A tale of Two Teams...

As most of you probably know, I play lacrosse at Cornell. I plan to continue playing this coming spring, so naturally one of the most important thoughts in my mind this semester was keeping in shape and making sure I get to practice some lacrosse. I really had no idea what that was going to entail, whether I'd have a track and a field to play on, or just a brick wall to throw the ball against and park to run laps in. It actually turned out much better than I had ever anticipated.

I decided to try a google search, and the first thing I saw was a link to a website called Paris Lacrosse. I wasn't sure whether it would be all french girls (and boys, they practice at the same time on the other half of the field), and if I would have to talk on the field in french (for those of you who don't know, lacrosse involves a lot of communication and it is very quick thinking, so the prospect of doing it in french really frightened me). After mistaking a southern (american) accent for russian, I soon realized that most of the players there are like me: americans who are living or studying in Paris who had played lacrosse in the states and wanted to keep it up. There is one girl who played club at Michigan State who is doing graduate school, another from Maryland who played at a pretty competitive high school program, and one who played club at Penn State (and who just ran a marathon in Athens, craziness). There are two others who lived in the states but who are also french, and have spent time in both countries. We also have a girl who played on the english national team, a japanese girl (our tiny, yet very sturdy goalie) who is doing grad school here, a german girl who played on their national team and who is studying here also, an australian girl, and finally, our one token frenchie. The skill level ranges from literally just hearing of the sport (the french girl) and playing for 10+ years (me, and almost the other american girl). I soon realized that although the lacrosse may not be at the same level as my college team, or even my high school team, I was in for an amazing fall with these girls.

I have never played, or well, practiced, without a coach; very quickly during the practices I found they were all looking to me, even though I am the youngest by about 3 or 4 years. I hadn't really thought about what learning/ playing a sport would be like without a coach until this semester, and more so until talking with one of the guys on the national team (the boys that play are mostly guys on the French national team). Devin learned in England, playing first on a mixed team then with just guys. Even now, on the French national team, they've had coaches, but from what he's told me they haven't taught him much. He was telling me how much he would love to be told how to do things and what to do, instead of having to just try stuff and figure it out on his own. He really wants to go to the states to get his MBA, and he is trying to see if he could get involved with the college team wherever he goes; I naturally asked if he would consider trying to be a graduate assistant coach, because I know they do that. Not only did he insist that he doesn't know enough about the sport, but he assured me that he knew nothing about coaching. It really struck me, because even though I wouldn't necessarily say I've had wonderful coaches all throughout my lacrosse career, I have had coaches, and although I don't say even now that I know everything about the sport I have never really been at a loss for how to coach (that might just be me though, I don't know). He said he would kill to have a really good coach to learn from. In just talking to him, you can see how much he wants to play on a team; he was hanging on my every word when I was talking about practices 6 days a week, lift and conditioning, and film sessions. But most of all, I think he really wants to just be part of a team, that is connected through hard work and sacrifice, knowing that everyone there has one goal and that everyone works toward that same goal together every day. It really made me miss my team, and just the experience I have with my team every day, working as a unit, getting better and being a force to be reckoned with. I also felt kind of embarrassed next to his sheer desire to play, because I am sure that many of the athletes who play D1 sports don't have the type of yearning that he does, and it probably comes from the fact that he has been deprived 0f an experience, of an entire lifestyle that many of us take for granted. He follows U.S. college lacrosse incessantly, and knows more about many of the players and teams than I do. I really, really hope he gets the chance to find a team and experience that wonderful camaraderie and success.

So I am starting to be sad about leaving this team, as excited as I am to return to my Cornell team. I already inadvertently missed the first ever girls game played in France, and I am a little bitter about that still. I am also missing tournaments in the spring in Madrid, Amsterdam, and Prague; I'll just have to come back and make up for it. Women's lacrosse really has come so far in the world, and I feel like I've witnessed much of that growth this fall, as connections have been made with teams throughout Europe, and tournaments that were previously just for guys have been opened to girls because now there are enough teams. It is so inspiring to see other girls who are as passionate about the sport as I am! What's more, they have to work hard every day just to get to play; to get enough people, to get a field, to get equipment, to get opponents. I have never in my life had to work to play any of the sports I love, I have always had that opportunity, and I hope in the future it will be more available to people everywhere, because it has had a really positive effect on who I am today. I consider myself incredibly lucky to have found this team (and to have my Cornell team too, for that matter), and these individuals, not necessarily the best athletes, not necessarily the most driven, but who love this sport and love the way it brings people together. I feel like I have made friends that will last me for a long time, and I sincerely hope I can come back to France soon and get to play with them again.

palm trees make everything better

Especially coming from a place that resembles Syracuse in its weather. Now I love Paris obviously, but it isn't exactly a tropical vacation spot, so Rome was a wonderful November weekend away. And there are more reasons than just the palm trees and 75 degree days with cloudless skies.

