Lessons in Time Travel

On Friday, I took a flight over the ocean that took -25 minutes and my country count is now at 10.

In other words, I went to Guernsey this weekend, a little island in the English Channel that Jonathan calls home. (For those of you that haven't been keeping up since the beginning, Jonathan is my closest friend from my Germany program back in August.)

Some highlights:

I flew over in a plane with 5 people. Other than the pilot, I was the only person who bothered to put in earplugs (those being my iPod ear-buds) to lessen the mind-jarring whir of the propellers while I worked on my mental homework - memorizing a 14-line poem by Baudelaire.

I discovered an affinity for British humor, even if Alan Partridge reminds me a little of Larry David.

We were nearly blown off the (guardrail-free) cliffs by hurricane-force winds, but luckily my only battle wound was a splinter from purposefully falling into some bushes - standing was not an option at the moment.

I learned about the casual art of making loose-leaf tea, and still managed to spill the dried leaves everywhere.

We ate a 7-course dinner and couldn't name half of the dishes. I even resisted the urge to make wine glass harmonies and hang a spoon off my nose.

We visited the smallest chapel and the oldest postbox in the world.

I found out (again) that church in other countries isn't that much different from that which I'm used to, which made it all the more comforting and uplifting.

And I realized too quickly that a weekend was not enough time.

At least I have another month on this side of the pond.

Château Dreams

When I was little, I often dreamed of being a princess of some faraway land, living in a castle surrounded by a moat and an enchanted forest. I suppose that dream always seemed a little more distant because there is not a castle to be found in our young country. But a few centuries before the Pilgrims settled in humble log cabins near Plymouth Rock, the French elite were living it up in abodes like this...

It's weekends like this past one I'm reminded that I'm studying in the middle of European splendor. IES took us on a 2-day to not just one, but 5 castles in the Loire Valley, all dating back to the 1500's. They were still furnished with many of their original tapestries, furniture, art, and other luxuries. And the first one we visited still houses the royal descendants to this day!

There were moments from this weekend that felt strangely surreal: crossing a footbridge to enter in the shadow of a dozen stone towers, wandering through trees under sunlight that makes everything feel enchanted, or stumbling upon the grave of Leonardo da Vinci in a little chapel near an edifice where kings once lived.















(But in reality, not all was perfect like a fairytale. Castles have no insulation, and so I wore my coat constantly the whole weekend. Putting 63 American students together in 2 buses inevitably crumbles into the vast majority speaking English. And needless to say, our late return Sunday evening resulted in little homework getting accomplished!)

Nevertheless, it was quite a pleasant weekend full of history, jokes, and even Heidi's birthday. Oh, and a rainbow appeared just before the buses pulled out of the final parking lot for the 3-hour drive home!

Just another weekend in France.

Roman Holiday

And now, for something completely different - ROME!

What a weekend. The magnificence of the world's greatest empire still shines in every part of it, from ancient unearthed columns to well-preserved monuments still in use today. Taking a lesson from my previous blog entries, I'll try to keep from mentioning every detail... but we did do an impressive amount of sightseeing in only 3 days!

Jenny, Heidi and I arrived in Rome late Thursday night after taking a train, the Paris metro, another train, a bus, a plane, and another bus - in other words, the good part of a day. Nevertheless, we pulled ourselves out of bed a few hours later to visit the Vatican, which would be less crowded on a Friday morning as opposed to the weekend.

As you can see in the photo, St. Peter's Basilica was incredible. When you walk in the doors you're immediately aware that you're standing in the largest cathedral in the world. And if you climb the 323 steps to the top of the cupola (like we did) you'll find the best view in all of Rome.

Not to mention a good view of the line in which you COULD have been standing if you'd arrived just an hour later after the basilica opened. In the picture below, it's the uneven curve around the basilisk in St. Peter's Square. One we saw this, our sleep-deprivation suddenly didn't seem so bad!



After eating some paninis and gelato (and noticing that even food in Rome is cheaper than in Nantes), we were ready to tackle the 4 miles that make up the Vatican Museums, including the Sistine Chapel, home to Michalangelo's ceiling masterpiece. Perhaps they put it at the end of the tour route on purpose, so that you're not tempted to skip the Egyptian, Greek, and Renaissance sections? Nevertheless, I was a little aesthetically and historically overwhelmed, but in the most pleasing way possible. Even in the Sistine Chapel, which was smaller, darker, and more crowded than I'd imagined, it was incredible to sit under one of the world's greatest works of art and take in all of its beauty.


