After my day touring Paris, I woke early the next morning, tired but excited, ready to see Versailles. I packed up the few things I'd unpacked on my arrival in Paris, buckled my backpack on, slung my other bag over my shoulder and headed out. Matthieu drove me to the train station and explained which train I needed to take to get to Versailles.

All total, it probably took about forty-five or so minutes to get to Versailles. I was so content, listening to my iPod as I watched the French landscape fly past outside the window. The train station at Versailles was quite large, so it took me a little while to find my way out onto the street. From there, it was a fifteen minute walk to the palace. By the time I got to the palace, my back and shoulders were already hurting a bit. Between my two bags, I was carrying about fifteen kilos (about 30-35 pounds--believe me, I wish I was kidding about this).


The Palace of Versailles, as seen from just behind the statue of Louis XIV.


When I got to the palace, I was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer size of it. Walking down the street towards the palace, it's the only thing on the horizon. It's a truly majestic sight. A statue of Louis XIV stands about a hundred feet from the gates at the entrance to the palace. The palace itself is ornate, with incredibly detailed carvings lining the edges. Gold decorations are everywhere. The overall effect is one of clear wealth and beauty.

Once I entered the palace grounds, I checked the sign to see if I had to pay admittance or not. The sign said students in the EU under the age of 25 didn't have to pay, but since I'm an American citizen, I thought I had to pay. I waited in the ticketing line for half an hour, just to be told that I didn't have to pay admittance, I could just go get in line and they'd let me in for free. So, glad to be saving money, I headed out to the line--the ridiculously long, winding line. I approached one of the guards at the entrance and said, "Bonjour monsieur...I was told I don't need to buy a ticket, can you tell me where I need to go?" He must have assumed that since I started with 'bonjour' I at least understood French, because he answered by explaining everything in French. I had no clue what he'd said, but he had pointed to part of the line, so that's where I went.

It took an hour to get to the front of the line to finally get admitted to Versailles. Luckily, I was able to set my bags on the ground for most of the wait, so their weight didn't bother me. When I got to the entrance, I just showed my passport and student ID, and they waved me through. There was a bag check to the side, so I headed straight for it, relieved. But when I set my bag on the counter to be checked, I was told that they couldn't accept the bag unless there was food in the bag. Since neither of my bags contained food, I had to shoulder them and head into the palace.

The gardens of Versailles. Everything you can see is part
of the gardens.

There was so much to see in the palace, but what I really wanted to see was the gardens of Versailles. So I walked through some of the palace, but quickly headed out to the gardens. The view was simply breath-taking. From the over-large patio at the back of the palace, you can see for miles. The gardens themselves seem to stretch all the way to the horizon. There are several fountains, statues everywhere, and of course, impressive displays of gardening skills.

I walked through the gardens for about an hour before I finally had to stop and just sit for a while. I was tired from walking for so long, carrying so much weight on my shoulders. So I bought a chocolate ice cream, and just found a good spot to sit. I enjoyed my ice cream while I watched tourists walk past, admiring the gardens. Once I'd finished the ice cream, I headed off to see Marie Antoinette's estate. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see the inside of any of the buildings, due to my schedule. (I had to be at Gare de l'est early that afternoon to catch the train to Strasbourg).

Marie Antoinette's estate towards the back of the gardens.

The whole experience was surreal. Even if I was tired from carrying so much weight for so long, I couldn't help but marvel at the fact that I was in Versailles--a nineteen year old girl from Pennsylvania, and I was walking through one of the most well-known tourist attractions and historical buildings of France.

I ate lunch outside Marie Antoinette's estate (seriously, I can't believe I can even say something like that!), and then trudged back through the gardens, past the palace, and back to the train station. It took me a little while to realize that I'd purchased the wrong ticket to get from Versailles to Gare de L'est--I actually had to ask the man at the service desk about it before I got it figured out--but soon enough, I was back on the train, making my way back into Paris to await my train to Strasbourg.

One of the fountains in the gardens of Versailles.

My days in Paris and Strasbourg were truly incredible experiences. As I was taking in all the sights, I couldn't stop thinking how lucky I am to have gotten the opportunities to see these things. A year ago, I never would have believed I'd be climbing the stairs of the Eiffel Tower, gazing up at the Arc de Trioumph, or wandering through the gardens of Versailles. And yet here I was, just enjoying my time halfway around the world.

