London, Part the First

It took us a little longer than planned to get there, but after a few hours delay (alleviated with bubblegum) we finally made it across (or rather under) the Channel and into St. Pancras train station. We literally hit the ground running, with just enough time to make it to the Rose theatre in Kingston for a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream starring no other than Dame Judi Dench. It was well worth the sprint too. The Rose theatre is a small space not unlike the Globe, with two levels of balconies that wrap around the sides. We could only see half of the stage from our seats on the edge, but even half of the production was fantastic. Judi Dench as Titania was fabulous (who knew she could do giddy and love sick so well?), but the real star of the show was Bottom the Weaver. It was an excellent production, everything that Shakespeare ought to be.

The next morning had a slow start, but we finally made onto the double decker bus into town. First stop: Westminster Abbey. I've been dying to visit the Abbey for years and years, so I was ecstatic to finally make it. It was a cold, rainy, grey day (what else would it be in London in the winter?), perfect for spending a couple of hours wandering around a centuries-old abbey full of tombs and ghosts and stories. The British have a different approach to touring churches than the French; in France you usually don't pay to get into the church itself, although there may be areas like treasuries or crypts that require a ticket. Photography sans flash is almost always allowed except during a service. In London they charge an arm and leg to get into everything (yay for student discounts), and they are quite strict about photography.

Whether or not pictures were allowed, Westminster was perfect. Audio guide in hand (narrated by Jeremy Irons; again, perfect) I wandered around reading inscriptions on tombs and monuments that ranged from inconspicuous to theatrical. As long as I spent in there I didn't see everything the Abbey has to offer; the place is crowded with tombs, monuments, chapels, etc. Here are the highlights: The Lady Chapel is breathtaking, lined with emblems of knighthood and topped with a breathtaking Gothic ceiling; I'd never seen anything like it before. A small radiating chapel is dedicated to the RAF, with stained glass windows showing pilots at the Resurrection. There is a hole in the stone made by German shrapnel, left unrepaired after WWII as part of the memorial to the brave souls who fought for Britain.

Perhaps my favorite part of the whole abbey was Queen Elizabeth I's tomb, tucked away in a small room to the side and as grand as any other in the abbey. I've always been rather partial to her (she was a redhead after all), and being there with her earthly remains sent me over the top. When she died the whole country went into mourning, and I found myself crying too (only about 400 years late for the funeral). She's buried with her sister Mary, an unexpected and touching gesture. Between intense pressure to produce an heir and incredible religious tension, their family was dysfunctional in every possible way (divorce, attempted murder, hysterical pregnancy, estrangement, execution, imprisonment...). Maybe there is hope for reconciliation in the next life, where they don't have the burden of the crown to carry.

After stopping by Poet's Corner and paying my respect's to Laurence Oliver and George Frideric Handel (one of my favorite composers ever) I wandered outside into the cloister. This moment was too perfect, and I was outside so..... I snuck a picture. With the green grass, gentle rain, cold winter air, how could I not?



The Coronation Chair also resides in Westminster Abbey, a symbol of a living monarchy in contrast to all the dead monarchs. It's fairly unassuming on its own, but it's a great symbol of stability enjoyed by few other nations. More about coronations and monarchy later.

I reluctantly left the Abbey, and we jumped back on the bus for the Tower of London, after a couple of pictures at St. Paul's.




The Tower of London is another spot I'd been dying to see (again, forgive the pun) for years, and I was not at all disappointed. Note: the Tower of London is NOT a tower, although there are lots of towers there. It's actually a royal palace (Queen Victoria's initials are on all the rain spouts), although not a royal residence. We arrived just in time for a tour led by a wonderful old Scottish Beefeater. Westminster is all about royal ceremony, pomp, and circumstance. The Tower is all about royal death, torture, and execution.



Our tour guide was an old Scottish Beefeater. No photograph could capture his accent, his dramatic storytelling, or his charm, so just imagine.