It was so wonderful and relaxing to stay with Katie in her apartment! We didn't have to worry about paying for a hostel in a potentially shady area, far from everything, and with unseen complications (such as the fiasco in Normandy!). We could return whenever we pleased, relax our feet, eat some pasta, and freshen up before heading into the city once more. Not to mention the joy of seeing a good friend in a new place, and one who knew the ins and outs of such a grand place!

In fact, that very evening, Katie took us to one of her favorite places in Rome, a secret that we never would have discovered otherwise - an intimate classical concert in a cathedral, for only 5 euros! By far the youngest listeners in the room, we basked in the presence of a violin, a cello, and a piano playing Shostakovich and Ravel - two of my favorite composers. And we even got a free glass of wine afterwords at a nearby restaurant just by showing our tickets. This was when I fell in love with Rome.

On Saturday we visited all the sites that required tickets, as the next day was All Saint's Day, meaning that everything would be closed. This included the Colosseum (think Gladiator or Ben Hur), the central ruins of ancient Rome, and the Pantheon - once a temple for Greek deities and then converted into a Christian church, still active 1,400 years later!

We slept in on Sunday to recover from our two previous early mornings and staying out rather late the night before - it was Halloween, after all! But we made sure that we made it out in time to catch the tail end of a flea market right down the street. There were endless booths of pashmina scarves, piles of old clothes, sketchy electronics, cheap jewelry, fake designer purses, and random antiques, altogether amusing and fascinating at the same time. I was reminded of the time I visited a market like this in Berlin with Theresa last spring. I love the feeling of walking in between vendors selling all sorts of things, locals mixing with tourists - it's a true European garage sale.

Katie invited us to come to church with her that evening, because she would be singing in the choir. It's a Catholic church which does services in English and happens to be the religious center for a lively Filipino community, with an Irish priest. Even though I didn't know many of the hymns or the Catholic rituals, I was impacted by how familiar it felt to worship there among Christians from completely different backgrounds as myself. The adorable Filipino women were incredibly welcoming, even serving us a traditional (and scrumptious) meal before the service.

The two main sites left on our list, the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain, were both conveniently located relatively near Katie's church. The Steps in themselves don't hold as much historical significance as the Vatican or the ruins of ancient Rome. However, they were certainly the best place to see today's Rome: the locals from all walks of life mixing with tourists from all over the world, coming together in a colorful spectacle for people-watching.

Similarly, the Trevi fountain was swarming with visitors, though the twilight roar and camera flashes from the crowd didn't detract from the fountain's glory in any way. Joining the tourists at the fountain's rim, we turned our backs from its splendor only to toss coins over our shoulders.

As the legend goes, throwing a coin in the fountain guarantees a return trip to Rome. And while I have no idea what adventures lie ahead for me, I do know that even with another visit, I could never get enough of the artistry, the history, and the magic of Rome.

An Epic Weekend in Normandy: Part 3

Thanks to the rush of studying for midterms and last-minute trip preparations last week, as well as the verbosity of my first two entries, I have to compact the final leg of my Normandy trip into photos. I've added one from each site we visited on the tour.

And in fact, most of what I would tell you would be recounting the history I learned on my tour anyway, so if you're curious about any of the sites, feel free to do some independent learning about WWII.

Part 3: An abbreviated virtual tour of the D-Day sites

Gold Beach, where British forces landed.

Longues-sur-Mer, the site of 4 HUGE German guns which were partially destroyed by British forces

Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial

Sculpture at Omaha Beach (where the Americans landed) celebrating the 60th anniversary of the landings

German bunker at Pointe du Hoc Ranger Memorial, a site heavily bombed by U.S. forces. There's even craters left all over the site where the bombs were dropped!

While the sense is truncated by my few photos, the tour was incredibly worthwhile, and I think it's something that every American should do if he or she has the opportunity. I learned a great deal about this important period in our history, and it also supplemented what I've been learning in my political science class concerning the construction of the EU, not to mention my understanding of American-European relations. While one of the most popular stereotypes of the French is that they hate Americans, as for Normandy, the sincere appreciation for our participation in the war is still quite evident many decades later. Where else can one walk by countless restaurants advertising "Welcome, Liberateurs!" with American flags waving side-by-side with those of France and the EU?