Rome was probably my favorite destination outside of Paris yet. Although I hate to say this (I hate to feel it even more), but being in Europe has kind of desensitized me a little to the amazingness of some of these experiences; I'll admit, I wasn't freaking out about the fact that I was spending the weekend in Rome, like I probably would have a couple months ago. Heck, I see the Eiffel Tower almost every day and walk under the shadow of Notre Dame about as often as I eat bread, which if you know me, is frequently. But I was awed by Rome, the way I was first awed by Paris when I came in September. However, Rome unfortunately is a city that lives in the massive shadow of its past, leaving the present with not much to its own name.

We had three days to wander around this city, and we had more than enough to keep us busy. One of the first things I noticed that is starkly different from Paris is the everyday coffee shop. In Paris, if you want a good cup of coffee, you go to a café or a brasserie, sit down with a friend or two, and spend an hour and a half drinking and chatting. In Rome, you go up to a bar, wave a receipt in the waiter's face, slam back the espresso and you're outta there. Kind of refreshing to be able to grab a coffee on the go, but at the same time the French version has its merits. Yet another difference I remarked is that the main part of Rome is pretty small. To my friends that are studying there, a 15 minute walk is long. The fact that I could hit all the major sights walking around for about 3 hours blew me away, coming from a city where a 40 minute metro ride is common. Don't get me wrong, I am certainly not complaining, it made being a tourist that much easier.

Some of the obvious features of Rome: the many piazzas and their ornate fountains, the beautiful churches and greco-roman architecture, the ancient ruins, and the little cobblestone streets with tiny restaurants at every corner. I ate well, to say the least (including gelato at least twice a day. And they certainly are generous with their portions). In between the eating, we went inside some of the most magnificent churches I've ever seen, even in France. Another striking difference: I saw one gothic church in all of my wandering around Rome. These buildings did not look like what I would think of as a church from the outside, but the insides were the most intricately worked pieces of art, with gold everywhere, grand columns, and stunning grandeur. These churches were on a scale that rivals the gigantic naves of Notre Dame and other gothic cathedrals, but in a way I never would have imagined. Above all, there was St. Peter's Basilica, the most extensive display of embellished architecture and general artistic power. Which brings me to the other reason you go to the Vatican: the Sistine Chapel. Dark and quiet, this moderately sized room on first inspection seems no different from the many other rooms with mural paintings covering the walls (the Raphael rooms), but one closer look and you find yourself breathless. In order to share with you my experience, at great personal risk I took this picture of the ceiling, despite the signs saying no photos allowed (great, great personal risk).

Although the many churches were almost (almost) enough to make me want to convert to Catholicism, I'd have to say my favorite part of the trip to Rome were the ancient ruins. It blows my mind that these two histories could live (and still do) side by side in the culture that makes up Rome as it is today. They seem vastly different and even contradictory, yet they make up the legacy of the same city, reflecting a tumultuous and also often contradictory evolution of humanity itself (sorry, I just can't help it). The Colosseum is clearly a mind-blowing testament to an ancient time and people that remain enigmatic, yet equally memorable are the ruins in the Roman Forum, where the main part of ancient Rome once stood. The stones, columns standing alone without walls to support, and bereft shells of arches and buildings were haunting but at the same time inspiring. As obsessed with ancient Greek and Roman history/mythology that I am, I could hardly imagine the characters I've read and thought about so much living and breathing and touching this Earth. To walk among the ruins is really a humbling experience; I could not help but wonder what sort of remains we are going to leave on this earth for people to find thousands of years after.

Travels: Barcelona and Dublin

Sorry this has been a while coming, but I figure that means I am out living life instead of sitting at a computer all day every day just writing about it.

