J'étais en train de grimper une montagne, et puis...

I was climbing a mountain and then...~ This quote comes not from the excursion yesterday but instead from lovely Katie and her time at Taizé.  However, it applies just as well to our short time with the steep rock on which rests the village and the abbey of Mont St. Michel.  

Not only is this monument on the border of Bretagne and Normandie a tourist attraction (welcoming over 3 million tourists per year), but it is also an invaluable piece of the religious, political, and criminal history of France.  Our guide, a former resident of the village, definitely had connections, so we were able to see parts of St. Michel that are generally not allowed for the public (including the original church and the prison).  She began, however, with its story...


The man who build the abbey apparently had a vision of St. Michel, who told him that God's will was to have an abbey in this place.  Thus began the abbey of men (thus monks only- no nuns) in a small circular structure bearing no resemblance to the castle-like edifice of today.  During the 8th and 9th centuries, the vikings invaded France and used the already established religious hierarchy to take power.  Thus, in the slightly larger version of Mont St. Michel (known today as "Notre Dame sous terre"- or Notre Dame underground), the vikings invaded.  They also began to build various fortifications to protect the church militarily instead of merely spiritually.  It was the fourth most popular place of pilgrimage for Catholics, then a center for study, then a prison, and finally a national monument.


Thus this abnormally large rock and its inhabitants have seen more than just the second largest ocean tide changes in the world; they have seen the tides of time--power struggles in France, the Hundred Years War, and waves of people continuously drawn by its unique magic.  We, the international students, had a lovely day despite (or perhaps because of) the rain and cold.  The tour was, of course, beyond interesting, but the view of the surrounding ocean was also breathtaking, as was the little village--touristy in one sense, but in another, very authentically French.  And of course, we finished the day with a warm half hour of gauffres, mint tea, and hot chocolate.


"Rien n'est trop beau pour Dieu."
"Nothing is too beautiful for God."

La langue...et Taizé...

Language...and Taizé~ After another long train ride and a 2 hour stint in a bus that replaced my 30 minute train that was supposed to take me to a bus station where I would take another bus to go to Taizé (an ecumenical Christian community known for its beauty, attraction for young people from all over the world, and efficient division of labor-everyone who stays there pitches in for two hours a day to cook, clean etc. and to generally keep things running), I finally arrived.  
     At the bus station, however, I had already begun to experience the amazing power of this community to bring people together.  The Christian "pilgrims" headed that way were pretty easy to find, with our casual clothes, backpacks, tents or sleeping bags, and expectant countenances.  This is how Tricia found me: "Est-ce que je peux acheter mon billet dans le bus?" (can I buy my ticket on the bus?) she asked me, with her American accent.  Hating that I was doing what I never want people to do to me, I responded "parles-tu anglais?" (do you speak English?) However she wasn't upset at all and, relieved, began to speak to me in in our native language.  And voilà I had found a friend who would teach me about life and love and God and France and prayer and the United States, listening constantly to my story during our short stay at Taizé.  And if all goes as it seems it will, in her, I have also found another pen-pal.

the church in the early morning at Taizé

    However, the connections did not stop there.  Our roommates-- from Germany and South Korea, spoke more English than French, so we had a lot of very interesting English conversations, but at the Bible study (where we had a relatively heated debate about the passage where Mary discovers that Jesus has risen from the dead) that I attended was entirely in French.  I made friends with a group of Belgian teenagers, was asked by some French teenagers who Jesus is to me (in French, of course... I must admit that my pride got the best of me when one of the teenagers said "putain"-rather profane for a Christian community, but entertaining nonetheless- "tu parles bien français!"- you speak French well- and then he got confused-"mais est-ce que tu parles anglais?"- but do you speak English?- one of the girls in the group said something like, "yeah, silly, she's american!"), and, upon attending a workshop on where Jesus is in the world today, realized that I was the most equipped of the group to translate from French to English.  Thus, yes, I had my first experience as a translator at Taizé.

Tricia!!!  at the train/bus station where we met

    I'm not sure if I believe that God reveals something to every single person who goes to Taizé, but I did very much get the sense that He reveals what is needed to those who need it.  There, in song, prayer, and silence, I did find a certain peace that I expected, but in conversation, I discovered that (in the words of Tricia) I really have begun to jump into this other soul that is French-speaking Shannon.   I cannot be more thankful for this discovery, and thus rejuvenated both spiritually and linguistically, I returned to Rennes, ready to carry peace and confidence with me into the last 6 weeks (QUOI?!!!) of my study abroad experience here.

