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Paris, France as seen from Sacre Coeur

It has been twenty-two days since leaving Nashville. Twenty-two days for two thousand different experiences. This being the longest I have ever been away from home; away from my parents; away from my bed; away from my friends; sorry bed, but it’s a fair trade. Though, there are many little things I do miss about America, such as: obese people, English-speakers (I cannot eavesdrop here), being able to do laundry, inexpensive restaurants, and high-quality toilet paper. With these pleasantries behind me, I have been left to explore this New World, myself, and the future as a whole (being 7-hours into the future, that is).

Wednesday, January 16, 2008:
Arrived in Geneve, Switzerland. Met up with Dominique, who then rushed me into his car, and then to the flat, where we both slept for a few hours. Groggy with a stomach ache, which can only be described as, “feeling like shit,” I awoke to find myself on a couch in a kitchen in a country in which I do not speak the language. This was not a good combination for my emotional stability, having never been away from home before. With much apathy, I followed Dom down the street to possibly the most adorable cafe ever conceived. It is as if the cafe from Amelie mated with antique-toy shop, only to produce a child with a genius-level IQ who only wears smoking jackets.

After sipping at some tea and shyly tasting some ‘pain chocolat,’ we started to make a short tour of the city. Geneve, as a whole, is covered with spray paint. One would assume that every child, upon reaching adolescence was given a can of paint and told to make himself known to the world. My first impressions of the rainy city didn’t help my homesickness, everything here just felt dirty and dilapidated. We walked through the shopping street, filled with Tommy Hilfiger, Levi, jewelry, watch, camera, and H&M stores. Though there was some interesting architecture, the majority of the city felt like it was a cancerous-consumer growth off of the old-town. Although I didn’t make it to old-town the first day, I was still able to see it there, sitting on top of a hill; its antiquated shutters filling up stucco walls.

Friday, January 18, 2008:
After spending my first two days in Europe terribly homesick and jet-lagged, I decided that it would probably be best to go visit my friend Hunter Claire in Paris. To reach my Parisian goal, I would first have to brave the dark arts of the French train ticket. Unbeknownst to me, there are in fact little numbers next to the train doors displaying the car number. Unfortunately, I made my way to seat 42 in what I thought was car two. After sitting there, with a feeling that can only be described as pride, a disgruntled French woman informed me that I was in her seat and that I should be in car 8. I thought she was unnecessarily rude, especially when there was no number 8 on my ticket (later I asked a French speaker about this as well, and there was nothing on my ticket about what car I should be in). Anyhow, I grabbed my stuff and ran outside in what I thought to be the direction of car 8. After running back and forth for a minute, I found the conductor who told me to just come back on the car I was already in and to sit down in a seat by a window in the back.

The train ride consisted of me anxiously hoping no one would approach me again, awkward nodding at the two people who sat across from me, one a nauseated French man, and later, a young awkwardly intimidating young-french-techno-blasting Satanist. The Satanist was the nicer of the two, he would lower the blinds just enough to block the sun from his eyes, and would open it again when it wasn’t as direct so I could continue looking out at the scenery. The ride from Geneve and Paris contains some of the most beautiful landscapes I have ever seen: little towns filled with tiny cottages, all surrounding the main church; mossy mountains with stony fingers, clawing at the many waterfalls; long rivers running through forests; streams running through green fields, red soil freshly turned.

I arrived into Gare de Lyon, a massive old train station with banisters covered in pigeon droppings, which is where I met up with Hunter Claire, and found myself again being swept off into a new city. I quickly noticed that Paris is a city of smells, some good, some bad, but all surprisingly random and just as interesting. Riding the metro, you go from the smell of body odor, to roses, to sewage, back to roses, then to chocolate, then to fresh bread, ending with the worst smell you could possibly imagine. The ride to the Legion of Honor school in Saint-Dennis, where Hunter Claire lives, gave me enough time to fully experience these many different nasal experiences.

Saint-Dennis is practically the immigrant ghetto of Paris, just to the north of the city, it is also home to the oldest gothic cathedral, the Basilica of Saint-Dennis. There is a large square for tri-weekly markets, surrounded by ethnic restaurants, junk shops, cafes, both for internet and coffee, and a movie house. The streets are long and dirty, filled with a tasting of people from around the world, which can lead to some interesting mixed couples. One of the most interesting aspects of Saint-Dennis, is the number of interracial couples and how accepting the people, while the rest of Paris is more inclined to raise an eyebrow at the subject.