So Barcelona being my first trip out of France, it was definitely an eye-opening experience. It seemed to me like a giant tropical party compared to Paris. Although I loved visiting, it was funny to me that after a while I felt a little "homesick" for Paris (and for a language that I could understand). It was a beautiful, beautiful city, and I would say this whether there were palm trees there or not (palm trees do make things soo much better). I saw a lot of the greener aspects of the city, including Park Guell, which as a breathtaking view of the city nestled in these mountains overlooking the Mediterranean. At night, we walked along the beach next to all the clubs that attract many of the American students "studying" here (not Abby, of course). Aside from that major difference, the rest of the city was an interesting contrast to Paris, being a lot smaller and for the most part a lot newer. I had a wonderful tour guide give me the history of the older, almost claustrophobic parts of the city, which date back to the ancient Roman Empire. Apparently the Catalans were walled in by the Romans, and so couldn't expand their city for centuries. Finally, only about 200 years ago they were allowed to build outside the wall. As a result, most of the architecture is art-nouveau, aka really recent. It is kind of cool to say that I was in Barcelona during (and that I witnessed) the building of the massive cathedral Sagrada Familia (which looks a lot like a drip castle, I have to admit). I do think Gaudi must have taken a page out of Dr. Seuss's book for some of his buildings.

I was excited to go to Dublin not only because I am largely Irish but because I wanted some more stamps in my passport (everything else is in the stupid Schengen region). Dublin again was a refreshing contrast to what I've grown accustomed to in Paris: smaller, like Barcelona, but it seemed to me a lot less European. Grafton Street (the most famous tourist stretch) was just as I'd imagined / heard it would be, cute, cobblestones, little shops and bars. Temple Bar was also a picturesque Irish emblem, and I couldn't pass up trying a Guinness (very creamy, and not served warm). We also saw Trinity College, a beautiful little park that looked amazing with newly fallen leaves yet still green grass, and the Jameson Distillery. What I and all of my friends who had come with me from Paris were thrilled about especially was the fact that we could get a bagel toasted with cream cheese for breakfast! I hadn't thought much about missing bagels, with the whole "amazing baguettes/ bread" thing in Paris, but when I had one in Dublin I was reminded how much I love them. However, my favorite parts of the trip were when we took the train for a day to some of the areas on the coast just outside the city, including Dun Leary and Howth. If you picture quintessential Irish countryside with a cool, brisk breeze and cliffs overlooking stunningly blue, clear water, and then throw in a white horse or two randomly grazing in the hills, you've got it. It really takes your breath away, and reminds me why I sometimes feel a little stuffy in big cities. If there is one place I have to go back to in Europe, it is the countryside, especially in Ireland and France. But for now, I guess some famous thousands-of-years-old cities will have to do.

Just let me get it out of my system

It's not just that France has better bread and coffee (and cheese, and jam, and wine, and pastries, and cider, and chocolate, etc); among the many cultural differences, I am starting to remark some pretty fundamental discrepancies in the two educational systems and the political scene. (WARNING: This post may not be suitable for those who have not previously encountered the nerd in me. Reader discretion is advised.)

Everybody knows that French people like to go on strike. What probably even fewer people know is that for the most part, the strikes are an opportunity to have a big party/ parade in the street, with music and barbecuing and all-around a pretty good time. However, there are some deeply rooted traditions/ habits in the French culture that are strikingly (haha) different from those in American culture. I feel like I have a unique perspective after my experience working in Senator Schumer's office this summer, because I dealt with a lot of constituents and their complaints- I mean opinions. What I noticed right away was that there is no personal barrier to discussing politics with anyone. It is a free, open, unending discussion with anyone on any level of formality; despite the fact that they may seem like they are yelling viciously at each other, the next moment they are joking jovially like nothing has happened. In the United States, I've found that political discussions always turn personal. When has putting one's political views under scrutiny meant putting one's personal conduct under scrutiny? Furthermore, when did "you're a socialist" or "you're just conservative" become the end of an argument, instead of the beginning of a discussion?