He reminded us several times that we were walking where Kings and Queens of England walked. I was geeking out the whole time (as you have probably gathered, I do that a lot here in Europe). At long last I saw Traitor’s Gate, where three Queens, the young Princess Elizabeth, and Sir (or Saint if you like) Thomas More entered the Tower, almost all to meet their deaths.




The British seem to be really into tradition and legend, and legend has it that if the ravens ever leave the Tower the whole thing will crumble into dust and catastrophe will befall the nation. King Charles I or II decreed that 6 ravens should be kept at the Tower at all times. They keep 8 there now, all with their wings clipped. They aren’t taking any chances.



The Crown Jewels are also there, well worth a visit. The tradition, ceremony, symbolism, and history that those items is truly remarkable. After watching footage from Queen Elizabeth's coronation, then seeing the crowns, swords, and scepters, that she and her predecessors have used for centuries, to be honest I was a little miffed about the American Revolution. The whole monarchy thing is REALLY cool and seems to work just great for Great Britain. Stupid Stamp Act. God Save the Queen.

Pont Neuf and Henri IV

Since I first read about him in French 202, Henri IV of France has captured my imagination, and I was finally able to visit parts of Paris that are a part of his legacy.

Like many interesting monarchs he wasn't the most savory of characters, and his reign could be seen as pragmatic and self serving or open minded and ahead of his time. I tend to fall between the two extremes. He made his royal debut as Henri of Navarre when he married Margot, sister of the king Henri III. Poor Margot wasn't too thrilled with the match; Henri of Navarre was a smelly Prostetant, while Margot was a faithful, and hygienic, Catholic. Their marriage was eventually annulled, but they enjoyed a sort of bizarre friendship for the remainder of their lives (she had a sweet place to live in Paris too, in what is now the Marais). When Henri III failed to produce an heir, Henri of Navarre claimed the throne. Needless to say the Pope wasn't crazy about the idea of Huguenot king in France, and neither was the Catholic League in Paris. After a few years of bloodshed and a horrific siege on Paris, Henri of Navarre infamously decided that "Paris was worth a Mass" and converted to Catholicism. Neither the Pope nor any other Catholic European power (like Spain) could argue too much, and Henri was duly crowned and welcomed to Paris by a population tired of war and starvation and ready for a new start.

In spite of numerous mistresses and copious gambling debts, Henri was able to do some good things for France, most notably the Edict of Nante, granting numerous civil and political rights to Protestants and ensuring civil harmony for the next several decades. He also had big ideas for Paris, and although some of his projects were not completed during his life, he left his mark on the city.

The Place de Vosges was never completed during his life, but it was his idea and so he gets the credit. It's a charming square surrounded by homes with uniform, symmetrical, brick facades. The square is full of trees, a welcome sight in a city like Paris, and now holds a small playground. It was designed for parades and other events, but became a popular place for dueling etc. Richelieu lived there at one point, and a couple of centuries later Victor Hugo took up his residence there as well.



Pont Neuf was started by another king, but was completed under Henri IV's supervision. It's still there today as Paris' oldest bridge, I think. A wide, stone bridge was kind of a big deal in a big at that time, when bridges were often overcrowded with shops, pedestrians, and even houses, and had a tendency to collapse.

Henri IV ruled France until his death in 1610. He did not go peacefully. One day as he made his way through the crowd Rue de la Ferronerie, a fanatic Catholic leaped into his phaeton and stabbed him three times. The king died almost immediately, and the nation went into mourning. Today the rue is still there, and there is a plaque marking the spot where the dreadful deed occurred; but Parisians have moved on. As I stood there remembering one of my favorite monarchs, diners smoked and drank at the Banana Café and teenagers ran around texting like crazy. Sometimes I wonder about Parisians.

C'est tout ce que j'aime - Eating in Paris

All the stories are true: the French enjoy on a daily basis some of the best food you could ever hope to eat, from cheeses and pastries to yogurt and Nutella, from exquisite fruit to savory vegetables. The way the French typically cook (at least the food I've eaten anyway) you can really taste what you're eating, and it's okay to sit and enjoy it for a little while.

