Sweet Champagne…

The region, that is. Roughly two hours northeast of Paris lays this sacred wine country, and it was the object of my travels on a cold March day.

The city of Reims looks quite a bit like Paris. If the buildings were perhaps two or three more stories taller, I would say that it is Paris, only now they call it Reims. And like Paris, a giant cathedral is in the center of the city.

In its history, the Cathedral at Reims was put into more use in terms of coronations of kings and bishops. At the top of one of the arches outside the cathedral, one can see Clovis, arguably the first king of France, being blessed by the Archbishop and being given the crown by his wife.

But it’s the inside of the structure that has the true differences from its counterpart in Paris. First of all, the interior is much more open. Now it may only seem that way because there is a significant difference between the amount of people walking around in Reims than in Paris, but the interior had much more open space and much more light; probably because there aren’t many buildings directly adjacent to it.

What caught my eye was the stained glass window toward the back of the building, behind the altar. At some point the original window was shattered and artist Marc Chagall designed a new one. What I like about the window is how much it actually resembles Chagall’s paintings.

Another notable sight in Reims is Maison Mumm, France’s and therefore the world’s premiere champagne maker. I was lucky enough to have a tour of the cellar at Mumm’s and it is truly a cave. The corridors are arched with stonewalls and there is very dim lighting so as to not disturb the fermentation process too much. Bottles of champagne line the walls as well each being slightly tilted over months at a time so that the yeast residue can be easily extracted.

After the cellar this is, of course, a tasting. Our guide told us that what we tasted was a champagne that is suitable with just about any kind of food and occasion. That’s all the reason you need to buy a bottle.

Go to a soccer game

There’s no denying that soccer, with rugby as its competition, is the most competitive and watched sport in Europe. A small group of us from the program here in Paris decided that going to a game was a smart way to immerse ourselves into the French frame-of-thought.

The best piece of advice that can be cautioned is that when going to a soccer game, make sure you go with someone who is extremely passionate about the game. That way, you can actually appreciate what’s happening on the field in front of you.

Were it not for my friend Evan, I wouldn’t have know who Fernando Torres was, nor why on Earth all the Spain fans were ecstatic when he entered the field. And were it not for him, I wouldn’t have known the name Cissé, the French soccer player who, in the last minutes of the game kept good control on the offensive side of things.

Perhaps they should have placed Cissé in the game earlier. France lost 2-1 to Spain, but it’s nothing too grave. This was just a friendly match to warm the teams up for the real season—the blues will get ‘em next time.

The teams are displaying their flags before the match. Spain on the left, France on the right.

Nostalgia and Networking

The funny thing about the French language is that it’s not that widely studied in the United States. That’s actually not so funny as it is sad, yet quite fortunate in my case. High school French classes tend to form strong bonds between students so that when the moment arises that you do go to France, someone from your high school is there too.

And that was the case with me. My friend Kate is studying in Tours, France which is somewhere over an hour southwest of Paris by train. Realizing that we were both on a different continent at the same time, what better way to have a reunion than to meet at the Louvre and see new things while talking about old times?

This was back around mid February, so while just beginning to adjust to a host family and new faces galore, it was nice to see an old one that hadn’t been seen in a while. The Louvre was nice too.

In fact, it’s quite difficult just to say what’s so nice about the Louvre. The building itself is artwork, from the classical style of the architecture juxtaposed with a glass pyramid in front, to how the interior of the museum is designed. One thing I tell people when they go into the museum and trek their way to the Mona Lisa is to be very mindful of the ceilings. Any photo I have won’t do them any justice. All I can say is that when you go, if you do, and you should, make sure to look at every ceiling and you’ll know you’ve truly looked hard enough when your head is stuck up like a pez dispenser.

I spent the entire day with Kate as well as her friends that she had in Paris and those she brought from Tours. What was nice about two of the friends from Tours was that they were actually French. The nightlife in Paris is filled with some French people but a large part of the crowd is other students from other countries.

After the Louvre we went back to her Hostel to cool down a bit from the day of walking. One of her friends, Friedrich, enlightened me on the basic rules of Rugby and made me feel bad about myself because English is his fourth language. I digress.

Later in the night we headed to Bar 10, a well-reputed sangria bar in Paris that is small, dark and extremely cozy (and nearly always full on weekends). As I parted the group they all asked if I was going to Tours. I said it was something I really hoped to do. Friedrich offered the couch in his apartment as a place to stay.

It’s a trip I’ll be booking.

A good place to hang out

To those who read this blog as a way to keep up with my time abroad here in Paris, I apologize for not writing the past week. I hope it’s understandable that with the first full week up classes in effect, it’s quite hard to know just what to write about. Nonetheless:

The place to hang out, meet up, pregame or whatever it is you want to do would be Notre Dame. Located in pretty much the geographical heart of the city (though perhaps not the metaphorical heart of the city, my language professor believes that’s the Latin Quarter – he called it the vrai âme de la cité, âme being a french word meaning spirit or soul), Notre Dame is the spot that anyone can find to get anywhere. Not that you’d want to leave…

After class one day some fellow students and I decided to meet up here and decide what to do. We decided to hang out there a little while before heading home.

Pity in pink

The assumption that mostly girls aspire to travel to Paris, or even France in general isn’t exactly a false one. My program is a testament to that. Of the nearly 20 people in the program, four are male.

