all I will say is that I felt a tremendous debt of gratitude to these men. I also felt tremendously proud to be an American—to have this kind of heritage.

And since I know that you can’t get enough pictures of me…

Ah, Sunday, the day to get caught up on the blog

2010-05-30T14:43:00.000-06:00

I'm sorry that I'm posting so many things on one day, but I've been trying to see as much of Paris as I could during the last few days. We leave tomorrow for our bus trip through Normandy and the Loire Valley, and then after that we go to Nice. So what does Sarah do during her last Saturday in Paris?

After class, I went and bought some flowers for my host mom from a flower market (today was Mother's Day for France, and its our last day with the Burlot's--I was glad we got her flowers because they told us that their own kids forgot to get her anything. ha!). Also, I walked along the Seine and picked up some stuff (some of you may see those later...). I'm sorry I didn't get any pictures of these two activities. I especially wish I'd taken pictures of the vendors along the river.

After that I went back to the suburbs to drop off my stuff and then came back (when the Spider incident happened, see below) to meet up with some friends to go to the flea market. One of the girls bought a fake purse and matching scarf for 30 euros. I was impressed because the guy wanted 60 euros. I'm definitely too intimidated to haggle, so I was really proud of her! (sorry the picture isn't very good).

We did some more shopping and got dinner (it was PizzaHut, don't judge because it was so much nicer than the ones in America), and then they went home and I went to get some pictures of the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe at night. Here are some highlights of the day.

the Spider and the Fly

2010-05-30T13:39:00.000-06:00

My mom told me a story once about how when she was travelling through Europe, she ran into this guy (I believe it was even in France, perhaps Paris) who tried to convince her to go somewhere with him. I can’t remember the particulars (and Mom, you are more than welcome to add any details in the comments, or shoot me an email), but she always said it was her “Spider and the Fly” experience.

For those of you who do not know what “The Spider and the Fly” is, here is a link to the poem by Mary Howitt (there is also a really cool book illustrated by Tony DeTerlizzi).

Anyway, after reading that poem and listening to that story I thought it would be really scary to be in that kind of situation. Now I know that it isn’t scary—its really awkward.

So here’s what happened. I was riding the train to school when I saw this guy in a pink shirt with a ginormous nose. For those of you who have seen that MASH episode where Hawkeye performs plastic surgery on the guy with the big nose, that’s how big I’m talking. And for those of you who are more cultured, think Cyrano de Bergerac. Anyway, I went back to the suburbs after class, and when I was on my way back to the city, I saw him again!

I recognized him almost immediately, but it took me a second to remember where I had seen him before. So when I did remember I looked up to find him staring at me. I thought he was going through the same mental process he was (where do I know this person from?), so I gave him a little smile and quickly looked away. Bad idea. Do not smile at French men. Period. It makes them think that they can get up from their seat, cross over two people and an aisle to sit in front of you to talk to you. Which, by the way, is not okay.

So, to make a long story longer, this guy was incapable of talking above a whisper, which was bad news for me because 1) he was speaking in French, which is already somewhat difficult for me to understand; 2) I have a hard time hearing anything anyway, and 3) there was a lot of background noise from the running train that would have made it hard to understand someone speaking English at a normal decibel. Our conversation (which lasted about 10 minutes, or what felt like an eternity) went something like this:
Him: You are very beautiful.
Me: What?
Him: You are very beautiful.
Me: Oh, uh…okay. Thank you?
Him: Could I have a little of your time? Could I take you to get a drink?
Me: What?
Him: I would like to have just a little of your time to get you a drink of coffee.
Me: What?
Him: Some of your time? Some coffee?
Me: Oh! Um…no….
Him: Why not?
Me: ….I don’t drink coffee…
Him: Boff! We could get something else. You are not French? (I wonder what clued him in…:)
Me: uh, no. I’m an American.
Him: Oh, what are you doing in France?
Me: What?
Him: What are you doing in France?
Me: Oh. I’m studying French.
Him: You are very beautiful.
Me: Uh…..
Him: What is your name?
Me: Uh…. Sarah.
Him: Oh, Sarah, it’s a very common name.
Me, thinking: duh, if I had an unusual name I probably would have told you Sarah anyway, simply because it is so common (which is exactly what you’re thinking right now).
Him: Why don’t you want to get a coffee with me?
Me: Because I don’t trust you.
Him: What can I do to make you trust me?
Me: Nothing.

The conversation went on, with more ‘what’s, ‘what can I do to get you to trust me’s and ‘nothing’s, but I can tell that half of my audience is already asleep, so suffice it to say that I felt extremely awkward. Also, as I got off the train I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t following me. However, now I can say that I have experienced “The Spider and the Fly”!

You remember what I said about really good food...

2010-05-30T13:30:00.000-06:00

...well, the other day our professors took us out for dinner. I can't remember the name of the place, but I remember that I ordered, soup l'oignon (which, by the way mom, tasted a lot like how you make it).

poulet blanc

and a crêpe au chocolat.

Need I say more?

The guy had a serious complex

2010-05-30T13:00:00.000-06:00

Voilà the tomb of Napoleon Bonaparte, French emperor and creator of what is now known as the Napoleon complex. This is apparently a misnomer because Napoleon was actually of average height…blah, blah, blah. The point is, his tomb is HUGE.

Its under the dome of Invalides, which is one of the more famous landmarks of Paris.

Anyway, it is a part of the greater Invalides complex, which is a huge war museum. We just looked at the section on WWI and WWII, where I saw these pretty cool posters. I didn’t read all the plaques, but apparently they were all about how France was the major victor and how America just came in at the very end. Hmmm…

Anyway, we finished up our day by going to see the Eiffel Tower up close when it sparkles (which is for five minutes at 10:00, 11:00, and 12:00). We thought we had plenty of time, but we ended up getting there right at the end of the five minutes, and I think I snapped this picture literally as it was just ending (I took it, looked up, and it was already done—unfortunately the girls with me didn’t have their cameras out, so they missed it and we decided not to wait another hour).