I'll be posting again soon with stories of Strasbourg, and eventually of my trip from Strasbourg to home (it's quite the tale!). Until then, a tout a l'heure mon amis!

Une Journee A Paris (Part II)

When last I wrote, I left off with my climb of the Eiffel Tower. But there's so much more to tell of my day in Paris!

After leaving the Eiffel Tower, Matthieu and I headed down some of the streets further away from the river. We were headed to the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs-Elysees. On the way there, Matthieu and I passed a protest outside one of the shops. Matthieu explained to me the way the labor parties in France were set up and why there were strikes going on at that time. I thought it was really cool, learning a bit about the differences between American unions and French unions.

Soon, we arrived at the Arc de Triomph. It was awe-inspiring. It's one of those things that I've seen in history books or travel guides, but nothing will ever measure up to the feeling of actually standing on the Champs-Elysees, staring up at this massive monument. And that was just from further away! To get up close to the Arc de Triomph, I had to go down a set of stairs, through a tunnel under the Champs-Elysees, which emerges onto another set of stairs that leads up to the Arc. The Arc itself stands on a kind of island in the middle of a roundabout, which is surrounded by the roar of what seems to be at least a hundred cars rushing past. Up close, the intricacies of the Arc become apparent. The carvings are so detailed and so impressive! It's truly an incredibly display of artistry.

Once Matthieu and I'd both had enough of admiring the Arc de Triomph, we headed down the Champs-Elysees, often referred to as the most beautiful street in the world--a description I would certainly agree with! The street is lined with really lovely trees, and if you stood atop the Arc and looked down the Champs-Elysees, you would see first the obelisk brought to Paris during Napoleon's reign, and then the Louvre. It's truly breathtaking.

Matthieu and I stopped for hot chocolate and snacks (croissants, of course), at a small cafe on the Champs-Elysees. It was great to just take in the culture and people of the city, watching as Parisians walked past.

Once we felt well-rested, Matthieu and I continued down the Champs-Elysees, past the obelisk, to the Louvre. I so wish I had more time to spend in Paris, because I could spend days doing nothing but admiring the art in the Louvre. The museum is so massive that there must be hundreds of galleries, containing thousands of pieces of art. But for the time being, I had to be content with marveling at the outside of the impressive building.

After leaving the Louvre, Matthieu and I headed from there toward the Notre Dame Cathedral. We stopped at a bookshop first so that Matthieu could pick up something he needed for his job, and then we crossed over the river and into the courtyard in front of the magnificent church. The church was stunning. The stained-glass windows must have taken ages to craft, getting each piece just the right color and size to make a comprehensive picture. There must have been thousands of carvings covering the building as well: gargoyles as drainpipes, figures of important religious figures carved around the doorframes and on some of the pillars.

To finish out my day in Paris, Matthieu took me to a lovely restaurant called Au Pied de Cochon (which roughly translates to 'At the foot of the pig'). I couldn't understand much of what the menu said, and Matthieu spent a good fifteen minutes trying to translate everything for me before the waiter realized what we were doing and brought me an English menu. I decided to be adventures and try the restaurants namesake: a pig's foot. I was pleasantly surprised by how good it tasted! It was simply delicious. At the end of the meal, the waiter asked if we wanted coffee and desert. I declined, explaining that I was too full for desert and am not a fan of coffee. Matthieu gave me a bit of a funny look and said that you could definitely tell I wasn't French. (Mayhap as I learn the language, I'll become a bit more French!).

I'll return soon with the story of my trip to Versailles. Until then, a tout a l'heure!

Une Journée à Paris

So, back to Paris!

The day my friend Matthieu picked me up at the bus station, he drove me back to the apartment he and his girlfriend share. Both of them had worked on making dinner that night--duck breast with a honey dressing. It was my first time trying duck, and it was really, really good! I was a little nervous to try it, but I ended up really enjoying it! There were several other parts of the meal as well, but that was so long ago, I honestly can't remember...although I know I enjoyed everything.

