Hiking in Switzerland

I'll skip through the boring class stuff. Now that I was settled into A2.2, I felt like I was really starting to pick up on my French. There were plenty of interesting lessons; plenty of times that the way we learned the material had us all cracking up laughing. But I'd rather skip through those twenty-five hours of class and jump straight into the story of my second weekend in Besancon.

The view from my and Pearl's room at our house family's second house near the Swiss border.

I will mention Friday night. It was just another night out, and I met up with Jeannette and Brittany, who lived about ten minutes from me, and we continued into town to meet up with a few other people from Penn State and a bunch of the Arkansas people. We went to Madigan's, our normal meeting point (all the Americans met at the Irish bar in a little city in France...I'm still not quite sure what to make of that), and then we headed out to find a karaoke bar. When we finally found the karoake bar, there were probably about fifteen of us. I didn't sing (my excuse is that there weren't any songs that I liked), but Adriana, one of the Arkansas girls that was in my class, sang a few songs. Her voice was pretty good, and Brittany jumped in at one point. Overall, it was a good time.

After the karaoke bar, Adriana and I left to go to the gay club in town. We'd heard good things about it, so we decided to go check it out. It's hard to find somewhere in Besancon that's got music—basically there's a lot of bars and no clubs. So we went there, only to find that there were three people at the bar. The guy who took the cover charge told us that people didn't really start to come out until two in the morning. Since it was only midnight, Adriana and I agreed that we didn't want to hang around an empty club for so long, so we headed down to the river to hang out for a while. We were there for maybe half an hour to an hour before the group of Penn State and Arkansas students crossed the bridge Adriana and I were sitting under. They called to us, and Adriana and I hurried to join them.

Somehow we'd ended up by the CLA, and we stopped there, trying to figure out where we wanted to go. A few of us decided to go to a club up the street from the CLA, but everyone decided to go home. I decided to go to the club with Adriana and Daniel, who were both from my class, along with Brittany (from Arkansas), and another girl from Arkansas named Suzanne. The five of us went to the club, which was the best club we'd found in Besancon thus far. We stayed out for about an hour before we all felt it was time to go home. I walked with Suzanne, and ended up back home around four—definitely a long night. And I knew I'd be regretting it later that day.

Part of the little lake by the second house.

For the second weekend, Astrid had invited Pearl and I to go with her to her husband's home near the Swiss border. We hadn't yet met her husband, who I'll call Jacques, as he was on a business trip in Southeast Asia, but Astrid said that he'd be back on Saturday, so Pearl and I would meet him then. I was excited to head out and see more of France, and some of Switzerland. So on Saturday morning, after I'd gotten about three hours of sleep, Pearl, Astrid and I headed out.

Astrid's driving terrifies me. I don't know if it's just a different style of driving in France compared to what I'm used to in the United States, but I felt like Astrid was all over the place, jerking from one side of the road to the other—all while driving at what felt like 70 mph. As someone who frequently gets car sick when I'm not the one driving, I felt like I was on one of the longest car rides of my life. It didn't help that I'd gone out to a club with friends the night before and hadn't gotten home until almost four, so I was exhausted.

Finally, we made it safely to Astrid and Jacques's home, which is an adorable little house tucked away in the foothills of a set of mountains. The scenery was stunning, and certainly not quite what I'd been expecting. Everything was just so beautiful. Pearl and I were both fascinated by the paragliders floating through the air just over the top of the mountain behind the house. Both of us kind of wanted to go paragliding, but that idea didn't go over too well with our host mother.

Astrid left after about an hour to go pick Jacques up from the airport...or the train station, I can't quite remember which. She gave Pearl and I a key to the house and the two of us went for a walk into the

Just hanging out by the lake...this tree was made for this!

little town surrounding our host family's second house. Before we'd even walked five minutes, Pearl and I stumbled onto a little lake a little ways off the side of the road. The water was such a stunning, clear blue that I couldn't help but wish that a) it was a little warmer out and b) I had a swimsuit with me. Pearl and I walked around the length of the lake, snapping pictures the whole way. Finally, we decided we should head back to the house—we thought that Astrid would be back with Jacques by that point.

And he was! It was the first time Pearl and I had met Jacques, and we were both keen to see what he was like. He was very sweet; not nearly as talkative as Astrid; but he seemed very genuine and down-to-earth. And he seemed to balance Astrid out quite well. Where she was overly chatty and sometimes a little overwhelming, he was quiet and knew how to calm things down. I think if he'd lived with us in Besancon, things would have been different. We had lunch together, talking about Jacques's work trip (he works for Nestle, and I think he was basically inspecting facilites in the countries he visited).

The view of the lake from the top of Cret du Locle. 

After lunch, we headed out to Cret du Locle for a hike. We took two cars so that we only had to hike up the mountain—not back down it. I took a ride with Jacques and Pearl rode with Astrid. I don't know how long the drive was—I was nodding off the whole time, snapping back awake everytime Jacques asked a question or started explaining something. I was definitely kicking myself for staying out so late the night before. Jacques parked his car and the two of us joined Astrid and Pearl and we headed to the top of a hill that rose above the city.

Another view from the trail alongside Cret du Locle.

It was another half hour drive to the top of the mountain we were going to hike. We weren't hiking up the mountain—just along the ride at the top, so we could see the lake. It was a really pleasant hike, and it was an easy hike as well, since it was just a flat trail. When we finally got closer to the edge and the lake below came into view, the image was nothing short of stunning. The cliffs just kind of dropped off, and about a hundred feet below, I could see the treetops stretching from the base of the cliffs to the edge of the lake, which curved around the bases of several mountains. The whole thing had a kind of eery feel to it as well because it was a cloudy day, so there were low-hanging clouds and general fogginess that hung about the mountains.

We took a lot of pictures alongside the edges of the cliffs, but eventually we continued down the trail. There was a storm that we'd heard off in the distance when we'd arrived, but now it was getting even closer. The thunder was getting louder and louder, and the dark grey clouds were coming closer to us, so there was a new sense of urgency in our steps. We tried very, very hard to get back to the car as quickly as we could; there was no way we could have gotten to the base of the mountain and back to Jacques's car before the rain hit. But we couldn't move fast enough. The rain started first, and we picked up the pace even more. And then it started to hail.