I have a serious problem

2010-05-28T12:35:00.001-06:00

I am in a land famous for its culinary skills. Movies have been made about how wonderful the cuisine is in France, and just the other night I ate at a fantastic restaurant with delicious food. So I go to the store and what do I buy?
DINNER!

In my defense, I was looking for something much better and healthier but they didn't have it. Also, I have discovered that I am more prone to rash/unwise decisions when I'm tired.

In case you wanted to know, the cereal wasn't super caramel-y, but I could taste the caramel better after I took a swig of the mango Schweppes. Is that normal?

2010-05-27T17:20:00.000-06:00

I saw Les Misérables tonight. It was in English, and not too shabby.

But now I have "One Day More" stuck in my head.

London

2010-05-25T10:33:00.000-06:00

I could probably split this up into several posts, but I’m not, so good luck slogging your way through this beast!

Thursday night Jessica (my travel companion) and I took the night bus from Paris to London. My advice to anyone wishing to go from Paris to London or vice versa: don’t take the night bus. I don’t know how expensive the other buses are (all together my round-trip ticket was on 75 euros, versus at least 260 euros roundtrip for the Chunnel), but you will not get any sleep on the bus and thus the day will be wasted because you will be exhausted. Plus, you don’t get to see any of the country side if you go at night. This is what you’ll be missing.

Anyway, after we got off the bus we dilly-dallied for a little bit because we weren’t sure when the Tube started running in the morning (in Paris it starts at about 6:00), and we weren’t sure where to go. Eventually we made it to Victoria station where we bought an oyster card (you can put as much money as you want on it and it will get you into the Underground) and a rail ticket to Lingfield, which is the stop you take to get to the London temple. Yes, oddly enough the London temple is not in London. Its in Newchapel, Surrey. In the instructions to get to the temple it said to take a taxi, but because we had no coins with which to use the payphone to call a taxi, we decided to use our feet. My advice to anyone wishing to go to the London temple: get the coins to call the taxi (or have a phone that works in England). We were both tired, and I’m not sure how long of a walk it was, but it took us a good hour, hour-and-a-half to get there (maybe I should have looked up how many miles before I admitted how long it took us..oops). However, the temple is lovely and we met some really nice people there. It was also the sight of my first fish-and-chips consumption (we had to buy food in order to have coins to pay for the phone to call the taxi) and my first time calling and riding in a taxi. Quite thrilling actually.

After the temple we bought tickets for “Oliver,” went to our hostel, dropped off our bags, took a quick power nap, and then went back to the theater. It was fantastic. Fagin was my favorite character by far, and the actor who played him was funny.

After eating dinner we went back to the hostel and crashed. Friday morning we went to Buckingham Palace to see the changing of the guard. I’m glad I saw it, but it wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. Maybe I just had a lame view, but it was over in about five minutes and I guess I was expecting something that would take a long time.

Anyway, then we went on the longest walk of our lives. Seriously, it was probably just a mile or two, but it took us from 12:00-6:00 because we spent about two hours in the tower of London (where they keep the crown jewels and have some of the history of England). The first picture is of Tower Bridge and the second is of the actual London Tower complex.

Then we walked up past Shakespeare’s Globe theater, the London Eye (we did not go on it), Big Ben, Houses of Parliament, and Westminster Abbey (which we also did not go into). Then we saw Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square, and Ripley’s Believe it or Not (which, believe it or not, we did not go into).

By this time our feet were about to go on strike, so we hopped onto a double-decker, took it to the end of the line, took another double-decker back, and a couple more while we saw more of London and let our feet take a vacation.

When it got dark we went back to Tower Bridge because I’d heard it was cool at night, but it wasn’t lit up. Luckily London Bridge was, so we took some pictures of that.

Sunday we went to church and I met a guy I know from Provo (he dated one of my roommates) who was in London with Men’s Chorus. He invited us on a picnic, so we were able to get dinner, yay! Also, we were able to see Hyde Park, which, aside from all of the sunbathers, was beautiful.

Then it was back on the bus for another nine-or-so hours to France. However, I can say that I have now been under and on the English Channel. On the way to London we went on a train that goes through the chunnel (the bus went into a big cattle-car looking thing that was on the train, and we all stayed on the bus), and on the way back we took the ferry (the moon from the ferry).

All in all, I really liked England, but the jury’s still out on London. I felt like the builders of London have tried to build the latest and greatest wherever they could, while still keeping the heritage of the older sites, with the result being a hodge-podge of different styles of architecture. Visually, it was very busy. Also, there were a few times when I wondered if the English really talked the way they were, or if they were just putting on a show for the tourists because their accents were super strong (ok, I didn’t really think that, but their accents weren’t like the typical ones you hear in movies).

Monday I slept from 9:30am to 5:30 pm and then that night from 1am to 9am. Yeah. Don’t take the night bus.

London

2010-05-24T16:07:00.001-06:00

It was great! I'll post more info and pictures when I have more time, but here's a sneak peak for now.

All You Need is Love

2010-05-20T06:39:00.000-06:00

So there I was, walking towards the metro, on a bright, beautiful day in Paris. For the first time in two weeks the sun was shining without any fear that storm clouds could get in the way and ruin everything. The breeze was a perfect temperature to cool one off while basking in the warmth.

Like I said, I'm walking towards the metro, through the Centre Pompidou, because I am going to go home.
"Why are you going home on such a wonderfully beautiful day," you ask.
"It is because I am going to London tonight and I need to prepare," I answer.

