Go and Go and Go Some More

The days are whizzing by and these last few have been full of outdoor activities that highlight France’s natural beauty.  I think that people often conjure up an image of France that is all baguettes, stinky cheese, Parisian life, the eiffel tower, poodles, and fashion.  While these things certainly do exist, there is also a side of France that is less known, a side that’s full of big mountains, days upon days of hiking, intense rock climbing, and a love of nature and mountaineering.

I’ve stumbled on this image before, particularly in Chamonix (a world famous ski and climbing town in the Alps) and was lucky enough to experience this culture again.  I have a fascination and an admiration for true mountaineering and get excited whenever I’m around any aspect of it.  So after my long day of shoveling, I woke early with sore shoulders, but with big plans to hike the Etang d’Arang, a loop in the Pyrenees that includes a climb to a 2,400 meter col and an overnight stop at a lakeside refuge (mountain hut).

The hike was beautiful and very steep, about six hours up through rugged meadows and then to snow and rock.  As it’s early in the hiking season there was one part of the hike were the trail was completely snowed over, which required my hiking group to go off path and do some intense rock scrambling.  After already having slid fifteen or so feet on my stomach down a snow bank due to some slippery ice, my confidence towards scrambling over the wet rocks was limited.  With a very sheer drop below and ominous storm clouds above, this was not a fun part of the hike.  However, after I safely made it off the rocks (and practically kissed the snow covered ground in relief), I quite enjoyed the rest of the hike which was a simple decent to the lake.

(the lake near the refuge)

We were greeted by a very funny scene once we reached the refuge, 35 elderly french fisherman eagerly awaiting the start of the fishing season the following day.  The fishermen, clearly nostalgic for their younger glory days of mountaineering, had filled up on whiskey and wine and were chasing each other around the lake, shoving snow down one another’s pants, and singing french camp songs.  These companions made for a great story, but a poor nights sleep due to their snoring and singing.  Though after the quantity of alcohol they consumed, I was mightily impressed that they were able to pull themselves out of bed at five in the morning the following day to go shiver and fish around the snowy lake.

I’ve stayed in other mountain refuges in the alps and I think the concept is amazing.  Basically, they’re little mountain huts, nestled along popular hiking routes that allow backpackers to go on multi-day treks without having to lug around a lot of camping gear or food.  The huts provide beds, sometimes showers, and dinner and breakfast.  Some of them are really nice with warm showers and private rooms, while others are more rustic and are simply a roof over your head and a giant row of matresses (uni-bed) where hikers can roll out their sleeping bags.  However, even in the the simpler refuges, such as this last one I stayed in (no heating and cramped rooms), there was still a full dinner including soup, entrée, cheese plate, and coffee and cake.  The French may be more intense mountaineers then we realize, but that doesn’t mean they’re going to make any sacrifices when it comes to mealtime.

(French backpacks even have special baguette holders)

The next morning after a breakfast of bread n’ spread (also typical for refuges), we hiked back down to where we started, which was shorter and easier than the previous days hike, but still steep and with gorgeous views of the mountains.  It’s such a great feeling to finish a good hike with sore muscles, some dirt on your face, and a few cuts and bruises to show you really put in the work.

Yesterday (the day after the hike) and today were both very active days as well. Yesterday with a long bike ride and three hours of rock climbing and zip-lining at an outdoor park in the mountains and today with eight hours of shoveling and raking dirt and moving big rocks.  At this point I’m very tired, sunburnt, bruised, scraped, and sore, but also reminded of how our bodies are sometimes more capable than we realize.  To illustrate this idea, a quote from one of my favorite movies, Into the Wild, is:

“I read somewhere how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong but to feel strong. To measure yourself at least once. To find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions.  Facing the blind death stone alone, with nothing to help you but your hands and your own head.”

It’s okay to feel tired and sore, but to keep going anyway, it’s important to push yourself, then push yourself some more and some more, to understand just how far you can really go and how strong you can really be.