An Epic Weekend in Normandy: Part 2

After our overly-eventful morning, I was more than ready to do some actual sight-seeing. The Bayeux Tapestry Museum is conveniently located in the center of town, with signs pointing to it from all directions - in other words, something we could finally achieve without difficulty!

And all the signs were making me a little giddy. I learned about the history behind the tapestry during my Spring Term in London this past May - we even visited the battlefield where William the Conqueror's beat the Saxons for the English crown. Besides, wouldn't you be excited to see something that's over 900 years old?

Needless to say, I was enraptured by it, even trapped in a walking conveyor belt of tourists with an audioguide pressed to my ear. In fact, the tapestry was even longer and larger than I thought, with numerous intricate details. I think I went into art museum-mode, because as with the florescent Monets in Paris, it was a little painful to pull myself away - I could have easily studied it for hours!

Instead, I bought a mini-version which folds out like a map. But of course, it's not quite the same!

Heidi and I spent the latter half of the afternoon in another museum which presented practically anything one would want to know about the Battle of Normandy. We definitely didn't read every display, but overall it was an educational introduction for our tour the next morning.

Though I'm not sure how much my memory retained thanks to the minimal amount of sleep I got that night. It just so happened that the granddaughter of the woman running the hostel in town was having her 18th birthday party at the house we were sleeping. The woman did mention that to us before we left, but assured us that there wouldn't be many people and we would be fine sleeping in a back room. At that point, it was a side-note easily forgotten in our hunger and exhaustion.

But of course, that night we returned to this huge house crawling with teenagers: squeezed onto benches with drinks in hand, clumped randomly at the edges of the main room while the DJ plays outdated hits, and even hiding in random corners upstairs with purposes all too obvious. Heidi and I rushed past them all with our eyes focused on the path leading to our room - only to be greeted by rows of truncated bunk-beds and Disney characters when we finally got inside. Though we were the only (official) guests there at the time, in the summer the place houses school groups, presumably studying WWII or the Tapestry. And so we had the pleasure of sleeping with cartoons watching us.

At that point, we were just thankful to have beds to sleep in. We had a few ignorant visitors who announced their entrance by illuminating all the lights before one of us stumbled out of bed and mumbled something to them in French. And I swear the DJ kept turning up the volume all night. Ironically, it was pleasant to wake up in the morning simply because it was finally silent.

If only we'd had a moment to have enjoyed it! We were a little rushed in the morning because we'd assumed we'd have to make the long trudge back into town to catch our tour at 8:30. However, I quickly noticed that quite a large spread of breakfast food seemed to have been left behind from the party - I didn't feel an ounce of guilt taking some bread and oranges or making tea to subside my morning caffeine fix. Besides, we were originally supposed to get free breakfast with the other hostel, but seeing how everything else had played out so far, we weren't expecting anything.

And so when a mustachioed Frenchman strolled into the dining room and said "Petit déjeuner?" right as I was pulling my tea out of the microwave, I assumed he was asking me if I was having it presently. I absent-mindedly replied "oui" and then he disappeared. As Heidi and I sat down for a second to eat an orange, it didn't take long to realize that he was in the kitchen, making us breakfast... and we needed to leave in 5 minutes. But it was impossible to refuse the plates of cheeses and meats, the baskets of warm bread and croissants, or the huge jars of jelly, honey, and Nutella. And as I'm sure you can imagine, once we explained our situation, he assured us that we would be given a ride by his colleague - who unexpectedly turned out to be a notably tall, rosy-cheeked British professor. For me, hearing British humor at that hour made everything better.

On our ride into town, he offered his heartfelt apologies and finally uncovered all the shady business we encountered the day before with the other hostel - the old woman is actually embezzling funds from the association, and they're in this big legal war far too complicated for me to understand.

The moral of the story: be prepared for an adventure when you're staying in the cheapest (and in this case, the only) hostel in a European town! But I'm glad to say that Heidi and I survived.

With that debacle behind us, we looked ahead to the war-torn beaches of Normandy.