Now, this attitude about food does not translate well to McDonalds. There are several here in Paris and they seem to do good business. There's even one in the food court outside of the Louvre, which seems a little criminal to me. I don't know about you, but when I go to McDonalds I expect to drown the stresses of my day in greasy, salty French fries and a burger that tastes entirely of ketchup, pickles and onion. This is not to be found here, though. I had the P'tit Moutarde (even French is not immune to the McDonald's menu) and fries. The fries actually tasted like potatoes, and the mustard on my little burger was pretty tasty. But in spite of the novelty, and the sugary fry sauce, I still had the feeling that I always do after eating at McDonalds: I'm not really sure that it's actually food. When you take away the salt and grease, McFake Food just doesn't do for me what I want it to.

Paris also has some great international food to offer. Everyone in our program went out to a Moroccan/Arabic couscous place the other day, which was fantastic. I didn't always know what I was eating, but it was all really good. We've also enjoyed a Lebanese stand at the market here on Bvd Richard Lenoir, where again I didn't know exactly what I was eating. It tasted great, though, and I'm still alive and well. There is also a Tibetan place I want to try, as well as Jewish bakeries in Marais and even a Tex Mex café (called Indiana) down the street.

Here's what I eat on a typical day:

Petit Déjeuner (Breakfast): This meal is pretty much the same every day. Madame gives us pain grillé avec de confiture (toast with jam); jus d'orange (orange juice); and chocolat (hot chocolate).

Déjeuner (Lunch): This depends on where I am and what I'm doing around lunch time, which varies quite a bit day to day. I drink Orangina (imagine tangy, pulpy, carbonated orange juice) every chance I get. Sometimes I pick up a pastry, baguette, or crêpe (with Nutella of course). Other times I a sandwich (always on crusty baguette) or a panini. If I'm at home I eat yogurt too, and let me tell you, I will miss French yogurt badly when I leave.

Diner (dinner): Madame cooks for us three nights a week. Those are really good nights. We eat at about 8, which has taken some getting used to since my American stomach is used to eating much earlier. The main course consists of a meat dish and lots of vegetables. Once we finish that we have a little salad with vinaigrette, then she passes around a plate of cheese. There's a basket of bread on the table throughout the entire meal. We finish off the meal with a light dessert, usually a piece of fruit like an orange or pear. Once we had baked apples that were just to die for.

Tonight was particularly exciting, since Madame made RATATOUILLE! I had asked her about the movie a few days ago, so she made some for us tonight, maybe just to laugh at my horrible pronunciation. I really struggle to say ratatouille right. Shejust says "je pense que ce mot est difficile pour toi" (i think this word is difficult for you). However you pronounce it, ratatouille is delicious and it was very nice of her to make it for us.



p.s. I'm taking hundreds of pictures, literally, and I can only put a few on the blog. If you want to see more follow the links in the sidebar.

The Grand Tour

I've been promising pictures of the apartment I live in, and now I can finally deliver. I was waiting for a nice sunny day so I could have natural light. Silly me. It's Paris, and it's winter. We have had cold, wet, rainy days, which I actually enjoy quite a bit. The sun has come out a couple of times, which was cause for much rejoicing; blue sky is so much more beautiful if you've been without it for a couple of weeks.



Now for the tour: we live on Blvd Richard Lenoir just up the street from the Brégeut-Sabin station on line 5 of the métro. François Richard-Lenoir (according to wikipedia.fr) was an 18th-19th century investor who brought the cotton industry to Paris.



That may not be terribly thrilling, but the fact that we can see the former site of the Bastille from our front door is pretty cool. Our building was built in 1850, which Madame said was not very old. That first night I didn't believe her, but after a couple of weeks in Paris I agree.



There are codes to get into the door from the street, then we climb into a tiny elevator (seriously, three adults can be squished in and that's it) and climb up to the 4me étage, or the 5th floor.



My roommate Angela and I each have our own room. I love my little room! It is very little, but after living in college apartments and dorm rooms for the last 3 years, having my own room no matter the size is a luxury I enjoy. It's actually very
cozy; I have a desk, two dressers, and a wardrobe (I haven't made it into Narnia yet, but any day now...); the wardrobe and a dresser have to opened with an old skeleton key.