The ground, coated in hail after the storm passed through.

The hail started as tiny little pieces, maybe the size of a few grains of rice. But then they started getting bigger. By the time we stopped to huddle under a tree for shelter, the balls of hail were like marbles raining down on us. I'd brought my sweatshirt, but I didn't have a raincoat, so Pearl and I both huddled under her raincoat, and Pearl leant me her baseball cap to protect my head. We must have stayed huddled under that tree for at least ten minutes. Finally, the hail started getting smaller, so we made our break for it. It felt like a very long walk, uphill, hail crunching underfoot as I tried to keep my footing. And now, my sweatshirt and pants were wet, which made the whole thing that much more interesting.

Finally, the hail stopped and the rain cleared up, making the walk much more bearable. Jacques gave me his fleece to switch out for my soaked-through sweatshirt, so I felt much warmer, and then we had some crackers and chocolates. The day had definitely taken a turn for the better after the hail stopped. We decided to just go back to Astrid's car at the top of the mountain rather than trying to hike back down to Jacques's car at the bottom, so it was another easy walk. And then, halfway to Astrid's car, we spotted some deer off in the woods, munching on the grass. It was so cool—I'd seen pictures of these creatures before (I call them deer, because that's what they're closest too, but they're not deer like we know from the US), but I never expected to see them up-close! They were so adorable!

The two little deer-like things we saw after the storm!

After an incredibly interesting day, we headed back to Jacques and Astrid's house in France. We crossed the border from Switzerland back into France—which is astonishingly easy. There wasn't even anyone standing at the border when we drove through! We got back to the house and had dinner and looked at Jacques's photos from his trip to Southeast Asia before finally going to bed. I fell asleep almost instantly—by the end of that night, I was definitely regretting my decision to stay out late the night before. But finally, it was time to go to sleep and get as much rest as possible before we went for another trip the next day.

Hiking with the host family

Me and my housemate, Pearl, before we started our hike.

The day after my trip to Dijon with Katie and Miranda, my host mother took my housemate, Pearl, and I for a hike. We went for about and hour long drive until we got to the top of a trail that led to la Source de Loue—the place where the water that feeds the river Loue comes out from the mountain. The day was pretty cool, and the hike was beautiful. Pearl and I talked back and forth while Astrid (our host mother) charged ahead. The trail cut straight through the woods, so it was an incredibly serene walk. There were tire treads from bikes that had gone down the trail recently, and I was so jealous! It would have been the perfect trail to do some mountain-biking on.

The painting of the Source de la Loue. 

When we got to the bottom of the trail, I was met by the sound of rushing water—not quite the roar of a waterfall, but much louder than just a normal river. There was a poster of a painting (I think a Courbet piece) that depicted a person standing on the rocks at the mouth of the cave where the water came rushing out. Astrid told Pearl and I to look at the painting first—before we looked at our actual surroundings. She told us that the painting was one from the beginning of the art period where painters started to make more realistic works. And sure enough—the painting was a pretty accurate depiction of the cave that stood before us. The entire scene was simply stunning.

And the actual Source de la Loue.

After that hike, we drove to another area near by to have lunch and then to hike to a cave where smugglers had once hidden counterfeit coins—or, Grotte des Faux Monnayeurs. This hike was a little more interesting. Most of the hike was what I'd normally expect from a hike—following a trail as it wound through the woods. But then, just when we got to the cave, it got a little bit trickier (at least for me). The clear-cut trail came to an end and we had to navigate down a steeper incline and across rocks at some points. It hadn't really been raining that day, but the rocks were still slick from the last time it had rained. I was so afraid I was going to slip! But I made it down that little set of rocks without incident—only to be greeted by this little metal ladder we had to climb to get to the mouth of the cave.

The ladder was a rickety little thing, or that's how it seemed to me as I shifted my weight from one rung to the next, holding onto a shaky railing for support. The cave was cool enough to make up for the less-than-perfect approach. There were little wells at the opening of the cave that had been gradually worn away from the rock as water dripped onto those spots. The cave itself was immense. In fact, I've no real idea how big it actually is, since we never made it to the back, and none of us had strong enough flashlights to light everything up. If I had to guess, I'd say that we probably made it about halfway to the back of the cave, carefully hopping from rock to rock to avoid the water, using cell phones to light the way. But we finally reached a point where we couldn't keep walking—there was a veritable pond that kept us from going any further. It was nearly impossible for me to imagine someone hiding false silver there—but it was so removed from civilization that I could also see why it was such a good spot.

The cave opening, as seen from halfway back.

After we visited the cave, we hiked further down to another 'source.' I can't remember what it was called, but the water rushed out from what looked like a gash in the side of the mountain. The waterfall was impressive, and the sound of the waterfall and the small river it formed echoed through the forest. We walked around there for a bit and then returned to Astrid's car to drive to another hiking spot. We drove for about another hour to get to a hiking spot that was near the hike to the summit of one of the mountains.

The hike was a pretty easy one, just a little steep, with a lot of stairs. But as we climbed, the view got better and better. Finally, at the very top, the whole valley spread out in front of us. There was a beautiful, panoramic view that honestly took my breath away. There were three different peaks grouped together, and I hurried from one to the other to see the best view from each of them. It didn't really matter; each view was absolutely amazing. Thankfully, that was the last hike of the day. I was so exhausted, I'm not quite sure how I managed to stay awake for dinner.

The view from the summit of our hike!

On the way back to our house, our host mother stopped at a little village called Ornans. There wasn't much to see, but we stopped to look at the river, which runs right up against the houses. There's one house where the woman that lived there marked the height of every flood that's come through. Some were quite small, just average flooding after a little more rain than usual. But some of the marks were up to my waist or even higher! It was sobering, to realize that, where I was standing, there was a point in history where the spot in which I was standing would have been completely covered in water. 