Yeah, that's right, I'm going to London.

Anyway, I'm walking across this square with the Pompidou Museum behind me when this advertisement (which I wish I'd gotten a picture of) started up and the song "All You Need is Love" by the Beetles came on.

While in the city of love, heading towards London, could there have been a more perfect moment for that song? I contest that there could not.

I grinned as I kept walking.

You never know, it could have been a mafia front

2010-05-19T14:51:00.000-06:00

Disclaimer: I didn’t really have any encounter with the mafia) You know, this restaurant owner is probably really nice, and his restaurant probably is legit, but my experience at this place just felt…mafia-like. While I was eating these noodles and bread sticks (quite literally sticks),

all I could think to myself was, what if this was a front for a mob boss? I mean, really, this place just looks too… clean and… low-profile. Also, it is right next to the military school and I saw quite a few Gendarmes and officers in the two minutes it took to get from the metro station to this restaurant. Who would suspect a mafia cover right next to Invalides (the military museum)? Seriously. So then I took another look at the guy behind the counter. Was he the main boss? No—he was the front-man. The guy who decides who can come into the back and who doesn’t. While I was very sneakily taking pictures of my food (I don't know why it had to be done sneakily, but believe me, it did),

these two people came in and talked to the owner (or the front-man, either/or). I’m not sure who they were, but they looked like tourists and they spoke like Frenchmen (some kind of cover?). Then the front-man asked us if we wanted him to take our picture. An odd offer for two Americans in Paris. We said yes. As soon as he was done I checked my bag (which had been behind me), to make sure nothing had been stolen.

As we were leaving we saw him talking outside to a guy on a motorcycle. The guy was wearing all dark clothes and had on sunglasses. I’m sure they had nothing to do with the sun—I’m sure he was just trying to mask his identity.

As we walked away the front-man smiled and waved at us. Very suspicious.

P.S. What does this Chinese building think its doing in Paris? This is the only building I have seen that looks like this. Also very suspicious. If this is a front for the Chinese mafia, they need to tone it down a little bit, or they could be caught.

:) :(

2010-05-19T14:29:00.000-06:00

:)

While walking to the post office with a friend today, I passed by a building with one-way glass (you know, the kind that looks like a mirror on the outside). I saw that the guy walking behind me immediately turned to the building in order to check himself out.
I smiled because I was doing the same thing.

I like it when I can hear the metro bands playing before I can seem them.

I like watching the trains that aren’t separated into cars move through the tunnel—you can see it snake around the curves, giving you either a long view all the way to the front, or stopping it at the nearest corner.

One day on the metro a man came in with a guitar and started singing. He sang an American country song. I don’t know which one it was because his French accent was so thick.

Making progress: yesterday a friend and I took pictures at a really pretty park, and a man there asked us where we were from, instead of assuming we were American (we had even been speaking in English before that, so either he knows absolutely no English, or... we were speaking English with a funky accent).

Also, today when we spoke French to a restaurant owner guessed we were from Brazil. So I guess our accent is getting more…Portuguese sounding… I hope this is a good thing.

:(

Cigarette smoke everywhere.

Coming home and smelling like the city (a.k.a. Paris b.o.).

Worrying that I smell like the city

Worrying that I’m spending too much on pastries

Spending too much for a pastry (in reality I think I don’t spend enough on pastries, probably because the worrying prevents me from buying too often, so when I do buy, I think its okay to go expensive).

Creepers on the metro

Having people speak to me in English before I have a chance to answer the question they asked me in French

Château Fontainebleau

2010-05-16T12:03:00.000-06:00

This place was amazing. I think that 80% of the reason I liked it so much is because the sun was shining and it wasn’t bitterly cold, but nonetheless, I really like this place.

It has some beautiful grounds (and we didn’t even go into the side garden or the woods), so naturally we took a bajillion pictures, which, if you want to see, are on facebook. Here, however, is a little sampling.

This is where all the Kings and Queens of France lived from whomever it was that finished building it to Louis XIV. I talked to some of the other girls and we’re all in accord that Versailles has more of a feminine feel, whereas Fontainebleau is more masculine. Essentially, Versailles felt more delicate: large and airy, whereas Fontainebleau felt more like a hunting lodge: darker and more brooding. Or something like that. Its hard to explain (especially when I'm using pictures of swans and lakes, haha).

Suffice it to say that this was one of my favorite activities thus far.

The Arts

2010-05-16T11:06:00.001-06:00

Here's the latest development on the drawing of the chalk guy.

Also, le Centre Pompidou is a place for street performers to earn a few centimes. I've only taken pictures of two of them though.

Falafel!

2010-05-16T11:00:00.001-06:00

I got this in the Jewish quarter of Paris. In a word: fabulous.

The place we went to is (I think) the most popular spot to get falafels in Paris because there were tons of people there and guys who took your order outside, showed you where to go to wait, tried to coax others to come join the line, and kept people out of the way of cars in this tiny space. Let me tell you, it was pretty exciting.

Dear Mom,

2010-05-16T10:31:00.000-06:00

Parisian fashion is much like American fashion. They have the tight skinny jeans and the t-shirts, and they even have the scarves that we like to wear, but there are a few differences.

It is fashionable for men here to wear an earring (usually a diamond) in their right ear, whereas it is popular for women to have a ring going through their bottom lip/through the area just under their bottom lip. I am personally not a fan of either.

I have noticed that both men and women dress very nice here, and I wonder if that is because many people work professionally. By nice I mean that men wear shiny shoes that look new, as well as what look like tailored suits. The women wear suits as well sometimes, but sometimes it’s a dress. Their clothes all look well cared-for.