I spent the night in a spare bedroom in Matthieu's parents' flat, and the next morning, Matthieu and I headed out for my speedy, one-day-tour of Paris. The day started with a boat tour of Paris, which headed down the river Seine. From the river, I saw the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Invalides Bridge, and the Notre Dame Cathedral. It was really, really amazing.

When the boat ride ended, we headed to shore and walked alongside the river to the Invalides Bridge. On the way to the bridge, a woman stopped me, pointed to the ground, and said "Excuse me, the ring, is it yours?" There was a gold-looking ring on the ground, and she picked it up and handed it to me, wishing me good fortunes when she did. Then we turned to leave and a few seconds later, she called out "Excuse me, but do you have money? For food?" This was a woman who looked well-dressed and very well-fed. I told her I had no money, but I gave the ring back. She shot me a nasty glare, took the ring, and headed off. My best guess to explain this strange encounter is that this was her way of getting money from strangers--tourists, like me.

I crossed the Invalides Bridge, a bridge that I've seen in so many photos and movies that I couldn't help but be amazed by the fact that I was in Paris, crossing such an iconic bridge. This road led directly to the Invalides, a grand building with a golden dome that can be seen from several parts of the city. Matthieu and I didn't have time to tour the Invalides, but we did go into the courtyard and onto the grounds. I even got to see some soldiers! (I think that's what they were, they looked very official).

After leaving the Invalides, Matthieu and I headed toward the Eiffel Tower. We stopped for lunch, and I felt very French, eating French cheeses and drinking wine on the gardens in front of the Eiffel Tower. Looking back, the whole thing was surreal and absolutely incredible. It rained a bit, but fortunately the rain didn't amount to much. Then, it was time to go up into the tower. The line for elevators was so long that Matthieu and I agreed the stairs would be better. It was a long climb! In total, I think we climbed over 600 steps. There were two levels where we could stop and enjoy the view of Paris from high inside its iconic tower. It was an amazing experience--one that just one year ago, I could never have imagined would be possible.

This seems a fitting place to stop for today. I'll post pictures soon, and then I'll have another post to finish the story of my day in Paris. A tout a l'heure!

Planes, Trains, Automobiles, and More...Way More

So I realize I'm very, very late in posting my tales of France, but better late than never! Right? I hope so.

I'll start with my last two days in Scotland. My on-campus housing had ended the day before my flight to Paris, so I stayed at the Willy Wallace backpacker's hostel in Stirling. It was right by the bus stop and train station, so I didn't have to worry about getting where I needed to be. I spent my last day in Stirling roaming around the city, buying the last handful of things I needed for the trip, and picking a loaf of bread that would serve as my breakfast the next morning.

The next morning, I woke up early, packed the few things I had taken out of my backpack the night before, and headed off to the train station, loaf of bread in hand. I bought my train ticket to Glasgow-Prestwick, the airport I'd be leaving from. The first half of the train ride was about an hour through Scottish countryside straight into the heart of Glasgow, one of the largest cities in Scotland. From there, I walked ten minutes across town to one of the largest and most confusing train stations I've ever visited.  On my walk, I ended up walking alongside what I assume was a breast cancer fundraising run/walk. I seem to have an impressive talent for accidentally stumbling across these things. When I got to the second train station, I bought a hot chocolate and waited for my train to come. While I was waiting, I walked around, looking for something to do, and completely by accident, I found an earlier train to the airport. I hoped on, just in time, and I was off on the second leg of my journey.

It took about another hour to arrive at Glasgow-Prestwick airport. Once I got off the train, there was a set of escalators that went up to a bridge that crossed over the highway so everyone could get into the airport. The airport itself was fairly small, since they only serve budget flights around Europe (I think only one or maybe two airlines operate out of this airport). I had arrived early--too early to check in, so I pulled out my laptop and just played games for a while. Then I decided to treat myself to lunch in the restaurant in the lobby--after all, it was my last day in Scotland!

I had a burger and chips (which would forever after return to being called 'fries') and watched the numerous reports about the barge that had been prepared for the Queen's Jubilee. Apparently it's very important that the Queen stay dry on her barge ride down the Thames--the announcers discussed precisely how the Queen would be kept dry for quite some time. After lunch, I still had some time to kill before I could check in, so I wandered through the small gift shop, knowing full well that I didn't have so much as 1 pence I could use to buy anything with.

