All Good Things

Goodbyes are never easy, and somehow it seems like they're harder to say to a city, because the city can't say it back.  Still, I've been doing my best in these last few days before I have to leave Paris for the next chapter of my life.  Freshman year officially ended on Friday, giving me a few days to wander without any worries about work to be done or obligations to be kept.  Of course, that doesn't make leaving any easier.

I don't think I'm going to be able to find the words to sum up what these past nine months have meant to me.  I've learned so much, both academically and personally, and the opportunity to start college in Paris is one that I will be eternally grateful for.  Though it was at times difficult-- yes, even life in Paris has its downs-- I can't imagine having done anything differently, because every choice I made gave me the incredible year I experienced.

Don't cry, Paris (it's started to rain).  After all, I'll return some day.  I know there's no fountain I can throw a coin in to ensure it, but it'll be impossible to stay away for long.  Besides, I still haven't seen all the Louvre; I guess I'll just have to come back to rediscover you.

Thank you, Paris.  It's been unforgettable.

Katrina

Spring Break: Nice, Genoa, Cinque Terre, Monaco, and Nice Again

Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one.  As I procrastinate on packing up my room, I'm going through all the pictures I took over spring break, already missing the shining water and warm sun.  Deciding against going up north to the Nordic countries for spring break was quite possibly the best decision I've made all year; I don't think I could've made it through two weeks of being cold after it just stopped being freezing in Paris.  Instead, I spent two weeks (minus the days with strep throat; see previous post) laying on beaches and wandering with a mindset of relaxation.

The Saturday spring break started, I hopped on an eight AM train from Paris to Nice: travel time a little under six hours, napping through much of it.  I stayed in Nice for three nights and immediately fell in love with the city; everyone was relaxed and friendly, and the weather was absolutely amazing.  The second day I was there, I actually walked two towns over to Villefrance-sur-Mer with a girl I met at my hostel, and the view from the beach was absolutely stunning and definitely worth the 2+ hours it took to walk there (we took a train back).

The beach-- covered in rocks

The view from the old tower (yes, it was an overcast morning)

Leaving the beautiful sun of Nice (though I know the pictures don't look like it), I hopped on a train to Genoa, Italy, where I stayed for two nights.  Things I appreciate about hostels: very cheap way to travel.  Things I don't appreciate about hostels: bunking in a room with people who snore like bears.  Anyway, I digress.  Genoa seems to have been built on a hill: you can't walk for more than ten feet without encountering an incline or decline unless you're walking right along the water, at the Old Port.  Still, with all the hills, at least I earned the gelato I ate-- because when in Italy, it's always gelato o'clock.

It says it's a street, but I don't believe it...

Apparently they like motorcycles in Italy

The Old Port

The old ship at the Old Port

Rolling out of bed bright and early to catch my train (well, trains plural, if you want to be specific) to Monterosso in the Cinque Terre, I noticed I felt under the weather, but thought nothing of it.  Oh how wrong I was.  My first day in Cinque Terre was absolutely beautiful: the sun was shining, there was a nice breeze, and the water was the bluest I had ever seen.  The next few days, however, I was out of commission with strep throat-- see previous post for details.  Luckily, I was cured by my last full day in Cinque Terre, which meant that I did in fact get to see all the towns, though I wasn't able to hike between them.

The conclusion I came to in my day wandering the Cinque Terre villages was that I absolutely have to return, ideally sometime in late June/early July so I can truly experience the beauty of what the towns have to offer.  The day I had to explore was mildly overcast, but the towns were still absolutely stunning, tiny streets packed with stalls filled with everything you could imagine.  I have just one complaint to file: according to the sign, there are 350 steps from the train station up to the town of Corniglia, the third Cinque Terre village.  After careful counting, however, I discovered that there are, in fact, 383.  Corniglia, you are a cruel taunt.  Fix your signage.  Apart from that, however, the villages were absolutely stunning.

Is this not the most beautiful view you've ever seen?