Jeune Alsace

Young Alsace~ Yes, this is the same historic Alsace in the east of France that is neither German nor French and at the same time is both.  However, suddenly we find ourselves among its youth.  Sarah, my lovely French friend who is studying at my university in the states (USC) not only graciously invited me to stay with her parents in Mulhouse, but she also virtually introduced me (via facebook) to two of her good friends.  First of all, however, I met up with an old fellow USC student, Caroline, who lived in the "French House" (my apartment complex last year, a living and learning community for those of us interested in French language and culture) with me.  

Caroline and me, with our red coats.  :-)

She was a fantastic guide, showing me everything from:

the Porte Jeune and the Tram

1) the "Hôtel de Ville" (the courthouse of sorts) to 
2) the houses built in true Alsacian fashion (made of concrete and  then painted various colors) to 
3) the tram (built a few years ago and present in Mulhouse, Strasbourg, and some other medium sized cities in France) to 
4) the "Porte Jeune" ("the young door," the mall, constructed in a modern style that I found interesting but that Caroline does not like) to 

bouchée à la reine et spatzlés

5) a traditional restaurant where she introduced me to "la bouchée à la reine" and "spatzlés," a dish that consists of a meat pie with a rich cream/mushroom sauce and then the spatzlés which are a type of potato based pasta and that go quite well with the sauce.

la flammekeuche!

     The next day, I met Anne, Sarah's best friend who dreams of nothing more than to go to the United States and thus was all to happy to practice her English.  This was the first time I had spoken my native language for an entire day since my  arrival in France, but I was happy to find that the transition between the two languages is becoming easier and easier for me as my French improves.  Anne was not there to show me around Mulhouse but instead to accompany me to Strasbourg.  Not knowing the city too well herself either, she had printed plenty of google maps and had a to-do list for the day of "must sees."  Thus we began with the famous cathedral, with its astronomical clock and its tower from which one can see the city (unfortunately, we missed the tower, but it turned out that with only an afternoon in the city, we didn't have enough time).  Hungry from our time in the car and at the cathedral, we then found a restaurant with the shortened name, "Flam," which serves another regional specialty, the "flammekeuche."  Basically this consists of a thin layer of dough, covered by "crème fraiche" (like sour cream that is not sour) and then a variety of toppings... usually cheese, onions, mushrooms, and ham, but we also tried the specialty of the day, which was topped by four different cheeses.  We of course finished the meal with a dessert "flam," in my case, chocolate/banana, which was equally delicious.  
     We then hurried to the touristy boat tour that was nonetheless fantastic.  In a glass sided/topped boat, we travelled the river at the heart of Strasbourg through two locks past "la petite france" (little France- the oldest part of the town), the international council of human rights, the parliament for the E.U., and several churches, the university, etc.  Anne, thoroughly relieved that we had managed to see everything on her to-do list thanks to the tour, drove me back to Sarah's parents' apartment, where we shared an enormous couscous (Nadia: "eat now...diet later!!!") and finally began to speak French again.  

Strasbourg...this is where we had our boat tour

     Finally, the next morning, I met Natasha and Todd who are French and American, respectively.  Todd did his masters in French at USC, so he and I had quite the interesting conversation about professors we had had in common.  They make a lovely couple, and wandering around Mulhouse together, I saw through them what a true Franco/American romantic relationship looks like.  It was beautiful to see their easy transitions between French and English, to analyze with them cultural differences and similarities, and to recognize in them other students of culture, language, literature, and life. 
     I cannot finish without noting, however, the young and old are unanimous in that THE thing to do in Alsace is to go to the Christmas markets.  Apparently they start the first weekend of November, so I just missed them, but as Mulhouse was already decorated for Christmas, I could feel the stirrings of this amazing tradition.  Alsace in particular is known for its mulled wines, sale of local goods/decorations, and fantastic food sold out in the open during the Christmas season.  Maybe someday I will make it back for THE Alsace experience, but my time there was still satisfying, seen from older and younger local perspectives, and ultimately from my own.

Qu’est-ce que c’est que la France?