An Epic Weekend in Normandy: Part 1

This past weekend, Heidi and I voyaged to the northern city of Bayeux with two goals in mind:

1. See the Bayeux Tapestry, an embroidery which commemorates William the Conqueror's victory at the Battle of Hastings - over 900 years ago!

2. Visit some of the D-Day Beaches, museums, and the American Cemetery

With help from my Lonely Planet France guide, it didn't seem too difficult to plan. We booked the first train leaving Saturday morning and the last returning Sunday night. I called the youth hostel during the week to make a reservation. I checked what times the museums were open, and that there were buses heading right to the beaches. Everything seemed to be set.

But what an adventure it turned out to be. (Prepare yourself for several installments... I wasn't sure what could be left out without taking away the rollercoaster effect!)

Part 1: Initial Difficulties

Our very first train was 10 minutes late. If it had been our only train that day, this wouldn't have posed a problem. But since we had two changes to make, this small delay meant that we would only have a minute to get to our next train. And if we missed that, it would mean a mess of re-scheduling, waiting, and losing time.

But luck was on our side. When we jumped out of our train, we quickly realized that our next train was just on the other side of the platform. We literally stepped on just before the doors closed and we took off.

A few hours later we arrived in Bayeux. The town looked grey and sleepy, with only the cathedral's steeple piercing the the overcast sky. But as we followed the road into town, we were greeted by several cheerful looking houses, then a series of American and European flags dancing over hotel entrances, and finally an over-friendly French man ( which is not an oxymoron!) who made sure we knew exactly where we were going - he gave us directions to the hostel three times, and even followed us for a block or two, as though expecting we'd go in the wrong direction!

We couldn't wait to get to the hostel so that we could put down our overloaded backpacks and freshen up after the early start. But as we were walking up to the hostel, a younger man crossing from the other side of the street looked over at us and said "On est complet." In other words, "We're full."

To say the least, I was a little flabbergasted. I immediately retorted by telling him that I had made a reservation this week and that he must be mistaken, but he just kept shaking his head as we followed him inside. Already my mind was racing to alternatives, but in fact there were few. This was the only hostel in town, with rooms at 20 euro; all the other hotel rooms in Bayeux started around 45 euro. Thus, we didn't really have a choice.

Once inside, it seemed as though a tiny part of the wall opened up and we were looking into the messiest office I've ever seen and two wide-eyed wrinkled faces. I again insisted that I had made a reservation, but the woman laughed at the word as though I had told her my father was Nicolas Sarkozy. After some negotiating on their part, the younger man took us up to a room which in fact turned out to be occupied. When it was clear that the hostel was indeed complet (as far as we could tell, anyway), we were ushered back into the messy office for their attempts to ameliorate the situation. Apparently the hostel had other houses at the edge of town where school groups go to stay, and they insisted that there would certainly be rooms there. They also insisted that it would not be far to walk, and that someone would be there to greet us.

This was feeling more and more like some cruel joke. We walked for about half an hour with nothing to please our empty stomachs but a dwindling supply of cookies. And then the place was deserted, and all the doors were locked.

We actually found out the next morning that there's something of a legal war going on between the people that run these "Sablons" and the woman and the hostel in town (followed by her lawyer, the other person present when we arrived, at all times). We called a number posted on the door and were assured that someone would arrive soon - then right after I hung up, a car pulled up and out stepped this same woman and her lawyer, who eventually got us keys, showed us a room, and drove us back into town. It was the least they could do. But we were happy to have that affair over with for the moment.

After finding the hostel, the next item on the agenda was to locate the tourism office, in order to find out the times for buses heading to the D-Day beaches the next day. Not wanting to waste any more time, I went up to the desk and asked about the buses, only to find out that there weren't even any buses running on Sunday (contrary to what my travel book had listed). And while there were private tours leaving in the morning, it was unlikely that there would be spots left on any of them.

I was crushed. If we had come all this way and we couldn't even get to the beaches, what then? With a list of tour companies in hand, I started calling them one by one. And miraculously, the LAST company I called had spots after all! I think I was a little too overjoyed on the phone, because right after I was given an affirmative response, all these words came out at once to express my relief, explaining that we were two American students only there for the weekend and all the other companies had been booked. The man from the phone even remembered me when I paid for the tour the next day - Ah, the American girl! - but he did tell me that my French was very impressive. If only my grammar teacher had been there to hear him!