And then it was overcast

The main street in Vernazza

The town of Vernazza

The stormy seas

One of the many switchbacks on the stairs up to Corniglia

Look, I got someone to take a picture of me! (Yes, I am wearing an NYU shirt.  It was the only one I had that had been unaffected by my illness)

A church in Manarola

While waiting for my train to take me all the way from Cinque Terre back to Nice for the last few days of my break, I ran into a girl who also had a large duffel backpack on.  As it turned out, she was also going from Cinque Terre to Nice and staying there for a few nights; thus, a friendship was born.  We ended up taking a day trip to Monaco from Nice for one of the days, which was super fun though killed my feet, because, though you may not know this, Monaco is also built entirely on a hill.  And no, I did not gamble-- as it turns out, you have to pay fifteen euros just to be able to enter the casino, and I was not about to bet that I could earn back that fifteen euros on my mediocre poker skills.  Still, wandering around Monaco was an amazing time.

Is this sunset even real? (Spoiler: yes)

The seaside of Monaco

Large city; small country

The newfound friends I went exploring with

It's a good thing you can't see my sunburns

I still can't believe actual people live here

My last two days I just spent laying on the beach in Nice.  The sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, and I never wanted to leave, but alas, all good things must come to an end.  Saturday night, after my final beach day, I packed up and left my hostel and boarded the train back to Paris, much more relaxed and much more sunburned than two weeks prior.

Katrina

Strep Throat in Cinque Terre

I am in love with the European health care system.

Over spring break, I travelled from Nice to Genoa to Cinque Terre and back to Nice.  Somewhere in the Nice-Genoa-Cinque Terre leg of the trip, however, I encountered a bacteria that decided it was going to latch onto my throat and not let go for dear life.  Yes, dear readers, I woke up in my lovely hotel in the first day of my visit to the Cinque Terre with no energy and a sharp pain in my throat.  Cut to the following day, when I couldn't swallow for fear of tiny knives appearing in my saliva to cut up my throat, and I decided that something had to be done.

Unable to figure out how to find a doctor in the tiny village of Monterosso al Mare without speaking a word of Italian, I went down to reception and asked the woman at the desk if she would call a doctor for me.  I must have looked pretty pathetic, because she assured me everything would be taken care of, and I was sent back up to my room with a pot of tea, some cold cuts of ham, and some crackers.  An hour later, there was a knock on my door.

In walks an old man with wispy grey hair, a polished walking stick, and a well-used leather bag.  He was the epitome of the Italian doctors you would expect to see in movies in the 1940s, yet somehow he had just appeared in my hotel room.  I did my best to explain the problem in as few words as possible, still not able to do much with my throat.  The doctor then told me that most places in Italy, they don't do strep tests because the small towns don't have the technology.  Instead, he grabbed his light and peered down my throat, made some vague, non-committal noises, and then informed me that I should start antibiotics right away.

I went down to reception with the doctor and was immediately informed by the hotel staff that they would be sending someone to pick up my prescriptions for me, because the kindness of strangers is endless.  I did my best to thank everyone profusely while still not being able to speak, got some more tea, and went back upstairs to await the antibiotics.

Over the next few days, my throat slowly recovered, and I managed to get out and spend my last day in Cinque Terre exploring the villages.  That's for another post, though; today, I want to end by saying that thanks to European health care, I paid a total of 52 euros for both the doctor visit and all the antibiotics I was prescribed.  Europe doesn't leave you out to dry if you're sick in one of its countries.  Not only that, but the kindness I experienced at my hotel in Cinque Terre truly gave me a sense of the kindness of strangers; when you're in dire straights, there will always be someone there to help you out.

Katrina

The Start of Spring Break

I've been in Nice for seven hours now, and I am already feeling the spring break relaxation setting in.  I took a long TGV ride from Paris to Nice-- just under six hours-- which left a bit before nine in the morning, meaning it was an early start for me.  I managed to sleep on the train for a while, though (I say "managed"; it was impossible to keep my eyes open), so I was wide awake when I stepped off the train into beautiful, sunny, seventy degree weather.  Sidenote: no pictures for today, I just wanted to wander and take everything in for myself before getting the camera out.

After figuring everything out at the hostel I'm staying at for the next three nights, I headed out to the beach.  There were a few rows of beach chairs, I found a free one, and laid there for about an hour and a half, soaking in the sun and the ocean breeze.  It feels very nice to not have anything to do for a while-- nothing looming over me that I have to work on, just some books on my Kindle I've been meaning to read.  After a sufficient amount of sun, I wandered down to Vieux Nice-- the Old City.