A Spot of Tea in La France

Hello all!  I promise I have not forgotten about my blog or my goal to post updates about my trip as I go, I’ve just been quite quite busy.  But I have lots to tell and foresee more blogging time in the next 7 weeks.

After my day in Paris, I took the overnight train to Toulouse and then a bus to the little mountain town (St. Girons) I’m in now.  All went smoothly enough, my ticket on the train was simply for a reclining chair as opposed to a little cot, so when I arrived in the morning I was feeling very sleepy.

(Downton St. Girons)

I’m not sure if I’ve explained fully, but for the first month of my trip I’m doing a program called help exchange, where I stay with a family and help out in the garden, on house repairs, cooking, babysitting, or with anything else they need.  In return, I get a nice room to sleep, good food, and I get to learn about a new culture or learn a new language.  I’m planning on staying with two families while I’m here, the first is in a small town in the foothills of the Pyrenees, and the second in the Loire valley.

After arriving on the train last Friday morning, I met up with my host family, had a tour of their house, took a nice shower, and went straight to work.  For the last few days I’ve been helping sand and assemble stairs, level dirt beds, and deep clean the bedrooms.  This has been combined with fun activities such as bike rides to the market, trips to the surrounding towns, and lots and lots of delicious food.

(My host family’s house – it’s beautiful)

Food-wise everyday consists of breakfast, morning tea and biscuits, lunch (with dessert), afternoon tea and biscuits, dinner (usually with wine), and dessert (sometimes followed by hot chocolate).  Meals have included home baked bread with butter and home made jam, fresh eggs, hearty soups, salmon quiche, pizza, pasta, rhubarb tart, and chocolate mousse.  Everything has been absolutely delicious, but I’m really hoping all my dirt shoveling and stair hammering is counteracting the extra amount of lait entière (whole milk), I’m enjoying.  I’m in the middle of reading the book French Women Don’t Get Fat, which adds a very interesting dimension to my time here.  While I think that the author (the CEO of champagne company Veuve Clicquot), has some good ideas, I’m not sure I’ve exactly seen them implemented in France.  So far I’ve just witnessed lots and lots of bread, cheese, and chocolate.

Most of my days have followed a pretty similar schedule, so I won’t give an overview of every single one, but I’ll share some highlights and things I’ve noticed:

Le Marché – On my first day off, the two other helpers (a couple from New Zealand) and I biked into town to check out the market.  It was actually quite similar to the ‘Saturday market’ back home.  Lots of hippies and fresh produce, but this one also included cute old French couples, and a plethora of local cheese and sausage.

The Weather – It’s actually been pretty bad overall, quite chilly and rainy.  Today was finally a beautiful day, the sun was shining, and I could see the mountains, huge and snowy above the green foothills.  I forgot how much I loved the sun, it actually felt good to get a bit of a sunburn.

The Architecture – Lots of old stone buildings, very cute houses with colored shutters, and old farmhouses, prime photography material.

Hard Work – Is really all about the attitude.  Today I spent six hours shoveling rocks and dirt in the hot sun.  I turned my music up, got into a good rhythm, and just went with it.  It may be cliché, but it’s important to remember that we really are capable of quite a lot if we don’t let worries or negativity get in the way.

New Cultures – Other than the hearty bout of frenchness I’m experiencing, I’m also getting my fair share of English.  The father of my host family is British, and him, coupled with the two New Zealand helpers, means I’m soaking up plenty of tea time and new lingo, an enjoyable and unexpected surprise.

Family Life – the family I’m staying with includes a French mother, English father, 3-year old daughter, and 9-month old baby boy.  The children are so so cute, and it’s lovely to be welcomed by complete strangers and get to share in their daily experiences, for example, the baby did his first real crawling just this afternoon.

Tomorrow it’s off to the mountains for an overnight hike to a lake in the Pyrenees, should be full of beautiful views and from what I’ve been told, killer hills, let’s hope I make it!