I have a window that opens and that looks out onto the street.



Did I mention I love my room?

We share an American style bathroom just down the hall. That's right folks, the toilet is in the same room as the sink and shower. Crazy sauce. What's funny is that right next to our salle de douche (since we have a shower, not a bathtub) is a little water closet with a toilet that Madame uses, and across the hall is Madame's bathroom (salle de bain, since she has a bathtub). She is very accommodating for the American students who live with her, but remains ever and always very French herself.

The kitchen, where we eat breakfast, is absolutely adorable.



From the kitchen window we can see into an artist's apartment downstairs and across the courtyard. He or she paints large canvases Jackson Pollock style; even the drapes are covered in paint of all colors.



We can also look out across the rooftops and chimneys to a very nice sunrise, if we wake up in time.



I don't spend much time in the living room, but I really should. I'm hoping, fingers crossed, that Madame Des Mazery will want to watch the Olympic games as much as I do. She has a piano in there too, which I enjoy playing every now and then.



We eat dinner with Madame three nights a week in the dining room. It's a bit more formal then I'm used to, but she's very patient and tolerant of our funny ways. I think she sometimes gets a kick out watching us wonder how to eat a new cheese,
or hearing us say yes when she asks how our day was.



In the evenings when I'm at my computer it's surprisingly and dangerously easy to forget where I am. I've gotten used to the routine of breakfast, going out, and coming back here. Thankfully something happens everyday to remind to keep soaking up everything I can. Yesterday I was trying to find a grocery store, and all of a sudden there was the Eiffel Tower all lit up. Today I stood in a church where Cardinal Richelieu said mass, ran into (literally) a Jesuit (I'm still geeking out about that one), and walked down the street where Henri IV was assassinated. So even though in the daily habits I sometimes forget where I am, it still blows my mind. I'm in Paris.

Paris in Layers

One of the classes I take here is called Paris Walks, which is what it sounds like; we take walks through Paris (designed by BYU professors), and write about our reactions. Bummer of a class, I know.

The first walk in the book explores the many layers of Paris, and believe me, there are many. There have been people living here on the banks of the Seine since well before the time of Christ, and while a lot of other sites can compete for the age prize (take Stonehenge for example, the biggest henge in the world, although nobody knows what a henge is...), it's not often that you can find somewhere like this where people have lived continuously. For over 2300 years, from Celtic Parisii to chic Parisiens, Paris has been here in one form or another. It just keeps changing and evolving, over and around and on top of what is already there.

The earliest of these historical layers can be found outside of Notre Dame, beneath the Parvis de Notre Dame in the Crypte de Parvis. As you walk down the stairs into the crypte archeologique, you'll find yourself among the carefully excavated remains of gallo-roman walls and roads. As you walk around the exhibit, you'll also see a Roman arena, bath, even an ordinary Roman house. Interspersed with all of this are more modern ruins, like a 16th century home and a 17th century orphanage (I may have those centuries a bit off, but you get the idea). Throughout these ruins runs the remains of roads that date back hundreds of years.



Back above ground stands the magnificent Notre Dame de Paris, one of Paris' most famous monuments. According to Dr. Cropper, who planned this walk, the site where the Cathédral now stands was once a place that pagan Romans prayed to their gods. Later, around the sixth century AD a romanesque was built.



The structure there now is the product of centuries of building (it took 137 years to build it in the first place), tearing down (those Revolutionaries got a little carried away sometimes), and restoration (Victor Hugo, you da man). It remains to this day an active place of worship, with Masses every day and priests available for personal, spiritual discussion and confession.

Later on several of us went to visit Saint-Denis, the pet project of the Abbé Suger who was a major proponent of Gothic architecture. Within the church can be found the tombs of many French kings, as well as beautiful stained glass windows and stunning vaulted ceilings. The church is now in the midst of unexpected surroundings: the walk from the train station to the church is a neighborhood full of immigrants of African, and often Muslim, origin. In the midst of Muslim boucheries, women in burqas, and babies tied to their mothers' backs with brightly colored cloth sits a medieval icon of the French Gothic style.