My favorite part of the little stop at Ornans was when I was standing by the river. On my right hand side, there was a gate at the end of a driveway. The wall that's up against the river wasn't blocked by the gate. As I was standing there, this dog poked it's head around the gate and just stared at me--and it was an adorable little husky!! I was so happy to see a doggy of the same breed as my little Koda. 

Overall, although I was completely wiped out at the end of the day on Sunday, I'd had a wonderful weekend--especially since I got to see a little siberian husky! It was truly and excellent weekend.

A Day in Dijon

The first weekend in Besancon, Katie, Miranda and I made plans to go to Dijon for the day on Saturday. I met Katie in town that morning and we went to the SNCF (France's train company) office to buy our tickets. Miranda wasn't feeling well that day, so she wasn't going to come with us. Katie and I headed to the train station to figure out how to get to Dijon. Since both of us had fairly limited French skills, it was a little difficult to get our tickets and our reduction cards. (The SNCF has reduction cards based on age group. Mine cost €50 and definitely paid for itself many times over). There was a train to Dijon that left too soon for us to make it, and the next one wasn't until half past noon. So Katie and I bought our tickets and then called Miranda to see if she wanted to come with us, since the train was so much later than we thought it would be. She said she wanted to come and that she'd be into town in about an hour. So Katie and I walked around centre ville, looking in the shops, and killing time until Miranda got there.

The inside of the first church we visited.

Miranda had an easier time of ordering tickets than Katie and I did since Katie just showed the SNCF worker our tickets and said “Elle voudrait acheter the meme, s'il vous plait.” (She wants to buy that same, please). Once we all had our tickets, we headed to the train station. We got on the number 10 bus first, since that bus goes to the train station. But after all of five minutes on the bus, I thought that we might not be going the right way. So I asked the bus driver if the bus stopped at the train station, and he said that we were on the wrong bus—we should have gotten on the bus going the opposite direction. So he stopped the bus and let us off there, so that we wouldn't get further away from the train station than we already were. I had a general idea of where the train station was by foot, because I'd come across it accidentally after getting lost on the walk to school one day. So we started walking, hoping that we'd make it to the train station in time to catch the train.

Thankfully, we made it to the train station just in time. I think we got on the train maybe two minutes before it left. But all that matter was that we'd made the train and we were headed to Dijon for the day—baguettes in hand. The train ride wasn't too long, and we were in Dijon around 1:30. Our train back to Besancon wasn't until 9:30 that night, so we had almost eight hours to spend in town. We accidentally took the long way into town—walking all the way around the opposite side of the train station just to end up in front of the train station—a walk that would have taken less than three minutes if we'd just gone the right way. But it was a nice little walk and we got to see the skyline (and by that I mean a few church steeples) of Dijon before we headed into the center of town.

Our first stop was at a church near the train station. It was from Katie's France tour book, and it seemed like as good a place as any to start our trip. The church was under construction, so there was scaffolding up with banners over the scafolding that showed pictures of what the church looked like without any construction material in front of it. The inside of the church was beautiful, with gorgeous statues and intricate carvings throughout the church. Across the street from the church, we visited the weirdest little museum I've ever seen. There wasn't much in the museum, just a couple paintings, an odd display of horse hair, and glass panels on the floor that may have been meant to show off something special—I really don't know.

Part of the front of the Palais des Ducs de Bourgogne. 

After leaving the odd little museum, the three of us headed towards centre ville to find something for lunch. We'd bought baguettes before leaving Besancon, but that was more for snack food on the train...and while just walking around. I saw the McDonald's sign as we neared centre ville and thought that I'd really love a chocolate milkshake. So, naturally, we went to McDonald's (or MacDo's, as the French call it) for lunch. And then after lunch, we continued to absorb the French culture by stopping at H&M for some shopping. We were there for over an hour, but in the end, I only bought a pair of light sneakers, since I'd only packed hiking shoes, running shoes, and sandals.

Once we'd had enough of shopping (or, more accurately, once we'd felt we'd spent enough money), Katie, Miranda, and I continued on down the road to try to find the Palais des Ducs de Bourgogne (Palace of the Duke of Bourgogne). On our way there, we caught the final part of a set of dancers performing on a stage in a grand square. I think they were a troop of gypsies, since they didn't seem to be connected to any kind of event. It was a really cool thing to watch—a pleasant surprise. Sometimes, those are my favorite things about vacation—finding really fascinating things when and where you least expect them.

The Saint-Michel church in Dijon.

After we left that square, we found the Palais des Ducs de Bourgogne pretty easily. It wasn't open for tours when we got there, but it was still a pretty cool building to admire, even just from the outside. Some of the intricate interior work was visible through grand glass doors, but even the architecture itself was something to be admired.

From there, we went to the Saint-Michel church. (I think those are the French's two favorite church names—Saint-Michel and Notre Dame; they're everywhere!). The Saint-Michel church was another prime example of impressive architecture in Europe. No matter how many churches I visit, I feel like there's always at least one special thing about each church that makes it stand out, even a little. This church had some of the most intricate carvings I've ever seen clustered around the main doors, with a little tower that may have once housed a bell atop the middle door.

After visiting Saint-Michel, we went to see—wait for it—le Cathedral Notre Dame. (I told you, the French love naming churches after Mary). The inside of the church wasn't anything to fawn over, but there was a little owl carving on the side of the church. Local legend says that visitors who touch the owl with their left hand will have a wish come true. The owl's features have been completely worn away by so many people touching it, but the three of us made our wishes—hopefully that little owl can still work his magic!

Yes, this is supposed to be a lucky owl.
(Thanks again to Miranda for the pic!)

At that point, we were all starting to feel a bit worn down by our day of walking, so we headed back towards centre ville, since it's so close to the train station. When we got to centre ville, we realized that we'd stumbled upon some kind of bike expo. There were people doing demonstrations with unicycles and people showing off their weird or unique bikes. It was really cool. We sat on a massive planter in the middle of the square and just watched everything for a while. It was nice—we could just chill out and watch the people doing tricks, but after a while, the three of us all got a bit bored. So we headed out—first to one park, were we took some pictures and played on the roundabout at the playground.

