Chez...

famille :-)

another one of those words that doesn't have a good translation~ To be "chez soi" is to be at home in terms of all of the intangibles in life.  Many a frenchman uses the phrase, "chez moi est chez toi" in the same way that we use "mi casa es tu casa" in the U.S., and yet to go to the doctor is to go "chez le médecin."  To say "what I like about her," the French use "ce que j'aime chez elle."  Thus, just as France is becoming more and more "chez moi" in more ways than one, it is fitting that I begin to visit French friends and to go forth more confidently than before, rediscovering the things that I love in life (in particular, cooking and baking) along the way.  This is how I came to organize a birthday party of sorts for my American friend, Julia, to spend the weekend "chez Estelle" with Katie (my American friend who is in many ways originally from Cameroon), and to have a crêpe party with French friends Mathilde, Flora, Paul, and Aurore, and an adorable Chilian/American couple (Pato and Hannah).

Julia, the birthday girl!

     Poor Julia had been entirely too stressed out the week before her birthday with a "commentaire composé," a long paper that essentially serves as a synthesis and analysis of several documents.  As simple as that may sound, like all assignments in France, there were many, many very particular requirements that thus put Julia completely out of her comfort zone of "write the way that you want to...within reason" (which I would say is more or less the dogma of American universities).  We thus cancelled the majority of our birthday plans, but we managed to hold on to the plan to eat dinner at a pizzeria, complete with sparklers in her dessert, a candle for her to blow out, and gifts.  I unfortunately had to leave early to meet up with my little sister, Alix and her mom and the cinema (yes, to watch Harry Potter...in French this time), but from what I hear, Julia left much happier than when she arrived.  My planning for Julia's birthday reminded me that it is not, in fact only the intangibles that help me feel "chez moi," but it is also my agency in any given situation.  What better way to show that one is at home than for him or her to welcome, give to, help another?  I therefore could not have been more thankful that Julia was born on November 26th.

la neige- "snow" outside the train window

macaroni and cheese..looney recipe!

Estelle et Katie à Vitré

     Saturday (the next day) began beautifully...with snow.  Apparently such a phenomenon is rare in November here (although it happened last year as well), but I have spent the last week attempting to explain that it is even rarer in South Carolina...as in it never happens.  Katie, who is from Chicago, laughed at and with my childlike exaltation at the beauty of it all.  The frosty French countryside flew by as we took the train from Rennes to Vitré, the small medieval town where Estelle lives.  There we played a bit in the snow, visited the castle and the market, Christmas shopped for Katie's family friends, and of course, went to Estelle's house.  Her house is the epitome of "chez soi."  The walls in the entryway are a warm golden yellow, and they immediately drew us into the beautiful living room, welcoming kitchen, and Estelle's simply pretty bedroom upstairs.  Her parents were equally welcoming, and we spent several hours eating a carefully prepared 3 course meal made by her mother, who then gave us the liberty to take over the kitchen for the afternoon.  One pumpkin pie and macaroni and cheese later, we snuggled up together to watch the movie, A Good Year (Une Bonne Année).  Chez Estelle, I found family in France in a way that is not possible with a host family where I am somewhere between the age of the daughters and the parents.  Beautiful.

Pumpkin pie...made with a real pumpkin!!!

crêpe party!

    Finally, the next weekend, I went Chez Mathilde to make crêpes; it was an evening filled with rich food and conversation... about cultural differences between France, the U.S., and Chili, about languages, and a few jokes here and there about pageants, since we had "Miss France" on in the background the entire time.  At the bittersweet end of the evening, I said my goodbyes, knowing that I likely would not see these friends again before I leave. We couldn't help but smile, however.  After all, Miss Bretagne won the pageant... Here, in all of its silly imperfection, is friendship.


Giving, baking, loving... reveling in the joy of time with family and friends, it is good to be able to say that in Rennes, I am legitimately "chez moi."

la reconnaissance

Thankfulness~ Yes, it was a bit strange to be away from the United States on the purely American holiday of Thanksgiving.  I couldn't believe that I had four classes that were not cancelled for the day and that there were no mashed potatoes at our Thanksgiving dinner (prepared by a French restaurant).  But it was also a moment to recognize all of the things that I am thankful for here in France (in no particular order)...

definitely not my family's thanksgiving dinner, but there are a lot of other things to be thankful for...