These layers of history that surround you as walk around Paris are what make this city so exciting. There is always something happening, and it happens right next to or right on top of the last place that something happened.

La vie quotidienne

It's hard to believe I haven't been here for even a week yet; we've been so busy and done so much that it feels like longer. And even though I've spent all day everyday out and about the city I've barely scratched the surface of what this place has to offer. Our apartment couldn't be in a better spot (by the way, it wasn't built until around 1850, which according to Madame Des Mazery isn't that old. I beg to differ.). Our metro station is Brégeut-Sabin if you want to find us on a map. I'll be getting pictures of the apartment up here soon, but right now everything is in disarray because Madame is rearranging stuff.

Yesterday my roomie Angela and I found the Latin Quarter, which is so far my favorite neighborhood. It's called the Latin Quarter because it's the home of the Sorbonne, and hundreds of years ago all the students there spoke Latin. It's still crawling with students today, and so the shops and restaurants cater to the poor student crowd instead of the tourist crowd around Notre Dame or Montmartre. I had my first French crêpe (with nutella, of course) there, and found some great used book stores that are just fun to be in.

Speaking of stores, Angela and I also ventured out to Les Gobelins to get some groceries at Carrefour, a big chain grocery store. The store has two floors, or étages, with escalators connecting. There's a special escalator for shopping carts, too. The produce section comes first, along with great bread. Then there is an entire wall of cheese, and another one of yogurt. French yogurt is delicious, by the way, and I bought the cheap Carrefour stuff. If you're looking for canned or frozen goods there's not much to choose from, although there is an entire chain (Picard) dedicated to selling surgelés (frozen food). The chocolate aisle offers a variety of Kinder products, and a half dozen brands of nutella type spreads. Even the cheap stuff is delicious. There's a section of the International aisle dedicated to Mexico; there you can find Old El Paso tortillas, salsa, and taco seasoning.

Today was our first Sunday in Paris, so we all met up at church on Rue St Merri. The Paris ward (Paroisse Paris) is an eclectic mix of people from all over the world who speak all kinds of languages. Most of the new members are immigrants as far as I know, so the missionaries are kept busy translating the meeting into Mandarin. None of the Relief Society (Societé de Secours) Presidency are native French, although our teacher was. We have a YSA Sunday School and a very active Institute that all of us BYU students are encouraged to attend. The ward is very welcoming; the Relief Society had cookies and Eiffel Tower keychains for all of us.

For those of you not on facebook, here's a link to some of the pictures I've been taking. I'm still figuring out the best way to show these to everyone.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/46735352@N02/




On the way home the other night Seine looked fabulous:

Love at First Sight

It was a while before I actually saw Paris since it was so foggy when I landed, but once I got out and about with the rest of the group, I felt right at home. Prayers are being answered beyond anything I hoped for.

I'm sitting now in my little room in an apartment just a few blocks from where the Bastille once stood. In fact, I think this apartment was here when the Bastille fell. This is going to be the best semester ever: I have my own room, I take the metro to school which is only 3 days a week and never before 11, I live in a place that screams "18th century!!!!!" and oh yeah, I'm in Paris!

It's been a busy couple of days, and unfortunately I don't have time to write about everything since my battery is dying and my power adapters only support 2 prong cords. I hope to fix this problem soon. We saw most of the major sights from the Seine on our lovely river cruise, then visited the Louvre after a good night's rest. Notre Dame took my breathe away.



The Eiffel Tower looks different in person, at least to me. It looks bigger and sturdier. It's so beautiful seen from the Siene, in its odd sort of way.




The Mona Lisa is not as small as I've heard some people complain. I think she's smug because everybody comes to see her. How many other women enjoy that kind of popularity at her age? At any age?




There is so much more to tell but no more time! More pictures to come; I'm setting up a flickr account where I can upload everything. Maybe I'll be blogging more than once a week after all. We're about to have dinner with Mme Des Mazery, our lovely hostess. She doesn't speak that much English, whether by choice or ability I don't know. It's going to be an adventure, though!