Saint-Dennis, Paris, France - Hunter Claire’s Room

After dropping my things off and setting up my bed, we went to the Louvre, which is free on Friday nights. The Louvre was how I expected it; everything biggie-sized with a side of massive. I saw the Mona Lisa, but I was more impressed with the large painting directly opposite, though I do not remember the name or the artist. The entire experience is very overwhelming, there, in one building, is a collection of art encompassing the entirety of human history.

Sunday, January 20, 2008:

Went to Versailles, as with the Louvre, it is very overwhelming. At one moment you are amazed by the beauty and work put into this huge organism; every inch of the building contain hand-crafted detailing; every leaf in the massive gardens has been delicately placed; while at the same time you have to realize that this was built on the backs of the starving Parisians. Although, Marie Antoinette did have a place in her heart for the peasants; though it is completely ridiculous, she built her own little village where she could pretend she was living the hard-rugged life of a rural French woman. Complete with goats, thatched roof houses, streams and ducks, Marie Antoinette would milk cows, plant flowers, and talk to the ‘town folk.’

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The next few days consisted of a picnic in the Paris graveyard, having amazing hot chocolate, visiting Sacre Coeur, stuffing ourselves with Banana-Nutella crepes, walking around the red-light district (which is where they have the cheapest and most tasty crepes), seeing the Eiffel tower, walking around the outside of the Pompideou Centre, making dinner, watching dinner, seeing Notre Dame, visiting little cathedrals, trying salted crepes (not as good as sweet crepes, but what is), discovering the Latin quarter and the Jewish quarter, eating the best falafel ever, going to the Luxembourg gardens, exploring the Chateau de Vincennes, looking through the many markets, exploring the Musee D’Orsay, seeing the Rodin museum, reading Flannery O’Conner, and visiting the little Palace.

There is far too much to say about each one of these separate places, though it can be said that there was an abundance of walking involved and that each one was enjoyable. When walking around Paris you really feel as if you are part of something bigger, some massive body all moving towards the same purpose. Yet, Paris is filled with small quiet moments. Riding on the metro is loud, but when the doors open, for just a minute, if you listen closely, everything is silent and you can hear the sounds of music, then the door buzzer sounds and the noise returns.

If anyone would like to hear more about any of these things, or some of the other things we did, just ask and I’ll make a post about that specific story.

Saturday, February 2, 2008:
Hunter Claire and I took the train back to Geneve. Our seats faced the back of the train, so it was almost as if I was moving backwards through time to the start of my journey, returning to face the city which had left me homesick. Arriving in Geneve, Hunter Claire was left with a similar feeling as I had upon my first arrival into the city, one of emotional drain and dislike. While walking around looking for a place to eat dinner, we saw a rather terrible fist-fight, which didn’t help to put our disgust to rest. We eventually decided on a Mexican restaurant, but let it be said, the Swiss no not how to make a chimichanga, also it was ridiculously expensive. The Swiss franc is about 0.90 to the US dollar, and the food was around 20 francs…

Sunday, February 3, 2008:
We awoke to a completely new city, everything had changed. With the mountains in the distance, we walked around the city, taking in the sites, and enjoying the weather. We explored Old-Town, which was amazing, to say the least, sat in a few cafes, explored the lake, saw the world’s tallest fountain, visited Calvin’s church and saw his chair, and we came across a Russian orthodox church, which was beautiful. Exploring the city in the daylight overhauled both our previous feelings towards the once drab city.

Over the next two days we were able to do some sight seeing, go shopping, and just enjoy exploring an old European City. Many photographs were taken, many cobblestone alleys walked through, and many stairs climbed. Unlike Paris, Geneve is relatively small and has a uncrowded feel to it. The Old-Town feels like your own person medieval playground, with its many unique shops and cafes. My favorite store was the, Antiquites Scientifiques, which was filled with old cameras, arcane tools, and antiquated medical devices.

Today, Tuesday, February 5, 2008:
Hunter Claire returned to Paris. I am spending the day organizing my things for my trip to Germany on Thursday, catching up on email, and writing this post. My plans right now for the next few weeks are as follows:

Thursday, February 7, 2008:
Take train from Geneve, Switzerland to Wiesbaden, Germany - a 7 hour ride.

From the 7th until the 18th, explore Germany with Sylvia and her family.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008:
Return to Geneve, Switzerland.

Friday, February 22, 2008:
Return to Paris, marking the beginning of Hunter Claire’s two week vacation. The next day leave for Normandy, where we will stay for a couple of days. After which, we would get a France/Italy rail pass and travel around the two countries.

Monday, March 10, 2008:
Return to Geneve, where I will hopefully find Fred Clarke. Spend the next few days seeing the city and possibly some of Switzerland with him. Then possibly returning to America.

Most of these plans are still up for change, if anyone has a suggestions for what I should see while in Germany, or what we should do for the vacation, please let me know.