That is the fact that I have to live with for the next four months – literally, live with. My host family, who, by the way are very kind people, were very surprised to hear that a 20-year-old male would be living with them. Not only were they surprised, they were worried. They have five children; their middle daughter is 16. Naturally, one would fear their teenage daughter would act up around one who professes himself to be of the utmost attractiveness. My host mother was also apparently quite upset, because she had already bought a pink cover for the bed.

I’m not complaining at all. That bed is huge and comfortable. The first night I slept on it I felt like a starfish who had lost all points and then slowly stretched out a new arm, then another and then the legs followed until I was splayed like the vitruvian man.

Who says men can’t use pink in Paris?

Your feet will hurt

No joke. The first few days here have really had a toll on my high and delicate arches.

We went on a walking tour of Montmartre; for those of you who don’t know what Montmartre is in respect to Paris, it’s where the Moulin Rouge is located as well as the neighborhood from “Amélie.”

But for some real history, Montmartre is also where the “Sacre Coeur” is located. Fun facts: Montmartre could potentially be named after the martyrdom of St. Denis, or named after the type of stones that were used to build the village. The other fun fact is that despite how old the Sacre Coeur looks, it was built some time in the late 19th century (also, that horseman on the right is a woman – it’s Joan of Arc).

The only stones I really focused on were the cobbled ones digging through my thin-soled shoes.  If walking around Montmartre for about two hours wasn’t enough a small group of us decided to walk back to the Seine to catch the Metro. That was another 40 minutes of hell on the heel.

But we ended up finding ourselves in front of the Louvre. So that’s not bad.

The courtyard in front of the Louvre leads to the Arc de Triomphe as well as a view of the Eiffel Tower. I figured that a picturesque sunset behind the Tower might satisfy some ocular desires as well.

A small piece of Paris

My jealousy of the French has already begun. Specifically, of those in their teen years living in or just outside of Paris; and here is why:

It’s a little hard to read, but the sign on that building says “Lycée Charlemagne.” Lycée means high school. I obviously can’t speak for everyone, but my high school was a brick building from the 60s with a giant red Native American on its front side.

I am grateful, however—now that I will get to live here for four months and see buildings like that “Lycée” everyday, or streets such as the one below.

I went to my first créperie today. We have a solid two hours to eat lunch so a few other students and myself went to a small bistro in a tight alley that was a 20-minute walk (at most) from the Foyer International des Étudiants.

I ordered a crépe with an egg on top of it for lunch, as well as a café crème. Café crème is the modern term; café au lait just isn’t in fashion anymore. The lunch cost about nine euro, which isn’t bad, but it’s not too cheap either.

Indulgence isn’t necessarily a bad thing…

The Budget Project

Paris is expensive, and I am not rich. I am not afraid to admit that I have somewhere a little over $4,000 saved up to spend this semester. However, even though I can easily live comfortably with that amount, I’d like to have something in the bank when I return.

Thus begins my budget project to be as frugal and as cultured as possible. So, let the first few numbers roll in:

In the past few days, I have spent 212.10 euro. I came here with 350. BUT that doesn’t count any squandering. 64 euro was spent on getting myself an international phone for Europe with 80 minutes of calling time. No minutes are taken away if someone calls me.

79.40 euro was spent on getting myself a Navigo, which is a type of metro card that gives me unlimited access to all public transportation for a month, that needs to be renewed each month.

The rest of the money has been spent on food or drinks, the latter being more expensive. The food is where I can easily budget myself more – and that’s something I have to do. In a week I move out to a host family where aside from breakfast and two dinners per week I’m on my own for food.

The story so far

Being that I have never been a world traveler, I have no idea how to write about world travels. But, being that today was my first day traveling the world, I will try.

Flying across the Atlantic Ocean is a very strange thing, mainly due to the fact that I saw very little of the Atlantic Ocean. This is partly because my plane left JFK International Airport at 10:45 p.m. and nothing can be seen at that time of night, but also because it was partly (mostly) cloudy—at least what the sun came around.

It was almost like I hadn’t traveled at all. This machine with wings lifts you up in the dark, then you see clouds, which are essentially made from the ocean, then you go back down through the clouds and land in another place.

Today, that other place was Paris. On the cab ride to FIAP Jean Monnet, I was whisked under the Arc de Triomphe, past the Louvre and caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower.

Naturally, I wanted to go up close to all of those things, but even more natural was the enormous wall of fatigue that was weighing down my eyelids. I met up with the other students who are in my program and after moving our luggage into the rooms at the FIAP we decided to have one huge American group walk.

We have no idea where we went, but the walk lasted almost two hours. We did find a boulangerie and we all got to taste the makings of a real French bakery. I bought myself a “pain au chocolat,” which is basically a type of croissant with chocolate on the inside of it.

After our walk we headed back to the rooms, showered and fought off more fatigue once realizing that we needed to eat dinner, provided by the FIAP. Eating, as I have suddenly learned greatly adds to however tired one may be feeling. It’s near eight p.m. as I’m writing this first post and most of the other students have already gone to bed.

Considering I haven’t slept since Friday night, and that tomorrow has an early start, that sounds like a good idea.

More posts and pictures are to follow; I promise.