Vieux Nice is one of the best places to wander.  The streets are mostly blocked off to cars and are all cobblestones, lined with restaurants, cafes, and antique shops, not to mention the amount of ice cream to be found.  I decided to treat myself-- what is vacation without five o'clock ice cream, anyway?-- and sat and listened to one of the street musicians while eating Swiss chocolate ice cream.  Yes, it was delicious.

After wandering for a good while through the labyrinth of Vieux Nice, I decided to attempt to make my way back to the main square, where I could reorient myself.  It took much longer than anticipated, though I didn't have anywhere to be, so I just grabbed a kabab and fries from one of the stands and ate dinner on the beach.  When the sun finally started to fade, I headed back to the hostel, where I now sit, writing this post.  I am very tired, even though I didn't do much today-- travel always takes it out of me, despite the fact that all I do is sleep en route.

Tomorrow, more beach time and probably more wandering through Vieux Nice-- this time with my camera!

Katrina

A Visit to Brussels

At the end of February, I went to Brussels for the weekend.  I've been thinking for a long time about how to write this blog post, with the attack that happened recently.  I didn't know if I could not address it at all-- bombings affect almost every part of a city's life, and I'm sure that Brussels has changed because of it.  But I also didn't want it to become the subject of the post; I visited Brussels before everything happened, and I felt like it was somehow wrong to write about the bombing when the Brussels I visited hadn't been affected yet.  I think this introduction is the middle ground.

My time in Brussels was mostly spent wandering around from cafe to cafe, exploring the city by its coffee.  Cafe hopping is one of my favorite ways to see a city, as it turns out-- you never have to rush to get anywhere and you can wander as for as long or as little as you like.  Wandering with a waffle that's been smothered in Nutella is just an upside of wandering in Brussels.

After a harried night of attempting to take the tram to my hostel (which was very confusing and poorly labelled, though I managed to get there eventually), I woke up the next morning refreshed and ready to explore this new city.  I had amazing weather when I was there-- the whole weekend was sunny and shockingly warm for late-February.  Heading out, I grabbed a one euro waffle and managed to stumble across the Mannekin Pis-- the Pissing Boy of Brussels.  Around the actual statue, all of the shops had larger marble versions of it outside their entrances, advertising for them.

The Mannekin Pis-- much smaller than I had anticipated

A one euro waffle stand with a larger Mannekin Pis

After the Mannekin Pis, I proceeded to wander down some cobblestone alleyways until I found the Grand Place, also known as the Grote Markt.  It was, as you might imagine, quite grand.  The buildings surrounding it were huge and covered in gold leaf.  The second time I visited the Grand Place, slightly later the next day, there was a wedding that had either started or just finished.  It fit in very well with the atmosphere of the Grand Place-- huge and dramatic.

The Grand Place, or Grote Markt

A golden building in the Grand Place

Alleyways that enter into the Grand Place

In my wanderings, I came across a beautiful park somewhere in the center of the city.  It reminded me a bit of the Jardin du Luxembourg, though with less flowers and more wild trees that had been allowed to grow.  I sat on a bench in the park for a while, reading a book and watching runners or birds as they flew by.

Some of the cobblestones I came across

Quite literally off the beaten path

I did a lot of reading while I was in Brussels.  I would find a cafe, plop myself down, order an espresso, and read and watch the world go by for hours at a time.  It was quite a chill way to travel, and I found myself more relaxed than I had been in a while, all the time still seeing parts of the city that I stumbled across in my wandering.

I won't lie to you-- I've forgotten what this is.  Possibly a government building, maybe a museum, maybe both?

The view from outside one of the cafes

Brussels is a strange city.  It's beautiful, but it's also a weird amalgamation of the old and the new.  The streets are lined with old stone buildings, yet in the background there are massive glass office buildings with Coca-Cola logos on them.  Brussels mixes the antique with the cutting edge, and somehow manages to make it work in a way another city might struggle.  It was an amazing city to get to spend a weekend in, and I hope one day I can return and see what else Belgium has to offer-- or at the very least, I need to return for some waffles!

Until next time (which I swear will be soon-- I leave tomorrow for a two week spring break on the southern coast of France and Italy)!

Katrina

Springtime (Finally)

I'm sitting next to my open window as I write this, with the sun beating down on me and the fresh air blowing into my room.  I'm done with midterms and the essays that come along with them, so most of what I'm working on currently is just a lot of reading (side note: Dante faints a lot in his Inferno).  My mom, sister, and sister's friend are coming to visit Tuesday, so I'm doing my best to get ahead of the work curve for the next week.  We'll see how well that works.