In France, as their motto declares, there is more solidarity, more of an "all-for-one" feel to the way the public approaches politics. This probably can be partially attributed to the fact that many industries are much more centralized in France than in the U.S., so that when the government changes something, such as retirement, then many, many employees are affected. But in the U.S., instead of striking, I feel like there is one person and a small group who gets together and expresses their outrage, then there is some behind-closed-doors deal and all of a sudden the issue is over, and no one knows what really just happened. It is undeniable that America has deveoped a culture that is much more focused on the individual, and diversity and the myriad of opportunities available to the individual. I think it is indicative of cultural ideals that have been nurtured for centuries; I do not want to say that one way is better than the other, it just is fascinating to me to see how unspoken values and ideals can produce such a wide variety of cultures.

On the other hand, the educational differences are much more difficult to put your finger on. I've tried to solidify my theories over the past few weeks of classes, but it all started in the first week, during our "intensive language classes". They were supposed to be grammar/ language review, as well as an opportunity to ask questions to native french speakers/parisian inhabitants, though my class not at all the former and almost completely the latter (which was fine by me). We spent hours on "methodology", which basically meant learning how to write a paper all over again. Before I go into those differences, it is important to know that in the French (or at least the Parisian) school system, most schools are public, and the curriculums are all coordinated by the government, which means that you write the same types of papers and learn the same types of things. French high schoolers specialize around age 16 begin preparation for the baccalaureate exam (which is probably functionally the equivalent of the SAT, though it is much more difficult, requires more preparation, and actually tests real knowledge). After the test, there is no culture of choosing/ applying to colleges, and then moving out, going far away, etc. If you live in Paris, you go to the University of Paris, and the school within that that you choose is solely based on what you want to study. You live at home, and you pay probably around $800 per semester. Everyone gets in, you just have to wait in line for a few hours to sign up. Thus, everyone is equally prepared to continue the exact same type of learning they've been doing all their lives.

This makes things difficult for American students, who aren't used to having a set way to write assignments that travels from grade school all the way to graduate school. So we had to learn in one week what French students have been perfecting for 15 years. The structure is very specific, and my "intensive language class" professor was telling us that in larger classes the professors will just read your intro and a bit of the body to make sure the plan that you laid out is being followed, and then they read your conclusion. (for an 8 page paper... geez) A lot of American students are outraged at that thought, because in America you usually get points for ingenuity, creativity, thinking outside the box, and most importantly, for the "quality of your ideas" over the structure of your thoughts. Here, they emphasize having a logical, rigid structure to your paper, in which no idea is out of place, but at the same time that comprehensively covers every issue at stake. Furthermore, the introduction is not where you'll find the "thesis"; the intro is for the question you are answering, and you don't give the answer until the conclusion, where you don't even need a definitive answer/ to pick a side. These students have been thinking this way throughout their entire academic careers, which says to me that what is important in the French education system is very different from what is important in the American system.

So glad you could stick with me throughout all that, and don't worry, next time I'll put up some pretty pictures and only talk about touristy things.

Normandy: Omaha Beach, Pointe du Hoc, and Mont St. Michel

It takes a drive out into the countryside to realize how much you miss it, especially when you've been living in a city for the first time in your life. I think I am lucky to be in Paris, obviously for many reasons, but especially because it is very open and there is a decent amount of green space. Still, nothing beats an open landscape. At times, Normandy reminded me a lot of Central New York: rolling hills, farmland, trees. It reminded me that while I do have a list of big cities to visit, I need to have some breathing room as well.

A trip to Normandy isn't a trip to Normandy without a visit to the D-Day beaches. Omaha Beach and Pointe du Hoc were two major sites of the American attack, and it was a haunting yet inspiring experience to walk these shores. Omaha Beach, I learned, is technically American soil; here you can find many memorials, a visitor center/ museum thing, the beach (obviously) and the cemetery. The white crosses were striking against the green of the grass and the gray sky (it seemed appropriate that it was drizzling and cloudy for this visit). There were thousands overlooking the fateful beach. It made me feel humbled, grateful, and proud. The beach itself is beautiful, which was so odd to me because I didn't think it should look so innocent, so untouched. What struck me about the place was the fact that once the soldiers got to the beach, if they got to the beach, they had to fight their way through a jungle of marsh and brush up a steep hill that took us ten minutes to walk each way. And those soldiers didn't have an asphalt path to guide them.