In America leggings are the big thing, but here it is tights. Women wear tights with pretty much everything except pants, and sometimes they were tights with short shorts. In this regard I have been grateful for the cold weather—it has forced the women to cover up a little more than they might otherwise.

You mentioned to me that you saw women in dresses riding their bikes around. Today it is more likely that you’ll see a man in a tailored suit riding a bike, but you also see women in skirts riding their motorcycles. Also men in suits riding motorcycles.

As far as color goes, most Parisians wear dark, muted colors. I thought that this was an exaggeration, but it is not. I feel very self-conscious on the metro when I wear my electric blue jacket and was somewhat relieved when I bought my grey sweater. However, sometimes they do wear an article of clothing that will “pop” out from the rest of their outfit, like a bright scarf or something. I have also spied two colors in the stores that look like they will make it big this season: a vibrant maroon tone and a dark turquoise.

I hope this has satisfied your desire to know of the ins and outs of today’s fashion in Paris, and I apologize that there are no pictures. But it does feel a little awkward sometimes to take pictures of complete strangers. I hope this finds you in good spirits.

I love you,

Sarah

Dear Dad,

2010-05-14T15:50:00.000-06:00

Today I visited some of your old stomping grounds. Well, actually, I guess I’ve been visiting your old stomping grounds since I stepped off the plane, but today I walked around “le Seizième Arrondissement.” I couldn’t remember where the old mission office was, so I was not able to take a picture of it for you, but I was able to see the statue of liberty on the Seine.

I saw some blue sky trying to make its presence shown (but failing miserably. Yup, still cold).

I saw a little park with this cool bird-cage looking thing that may not have been there when you were (don’t worry, its still standing, despite my best efforts).

There was also this cool little street with very picturesque, ancient-looking stone walls. So naturally I tried to take a very dignified picture.

I saw Balzac’s house (but I'm still not sure why he's important), Rue de la Fontaine, the Monet museum (we talked to a guard who had been working there for 30 years!), and le Bois du Boulogne, which was gorgeous.

I hope this finds you well.

A la prochaine!

love, your favorite daughter in France,

Sarah

P.S. For some reason whenever I see an Arrondissement sign, I think of a pirate (arr!).

Je suis retardataire

2010-05-12T15:50:00.000-06:00

That word serves a double-purpose in this post. Its actual meaning is “latecomer,” but it also looks like the American word “retard,” which is kind of how I felt.

The story is that I was late for dinner the second Tuesday in a row (I have dinner with my host family Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday), which my professor was sure to remind me is a HUGE faux pas. In other words, don’t do it. And to have done it twice in a row, the second time being completely late for dinner, making my host mom make up a plate for me made me feel pretty bad.

What happened is that we missed our stop on the way home from Versailles (it was just me and two other girls because most of the group had already left and the rest were still at the Château), and we missed the next one that would tell us where we were. I’m pretty sure that I saw all of the station names before those two and EVERY single one afterwards, but because I was looking at our map wrong, I thought we were still okay. Finally after being on the metro for almost an hour and having already gone through Paris and were now in a sketch part of town, we realized that something was terribly wrong. We left the chateau at 5:30 and should have been back in Paris by 6:00, meaning I should have been home by 6:45. I didn’t get home until 9:00.

I felt bad mostly because it was such a stupid mistake. We were just doing homework, so why didn’t I just glance up? Why did it takes us SO long to realize that we had gone much too far? Why was I so adamant that we were going the right direction (probably because I knew we were on the right train and I hadn’t seen our stop yet—once again, retardataire)?

In other news, I was seriously craving some OneRepublic, so I looked up one of their songs and SURPRISE! It was filmed in Paris, and I was able to recognize some of the places that were filmed (including the opening scene building, which I have already showed you—Sacré Cœur).

Some say Château, some say Versailles

2010-05-11T13:25:00.000-06:00

Disclaimer: my apologies to my mother and to anyone who likes good poetry

Some people like chocolate while others do not.
To vanilla others would not give a thought.
Some like it small while some like it large
Some like to wait while some like to charge.
I bring this up because I simply don’t know
Why someone would build this, besides just for show.

Oh wait! I remember what I learned years ago,
That Louis the Sun King dealt the nobles a blow
When he built this grand palace for parties and games
But mostly to watch over his dukes and his dames.
Because they were focused on themselves in this spot
The land withered away and they left it to rot.

so self-centered and happy to have the land rot away. tsk. tsk.

And I’m done with this poem because as you can see,
My rhymes are getting worse, as I continue to key*.
So now I will distract you,
With pictures of the Château!

*as in typing

Look at the colors of the rooms (it reminds me of my house! blue room, red room, white room).

The word that kept coming to mind was grandiose, but try rhyming something with that.

P.S. I found Cogsworth!

The Street Artist

2010-05-10T15:17:00.000-06:00

Definition: an artist working in a public area, as a park or sidewalk, with hopes of selling to passersby or tourists

A few days ago I saw this man in dirty, dingy, old clothing sitting on a cardboard box (flattened) on the cement. He looked like he hadn’t washed himself in a few weeks, and he may or may not have been homeless (sans-abri).

I definitely would not have suspected him capable of rendering something like this.

Le Jardin du Luxembourg est très joli!

2010-05-10T15:03:00.000-06:00

Who wouldn’t love reposing in an area like this?

With castles like this?

And friends like this?

I can also say that I have seen the Statue of Liberty (I guess it would be more correct to use “a” statue of liberty and not “the” statue of liberty, but details, details). I couldn't quite pull off the I-want-to-rip-your-face-off look, but I tried. Really I did.

Also, I have a fear that I will gain weight here. I wonder why.

Ah, to suffer in Paris.