There was some excitement when someone abandoned their bag by one of the support beams in the airport. Airport security started running around, trying to figure out who it belonged to. When they finally found the woman who claimed it, she didn't seem to speak English too well, and she just kept saying, "It's fine, it's fine!" The security guards had to keep insisting that no, it is not fine, and all bags must be attended at all times. I just sat and the corner and watched, since it was the best entertainment the airport had yet provided.

Finally, I was able to go check my bag and head off to security. I've never once had a problem in airport security before, but this time, I set off the metal detector, had to get a pat-down, and then had to have my carry-on bag dumped and searched. Now, let me just say that I had unpacked and packed this bag a hundred times to get everything to fit just right. And the security guard (the equivalent of a TSA agent) dumped the whole thing out and checked the spines of my books and my cell phones (one American, one good in Europe) for some kind of bomb residue. Once he'd determined that my bags were indeed safe to go on the plane, I was allowed to (slowly and pain-stakingly) repack my bag before continuing through the duty-free store to the lobby. The lobby was basically an area with a bunch of chairs where everyone waited for their flight to open up.

After almost another hour of waiting, the line for my flight opened up. I jumped up and hurried over to the line, not wanting to be the last person on. I got through rather quickly, though others were stopped to have their bags weighed, since all carry-ons had to weigh less than 25 kg. I had to wait in another line while all the tickets were checked, and then it was my turn. I got my seat, tucked my carry-on under the seat in front of me, and waited.

After a flight just over an hour long, I could see the French countryside out my window. We had made it. The plane landed in Paris-Beauvais, which is actually an hour's drive from Paris itself, which was my destination. I got off the plane pretty fast, and was pleasantly surprised to find that my checked bag was one of the first off the plane as well. I grabbed it and hurried to the customs desks. Customs didn't even ask any questions, just stamped by passport and waved me through. I made my way through the airport to the bus stop, so that I could catch the shuttle to Paris. I was very proud of myself when I walked up to the ticket counter and was able to say "Bonjour! Je voudrais un aller-simple, sil vous plait!" which translates to "Hello, I'd like a one-way ticket please."

The bus left about ten minutes after I'd gotten my ticket. It took another hour to get in sight of Paris, and a little longer to actually get to the bus terminal in the city. It was an amazing sight, seeing the skyline of Paris in the distance, the Eiffel Tower sliding in and out of visibility. And then, finally, I was in Paris, where my friend Matthieu met me and drove me to his house on the outskirts of Paris.

And I'll continue there later. (And this time, when I say later, I honestly don't mean three months from now)! A tout a l'heure!

Farewell to Scotland!

I'll post more soon about Paris, Strasbourg, and the multiple planes, trains, and automobiles that got me home, but for now, I've just put together a little slideshow thing as my farewell to Scotland post.

A tout a l'heure!

A Reflection

As today is my last day in Stirling, I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to take some time to write about my overall experience in studying here.

When I was trying to decide what college to go to, Arcadia was (after a lot of time and encouragement on my parent's part) a frontrunner. I had my decision narrowed down to Arcadia and one other school and decided that Arcadia was the better fit for me. The biggest selling point though was the letter that I received while still in high school. It was an envelope with on of the red telephone boxes you see all over the place in the United Kingdom. Inside the envelope was the letter telling me that I had been accepted to the Stirling FYSAE program. This meant that in my first year at college, I would be spending my second semester in Scotland, living and studying with Scottish and English students.

I absolutely loved my first semester at Arcadia. To this day, I will swear that there is no better bonding experience than a hurricane and tornado warning. I made some really, really good friends in the halls of Kistler, and they're a lot of people that I can't wait to see again either this summer or next semester. But at the end of the semester, I packed up my room, somehow managed to cram everything into my Dad's car, and headed home for the winter. I spent my break at home and at work, making money so I could pay for my food and souvenirs in Scotland. More than one customer would give me a funny look and ask if I planned on going to school someday, only to become incredibly interested and excited for me when I replied that I was still in school, patiently waiting for my flight to Scotland to continue my studies.