Pointe du Hoc was even more frightening, because there is no beach: just sheer cliffs. I suppose the American generals wanted to pick places that would surprise the Germans. I wouldn't expect them to attack at this place either. Here looked more to me like an old battle site, because the remains of the german bunkers and machine guns still stood. Even more poignant: the ground was pockmarked with craters, within feet, inches of each other, ten to 20 feet in diameter and almost as deep. Truly haunting and humbling to think of what this place must have looked like 70 years ago.

After a tiring day we spent the night in the village of Granville, in this little hostel for sailors. We didn't get there until 11 pm, so we had no idea what the surrounding area looked like. We woke up the next morning, just before sunrise, to one of the most beautiful sights of the weekend. The hostel was situated right on the coast of this little bay, but you could see the entire ocean (I'm assuming it was the English Channel, but it could have just been the Atlantic). It was dawn, and the sky was this wonderful mix of purple and orange and yellow. I've included a picture because it really was remarkable. It made it all worth getting up at 7 am.

Our last stop for the weekend was Mont St. Michel. If you aren't familiar with this spot, it is a tidal island (a big rock, really) with a really old church/ monastery on top. This place has the strongest tides in the world, meaning low tide is a MASSIVE difference from high tide. It used to be that you could only access the "island" when the tide was out, but recently they have built a permanent road to it from the mainland. What was cool though, among other things, was that the parking lot we parked in is only accessible when the tide is out. Also, surrounding the island and for probably half a mile in front of the island it was just moist sand, that you could walk on (with the help of a tour guide, apparently there is a lot of quick sand that kills people. crazy). But clearly the most amazing thing about this island is that it is essentially a medieval fortress completely preserved. We took a tour of the church/ monastery, which is a combination of Romanesque and Gothic architecture, dating back to an initial construction in the 8th or 9th century. It was a little unfortunate that our guide, Gille, was so intensely focused on the architecture, because he missed a great deal of information about what the rooms were actually used for and how people actually lived in this place. He is a historian, so naturally long-winded and repetitive. Mais, c'est la vie. It was incredibly scenic, with wonderful, expansive views of the ocean and country side and amazing medieval architecture. I've decided that I am going to retire there; no Florida or Arizona for me.

If anybody goes to France, the top two destinations should without a doubt be Paris and Normandy, namely Mont St. Michel. Period.

I ate goose-liver and thought it was bologna

Yes, those are baby bottles. And yes, there is wine in the baby bottles.

This past weekend, some friends from Cornell who are studying in Dublin and Copenhagen came to visit us. For this special occasion, we went to this small little restaurant in Montmartre (northern part of the city, the only hill in Paris) and had quite a memorable experience.

The picture covers about 3/4 of the entire restaurant (except for the kitchen). There were two long tables, over which you had to climb to sit on the inside. The walls are covered in graffiti (we even found the words "Pi Beta Phi Cornell 2011", a sorority at Cornell that some of our friends are in) and the waiters are two middle aged men in stained t shirts and jeans. Before I continue, let me make something clear: I will not tell you the name of this restaurant, what it looks like from the outside, or any other details that will help you find it if/when you come to Paris. As much as I like all of you, this is not the kind of place you tell all your friends about, the kind of place you put on touristy forums for the world to know about. This is the place you keep secret, so that it remains untouched by those who pronounce the name of the 600 year old cathedral like the name of the American university (not saying that this describes you, necessarily, but that you might know somebody like that or that somebody you know might know somebody who falls into that category).

OK, revenons à nos moutons. There are no menus, and the only question we were asked was "blanc ou rouge" (white or red). We were served first with a platter of finger-foods or "hors d'oeuvres", which is when the eating of the goose-liver took place. Ignorance really is bliss. Then came the massive ceramic bowl of liquid cheese, in which we dipped pieces of bread and potato, and the bits of raw steak that we cooked ourselves in a little metal truc (for lack of a better word; my fringlish has improved immensely). All in all, we spent two hours impaling bits of bread and soaking them in cheese, eating barely cooked steak and "skolling" every time we got another baby bottle refill (means "cheers"; its a danish thing, apparently). We ended the evening with melt-in-your-mouth chocolate mousse cake. Très, très délicieux.

So, if you're lucky, and you happen to be in Paris at the same time I am at some point throughout life, you may be able to convince me to take you to this little anomaly. On one condition: you can only take off the blindfold during the meal.

