Hello all, and happy
December!
I hope that you somehow
hold it in your hearts to forgive me, gentle readers, for having held you in
suspense on my life happenings these past weeks.
Academics at Sciences Po
have proven to be more time-consuming and challenging than I ever would have
anticipated, but enjoyable nonetheless ; I feel as though I have learned a
great deal, and a great deal more of how much I have yet to learn.
This past month has been
filled with little but research and essays, and an increasingly-challenged and
distracted mind has found it hard to fit time for a blog update in the gaps
among Somali clan institutions, the position of the individual in public
international law, the tensions between democratic global governance and
collective security, and the Korean War's impact on the course of the Cold
War...it all leaves me with a richer understanding of my studies, to be sure,
but also feeling overwhelmed by how little I actually understand of what I
study, if that makes any sense.
In any case, an update is
more than appropriate, but how to fit all that which took place (outside of
classes and schoolwork) in the past five weeks in a quickly and readable
account is a challenge. I decided, therefore, to write about diverse events
along the semi-unifying theme of "Southern visits": a visit to the
Southeast of France, visitors from the South who passed some time in Paris, and
a visit from French friends to a semi-Southern-themed Thanksgiving dinner.
A visit to the South
of France: Gap, Briançon, and Grenoble
My Sciences Po buddy
(through "le buddy programme" of Sciences Po's exchange program),
Louise Perrodin, invited me to spend fall break (27-31 October) with her,
Clémence and Louisa - two of her French friends - and Dmitry - a Russian exchange
student, in a lakehouse near the city of Gap and in the city of Grenoble, in
the southeastern part of France. Of course I jumped at the offer, not knowing
when next (if ever again) I would get a chance to be in that part of France
again.
I had very little idea of
what to expect from an invitation to spend some days at a lakehouse in a part
of the world I had never seen, but what passed was a wonderful visit in what
was one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited.
The "lake house"
(which is actually a full-blown house by any standard - spacious and solid yet
at the same time charming, constructed of stone and sturdy wooden doors,
furnished by comfortable sofas and kept warm by a large fireplace) is
beautifully situated near the shores of Lac de Serre-Ponçon, some hours drive
south of Gap, in the Alps's "foothills" (the mountains were still an
imposing skyline, to be sure). Artificially made, the lake is nevertheless both
enormous and, surrounded as it was by deciduously-forested hills and then, a
little farther out, the snowy peaks, simply beautiful (and that was before it
snowed the first night we were there). I snapped several pictures from the deck
in the back and from the shores of the lake and will put them (along with other
photos that correspond to this blog post) on Facebook as soon as I figure out
how my user-friendly (but nevertheless a challenge, for this guy) iPhoto
program works.
The time spent in that
house mostly revolved around recovery from the mid-semester point : sleeping,
eating, drinking tea, reading, and watching films, broken up by long, bracing
walks down alongside the lake's shore or higher up near the start of the
mountain's footpaths. The meals were definitely a highlight, as collective
efforts led by Louise and Louisa produced crêpes with emmental cheese one day,
raclette cheese warmed by the fire and cut in melted slices onto baked potatoes
and salami another, and chocolate in various forms – bars of, nutella, or hot
cocoa - almost continuously. The conversation that passed was also worth
savoring, freely ranging along politics (the French are nothing if not critical
of American politics, though not always unkindly so, and I am learning a great
deal from those criticisms) and culture (my ignorance about American culture was
once again revealed to me by conversations with Dmitry, who, though Russian,
knows more about American literature and music than almost anyone else I know) without
ever becoming abrasive and usually as warm and friendly as the roaring fire
that we started on our arrival and didn't put out till we left.
All in all, those days at
that lake house made for a wonderful convalescence from the first couple of
months of schoolwork at Sciences Po.
From Lac de Serre-Ponçcon
we drove to Grenoble via a small town named Briançon. Briançon is very much an
Alpine town, quite near the border of northern Italy (the signs there were
largely bilingual and the architecture notably Italian). It is small, quiet and
charming, the town itself dominated by la Collegiale de Notre Dame et St
Nicolas, a beautiful church, and the mountain above it dominated by
fortifications built to defend the area from invasion from the east and since become
cultural and historical landmarks. We were only able to stay in Briançon for a
couple of hours before we had to leave for Grenoble, but it definitely was
apparent from what little time we spent there that one could easily spend much
longer taking in its particular prettiness, especially lit up at night.
We arrived at Grenoble late
that evening.
The next morning, we took
the little egg-shaped cable cars up the side of the mountain to the Bastille.
This is not the fort-turned-prison that the French revolutionaries tore down on
14 July, 1789 (Bastille Day; the semi-equivalent of the American 4th of
July), but is, rather, a mountain fortress (before "bastille" came to
be associated with the Bastille in Paris, it only signified a fortress, generally) and
an accompanying network of mountain caves that overlook the city, key
components of the French alpine defense. There was a neat little military
museum at the top that we visited briefly before hiking down the side of the
freezing and fog-shrouded mountain.