Dan Brown has it wrong

2010-05-08T13:07:00.000-06:00

I went on a walk today (surprise!) to a church (astonishment!) where I took a lot of pictures (disbelief!). Sarcasm intended because it feels like all I talk about is this or that church that I went to that was really cool. So, I’m going to spice it up a little bit and show you this cool car that I saw:

and this cool pub (I don’t know if they actually spoke Irish English or Gaelic in there because I did not, in fact, go in):

and this bookstore that did in fact sell English-text books (not to be confused with English text-books):

and this fun sign:

and this cool church that Dan Brown wrote about in one of his novels as being part of a web of clues leading to the Holy Grail (ha! Didn’t see that one coming, did you?):

His book talks about how the gnomon (I’m not exactly clear on what it is) is a vestige of the site’s pagan roots (it was actually built to indicate the equinox before Easter Sunday). Apparently a few years ago there were signs telling tourists to not tap on the walls looking for hollow tiles, but I didn’t see any.

(I’m looking way too excited for having not found any hollow tiles)

It was a very French-y moment

2010-05-08T12:41:00.000-06:00

We were eating some Thai food near Gare Nord when we decided to go take a peek at the Sacré Cœur Basilica because it was in the neighborhood. Unfortunately it was only a peak because it was close to 11:00, which is when the last service ends. I was able to look around though, and I can see why it is one of my friend’s favorite churches (not the friend in this picture).

While we were up there, there was this guy playing jazz on his saxophone and two of the group members did a little dance in the streetlight. I don’t know why, but for some reason this impressed upon me as something that I would remember as one of the highlights of the trip. It was probably because for just a few moments, the ambiance of the whole place felt very French to me. It felt like how I imagined I would feel being in France. And that was kind of cool.

Saint-Denis

2010-05-08T11:27:00.000-06:00

The story goes that when Christianity first hit the fan in France, the pagans chopped off the head of a guy named Denis who was converting the people to Christianity (think of the name Denise, and then pronounce it without saying the ‘s’ at the end). After the deed was done, he picked up his head and walked to the hill where the basilica now stands, where he collapsed (more impressive than what Shiz did, don’t you think?). Needless to say, Christianity got a big boost after that. Can you spot Denis?

But we didn’t visit for the story—we went because it is where all the kings and queens of France (well, most of them, okay just a lot of them) are buried. We went down into the crypt and the most exciting thing we saw was a replica of the Dauphin's heart (Dauphin = son of Marie Antoinette). Unfortunately (or fortunately?) I did not get a picture (what was I thinking?). Instead I got pictures of the names of the dead kings and queens from the second dynasty (next to a creepy hallway that led to more names of dead kings and queens). However, I love that whenever Pépin is mentioned, “le bref” or “the short” is sure to follow. If he didn’t have a complex when he was alive, he must have one by now.

Okay, so its time I make a little confession: the royals are not actually buried under the church (whaaaat?). They were at one point, but during the revolution, there was a committee sent out to destroy all remnants of the monarchy, blah-dy, blah-dy, blah, etc. etc. and they ended up putting all the bodies into one mass grave and covering it with lyme (lye? I don’t know which one because the tour was in French), effectively eating up any remains. Drat.

Sidenote: we ran into this store on the way to the basilica.

Score.

the Latin Quarter

2010-05-06T12:06:00.001-06:00

Today’s walk was centered in the Latin Quarter, so called because it was a place for students (who of course all spoke Latin), and not because you can get a really good quesadilla there. In fact, I don’t think you can get a quesadilla there at all. You can however go to Le Procope, which was founded in 1686 and is the oldest café in Paris. Interesting, no? Also, it was frequented by Benjamin Franklin, Robespierre, and other famous guys.

P.S. I’m not sure if it tilts out like that because its that old, or if was made tilting out towards the street a little bit.

Another highlight was seeing the spot of yet another famous movie moment. In one of the Bourne movies (one or two, I can’t remember which one), Jason Bourne tells Conklin to go to the middle of Pont Neuf and take off his jacket. The building that Bourne was on was this one:

And this is what Conklin did:

Okay, so it didn’t look exactly like that, but it was something like that. Also, I didn’t know that this was the building, Jenny, one of the girls on the trip told me.

After the bridge we went and got food (cucumber, tomatoes and brie), which was really good.

A little bit of this and a little bit of that

2010-05-05T13:55:00.000-06:00

If any of you were wondering how my speaking is coming, last night at dinner we were talking about Chartres when my host mom told me that I should watch more French films because it would improve my speaking. ;)

I wrote down somewhere that I liked the metro and the public transportation system in France because it was pretty straightforward. I spoke too soon. I had at that time only gotten lost once and gotten on the wrong train twice (both were easy fixes). The next day Sarah and I got on the wrong train going home, realized our mistake much later than we should have (I remember thinking, wow, there’s a cemetery on the way to the city? I don’t remember that. You’d think that would have been a red flag), then the train back to where we could get on the right one took forever to come, and then when we got on the right train it didn’t stop at our stop. So we had to go back again. The moral of the story is that we were late to dinner (about ten minutes), which is a BIG faux pas here. And it took two hours to get home.

One of the times we got on the wrong train we got off and smelled delicious aromas coming from a place called “Fun Pizza,” so we went and bought some. I got a calzone junior (for one person), and it lasted me three meals. I forgot to take a picture of it, but it was delicious. I might go back there just to get more.

I like not being completely used to the time here because at home I can’t take a nap unless its at least three hours long. Today I took about an hour long nap and felt like I had slept for three hours. It was great.

I don’t know if its my Blackhurst upbringing or what, but I have to keep reminding myself that its okay to eat out. Each time I think about going to a restaurant or getting a pastry somewhere I think, “but its such a waste of money when I could just make a sandwich at home.” I have to keep telling myself that I’m only in France for six weeks and that its okay to splurge a little here. I am glad, however, that it appears that thriftiness is a tough habit to break.