Paris Je T’aime

Bonjour tout le monde!  I have in fact made it to La France!  However, it’s been a while since I’ve slept, so please excuse any excessive rambling or spelling errors.  Right now I’m in a train station in Paris waiting to depart on an overnight train to Toulouse.  I was supposed to take a train directly from the airport to Toulouse around 11 this morning, however, that train was full, so here I am.  Sometimes you just know that certain travel plans aren’t going to work out.  For some reason, ever since I first saw the schedule for this morning train (about two weeks ago) I just had a sneaking suspicion I wouldn’t get on it.  However, as long as I’m actually able to get some sleep tonight, this rescheduled train ride may have just been a blessing in disguise, because guess what it meant?  An extra day in Paris!

  

(All packed up!)

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  I said goodbye to dear old DC indefinitely yesterday morning and headed to the airport.  After a quick flight up to Newark on an unpleasantly little plane, I was boarding my flight to Paris.  If you’ll remember, this is the flight on which I was so generously upgraded to first class, and let me just say, international first class is really just all and more than it’s cracked up to be. (I never realized how strange that expression was until I just wrote it).  The best part is the all the extra space.  I had my own little area with a huge seat that fully reclined into a bed, a tv with 85 movies to chose from, and lots of outlets and shelves to store things.  Other than that (but not as important to me) there was attentive service, free beverages of all varieties, and somewhat improved food.  The food still wasn’t superb, but the fancy menu describing it was pretty funny.

I decided to take full advantage of both the great movie selection and full bed and watched Casablanca (“we’ll always have Paris,” “Here’s looking at you kid,” “Riiiccckkkkk,” okay, I digress) and then curled up for a 3-hour nap.  Anyone who knows anything about my general sleeping ability on transportation or really anywhere that has anything less than ideal conditions (clocks ticking, lights on, etc) will understand that this is a huge deal.  I think that the two glasses of free United house blend chardonnay (great stuff, thinking about ordering a case…that was a joke…) may have helped.  Nonetheless, I woke semi-refreshed, downed two mugs of coffee and finished off the flight by watching Monte Carlo.  What’s that?  You find it strange that I can enjoy both Monte Carlo (yes, the movie with Selena Gomez) and Casablanca?  Well, I make no apologies, I’m a girl with diversified interests.  I think I can safely say that this was the most pleasant flight I’ve ever taken and it finished with a lovely view of the entire city as we landed.  That being said, as comfortable as it is flying first class, there’s something to be said for the camaraderie that’s built among economy passengers.  I’m sure many of you are shaking your heads in bemusement right now, but personally I think there’s more of an opportunity to chat with unique seat neighbors and I enjoy when the whole cabin claps when the plane has safely landed.  Or perhaps they’re clapping out of relief to be finished with their economy class flight.

Enough about the flight, I do believe my current sleep deprivation may be causing me to use extreme wordiness.  I collected my bag and headed to the airport train station to attempt and board my train for Toulouse.  Before arriving I decided to do my best to only speak in French, unless I’m bleeding from the head (that’s a little Gilmore Girls reference to you hardcore fans) or causing a scene with my inability to communicate, than French it is!  I headed up to the information counter and said my little bit (asking where to get my eurail pass validated and where to reserve my tickets) and in return I got a big smile and an answer in slow and understandable French!  Once I found the person to do the validating I went at it again, and this time she went along with me in French a while until she decided that the information she needed to tell me was too important for me to only half-understand and she then switched over to English, I finished up the conversation in French and checked it off as mostly successful interaction.

I decided to fuel up before tackling my plans to get myself to actual Paris to catch my train, so I grabbed a café au lait and a chausson aux pommes (apple turnover) and took a little break.  The pastry was ridiculously good for being from the airport.  I then found my way to the train station and realized that I could dump my stuff in a locker and have the rest of the day to explore Paris.  The train station is on the very edge of the Latin Quarter so I decided to just wander around the left bank and for a while.