I'm sometimes glad that history recognizes many world leaders who were immature, spoiled, and even borderline mentally ill. Without them we wouldn't have Versailles, a grand monument to French absolutism, aka one man's low self-esteem. And, of course, his pretty wife who liked to play dress-up.

The palace is situated in a random little town that has nothing else to its name- I guess if anything has "just" Versailles to its name it is doing pretty well. I was pretty surprised by its greco-roman architecture; I still can't get over my inward hope that each castle I visit will look like Hogwarts. Just about everything is gilded, including the entire front gate. The Sun King didn't hold back.

The inside is a maze of overly-ornate (and very baroque) rooms, halls and even a chapel. I can understand what the bedrooms, the chapel, and even the Hall of Mirrors were used for; but what the heck did they do with the rest of the place? Anna's audio guide described one offensively decadent hall as used for "passing through" (??!). Convenient for a museum, but I just cannot see people leading any sort of productive life in this place. Perhaps because it can hardly be said that they did.

There was a beautiful view of the extensive gardens from the chateau, although we didn't get a chance to walk around in them. I like it better wen you can get the whole effect from a higher point anyways. After the tour of the palace, we made set off in search of la Domaine de Marie Antoinette (exactly what it sounds like). We walked through farmland for about a half hour when we stumbled upon a few thatched roofs in a field. There were chickens, rabbits, an obscene amount of fish in the pond, goats, cows, you name it. It was a beautiful little scene, but for me it was a little eerie knowing that Marie Antoinette had this place built so she could play farm and peasant or something. She was bored, and needed a distraction. Again, convenient for a museum; but for real life...?

If you are looking for evidence of real life, you won't find it anywhere near Versailles.

Okay so I have a lot of catching up to do. Let's start with our trip to Giverny, a little village outside of Paris where Monet lived and worked (and home of the famous japanese garden with all the lilies and bridges that he painted).

The trip was organized by EDUCO (which was nice of them, because in terms of finding classes and figuring out the whole going-to-the-University-of-Paris-thing they haven't been much help, but at least they are doing something). It was nice to be out in the countryside and to see some rolling hills and farmlands. Reminded me a lot of central new york, especially this time of year. Everything is very open and spread out, although the little village itself is kind of crammed together in this little space. It is very small and cute, exactly what you'd expect. The "museum" is basically comprised of two gardens, his house, and his "atelier" (workshop). The japanese garden was my favorite, that one had the pond with all the lilies and willow trees and the cute bridges. It was so peaceful, seemed very well kept but at the same time a little wild and free. The other garden was much more like a regular garden, with rows of flowers. Everything was so vibrant and colorful, the flowers were beautiful. Then we moved into his house, which had a great view of the gardens and was filled with lots of his paintings, which I have come to appreciate as one with no artistic talent or background whatsoever. We finished the visit with a trip to the local cafe where we got hot chocolate (which by the way is one of those things that is SO MUCH BETTER in france than in the U.S.) and crepes covered in hot fudge. Success.

First entry-2 weeks down

This is my first entry, so I hope you aren't expecting too much. I just want to get started (starting is always the hardest part) and lay down some foundations. I wanted to start this blog so that I have one place where I can write down my thoughts about everything I am experiencing this semester, so that you can all experience it with me and so that I can experience it again in the future. I hope you enjoy the ride!

So I have been in Paris for 2 weeks. The first week was uneventful, filled with "intensive language class" and orientation meetings. My first impressions were that all the food is amazing, and that this city is beautiful. I love walking by things like Notre Dame and the Louvre and Place de la Bastille every day. It is hard for me to imagine that people actually lead normal lives here, and that this stuff isn't a huge deal to everyone.

My host family is amazing. They are a pretty young couple with two girls, Jeanne is 3 years old and Paula is 2 months old. They are so so cute, I can't get over it. The food is great, I've been eating things like Vietnamese food and rice and shrimp with weird sauce on it, you'd all be shocked I'm sure. I have my own bedroom with a shower and sink, and I and my housemate (another EDUCO student who goes to Duke) have our own upstairs area and kitchen area, which is very nice. I couldn't have asked for a better set up!

I think I'll leave it at that for now, I don't want to overwhelm anybody. I will put up pictures very soon. My classes start this coming week, so I will be sure to let you know how those are! Thanks for reading.