Springtime is Paris seems to so far be characterized by the sun finally returning and 50 degree (Fahrenheit) weather, which I am on board with.  I went on a few runs this weekend, and I wanted to stop and lay down to soak in the sun to make up for all the grey, rainy days throughout winter.  I can finally read outside at cafes and start walking more without fear of freezing my face off.

It's also kind of strange, though.  Around this time every year, it's spring break, and my family generally flies out to Colorado for some spring skiing and family time.  Here, though, my spring break doesn't come until the last two weeks in April (yes, I do realize how late that is, no need to tell me), meaning while everyone is off at the beach-- or the mountains-- I'm still stuck in school, and I've really started to miss my Rocky Mountains.

Still, it's impossible to be sad for too long with the sun still outside and the breeze no longer blowing cold rain into my face.  Springtime is finally here, and I do not plan to waste it inside my tiny apartment.

Katrina

A Visit to Grenoble

You know those little fairy tale villages surrounded by mountains that you think only exist in postcards?  Yeah, I visited one a few weekends ago.

Seriously.  Look at this.

Grenoble is one of the most amazing cities-- towns-- villages-- who knows how to classify it-- that I've ever visited.  Part of that could be my ongoing love affair with mountains, but it was just such an amazing place to walk through.  My friend Grace came with me, and we left Paris around 10, after our train was delayed for unknown reasons (probably the rain) for about an hour.  We made it to Grenoble towards the end of lunchtime-- 1:30 or so-- and checked into the hotel before beginning our quest for food.

One thing I love about France is that you can never quite tell when it's going to rain and when it's going to shine.  Sure, you have your weather reports-- which are about as accurate as my sister's cat trying to catch the red dot.  Things weren't looking so hot on the weather report for Grenoble, with rain scheduled pretty much all day every day.  Despite that, I rarely used my umbrella; France prefers to rain in little sprits and then stop for a while before raining again.

Our first day in Grenoble, we headed out to see the Cathedral of Grenoble, also known as the Notre Dame de Grenoble (yes, every town has a Notre Dame-- no, none are as impressive as the one in Paris).  We wandered down from our hotel though the old part of the city, stopping for lunch and then stopping for coffee.  It was a very chill start, and ended with a wonderful fondue date-- did you know I've never had actual fondue?  I've only ever had chocolate fondue.  Yes, I know that doesn't shock you, be quiet.

An overcast day

The square next to the cathedral

Chez Marius-- because I'm a musical nerd

Inside the cathedral

Shakesbeer pub-- because I'm also a Shakespeare nerd

Day two at Grenoble saw us spending a really large amount of time up at the top of the Bastille.  We grabbed pastries on our way to the cable car up to the top of one of the mountains, and once there, we settled in for the long haul.  We must've spent one or two hours wandering around the top and gawking at the view, and then another one or two hours having lunch at the restaurant up at the top (sidenote: eating while looking out at the Alps?  Phenomenal.  Try it if you ever have the chance).

The sun began to appear, finally

Wow I'm actually in one of the pictures

I would like it noted that I took 37 pictures of the mountains while at the top.  Be glad I figured out how to cut them down.

We decided we wanted to chill after a very filling lunch, so we headed back to the hotel.  Grace napped and I managed to get some homework done before we went to get dinner.  We were shockingly exhausted, so we fell into bed almost immediately after eating.  Combination of altitude, travel, and the wonder of mountains?

Our last day in Grenoble was spent wandering through museums.  We visited the Musee de Grenoble, which was full of art from the medieval period through today, which was super interesting to walk through.  There were paintings, sculptures, and tapestries scattered throughout the museum, as well as (shockingly) amazing views of the mountains.  We also saw the Musee Dauphinois, which had various histories of Grenoble, from the mountain men who lived there to the history of skiing (which I was particularly interested it).

A fun jokester statue

Painted during one of the Grenoble snows?

Joan of Arc portrayal

La comedie portraying la tragedie

And, finally, we headed home.  I was sad to say goodbye to the mountains, but it was a wonderful break from the hectic-ness that a student living in Paris can experience.  We got back to the apartment around 1 AM, after which I fell into bed and went straight to sleep, still dreaming of snow-topped mountains.

Katrina