Finally, we headed to the grand park right next to the train station—our final stop of the day before we got on the train back to Besancon. Overall, it was a perfect day trip. We got to see the sites, do some shopping, and just hang out and talk. It was a good way to start what would soon become a tradition of traveling somewhere new and exciting every weekend.

Les classes commencent!

The next morning, I started class at 10:30. I walked to school alone, since Pearl started class two hours before me. And I got lost. I don't know how I got so lost, but it's a good thing I left the house over an hour before class started, because it took me that long to get to the school. Luckily, after about forty minutes of walking, I came out onto a street that ran along the river. My school's on the river as well, so I just had to walk alongside the river and I knew I'd get to the school. Finally, after an hour-long walk, I made it to school.

I was in the same class as Katie and Brittany, and when we got to class that morning, we met another American, Aidan, and a German guy named Leni. There were also a lot of students from Libya. In total, there were about fifteen of us in this class. It was a different style of class than I'm used to in the US. We had no textbooks, so we just had to take notes as the teacher lectured through myriad topics of French grammar and vocabulary. I was lucky—I felt like I was in a good level for my skills, and I shared class with friends, so I was happy. Other people didn't get quite so lucky right away, but a lot of us did some shifting of class levels until we were comfortable.

I personally lasted just three days in A2.1 before my teacher decided to move me and one other person. She wanted to move all the American students, and Leni, because it was clear that we just weren't on the same level as the Libyan students. But there was only room to move two of us, so we all took a series of small tests (again!), and my teacher graded them and decided to move Brittany and I to A2.2. The day that I changed class levels, Miranda was moved up into my class. So for about fifteen minutes, we were all in the same class. And then, since Brittany was on vacation with her host family, I headed to A2.2 by myself—more than a little nervous about how difficult this new class would be.

Fortunately, A2.2 turned out to be exactly what I needed. I had two teachers—Agathe taught class on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning; Olivier taught class on Wednesday afternoon, Thursday, and Friday. They had different teaching styles, but I felt like I was really able to start learning and expanding on my French. The classes were broken up into three sessions. In the morning, I started with two hours of lecture/speaking. Those two hours generally alternate between explanations by the teacher and different exercises to practice speaking French. After lunch, there's a one hour session where we watch videos, listen to audio clips, or do other exercises to improve grammar or listening comprehension—it depends on what the teacher chooses for that particular day.

Once I was settled into A2.2, I started to feel like my French was improving much more rapidly. I was getting a better understanding for grammar, I was learning more vocab, and I was getting more comfortable speaking the language. I'm still very, very far from anything resembling fluency, but I feel much more confident with French now than I did when I first arrived in France and could barely order dinner.

I also met a group of students from Arkansas in A2.2. I knew that there were two main groups of American students at the CLA: Penn State students and Arkansas students. There were a few other people from other schools around the United States, but most of us were concentrating in those two groups. By the end of the month, most of us had made friends with many of the Arkansas students, and when we had to say good-bye to them at the end of June, it was with promises of visiting each other soon. In my class, there were four Arkansas students: Kim, Adriana, Daniel, and Joel. There were also two other Penn State students in our class: Mars and Sabrina. We took over an entire corner of the class—our own little section of America.

I no longer had class with Katie, Aidan, Leni, or Miranda but we still had lunch at the same time. So for the entire month of June, we would meet every morning in the hallway outside our classrooms, trading stories of the night before. And then we'd go our separate ways and meet up again two hours later, this time talking about what topics we'd learned in class that morning. It was an easy routine to settle into, and it was nice to have that break from French every day. Five hours of classes is a lot, and it's easy to feel overwhelmed by French when you start the day by eating breakfast with a French-speaking host mother, then go to French class for five hours, and then go back to your host house for more French.

I won't share stories from classes—with so much class time, I'd be telling stories for months, and still have some left to tell. And there's so much more to talk about—after all, I had two months to spend in France, and with so many sites to see, there was no way I was going to stay in Besancon for all of it!

The CLA and Fort Chaudanne

I got up early that morning, ate breakfast—where I repeated my phrase of the night before over and over, wishing that I understood more of what Astrid was saying to me. Then, Pearl and I took the bus into town. The bus from our house to the school takes about twenty minutes. It was a nice ride—Pearl and I spent the whole ride wonering which level French we'd be placed into. We got off the bus at a stop across the river from the CLA and took a short walk through a park and across a bridge to get to the school, and then headed to the top floor to take the placement test.

The city of Besancon, as seen from the top of the hill by Fort Chaudanne.

I don't think there's much of a need to describe the placement test—there was a lot of writing and a lot of grammar, and it took about three hours. It wasn't the most fun I'd ever had during the first day at school. But once the writing part of the test was done, I had a two hour break before I had to be back at the CLA for my oral exam. Several other people had a similar amount of time to spend on their break, so we headed out to lunch. I ended up with Katie and Miranda again, along with several other people, including some from Arkansas—the other main group of American students at the CLA. We walked into town for lunch, walked around town for a little while, and made our way back to the CLA in ones and twos, depending on the time of our oral exam.

I headed back alone for my oral exam, since no one was taking their exam at the same time as me. There was another girl, named Brittany, who was from the Penn State group in the hallway, waiting to take her exam—she was in the same room as me, but she had to wait until I was done before she could take her exam. When the teacher called me into the room, I headed in, nervous, but aware that I couldn't really pass or fail—either I knew the material or I didn't, and I would be placed accordingly.

And I'm glad I felt that way, because that oral exam was not exactly the best moment in my French studies. I did quite well with the basic introductory stuff—name, age, nationality, etc. But when she asked me more in depth questions, I simply said “Desole? Je ne te comprends pas.” which means “Sorry? I don't understand you.” And when she asked me to describe my sister, I simply forgot all the descriptive words I could use. The whole thing lasted for about five minutes, but it felt like so much longer!

The view of Besancon from about halfway up the hill.