Come February, I packed my bags, stuffing my little suitcase and camping backpack full of clothes, shoes, and other necessities for the semester abroad. There was a moment of panic when my Mom and I, the only ones at home at the time, realized that my passport was not where it was meant to be. We tore the house apart in search of the passport, and I'd even started frantically searching the Internet, googling things like 'lost passport' and 'get a new passport quickly.' Luckily, the passport was found, the problem was solved, and the next day, I got in the car with my sister and my parents and headed for Newark airport.

I remember sitting at the airport with the people that would become some of my closest friends in Scotland. Our excitement was palpable--none of us seemed to be able to keep from grinning excitedly, talking about everything that we were excited and nervous for. My friend Heley and I watched what little of the Super Bowl we could before boarding began. We were both Giants fans, and I think we probably startled some of the people around us whenever the Giants made a good play.

Six hours later, our airplane entered Scottish air. Thrilled to have a window seat, I couldn't tear myself away from the window. I watched as Scotland unfolded beneath me, though it was too dark to really make anything out.

That first week I spent in Edinburgh, going to orientation with the rest of the FYSAE students, and exploring the city in the rest of our time. We roamed the city by day, snapping pictures, climbing hills and monuments, and figuring out what things we needed to get for our four month stay. By night, we visited bars, taking advantage of being in a country where 18 was old enough to drink. After our time in Edinburgh, we headed to Stirling, the city that was to be our home for four months. Again, we roamed the town, took tons of pictures, and explored historical sites.

Finally the time came to move into the halls. My room was the lucky 4/13 W, AK Davidson Hall. For me, this was an experience with its ups and downs. I've never really cooked for myself, since I come from a family of excellent cooks--if my Mom isn't cooking something for dinner, my sister or my Dad can whip something up, and I'm always welcome at my Oma and Opa's house. (And there's a pretty large family that will vouch for Oma's cooking skills!) With that said, having to cook for myself was certainly a different experience. I managed alright, though I didn't always have the healthiest meals. I ate enough pasta to make an Italian envious, and cereal was my staple food. But I survived, and only once did I get sick--and that wasn't even because of my amateur cooking abilities. Other than my struggle to cook adequate meals, my experience with AKD was a good one. I made some good friends in that kitchen--including Megan, who I will be sharing an apartment with next year; Michael, the ever polite Irishman who has promised to visit the United States at some point; Alastair, the Englishman from Edinburgh who had to return to his job every weekend; and Mike, who (although I made fun of, and was mocked in return) became a good friend, and certainly someone that I could always enjoy a political discussion with.

There were also people from other kitchens that I grew closer to, though these were mostly other FYSAE students. Ian would often come down to my kitchen, and I would hear him calling my name from the window, shouting at me to come to the kitchen. I (kind of) helped Heley and Ian build a fort of blankets in Heley's room, and Bri and I suffered through Macroeconomics classes together. By the end of the semester, we were saying our good-byes, with promises to have FYSAE reunions at Arcadia next year.

During this past semester, I've been lucky enough to travel across Scotland (a lot of which was done when my family came to visit during my break). I've been able to visit countless castles, climb mountains, go kayaking in a loch, and even do a flash tour through London before going to explore the Harry Potter Studio Tour. And now, I'm lucky enough to be able to go to France, to visit friends in Paris and Strasbourg before I end my journey in Berlin, and finally head home to be reunited with my family, friends, and doggie. I've made some great friends, people that I plan on keeping in touch with, even when there's an ocean between us, and Scotland will always hold a special place in my memory.

I've absolutely loved this last semester. There were times where I missed my family and friends, or wanted nothing more than to be able to pet my dog. But there were a lot of times where I was stunned--unable to believe that I was in Scotland. I look forward to getting home, but I hope to someday return to the island that has been my home since February. I've certainly enjoyed my time here, I've enjoyed all the opportunities it's offered me, and I've enjoyed meeting all the people that I did. And of course, I look forward to telling the stories this semester has given me again and again, for friends, family, and maybe even some of those customers who were so happy to hear that I would be studying abroad.

I'll post again, with tales of my last few days in Scotland, and of course with stories from France, but until then, a tout a l'heure!