The rest of the day was
spent walking through the streets of Grenoble, which were definitely different
from those of Paris. For one thing, all of the public transit is above ground because
the rock is less-than-conducive to subway construction; tramways dominate the
city and, along with the gardens and semi-classical architecture (Grenoble is
one of the oldest cities in France, dating to BC times), rightly gives it an antiquated
feeling.
I definitely would have
enjoyed spending more time there but had to leave shortly after dinner. My
train was 1/2 hour late, but Louise and my newfound friends were kind enough to
wait with me in the freezing rain until it finally arrived to take me back to
Paris.
Visits from "the
South"
Soon after I returned to Paris, I was visited by four
University of Georgians (Universityans of Georgia?) who were studying abroad in
Oxford, across the way. Two of them - Anisha and Blake - I knew quite well, and
two I hadn't yet met. They had all four come to Paris to see what they could
see, as quickly as possible, in four short days, and that I got to see them for
two of those was a real pleasure.
Anisha, Blake and I passed
a wonderful together eating a typically French meal (escargot, salmon, salad,
duck, etc) in a typically French manner (ie, a quite paced manner; it took us
somewhere around three hours to finish, I think). It was a wonderful meal (the
first time I had ever been intentional to eat at a truly French restaurant) and
it was a joy to be able to share with them a little of the past few months in
Paris for me and, even more so, to hear from them the highs and lows of Oxford.
More than anything, it was just good to see some familiar faces after a few months
without familiar contacts.
The next day, all five of
us UGA-ers met up for crêpes/waffles/gelato by Fontaine St. Michel for their
final night in Paris; again, it was good to pass time among familiar friends,
faces, and topics of conversation.
A short while later, I got
to pass the evening with Howell, a friend from UGA who was visiting Paris,
hearing from him the news around campus and sharing with him some of the
highlights from my time thus far in France.
All in all, those few
visits were enough to give me a bit of a taste of Georgia. I needed
them/appreciated them more than I realized at the time, I think, given how long
it had been since I had been without any semblance of familiarity. As much as I
enjoy travel, new sights, and new experiences, and as much as these things are
important and valuable, I do miss good ol' UGA at the same time.
A Southern
Thanksgiving meets a French dinner party
One of my main extra-curricular/personal projects I
had for this semester was to prepare a Thanksgiving feast to celebrate with
some of the French friends I have been able to get to know since arriving a few
months ago.
I had decided on doing this
since mid-October, or so, and, since early November had been in the process of
planning and gathering ingredients (some of which, like cranberries, which are indigenous
to the Americas, are somewhat exotic in France, and thus take some time to
locate).
Thus it was that, with some
help of a missionary here in France, my landlord and his wife, and some others
from 72 Sèvres (the church that I attend) - to say nothing of the numerous
phone calls back home to mom and the many hours spent on various homemaking
websites (I learned more than I ever wanted to know about green bean
casseroles) - that I had a pretty serious operation planned for the Saturday
after Thanksgiving.
The menu, as I planned it,
incorporated at least a few Southern tastes: Turkey, stuffing, mashed sweet
potatoes, green bean casserole, carrots, peas, Southern-style sweet tea, Coca
Cola, and cider, with pumpkin pie and whipped cream for dessert. It promised to
be a real feast, large enough to be French lunch and dinner, and, thus, eaten
in the afternoon (much to the confusion of many of my guests, actually, who are
accustomed to eating lunch at 13h00 and dinner at 20h00).
Though I faced a few
serious setbacks during the morning cooking and more than one challenge
threatened the success of the whole meal (such as molded carrots and a literal
run to the grocery store to buy some more, the continually-clumpy gravy that I
couldn't mix with a fork no matter how many times I tried, and other hilarities),
it nevertheless turned out to be an edible, and, in some ways, even enjoyable
menu with some really good conversation and cultural exchanges.
Explaining the history of
Thanksgiving, the size of wild turkeys, the various North American and
specifically Southern traditions, and some of the menu items (Pumpkin Pie,
above all, was absolutely unknown to most of them, and cranberries were truly
exotic to everyone there) to my French guests was an honor, and I hope I
represented one of my favorite holidays mostly accurately. In any rate, beyond
the bumbling French explanations of American and Canadian cultural traditions,
the meal and the many hours of cards that we played afterwards passed well, to
the extent that I would call my first Thanksgiving away from home a success (to
which no small amount of credit goes to the aforementioned people who helped
me).
On that note, let me just
say to my many faithful readers, friends and family, Canadians, Yankees and
Suth'ners, one and all, then, that I wish you each and every one an ex-post
Happy Thanksgiving and a Merry start of the wonderful Advent season. Hopefully
I’ll be able to be a bit better about updating with shorter, more frequent
posts over the winter break.
Joseph