1) a beautiful language that I slowly but surely am beginning to master
2) a group of friends of many nationalities, including my church in Rennes, who support me and give me the opportunity to support them
3) snow...yes, it snowed a bit ON THANKSGIVING!!!
4) the directors of our program who answer at least two of my questions every day and who decorated their office for Thanksgiving, periodically provide us with Reese's cups that seem to materialize out of thin air, and are there if we need to laugh or cry or just say "bonjour" to someone familiar
5) my family who has helped me enormously before and during my time in France, has taken care of some of the important logistics in the U.S. regarding next semester in Africa, and who did the best they could to make me part of their festivities by showing me their mashed potatoes via skype
6) my host family, who has given me a roof, a taste of french food and family life, and the opportunity to read lots and lots of children's books

completed human body

7) the eccentric frenchman who sat next to me at our Thanksgiving dinner and contented himself by showing me pictures and business cards of everyone in his life, including his nephew (who I'm pretty sure he wants me to go on a date with)
8) chocolate...and French food in general
9) my human body magnets (collected from boxes of French cookies..and completed on Thanksgiving)
10) my salsa class..taught in French
11) the professors of CIREFE (the part of the university here for international students), who are ridiculously patient with our errors and sometimes feeble attempts to speak their native language
12) the familiarity of Thanksgiving day, even in a foreign country
13) the unknown

des moldus dans un monde magique

Muggles in a magical world~

WARNING: many Harry Potter references and possible movie spoilers in this entry…

Mais oui, I am in love with France and French.  However, please allow me a momentary digression (just as I allowed myself one) into the world of owls that deliver mail, broomsticks that fly, and a language that sounds a bit like my native tongue but that is at times more difficult to understand than French.  With that, we arrive at my weekend in London, specifically to see the newly released Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, more generally to experience the city.

Christmas already...

            First impression: London prepares early for Christmas, and the Tube is particularly difficult to navigate, especially compared to our two way, one track métro in Rennes.  Sometimes first impressions are correct. London already was decorated (this was the 19^th of November), Christmas lights illuminating the streets at night, and Christmas trees gracing nearly every restaurant and coffee shop with their presence.  Next to the Tower of London (quite the entertaining, if rather gruesome, site to visit with a beefeater as a guide), we found a man selling roasted nuts…and a Starbucks that was already offering its seasonal Christmas drinks.  The Tube, however was one of the more annoying yet funnier parts of the weekend.  The first morning, full of big ideas, we stepped onto a train with the best-laid plans.  Wondering why we stopped for so long at the first station we came to, we considered getting off but then decided that we were just used to the French metro, which must be more efficient.  Little did we know that London is doing construction on several lines, thus the rest of that particular one was closed.  You guessed it:  our train took us right back to where we started.  We were more careful from then on, but the closures meant the crowds were at times horrendous.  We waited through about 5 trains at Picadilly Circus (the theatre district) just to squeeze on one before going to the musical, Oliver (much better with a real British accent than an imitated one).  The last morning, full from the lovely breakfast of eggs, sausage, tomatoes, potatoes, tea, toast, jam, and cheese provided by our hotel, we took a turn around the London eye, regretfully viewing all of the sites that we had not had enough time to visit.  I have a feeling we will both make it back there someday.

HARRY POTTER!!!

            To conclude with that which governed our weekend, Katie (my fellow fan and trip companion) and I began our journey into Harry’s world on the airport shuttle, which was of course the Knight Bus taking us to Diagon Alley.  Arriving at a proper looking neighborhood with particularly well-manicured lawns still relatively far from London proper, we realized that we were “on Privet Drive,” and there kept an eye out for Harry around every corner.   We saw an illustration of a phoenix that bore a strong resemblance to Fawkes and finished with a stop at platform 9 ¾ .  We did all of that without forgetting to take an emotional ride through the first half of J.K. Rowling’s final novel.   It is now my favorite of the Harry Potter movies, being more authentic to the novel and the real world than the others and including the mature acting of the well-seasoned trio, Harry, Ron and Hermione.  However, after sobbing at the death of Moody, Ron’s abandonment of Harry and Hermione, and the death of Dobby, we were very ready for some Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, conveniently sold inside the theatre itself.

            At the end of the weekend, we were ready to be back “chez nous,” even though we only had had a taste of London.  Stepping off the airplane in Paris, we looked at each other and exclaimed: “Le français?!!!”  Back to the wonderful and magical world of immersion…

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…