After the oral exam, I wished Brittany luck, and then decided to head out for a walk. There wasn't anyone else hanging around the CLA, so I headed down the road toward the woods on the edge of town. About ten minutes down the road, I came across a set of stairs that led up into the woods. It was
exactly what I'd been looking for—a good hike in the woods in Besancon. So I headed up the stairs and set out down the trail through the woods. The trail zig-zaged up the hill for a little less than a mile, before it opened to reveal Fort Chaudanne. I wandered around the top of the hill, around the fort, enjoying the view. From the top of the hill, I could see almost all of Besancon spread before me, the river snaking around centre ville.

The entrance to Fort Chaudanne...unfortunately it was closed.

Before I left the hill, I wandered around a bit more and found two things. The first was a plaque that explained that Fort Chaudanne was the site of the 3rd Division of the American Infantry during World War II. The second was a memorial commemorating the French and American troops who had fought at that site for French independence towards the end of the second World War. It was a very cool and a kind of sobering experience—completely by accident, I'd stumbled across something
straight out of history. I was standing where American soldiers had fought and died in World War II, and I hadn't even realized it.

I returned to the CLA to take a tour of the mediatheque (library) and to wait for the class placements to be posted. The tour of the library was a long affair, drawn out much longer than it really needed to be. Which is why I skipped out on the mediatheque tour (I'd arrived after the first tour had started, and my friends told me that it wasn't worth it to join the second tour, so I never actually did it). And, just to clarify, I've had absolutely no problem finding a book or using any other aspect of the mediatheque.

The plaque and monument for the soldiers.

After the tours of the mediatheque, I headed upstairs to the CLA's cafe to hang out with a bunch of other students until the class posting were up. There was a group of about ten of us sitting on the balcony outside the cafe, comparing what we knew of French, and talking about what classes we thought we'd be in and what we hoped to be able to do at the end of our time in France.

Finally, it was time to go see what classes everyone was in. We all made our way downstairs, where we were greeted by a mass of people crammed into a tiny hallway, all trying to get a look at the class listings to find their name. I finally found mine—class A2.1, starting at 10:30 the next morning. For intensive classes, it wasn't the worst schedule—I'd be taking class every morning from 10:30 to 12:30, getting lunch from then until 2:30, and then returning to class until 5:30. I was in class with Katie and Brittany, but I didn't know anyone else in our class at that point. It was such a relief to have friends in the same class!

By the time the classes were posted, it was nearly 7:00 PM, so I found Pearl and we took the bus back to the house for dinner. Pearl's classes started at 8:30, so our schedules don't often line up. She's always out of the house before me, and I'll see her at lunch sometimes, when our classes overlap for an hour, and then we both end up at our house sometime around 7:00 every night for dinner. I didn't realize it then, but Pearl and I would eventually come to rely on each other for a bit of sanity in an interesting host-family situation.

 So far, everything seemed to be off to a good start. I was settled into my host family's house, and I was ready to start classes.

(I'll add pictures to this soon...I have to go for another hike up to Fort Chaudanne to get some pictures!)

And so it begins...

The morning after the marathon day in Paris (I'm pretty sure we were walking for at least 14 hours), I headed to Gare de Lyon along with eight other people to meet our advisors and the rest of our group. We made quite the group—nine of us towing our luggage through Gare du Nord, onto the metro, to Gare de Lyon. When we finally met our teacher, there was a group of about 25 of us all together. We checked our luggage into the consigne (luggage storage) and then took a bus to Saint-Michel to go get lunch. We ate lunch by the fountain and then crossed the street to visit Notre Dame again. There wasn't much time that day to visit all the sites we wanted to see, so we took some pictures outside Notre Dame and then we continued through Paris.

We spent the whole day operating under constant threat of rain, so our group never stopped for long at any particular site. And the day seemed to fly by. I knew that we only had a few hours to spend in Paris before we had to catch the train, but I didn't realize just how fast that time would pass. It was a blur--just a few hours after my friends and I had left the hostel, we were all headed back to Gare de Lyon to wait for our train. 

Our train left from Gare de Lyon at 4:00 PM that day, so our group headed back to the train station around 2:30. We headed to the hall where the “Grand Lignes” depart, grouped all our luggage as tightly together as we could, and sat around talking and playing card games until it was time to board. It was a good way to get to know each other and the perfect way to pass the time while we waited.

Penn State had booked first-class tickets from Paris to Besancon, so I got a very comfortable seat for the ride in. It was about a three hour ride to Besancon, and I slept as peacefully as my dog does for almost the entire ride. I woke up when the train was about a half an hour outside Besancon, so I enjoyed the scenery and waited anxiously, excited to meet my host family.

When we reached the train station, everyone gathered their luggage and crowded out onto the platform. There was a man from the CLA (Centre de Linguistics Applique—my school for the summer) waiting for us, along with a row of people that turned out to be the different host families from our gorup. I bid farewell to my newly-made friends as they headed out with their host families. Eventually, there were only a few of us left on the platform. I was comforted by the fact that I had another student living with me, so we could at least hang out with our professor while we waited to figure out what was going on. Just when we were leaving the platform, three more host families came up—they'd been waiting in the lobby of the train station, thinking we'd come out there rather than waiting on the platform. That was the first time I met my host mother, who I'll just refer to as Astrid (because it sounds cool and I don't want to use her real name).

 I live with Astrid and another Penn State student—Pearl. It's just the three of us, unless we spend a weekend with our host father and Astrid as well. He works in Switzerland, so he lives closer to the border. That first night was interesting—my French was pretty bad at that point, so I had a lot of difficulty understanding what Astrid was saying. I spent most of dinner just saying “Oui, oui” without really understanding what it was that she was saying. The dinner was a very nice dinner, and then Astrid let Pearl and I go to get settled into our rooms. I was so tired at that point that I just unpacked a few things, checked my facebook and email, and crawled into bed, wishing that I didn't have to get up so early the next morning to take a placement test.  

Finally in France!

After a few well-spent days in London, I boarded my bus to Paris. I was sorry to say good-bye to London, but I was so ready to get to Paris and finally start immersing myself in the French culture. The bus ride wasn't bad--in fact, it went quite well, except for the fact that as someone who's a wee bit claustrophobic, I wasn't exactly overjoyed when I realized that to go through the Chunnel (English Channel Tunnel), the bus had to drive into a train car, and that train went through the tunnel. I would have felt just a little better if the bus had just driven through the Chunnel. Being trapped in a train car was a little bit tighter than I would have preferred. But, now I can say that I travelled through the Chunnel!!