Chartres

2010-05-05T13:07:00.000-06:00

I apologize in advance, this post is super long! Tuesday we took an hour-long train ride (my very first time on a real train! It was like the Hogwarts Express. Only not.) through this beautiful French countryside.

Our destination was Chartres, a cathedral recognized for its two very different spires. Also, it is said to house the clothes Mary wore when she gave birth to Jesus. The relic has been examined by experts and does date to the first century (although whether they are Mary’s clothes are not remains to be seen). Anyway, it has two different spires because half of it burned down in 1194, and when they rebuilt it, the architect decided he was sick of the Roman style and went with the Flamboyant Gothic style. Guess which one is which.

By the way, flamboyant in this sense means, “like flames” and not, “over the top,” although I think both work in this case.

This cathedral is also known for its stained glass windows, especially one depicting the fall of Adam and Eve and the parable of the Good Samaritan. There was a really good article written by a church member in the Liahona about this window. I would recommend checking it out here.

Although you can’t really tell from these pictures, each pane of glass is four feet square. Which is really big, and which makes the 30 years seem like a miracle (30 years was lightning fast for back then—our guide thought it was built so quickly because the relic is real, or was at least perceived to be).

This was our guide, a British gentleman.

I took a ton of pictures, because it was gorgeous, although it was FREEZING cold, and I even went to the back where I found out later I was not supposed to go. Oops. But aren't these cool? And by the way, huge shout out of thanks to Will and Summer for letting me borrow their camera. Rechargeable batteries are the bees knees and I’m grateful that I’m not spending all of my money on new batteries (I literally have to recharge these batteries every night).

Also, like a lot of cathedrals, they had these candles that you can light (I think they’re a prayer, right? Someone correct me if I’m wrong), and I thought they were really cool. So I took way too many pictures of them. Seriously. More pictures than I want to admit.

It was awesome and made me feel like I really was in France, complete with castles and thatched roofs (which I saw but was not able to catch a picture of).

I may have gone a little crazy

2010-05-05T12:20:00.000-06:00

Today (Monday) was FRIGID, and since I did not think to bring my winter coat to France, I had to go out and buy one (especially because the jacket I brought is bright blue and stands out like sore thumb). Oh shoot. I had to go shopping. So, Sarah and I decided to kill two birds with one stone and do a walk and go shopping. Thankfully ( I mean, darn) one of the walks is to a big shopping complex (Le Grand Lafayette).
So we went there and according to the walk, there was a store that was pretty nice and not too expensive called C&A.

This is where I went a little crazy. I got a jacket (not warm enough for this weather but it does the job, plus, I don’t want to have to lug home a heavy coat), and since it was cold I thought it would be a good idea to look at the scarves… one thing led to another and I was trying on blouses. Well, I ended up buying the jacket, two scarves (which I shouldn’t have done, there is more variety at a better price at the flea market but I had forgotten about that in the midst of it being FRIGID), and two blouses. I’m sure you will see these in future pictures (in fact, you can see one of the blouses in the Chartres pictures (you may have already seen it in the post above), and the jacket and one of the scarves are pictured below. Yes. I did actually go into another store and change my clothes so I could wear what I bought. Don’t judge.

Anyway, after that I did the rest of the walk, getting lost after the Opéra…

…. and after a ½ hour detour got back on track at le Café de la Paix (I’ve heard its famous—maybe some of you know what it is)…

…ending up in Les Jardins Tuileries (Tuilerie Gardens—not sure if I spelled that right the English way). Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect at the Tulieries, so if you go, you can expect some statues. Some of them are pretty cool but I wasn’t too impressed. I mean, really, after you’ve been to the Louvre nothing else seems to compare, and yes, I said that in a snobbish voice. Because I can. ;)

P.S. What is it with the French and their square trees?

Also, some of the statues were really weird. Like this collection. It really looks like something Freddy Kreuger would do.

This was, however, the site of my first pain au chocolate encounter. Mmm-mmm! Num! (also, they have Paul’s patisseries everywhere in Paris. Actually, they have patisseries everywhere in France (at least one on every corner, there may also be one in between those two in case you can’t make it to the next corner without another baguette or something).

Also, the birds here are aggressive. You can’t scare them away and if they see you eating something they close in on you, looking at what you’re eating with, wild, greedy eyes. See?

We also had la soirée familiale with the Paris ward. One of the missionaries gave the lesson about trials (it was super good) and how they help us to grow. From the Provo crowd there was me, Sarah, the three guys and two other girls, but there were also four girls from BYU-Idaho who are on a month-long art tour all around Europe. There were five or six Frenchmen, eleven or twelve Americans, one Spaniard, two South Americans and two Iranians. The lesson was in English and the closing prayer was in French.

Le Louvre

2010-05-05T11:49:00.000-06:00

Sunday was spent at church (um, duh?) and at le Musée du Louvre (um, what?). Before you judge, all museums in France are free on the first Sunday of every month, so we, as poor college students, decided to take the opportunity to see one of the largest and most famous museums in the world. But first, at church there were at least 77 visitors, which took the bishopbric by surprise. There were the 27 of us and fifty BYU-I students who are doing a three-week arts tour in Europe. And for those of you who want to know (all one or two of you: mom, dad), I understood the gist of each lesson and testimony but definitely not everything, which was kind of frustrating, but it was more than I have been understanding all week, so that was nice.
Le Louvre was amazing, probably more so than it might have been on another day of the week because the whole time I kept thinking, “Wow, look at the talents that God has given to us. Look at the beauty He has allowed us to use to create” (yes, I was trying to tie it to in Sabbath-day observances, and so you might think me a nerd, but I had a positive experience). Honestly these pictures and the ones that follow do not do what I see justice. The colors, the lighting, the feeling, none can be fully conveyed through a camera lens, which is why you need to come to Paris to see for yourself!