We found our way there , we found a place to sleep, and we found a way to the beaches. It was finally time to see the first site on our list - the Bayeux Tapestry!

10 Hours in Rennes

One of the things I love most about Europe is the relative closeness of everything - narrow streets, dense towns, and countries not much larger than our states. And the facility of train travel only adds to the wonder of this proximity.

Around Tuesday, Jake and I spontaneously decided to visit the city of Rennes on Saturday. It's the closest city to Nantes (just an hour and a half by train), and it also happens to be the capital of the region called Bretagne - known as Brittany to anglophones. It's somewhat like the Quebec of France, but with a Celtic influence. Many people still speak Breton (a dialect similar to Celtic) and for hundreds of years, the French monarchy allowed the dukes of the region to have their own separate Parlement before they later merged with France.

In true tourist spirit, we booked the first and last trains of the day to make the most of our visit. This meant leaving at 6:41am in order to arrive in Rennes at 8:30am. (It sounds a little crazy, but the next train wouldn't have arrived until noon.) This also meant that our first train was a "sleeper train" - stepping into a dark cabin resounding with snores from the reclined seats, we repressed giggles in our state of half-awake giddiness.

However, the brief jolt of amusement wore off by the time we stumbled out of the station, into the grey, cold morning and empty streets with little idea of what to do, other than the names of a few museums I'd copied from my tour book the night before and some very basic directions - "Uh, I think we just go down this one main street and turn left after a while... and then everything's somewhere in there..."
And so, with ambiguity and spontaneity in tow, we were off to discover Rennes.

But with all its charm and history, Rennes made it easy for us. In a few short blocks we found ourselves along a pictoresque canal lined with flower baskets. Then, just over a footbridge, we nearly tripped over the sudden cobblestones while admiring the anachronistic mixture of buildings - intricate ironwork, lopsided wood structuring, and even some modern-fill ins, all in a bright color palette to distract one from the cloudy weather.

Venturing further into the old part of the city, our senses were suddenly overwhelmed by the jumble of colors, odors, and voices coming from the city market. And don't let this picture deceive you! We wandered through several streets and even two small warehouses full of vendors selling all sorts of delectable wares: vegetables, fruits, cheese, breads, meats, and seafood (including live lobsters and shrimp climbing all over each other). To us it seemed like such a novelty, but in fact it's the time-tested French alternative to the supermarket, every Saturday morning.

Needless to say, we left the market feeling pretty hungry after that overload of fresh delicious scents. And even though we do eat crêpes quite often on our nights out in Nantes, it was necessary to eat them in capital of the region where they originated. We even had a pleasant conversation with a young waiter who was interested in the States, and wanted some company in the then-empty restaurant. I love having conversations with the French when they're sincerely intrigued by our culture - I always gain a new perspective on our country and a little more confidence in my French skills.

After touring the art museum (which didn't take long because just a small section was open at the moment), we joined a group of French tourists at the information center for a private visit to the Parlement building. Because it's still used today as a court of appeals, there are only one or two tours a day at varying times, and so we were lucky to have found this one! Even though its purpose isn't nearly as important as it once was, it's clear that the Breton people take pride in the meaning and history of this building. Many restorations have been done to retain the original grandeur of the interior, including several gorgeous paintings from the 18th century, gold detailing on the ceilings, and various wood sculptures. It was quite the history lesson - altogether interesting, but by the end our early morning start was catching up on Jake and I.

But we couldn't have planned it better - right after the tour we wandered back through town (now nearly as familiar as if we'd been studying there for a month, too) just in time for the arrival of our train back to Nantes.

Not bad for 10 hours and a 20-euro ticket!

Trip to Mont St.Michel

On Saturday, IES took all 91 of us to Mont St. Michel, which is probably the second most-recognized French monument after the Eiffel Tower. And as with most iconic sites - I experienced the same with the Taj Mahal - amateur photos don't do them justice.

Not to mention the fact that we only have 1 1/2 hours to see everything, solely for the reason that the food there was expensive. (I would gladly have paid 6 euro for a sandwich if it meant a few more hours there, but I could spend a whole entry on this frustration.) That time itself was truncated in navigating the touristy-pseudo town of gift shops at the bottom, squeezing past tourist groups of all nationalities while climbing up to the main entrance to the historic part, and then following a labyrinthine path of signs through the various parts of the site.