The bus stop was at a station called Gallieni, which is on the outskirts of Paris. I took the metro through Paris to Gare du Nord, which was just down the street from my hostel. I hadn't had access to a printer, so all I had was the name and address of the hostel. I started walking down the street, suitcase in tow. I made it to a point where several roads intersected. I didn't know which way to go, since it seemed like the end of the street. So I turned around and walked the other way down the street, thinking that the hostel was on the other side of the street. Except at the other end of the street, I came to a dead end and a Best Western. At this point, it was misting--not actually raining, but there was just enough to coat the lenses of my glasses and my bags. After walking up and down the street a few times, I finally took shelter under an awning by a McDonalds to call my dad. I'd been looking up and down the street for the hostel, which was at number 25. Except I'd passed 25 at least five times, and there definitely wasn't a hostel there. So I called my dad and asked him to look up Smart Place Paris. It turns out the address was 28, not 25, and number 28 was just across the huge intersection that I hadn't crossed earlier. Knowing that, it was pretty easy to find.

It was such a relief to get to the hostel, to check in, and to finally set my bags down. Once I'd dropped my bags off, I grabbed my laptop and headed downstairs to use the wifi. I wanted to find a good place to eat and to figure out when other people from my school's group were getting to Paris. I knew that I wasn't the only one getting to Paris a day or two early, and I was eager to meet the people I'd be spending the next two months with. I got connected to the wifi, let my parents know that I was safely in Paris, and just as I started looking through posts on my group's facebook page, I got a message from one of the other girls from the group. She was staying at the same hostel as me, and she was already in Paris. In fact, she was actually sitting on the other side of the lobby. We were both hungry at that point, so we decided to head out to dinner.

The coolest lock on the lover's bridge.

Her name is Miranda, and we spent dinner just getting to know each other and talking about how excited we were to start improving our French. Looking back now, I can't help but laugh at how poor my French was--I couldn't even remember to say 'oui' instead of 'yeah,' and when the waiter asked me what kind of dressing I wanted and listed the types they offered, my first answer was 'oui!' After dinner, Miranda and I decided that we wanted to get to the Eiffel Tower to see the way it lights up every night.  We took the metro from Gare du Nord to Saint-Michel, but messed up the transfer that we should have taken from there to the metro stop by the Eiffel Tower. We decided that, even though it was pretty cold for a night late in May in Paris, we would walk along the Seine, since the Eiffel Tower stands right next to the river. We made it about halfway to the Eiffel Tower when it started lighting up, but it was still really impressive. Miranda had seen it before, but this was my first time seeing it, and it was a perfect image to kick off my stay in France.

It somehow worked out that Miranda and I were actually staying in the same room, so the next morning we were able to set out at the same time and go get breakfast. We knew that there would be another girl coming to the hostel around 11, so we went out for breakfast (crepes, of course!) and then headed back to the hostel to wait for the other girl. When we got back to the hostel, there weren't many people there, but we weren't sure if the blonde girl sitting by the window was from our group or not. After debating
for a few moments, Miranda just walked up to her and asked if she was from Penn State. As luck would have it, she was. Her name is Katie, and so our group had added one more. As we were talking, trying to figure out what all we wanted to do that day, a guy sitting in the corner said "I don't mean to interrupt, but did you say you're from Penn State?" So Miranda and I had gone back to the hostel to try to meet up with Katie, and we ended up leaving the hostel with a fourth person from our group--James. So when we left the hostel around noon that day, there were four of us heading out into the city.

 La Tour Eiffel from l'Arc de Triomphe.

We made our way to Saint-Michel and Notre Dame. We didn't stay there long because we knew we'd be returning the next day when the entire Penn State group met up. We stayed for maybe half an hour before we continued down the Seine toward the Louvre. On the way there, we passed Pont des Arts--better known as the lover's bridge, or that bridge where couples leave padlocks on the railings and fences. The railings were completely covered in locks--I don't know how anyone finds a place to put their own lock; although there were locks that were simply attached to other padlocks.

Since that bridge is right by the Louvre, we just crossed over to that next. There's so much artwork inside the Louvre that it wasn't worth it to go in for just a few hours; not with so much of the city left to see, so we continued on to see the obelisk and after that the Champs-Elysees and the Arc de Triomphe. We saw the obelisk and then took a stroll down the Champs-Elysees. We stopped for lunch at a little restaurant on the Champs-Elysees. After that, James left to go meet his friend Sean, who was arriving in Paris around lunch that day. Katie, Miranda and I continued down the Champs-Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe. I'd visited the Arc last summer when I visited my friend Matthieu, but I hadn't climbed to the top. This time, the three of us bought our tickets and headed to the stairs.

The climb wasn't too bad, but the stairwell was long enough that my claustrophobia kicked in a bit (I should clarify that it's not claustrophobia exactly--it's not small spaces that make me nervous, it's spaces

Katie, Miranda, and me enjoying our crepes
by  the Eiffel Tower (while it was pouring).

where I can't see a way out). Anyway, the climb was long enough that I got fairly nervous. It was such a relief to get out on top of the Arc--fresh air and a wonderful view--it was well worth the climb. I personally thought that the view from the top of the Arc was better than the view from the Eiffel Tower--you can just see more of the city from the Arc, from a different perspective. I loved it. After we headed back down the stairwell, I felt a little shaky again, so Katie read about the Arc de Triomphe from her guidebook.

After visiting the Arc, the three of us made our way through the town to the Eiffel Tower. The weather was still colder than I would have preferred, and by the time we got to the Eiffel Tower, it was misting
again. We bought crepes from a stand across the street from the Eiffel Tower and ate while we hung out by the tower. Finally, we headed back to our hostel to see who else had arrived.