Waiting in line....

These pictures don't show it, but this place is HUGE.

I liked this statue room, which is why these pictures are featured, but believe me, the rest of the Louvre does not look like this-each room is decorated differently to reflect the displayed art (i.e. the Egypt room has pictures of desert, the Napoleon room has deep red walls and looks very rich, etc. etc.)

Some of the people I went with

Ah, the classic self-portrait. You will see many more of these I'm sure.

Here are some things that you may have heard of, such as Hammurabi's Code...

...and the Mona Lisa (or La Jaconde). Yes, it really is that small and yes there really were that many crowded around it to take a picture.

Hello. My name is Sarah, and I am obsessed with doors.

2010-05-05T11:28:00.000-06:00

On Saturday we did two walks. The first one was to the largest flea market in the world, where they discourage picture-taking, so I don’t have any pictures of that, but hopefully I will bring back some merchandise from there. It is huge (the name of the walk is Saint Ouen’s Labyrinth: Navigating the World’s Largest Flea Market) and there are hawkers everywhere trying to get you to buy ripoff Louis Vuitton. The first one coming from the metro is a tourist trap (that’s the part I want to go back to, haha), and the ones after that sell everything and anything from broken violins to chandeliers to Chinese robes to couches, and everything in between. You could probably spend several days in there and not see everything.

The second walk was to le Palais Royal, la Bourse (the French stock exchange), and some covered shops. Le Palais Royal was a lot cooler than I was expecting because I didn’t expect it to have this cool garden.

Or these cool fountains and pillars.

We were supposed to go to Le Bibliothèque Nationale after the garden but it was closed, so we walked to la Bourse, but it was also closed. Maybe next time I won’t go on a national holiday (Fête du Travail). Or a Saturday. Or at night. Oh well, there’s always next time, right?

Also, I found out on this walk that I am obsessed with doors. Old ones. Brightly colored ones. Big ones. France has the coolest doors.

Place de la Concorde

2010-05-05T11:11:00.000-06:00

A typical day includes class, doing some homework and then going to do a walk in our Paris Walks book (we need to do about four per week). When I say “we” I can mean just me and Sarah (my roommate—not me, myself, and I), or me, Sarah, and some of the rest of our group. So, the first walk we did was Le Place de la Concorde. For those of you who care, it’s the one with the obelisk and where all of the important government residences/consulates are.

What you probably don’t know is that this is also where there are a lot of very expensive, high-end stores, like Prada, Yves Saint-Lauren, and lots of other places that just sound fancy. This was an interesting walk because I was interested in all of the old buildings that house important people (like the President of France in Le Palais d’Elysée) and my roommate was interested in all of the shops. The result was that we almost missed l’Hôtel de Crillon, which our book told us we couldn’t miss.

This is apparently the most expensive and exclusive hôtel in Paris, and for you movie buffs, this is where Anne Hathaway’s character quits her job in “The Devil Wears Prada.” It is also where you can find Le Petit Palais,

and Le Grand Palais.

The commute

2010-05-05T10:45:00.000-06:00

First, I want to show you my walk to and from school every day. I’m pretty sure that I live in the most beautiful suburb (la banlieue) of France. Its called Croissy sur-Seine, and although I have not yet been down to the river, I have taken a picture of it from the RER (see below).

I take the right fork.

These pictures do not do it justice, especially since some of them were taken on cloudy days, so you can’t see all of the bright, vibrant colors. Also, the houses here are so cool!

So, every morning I walk about fifteen minutes to catch RER A1 (that’s the train that serves the suburbs, and the A is not the only one), which takes me into the metro system of the city. I get off at gare Châtelet where I find the line 1 metro to take me one more stop over to Hôtel de Villes where I can walk to l’Institute de Religion.The whole trip takes me about an hour, 20 minutes walking (15 in Croissy, 5 in Paris) and 40 minutes in the RER/metro.

The first real day

2010-05-05T10:06:00.000-06:00

Here’s what happened during my first full day in France: I woke up at 4:45 and couldn’t get back to sleep, so after two and a half hours of homework, I got ready and when everyone had assembled, we headed off to the BYU director’s apartment. My roommate, Sarah (who went there yesterday) told me that it reminded her of the house on the Bourne Identity. I think it’s a little bit smaller than that, but maybe it just felt that way because there were twenty-seven of us trying to use the space.
Anyway, after we took care of “business” (a.k.a. untraceable bills and fake id’s), we were ready for our first mission: Le Tour Eiffel. For those of you who don’t speak French, that’s the Eiffel Tower. ;)

It was pretty cool and I realized that every time I saw something I recognized I cooed a little (like, oooh!). I did that when I first saw the Eiffel Tower from the plane, I did it again when I saw l’Arc de Triomphe and when I saw Notre Dame for the first time. I thought it was a little nerdy of me until my director told everyone that you could see the Eiffel Tower from his window. All of the girls cooed and tried to crane their necks to see it. That’s when I knew it was nerdy.
I have to admit, the closer I got, the cooler it became. At first I thought, “Well, there it is. I’ve seen it a million times and there it is again,” but when you get right down under it,
its size begins to press down on you until you think, “Wow. That’s pretty cool.”Also, there were these guys there who were break-dancing under one of the legs. It was pretty cool, but my pictures do it more justice than I think it deserved. ;)

Then we headed off to l’Institute de Réligion (I think you can translate that one yourself) to see where class and church is going to be held. It was built in 1642 (or something, maybe 1624?) and is a national landmark.
By this time I was getting to be a pro at the metro (we’ll see if I still feel that way tomorrow when I take the RER into Paris and then the metro to where classes are held), so Sarah and I decided to do a little exploring ourselves before we had to be back to the hotel. Notre Dame is about a stone throw’s away from the Institute of Religion (or maybe three or four stone throws), we decided to head there. But shoot, this building was on the way, so we had to take some pictures of it. Darn (by the way, it is l’Hôtel de Ville, or the city offices, I think).
I’m sure I’ll visit this one a couple of times while I’m here, especially since it is so close to where I have class.
(in my defense, it was really bright and I was looking into the sun)

P.S. I want one.