What is France?  Imagine spices, all the colors in the world, sunshine, seaside markets, and vineyards.  Voici my friend’s parents who became my own for a few days, Nadia of Morocco and Etienne of Alsace (eastern France).  With their help, I tasted my first “boeuf bourgignon,” discovered the history and art of their town, Mulhouse (yes, Christmas decorations are already up—in preparation for the much anticipated December markets) visited the castle of Haut Koenigsbourg and spoke lots and lots of French.  Above all, they taught me what it is like to be a French daughter, not so different from being an American daughter in the end.  J

Nadia et Etienne

            Nadia is certainly a mind of her own, possibly one of the most interesting people I have ever met.  The quotidienne Nadia is best explained by anecdote:  upon my arrival, she immediately began ravishing me with comments such as “ma petite puce,” “ma pauvre fille,” (my little flea, my pour daughter), pampering and practically cooing because I had had a few transportation problems that afternoon.  Showing me to her daughter’s room, she gave me a bag of cookies and dark chocolate for “just in case I get hungry during the night,” and then she proceeded to make the largest omelette I had ever seen (along with a salad, cheese, and the staple—bread) to feed me, her, and her husband.  Breakfast the next day?  Cake and/or chocolate croissant, juice, and hot chocolate, followed by boeuf bourgignon for lunch, a gauffre for an afternoon snack, and any number of fruits or yogurts offered in between.  She is seemingly determined that I have never eaten before in my life and that she will do everything in her power to remedy that.  I must admit that it was nice being fussed over again momentarily.  It is easy to see that all of this feeding comes from her maternal, loving, giving heart.

            The first morning after my arrival, we stumbled upon an intriguing conversation.  What does Nadia believe?  God exists, He is good, we were all made to be the way we are…religions are just organizations that take people’s money for themselves instead of giving it to the poor.  Wow.  Momentarily taken aback, I knew that later this would incite my most fervent prayer at Taizé—that the world’s religions may change to honestly earn the trust of full, giving, believing hearts like Nadia’s, that in their strength as communities of believers, they may give more to the poor than any one person ever could. 

            Etienne, on the other hand, (who has quite the knack with clocks and toy trains) was more worried about the fact that I am going to Mali next semester.  Quick to offer me an article about terrorist activity in northern Mali, he asked me again in a little café after our visit to the castle, “you are really going there next semester?  But what attracts you to Mali?”  Nadia may be partially right; her argument is that all I listen to is my heart.  But I was quick to correct her in saying that I spend a lot of time reflecting on my decisions, even if it may not seem that way.  Logically speaking, it does not make sense to leave the sick and poor of Mali alone because their government has not yet decided to help them, even if the risks might be larger and the exquisite sites/encounters with educated people rarer than in, say, Morocco, Tunisia, or Kenya.  Although some of their reactions were surprising to me, I have nothing against this amazing couple that brings to the table as much knowledge of the world as they lack in technological common sense.  Above all, they took me in and cared for me better than almost anyone else in France has to this day. 

            If anything else, they led me to reflect on my decisions to be 1) Christian 2) a study abroad student in Mali 3) a doctor in the developing world 4) a student of France—of which the definition is turning out to be increasingly complex.  If this couple is France, as is my host family in Bretagne and the university students of Troyes, I am beginning to think that the only uniting principles are…bread…cheese...and…the language?  We shall see…

Les amitiés

Friendships~ Smahen and Rachida smiled at me from across the table at a Troyan creperie.  There we were, speaking French easily together nearly two years after the exchange between my French class at USC and their English class at l’UTT.  The night before, Smahen and I had had a long discussion about healthcare and education systems (of course, over raclettes—cheese that you literally melt and then pour onto boiled potatoes or meat—and “briques”—folded pockets of tuna and tomato sauce)… I forgot the English word “Democrat,” but Smahen provided it for me, and every single one of my amazing French buddies asserted that I have not changed much—except linguistically.  

Reunited!!!

            Our “franco-american weekend” in Troyes was well spent.  Not only did we assert by our reunion that we had formed real relationships that cross oceans and time, but we also practiced our language skills and caught up on the many new developments in the lives of each other and our mutual friends (all over the world).  Yet again, we all laughed with Anthony (who likes to play the part of the clown).   Kirsten, another USC student from my freshman year French class who (due to unfortunate circumstances) could not accompany us to Troyes the first time, also came from her current residence of Paris to finally meet her “keypal,” Elvira.  With their beautiful hospitality that I hope to reciprocate when they go back to the United States, these lovely people reminded me that learning about a culture—the apprenticeship of a language itself, in fact—is indivisible from its people.  It is thanks to them that my French skills began to improve from my first day of college on, and in more ways than one, what I said to myself over and over again this past weekend is very true: “it is thanks to them that I am where I am today.”  May the adventure go on!