At the hostel we met a few more people; James had met his friend Sean, and we were also joined by a few other girls (I cannot remember everyone's names! It seems like it was just yesterday, but it was almost a month and a half ago already). With our newly increased numbers, we left the hostel to go see Sacre-Coeur, Moulin Rouge, and to go see the Eiffel Tower light up later that night. Sacre-Coeur was the first stop. We took the metro to the stop nearest it, then had to make our way through the streets until we reached the church. Since Sacre-Coeur's at the top of a hill, there's a lot of stairs to get to the top. But this was yet another example of a view well-worth the climb. The view from in front of Sacre-Coeur was quite impressive. I couldn't see the Eiffel Tower, because some trees grew in the way, but to see Paris spread out before me was a sight I'll remember for a long time.

Our little group of Penn State people at Sacre-Coeur!
(Thanks to Miranda for this and the pic with the crepes!)

After leaving Sacre-Coeur, we started looking for a place to eat dinner. We had every intention of finding a good French restaurant to eat at, but somehow we ended up in an Italian restaurant. So to start
my stay in France, I'd had a burger for dinner one night and pasta for dinner the next. It's a good thing I've had over a month to catch up on my traditional French meals! After dinner, the next stop for our group was Moulin Rouge. It was far to expensive to try to see a show there, but it's one of those sites that you just have to see at some point. We got our pictures outside, and then went into a supermarket down the street to buy some champagne to pop by the Eiffel Tower when it lit up.

The Eiffel Tower and the full moon.

For our final stop of the night, we walked to Trocadéro, the park across the river from the Seine, to get the best view of the Eiffel Tower when it started to light up. We sat on the wall in front of the Palais de Chaillot, and fended off the street vendors that constantly try to sell little trinkets to tourists. Miranda tried to bargain with a few of them--pretty successfully, too. But after a while, they just get too pushy and there's too many of them, so we stopped talking to them at all. Finally, the tower lit up. It was a perfect night for it--it had finally stopped raining; the clouds parted and there was a near-full moon shining right next to the tower when it started to light up. It was definitely an amazing spectacle, made even better when my friends popped their champagne bottles to celebrate our arrival in France. It was the perfect way to start off our journey in France--even if it meant being more than a little tired when we met the rest of our group the next day.

Finally, I'd arrived in France, and I was so ready to start learning the language! There was one more day in Paris, and then I'd be heading to Besancon to finally start working on my French!

A (Very) Long Story about a Short Stay in London

Now that I've caught up on my storytelling from my time studying in Scotland last year (finally!), it's time to continue my tale with more stories of the world outside the little part I call home. This time, the story starts in London, but let me give a bit of an introduction:

When I transferred from Arcadia University to Penn State, one of the things that drew me to Penn State was a French immersion program. This program zould allow me to live and study in France, with the purpose of improving my French language skills. I applied to the program as soon as it opened up and waited anxiously for months to find out whether I had been accepted or not. Finally, in early March, I got the news--I was headed to France!! I'd be spending two months living in France and studying French (and of course, traveling as far as my pocketbook would allow).

It's like the Studio Tour knew exactly who they were
dealing with...Dobby's the best!! A++ for the ticket.

Which brings us to London. I flew from Philadelphia to London to start my trip. It was the cheapest way to get to Europe, and honestly, I didn't need an excuse to convince myself to go to London. It just seemed like the right way to start the trip. I arrived in London around noon on a Tuesday, and headed
for my hostel (The Walrus Hostel--awesome name choice!). I was too early to check in and get settled in the room, but I wasn't bothered because I'd booked myself a ticket to go see the Harry Potter studio tour for a second time! I stowed my bags in the luggage locker at the hostel, found my way down the street to Waterloo station, and finally I was on my way to the studio tour!

I was worried that I was going to be late for the studio tour, since I got off the train at Watford Junction at 2:00--which was the time I was supposed to enter the studio tour. I had to wait for the bus to get there, and then I watched the village pass by through the window until we finally got to the studios (aptly named J and K--although I may have mentioned that before). I won't go into too much detail, since I've already described how much I love the Studio Tour. I will say that it was well worth the trip to go see the studios and sets once more, and I would go back for a third time if the chance were to arise. This time, I had the added bonus of actually bringing a back-up battery for my camera, so I wasn't left without a way to take pictures at the highlight of the tour. It was a perfect trip.

The scale model of the Hogwarts Castle. I can't even explain how much I wish this was a real place to be explored!

I headed back to London, but when I got to Euston Station, I couldn't figure out how to get to the metro. You have to change stations or floors from the overground trains to the metro, and it took me a little while to figure it out. And then it took me even longer to grab the right metro to the right stop. So I was caught on the metro during the height of end-of-the-work-day madness. It could have easily turned into a situation that left me panicked or frustrated, but instead I realized, as I was crammed against people in a metro car, that this was an item I could now cross off my bucket list--in fact, it was an item I hadn't even realized was on my bucket list until it actually happened. Overall, a successful day! After so many adventures though, it was time for some much needed sleep. I was exhausted after my flight (I followed my normal travel pattern of not sleeping more than maybe an hour during the flight), and I only had one full day to spend in London, so I needed to be well rested so I could make the most of it.

The UEFA Men's Championship Cup.

I got up early the next  morning, ready to start the day, prepared with my list of things that needed to be done and that I wanted to see. I started with the things that had to be done: I needed to buy minutes for my phone; I needed blue jeans, since I couldn't find mine; and I needed a camera charger, since I'd also
kept to my usual pattern of forgetting to pack one very important thing before leaving for vacation. I headed for the T-Mobile shop first and got my Sim card. The store was close to Trafalgar Square, so hopped over to the square to at least visit it once more. When I got to the square, I found it far more crowded than I remembered it being the year before, and there was a massive stage-type construction with soccer decorations all around it. I'd managed to stumble into Trafalgar Square on the day the UEFA Championship Victor's cups were on display for the public to see and take pictures with. I'm not a soccer fan by any means, but I could certainly appreciate that this was a big deal, so I snapped some pictures before heading on my way.

The entrance to the Tower of London.