(Pont des Arts)

One of the less pleasant things about Paris, something I think I always block out from my otherwise fond memories, is the difficulty to locate a bathroom in the city.  If you are lucky enough to find one, you’re going to half to shell out half a euro to actually use it.  I’m pretty sure I’ve spent about 5 euro on peeing alone today (too much information? Désolée).  The other place to find a bathroom is in a café, but this means you have to order a drink to actually use it, and then you’re faced with the same problem in another half hour.  It really is a privilege to pee in Paris.  After I’d passed by Notre Dame, I decided to face this challenge and pulled over at a little sidewalk café for another café au lait and of course, to use the restroom (or water closet as it is more fondly called here).

After downing my 4-euro coffee (merde), I decided it was time for more food.  Not wanting to waste any more money after that coffee, I decided to go Parisian style and grab some fixins from a little market that could hold me over for the rest of the day.  I bought 2 apples, two tomatoes, two carrots, a little block of goat cheese, and stopped at a boulangerie for a baguette.  From this experience I learned that it is very, very hard to take yourself seriously when you’re walking along the banks of the Seine with a 3-foot long baguette under your arm.  I kid you not, I was that person.

As I was enjoying my petite picnique a young French man who was walking along the river and swigging from a bottle of red wine (again, I kid you not!), asked me why I wasn’t enjoying wine with my meal, he wanted to make sure I knew that French wine was far superior to anything else.  We chatted a bit in French and after I decided I’d had enough conversation practice for the time being, I went on my merry way and wandered some more around St. Germaine des Près and ended up in the Jardin du Luxembourg to take a nice break and read a bit.  Along the way, I passed Les Deux Magots, Brasserie Lipp, and Café des Flores, all old haunts of Hemingway and Fitzgerald.

(Jardin des Plantes)

Even though my train doesn’t depart until 11 pm, after about 5 hours of walking after only 3 hours of sleep I decided I was pretty well spent and headed back to the train station to hang out, read, finish my baguette and fromage, and write this ridiculously long blog post.  I promise I’ll wrap this up soon, in fact I’m going to have to go cough on up another 50 cents for the WC soon, but I just wanted to finish with a few observations on Paris and the Parisians.

Both are undeniably cool and undeniably cliché.  There is something about the way the young gens de Paris stroll around wearing grey and black, drinking espresso, and smoking cigarettes, that emits a certain coolness.  They’ve got that je ne sais quoi that sets them apart from non-Parisians, and makes it obvious that no one will be able to quite equal them no matter how hard they try.  As far as Paris being cliché, it really is, but in the best of ways.  Young men swig wine out of the bottle at two in the afternoon, accordion music drifts out of small side streets, lovers hold hands as they walk along the seine, passersby really do have baguettes under their arms, sidewalk cafés are everywhere, and phrases such as pain au chocolate and je t’aime are constantly volleyed around.

Paris, there really is no other place quite like you, and I will be back for another visit in a month!

A Note on Mommies

With three days left until I leave, there hasn’t been much time for blogging around here, however, today is one of those special occasions that requires me to push aside some of my pre-Europe tasks and share a little mommy-love with the world!

I can say without a shadow of a doubt that my mother is the most caring, loving, and sweetest person I know.  She’s full of thoughtfulness, and empathy, and an admirable sense of right and wrong.  When I was younger, I didn’t think that I was all that similar to my parents, or necessarily want to grow up to be just like them.  However, with every passing day, I see myself resembling my mom more and more in big and small ways, and this makes me both happy and proud.

When I think of my mom I think of lilacs, english breakfast tea, avocado, gardening, mexican food, hiking, milk chocolate, bike rides, and reading.  Other than inspiring me and aiding me in achieving emotional and professional goals, her strength and activeness inspires me daily as well.  Behind her sweetness and petiteness is a fighter, who has biked from Oregon to Southern California, hiked all over the country, and who can pick herself up from any bike crash or bee-sting with a smile and a laugh about the accidents her tendency to day dream can cause.

So mommy, you’ve inspired me and loved me more than you can know.  Today is for you, go drink tea, ride your bike, and eat chocolate to your hearts content.  I hate being away from you today, but in two months prepare for hugs, cuddles, hikes, and some very-delayed mother’s day trinkets from all around Europe.  For today, I hope that these words and all the love I can send to you from the east coast to the west coast will suffice! I love you!