It's one of those places that started small, but grew more impressive with each addition (excluding the parking lot). And in spite of our limited time, it was still a breathtaking morning. I'll let my pictures explain for themselves:

The first breath of fresh air above the sea of tourists.

As you can see, the weather was perfect, as was the morning light shining through the cathedral windows.

My friend Jake and I at the top (even though it looks as if we're superimposed into a Romantic landscape painting!)

Taken with a little regret on the way down, wishing I was still at the top...

We spent lunch and the remaining afternoon hours in St. Malo, a charming coastal town not far from St. Michel. Although I was brooding for a bit over the time crunch and an empty stomach, there's nothing that can't be solved by a romp on the beach!

It was a day well spent... just another Saturday in France!

Travel Rewind - A Photo Adventure

After saying goodbye to Freiburg, I took full advantage of the handful of days before my Nantes program with some pre-planned meetings with Kathi (German T.A. at Alma last year) in Cologne and Heidi in Paris. Unfortunately I had some camera trouble (ironically only at times when I need photos the most - I had similar problems in London), and thus I don't have photos of my time with Kathi.
However, I spent an extra day in Cologne, and entirely unplanned. When I arrived at the Cologne train station on Sunday in order to make the necessary reservation for a Paris train, they were all booked until 4:00. I didn't make it to Paris until 9:00 that night.

But a free day in a European city is never a bad thing with one of the world's most famous cathedrals and a huge modern art museum.

I didn't get any pictures in the Museum Ludwig, but the Cologne Cathedral was pretty epic on its own, though it was hardly possible to capture its magnificence in photos.






















The peace resonating throughout the cathedral was just what I needed after the exhausting morning. Due to a rather eventful night of clubbing, I had a total of 20 minutes sleep the night before (with additional napping on the train to Cologne). Then after the reservation fiasco, I stuffed my enormous rucksack into an automatic storage machine, frantically e-mailed Heidi in a shady internet cafe doubling as a casino arcade, and ate a pretzel covered in almonds and chocolate for breakfast. But in the end, I was soothed by the cathedral's glorious tranquility and the art museum's stimulating collection - all 4 levels.

Then it was off to Paris! I'd been once on a high school trip, but it was rushed and jumbled (as high school trips tend to be). This time around, Heidi and I tried our best to see the sights (and enough art to appease me) in two days. Here are the highlights:

10:30 Fountain at St. Michel: We catch a glimpse of a fashion photo shoot, or a stylish attempt to ruin a $5000 gown.

11:30 Eiffel Tower: One look at the mass of tourists underneath and we decide to come back later, instead heading off in search of cheap baguette sandwiches.

1:00 Centre Pompidou: Finally, I get to meet Duchamp's Fountain. Believe it or not, this urinal is the cornerstone of modern art. Needless to say, I was pretty excited.

10:00 Eiffel Tower: Heidi and I witness an alien abduction over Paris. (Actually, it's just the searchlight from the top of the tower on time-exposure. But it was still a great view).

11:00 Musée d'Orsay: Heidi and I discover a ballroom hidden between the multiple levels of art in this converted train station. Dancing was necessary, at least long enough for a photo to capture the moment!

3:00 Arc de Triomphe: Someone's got to keep the Arc standing, right?








5:00 Eiffel Tower: A cheap picnic in front of la Tour proved far more enjoyable than any expensive restaurant. And I had just enough time to capture it before my camera died!





All in all, two days well spent in Paris. A bit of sightseeing, a bit of art, and a lovely intro to the country we'll call home for the next 4 months.

Sunday on a Mountaintop

For the residents of Freiburg, the Black Forest
(Schwarzwald in German) is merely a short hike from their doorstep, yet each year thousands of tourists flock from all over Europe to hike through these gently rising mountains. While the conifer-crowned peaks dominate the view out my window, I doubted that I'd have the opportunity to properly explore them, having never really gone on a full-out hike up the side of a mountain before.

