Visiting Blere

Italy:

So before talking about my trip to Italy at the beginning of November (8-11th), I can’t forget my trip to Blere to visit my roommate from last year, Coline, and her family. Coline was on vacation, so she invited Ali (the same girl who traveled to Ireland with me and who lived in my suite last year with Coline and I) and me to come stay with her family. We came on Friday afternoon and left Sunday afternoon, and really had the most wonderful time.

Getting there was a bit of a pain for me, however. Friday morning, I got up early and went to the Robert Doisneau exhibition, which was wonderful – his photos are extremely candid and often hilarious, always thought-provoking. Some of my favorites included a portrait of a naked woman in the side of a store-front window; Doisneau took pictures of passer-bys who paused to peer into the right side of the window to see what exactly the portrait was, and their expressions were hilarious. Afterwards, we could find nowhere to go for a quick lunch, so – I am embarrassed to say - we went to MacDonalds (but JUST for the fries and ice cream!! And I had an avocado sandwich.) I then jumped onto the metro to take it to my train station, arriving just in time. I had purchased my train ticket online, and had opted to print my tickets off at home in order to not have to wait in line at the train station. I had sent the email to my host sister, which she had kindly printed off for me, so I thought everything was in order. In the States, you normally just receive an email which includes your tickets, right? You print off the email itself and that IS your ticket (you have to check in at the airport, but the train website told me I didn’t have to). I thus attempted to board the train with about 7 minutes left and asked a conductor if I could sit anywhere I wanted, as the seat space was not indicated on the form. “What is this!?” he asked me rudely. “I can’t do anything with this! This isn’t a ticket!” I explained to him that it was the online ticket, it was what had been sent to me, and I, as requested, had printed it off. “I can’t do anything with this!! You need to go to the ticket counter, but it will be too late. You’ll miss the train,” he told me. I was shocked. “But this is what they sent me,” I told him. “Well that’s not a ticket,” he said. Then, as I was afraid I would cry in front of him, I told him, “Sir, it is clear that I purchased the ticket. Could you not check to verify, and allow me to use this email which clearly states that I paid?” “No,” he replied, irritated. Then, as I was frantically trying to hold back tears, he chose to demonstrate his extensive English language capabilities and told me quite coherently, “Wiizzout teecket.” How helpful – he could tell me I didn’t have a ticket! I was extremely impressed.

As I was going to miss my train, I ran to the end of the platform and asked a woman who might be more helpful. She was very kind and sympathetic, and we tried to withdraw my ticket from a machine where you insert your credit card to verify your reservation; unfortunately, since I don’t have a French credit card – and so I don’t have the ‘pouce’ that is necessary – it didn’t work. She took me to speak with one of the conductors. I tried to tell her that I had already spoken to one, but she still went directly to the “wiizout teecket” man. He told her, angrily, “I have already spoken with this young girl!!” (young girl!??) “She knows she cannot get on!” The woman tried to speak with him, telling him that it was clear that I had a ticket. Then I said, “Monsieur-” and he looked at me and snarled, “I AM SPEAKING” - (like parents do to naughty children who interrupt.) I was so surprised and upset - since I was obviously going to miss my train - that I could tell that I was about to cry, so I thanked the woman who had been kind to me and walked away, wiping away tears out of anger and hurt (why would any man speak to someone else like that? Would he have spoken to me that way if I were a boy of my age?) I then waited in line at the ticket counter and, still embarrassedly wiping away tears, explained my situation to the woman behind the counter, who could do nothing to help me. I had to buy a new ticket, and I left late that afternoon with my friend Ali from another train station – which was fine, since we got to sit together and she bought me chocolate as consolation for my missed train.

In Bléré, I met Coline’s family, and it was really like I was staying with relatives – they were so kind to us, and even though they spoke good English (had both been Engilsh teachers), they spoke to us in French (which doesn’t always happen!). We had amazing meals, and dessert at each one (which is typical French but doesn’t always happen at my house, for sure!!). Friday night we all went together to a bar where we had ice cream (huge!) and delicious cocktails; Saturday day we visited Bléré, walked around the town, saw the stone bridge over the river where Coline used to hang out as a child, and visit the Clos Lucé (where Leonardo da Vinci lived just before his death), which was amazing. I bought a small present there that I can’t forget to give!! The Close Luce is kind of a popular spot for Da Vinci Code aficionados, also - so you may have heard of it. For dinner, we went back to the Roux’s and had the most delicious meal, including some type of apple tarte and ice cream. That night, we went to Coline’s friend’s house for a party he was having (he had previously lived in America and his family had some rather vulgar comics in their bathroom which I'm not really sure they understood). It was really fun to speak to French people, and we spoke about politics for a while – everywhere I go, I am surprised to find that people don’t harbor any hatred or dislike towards “Americans”, just towards “American policy” (think the letter that was opened at the UN today from the Iranian president) particularly George Bush (and unsurprisingly – has George Bush ever studied a foreign language…other than Spanish, which apparently he speaks poorly).

In fact, one girl at the party came up and grabbed both of my hands and said, “Laura, tell me – parties in America are so much better than this!” I told her no, they are the same. Then she said, “But you know, America is different! It is the dream for us, you know!” (C’est le rêve pour nous!!) I told her that Americans equally think that France is wonderful and even that everyone idealizes everyone else’s country, but that I did miss home and that I found a lot of thing to be great in the States but there were still lots of good things in France. She was insistent, though: “It really is the dream for us, you know. America is the place where things happen.”

Sunday, Ali and I took the train back in the morning, unfortunately missing the big Sunday brunch at the Roux's since we had to leave at noon. I’m hoping to maybe go back to the Roux’s for Easter though, because (fingers crossed) I should be in Luxembourg then. In fact, just after I got back, and the evening before I left for Italy, I received a huge packet of security clearance forms in the mail – which would take me days to complete, but that story is for next time. Also, if you didn’t know, I found out that I got an internship in Jan-Feb. at a research center for American scholars in Tunis, Tunisia – The Center of Maghrebi (North Africa) Studies in Tunis (Le Centre d’études maghrébines à Tunis). So I will hopefully be doing interesting things second semester!!

More on my security clearance form filling out and my Italy trip, coming soon…