Ma maison française

2010-04-30T04:29:00.000-06:00

To get to where I’m staying we took a forever long bus ride during rush hour in a huge pink bus (that I think was moving faster than some of the cars around us—magic?). But I think it was worth it.

Seriously? I think I will be posting way too many pictures of where I’m staying but this house is the coolest thing that could happen to me here. Here is my room (with a little kitchenette, couch, and huge TV)

and the room of my roommate.

We flipped a coin to see who got which room. I still can't decide who got the better deal.

This is how we get into the house, by the basement.

And how we get into the yard.

There is more to come, but it will have to wait until I get internet access again, which might not be for a while.

Le Valmy

2010-04-28T14:48:00.000-06:00

I promise that I won't post on every little thing that happens, but since I've checked into the hotel that we are at (we meet our host families tomorrow), I have:
found and used an ATM (okay, not that hard since I selected English as my language)
gone shopping for bread, jam, and nutella (mmmm!)
used Euros
ordered dinner and dessert in French
and managed to not yet make a total fool of myself.
Well, that last one might not be true but the rest are. ;)

We ate dinner tonight at Le Valmy (I don't know what that means, or if its just a name), but I had chicken and fries (they didn't have quiche, otherwise I would have had that), and for dessert I had a cream puff type thing whose name escapes me. Anyway, here are pictures of where and what I ate (it looks darker outside than it really was).

"Paris, nous attendons!"

2010-04-28T05:58:00.000-06:00

This is what my instructor has been telling me for what seems like forever, "Paris, we're waiting!" And now that I'm here and the waiting is over I feel like life was more real before I came here. Maybe that's because to start my journey off I met this guy (who was super nice by the way):

Then I had a row to myself on the flight to Dallas and from Dallas to Paris (9 hours) I sat next to a delightful older gentleman from Barcelona, Spain who apparently played soccer professionally for Barcelona, has traveled all over the world, and realizes now the importance of family. It was really nice just to hear him talk about his life. He was so nice, making sure that I had a way to get to where I was going (no, I did not tell him exactly where I was going) and money to get there. Also, both of my flights were exactly on time leaving and a little bit early arriving. Woot!

And then after that, a driver named Ahmed who's parents are from Morocco, took us through the CrAzY traffic of Paris (motorcycles form their own lanes, on the white lines, as do cars sometimes), where I saw this:

and this:

and this:

Any wonder why I don't feel like this is real yet?

woRk iN prOgrEss

2010-04-25T22:46:00.000-06:00

As you can see, the design of the blog is different, and it probably will change several more times until I find something that I really like. In the meantime, please bear with me and if you really like something, or if you find one layout to be more easily legible than another, please feel free to leave a comment.

I have been a little worried...

2010-04-25T15:48:00.000-06:00

...that this might throw a wrench in my plans for France.

Thankfully I just received word from my professor that he was able to land in Paris and that the airports are operating normally. Yay! So, I leave Tuesday afternoon, and arrive in Paris Wednesday morning, if all goes well.

For those of you who don't know about the Icelandic volcano that is causing such a ruckus, here is a little story about why I have been worried that I might not get to France.

Cutting the Cheese

2010-04-21T08:53:00.000-06:00

Lizzie told me a long time ago (four months) that I was going to be getting another Christmas present but that I would have to wait until Uncommongoods had it in stock.

Well, last week I got a package (packages are exciting!), and inside was this delightful little set.

Now I can feel like a real cheese connoisseur! Also, for my French final my professor got us bread and cheese to snack on while we worked. Don't worry. I brought these. :)

Grandpa is the coolest

2010-04-21T08:23:00.000-06:00

Here's a little update on Grandpa.

He's doing really well, although he's sad that most of his friends are dying or becoming incapacitated while he is still fairly healthy. However, he still has his sense of humor, as evidenced by this video.

Yeah, it's an old-school pack of tobacco.

So...

2010-04-20T22:41:00.001-06:00

....what do you think?

Please leave any comments here.

Thanks.

a little experimentation

2010-04-20T21:55:00.000-06:00

I'm just trying to see how pictures will look on here.

let's get dangerous

2010-04-20T21:51:00.000-06:00

So I've totally revamped the look of this blog. And I like it.
I am officially all done with finals. I like that too.
I'm getting ready to go to FRANCE. I like that even more.

Finally, things are starting to fall into place and I'm ready to fall into them. So lets go.

My Testimony of the Savior

2008-09-13T22:38:00.000-06:00

I thought I would start out this blog with sharing something very special to me, especially since it is a major part of who I am, and that is my testimony of Jesus Christ:

Jesus Christ is the Savior for all men. He lived a perfect life preaching the gospel of repentance. He performed miracles by healing the sick, maimed, and blind, raising the dead, and forgiving those who sincerely repented.

He paid for my sins and for the sins of every person who had lived or who would ever live. After He suffered incomprehensible pain and agony in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross, He freely gave up His life. At the end of three days He took his life back, rising as a resurrected and immortal being from the tomb. I know that He still lives today.

My testimony of the Savior is in large part why I am who I am. I know that He lives. I know that He loves me. I know that He wants me to be happy, and I know that this is true for all of His children.

"Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."
-Matthew 11:28-30 (KJV)