But when Lutz suggested that we go hiking on Sunday, I was more than ready for the challenge. After donning an old pair of purple hiking boots from Theresa's mom, I followed Lutz through suburban side-streets until we suddenly came to the foot of a mountain, with trails winding uphill in all directions. At first the climb was incredibly steep - it wasn't long before I was profusely sweating in the afternoon sun! Since Lutz goes hiking and biking all the time and plays on the university soccer team, I was pretty self-conscious that I would tire too quickly in comparison!

But I managed fine, perhaps in part because of all the biking I've been doing this month! As my occasional Freiburg tour guide, Lutz told me about how the Black Forest got its name. The trees are surprisingly dense, so that hardly any plants grow on the ground. This becomes increasingly apparent as one hikes deeper into the forest. (I couldn't help thinking of all those Grimm fairy tales of children getting lost in the woods!)

We reached the first high point in about an hour, at which point my sense of accomplishment made the view seem that much more spectacular (the picture above doesn't do it justice). As we rested there, we downed a good portion of our water bottles and watched a few bikers crawl uphill or whiz down. Interestingly enough, the mountain bikers fall into one of two groups: 1) wearing a special type of full body armor, with a full helmet like the ones they wear in motorcross, and riding an incredibly expensive bike, or 2) wearing skimpy bike gear and riding a cheap bike, which is insane given the steepness and incredibly rocky terrain that they have to ride over. Most of the bikers that zipped by us were the stupid ones. I really don't know how they do it without seriously injuring themselves.

Our next stop was a bit higher up, at a point where the trees thin out with the elevation. Right at the summit is this enormous protruding rock, probably the side of a small house, with plenty of ledges for hikers to sit and look out over the city. We had the natural lookout to ourselves as we munched on cookies and spied on the rooftops with binoculars. Then right as we were about to go, a pair of friendly bikers (group 2) snapped this picture for us.

Hiking is such a popular pastime in the Black Forest that there are in fact several restaurants tucked considerably back in the woods (though many can still be reached by car). We took a different route back to reach one such restaurant, at which we sat back and rested our weary feet, refreshed by the sweetness of local weißbier and the sense of contentment with conquering a mountain.

Lounging in Paradise

My friends, I have seen Paradise! It's a long grueling climb upwards, but once you finally plop down at the top and wipe the sweat off your forehead, the view is simply incredible.

And that's just the secret little place we found in Baden-Baden yesterday.

The real purpose of the day trip was to see an exhibition of a group of artists known as "The Blue Rider" who stirred up the art scene around 1910 with their depictions of natural settings in vibrant colors and bold brushstrokes. However, I was also eager to visit the town from which my German ancestors came (and fulfill many family members' requests to make such a visit).

After some time at the museum and a quick bite to eat, I explored the town a bit with Jonathon, a friend who recently moved up into my class and hails from Guernsey, a little island in the English Channel. Because he teaches Latin and ancient Greek, his inherent interest in ancient cultures brought us to the centuries-old ruins of the city's Roman baths. ("Baden" means "baths"in German, and even today many tourists visit solely for the unique and refreshing cleansing experience.) Johnathon was even able to helpfully clarify the verbose explanations on the audioguides that we received with our museum tickets, and as a result, I actually learned quite a bit about the technical and social sides of how the baths worked so long ago - even today, the ancient Romans never fail to impress with their forward thinking.

After much wandering through all these portals of history and culture, we took a mental break in a Biergarten, complete with waiters in full lederhosen! Jean-François (Quebec) and Laia (Spain), two other friendly faces from our class, happened to come looking for a refreshing drink not long after we had sat down, and naturally we took the opportunity to talk about our town adventures in our rudimentary German. We even snatched a town map off another table, with which Jean-François pointed out a path called "der Paradies" and encouraged us to see where it led.


In doing so, Jonathon and I found ourselves maneuvering up steep narrow streets surrounded by these grand white Bauhaus-style homes and lots of greenery. The higher we climbed, the more we could begin to discern a series of fountains dividing another set of steps to climb. With so many steps and the occasional leveling off for some landscaping, the throbbing heat made it easy to question what lay at the top of this pseudo-Elysium.

And even though the initial sight of a boring gravel plane with a little playground and a few dingy benches wasn't exactly what I had envisioned for the summit, a sense of fulfillment still rushed in with the mountain-framed view and the invigorating warmth of the sun on our faces.Without the obligation of a meeting time and a train ride back, I quite possibly could have lolled in that Paradise sun forever.