Once I'd found my blue jeans and camera charger as well, I was finally able to start my day as a proper tourist. The first stop was the Tower of London, which I hadn't even seen from afar during my last visit to London. I took the metro to the stop closest to the Tower and then headed over to see where I could find a ticket. I waited in line behind a crowd of other tourists and then bought my ticket for entry. The first thing I saw when I approached the entrance was the yeoman standing at the entrance. There's always one there, welcoming people to the Tower and answering questions that they might have. I decided not to join the yeoman-led tour that was starting in a few minutes. There was already a crowd and I figured it would be easier just to wander through the tower myself--especially since I was on a time constraint and still had so much I wanted to see. As I walked into the Tower though, I heard the beginning of the yeoman's presentation. He was explaining that the little bridge that we were standing on was were executions had been carried out. He said that the execution with the largest turnout occurred when more than 100,000 Brits turned out for a
hanging. As the yeoman said, "Everyone was out having a grand time--except for one man."

The view of the Tower Bridge, as seen from the Tower.

I ate lunch in the cafe at the Tower of London--scones and hot chocolate--and then went to go see the Crown Jewels and the Tower Bridge. I headed over to the edge of the Thames first, to get some pictures of the bridge. Then I headed back into the Tower of London to go see the crown jewels. There was a bit of a museum to see before you got to see the jewels. The history behind it was fascinating to me, but, again, I had to rush a bit since there was still so much to see. On the way through the museum to the crown jewels, there were different things from past royalty on display--from scepters to gowns to capes used during coronations throughout history. After walking past so much history, I finally got to the room which houses the crown jewels. I thought I'd just walked into a bank vault--probably because the entrance to the room where the jewels are on display is through a door that is about eight inches of what I assume to be steel. The door looks like the most intimidating bank vault door I've ever seen--except maybe some of the doors seen in Gringotts!

The crown jewels were breathtaking. It's amazing to me to think how much such a little thing is worth--and that one person could wear that on their head as a symbol of such grand power! Today, the crown doesn't mean quite so much as it used to, but it's still a very powerful symbol. And there were so many crowns to see as well. I knew that there was more than one crown in the royal family, but I wasn't expecting as many as I saw. I think that one room in London must have been worth an ungodly sum.

The Globe Theatre! Fun fact: This is the
only building in London to have a
thatched roof since the Great Fire...and
they had to get special
 permission to recreate the roof.

After viewing the crown jewels, I headed out of the Tower. I wanted to climb the Tower Bridge, but I at that point I had to accept that I just didn't have the time. So I turned my back on the Tower and the bridge and headed back into London, headed for the Globe Theatre. I decided to just walk to the theatre--it wasn't too far and I wanted to cross the Thames on the bridge featured in the beginning of the sixth Harry Potter movie (yes, I can be that nerdy sometimes!). I wound through town, checking my map and the maps on the sidewalks regularly to make sure that I didn't get lost. After walking for over half an hour, I had to accept that I was a little lost. I gave up on trying to find the bridge and just headed for the river. Thankfully, I was very near the Globe Theatre. I'd been in the right area, just unable to find the right street. I crossed the Thames on a different Bridge, but I could see the Globe Theatre and the bridge I'd been trying to find--both of which were easily less than half a mile away.

I didn't stay at the Globe Theatre for long. I would have liked to have taken a tour, but time was slipping away from me and I still wanted to see the Parliamentary buildings before the day was through.   I bought a postcard from the shop, read a bit about the history of the building, took a few pictures, and then I was on my way to Parliament! I crossed the Thames again, this time taking the bridge that was "destroyed" in Harry Potter (it seemed to me to be in pretty good shape, despite the whole Death Eaters
incident). It took me a while to walk to Parliament, but I soon saw Big Ben looming over me.

Big Ben peeking out over Parliament.

I'd hoped that there were tours of the Parliamentary buildings, or at least a stair climb of Big Ben, but I couldn't find any entrance to the building that indicated that anyone other than parliamentary workers were allowed in. In fact, every entrance I passed was guarded by at least two men with seriously powerful guns. Had I done any research prior to leaving the hostel for the day, I may have found some information about tours, but since I hadn't done that, I just crossed the street to visit Westminster Abbey.  Unfortunately, by the time I'd reached Westminster Abbey, it was already 5:00--and anyone who's lived in the UK knows that a lot of the country shuts down around 5:00. And Westminster Abbey was no exception. I wasn't able to go inside, but I did get to take some decent photos of the outside, which is immense and impressive.

The front of Westminster Abbey

After seeing Westminster Abbey, I turned away from the Thames for the first time all day. For all the other sites I'd visited that day, I'd stayed alongside the Thames. But now I was heading to Buckingham Palace, mostly in the (probably vain) hope that a tour of the palace would be available. Again, something I probably should have at least googled before leaving the hostel, but I'll just remember that for next time. It didn't take me long to get to Buckingham Palace, though by that time, I was half certain
my feet were going to resign in protest of all the walking I'd done. I don't know what was happening at the palace that night, but there was a steady stream of people--usually one couple at a time--dressed in nice clothes (the ladies were even wearing the fancy little hats!) walking up to the palace, showing some kind of paper, and going inside. I never did figure out what the special event was, but it was cool to see up-close some of the style I'd seen only in pictures in magazines before.

After visiting the palace, I finally had to admit that I just couldn't keep walking across the town. So I headed back to my hostel, eager to find a good place to get fish and chips. I've had some fish and chips at home since leaving Scotland, but nothing seems quite able to measure up to what they make in the UK.

The view from my seat at dinner.

Sitting down on my bed to google fish and chip restaurants in London was such a relief for my weary little feet that I hardly wanted to get up and go walking back across town to buy my dinner. But fish and chips is far too tempting to pass up, so I was back out the door barely an hour after returning to the hostel. I'd found a place that had pretty good reviews and was supposed to be quite cheap (always a bonus for anyone facing such an unfavorable conversion rate). Most appealing--it wasn't too far from my hostel.

I bought my fish and chips and walked back towards my hostel to eat in the park next to the London Eye. There was a moment then when I was struck by just how lucky I was (and am)--I was in London, eating fish and chips with the Thames, the London Eye, and the Parliamentary buildings serving as the setting. I didn't know how life could get better than that--except for the fact that the next day, I was headed to Paris to start my summer in France!