pastura

Travels Abroad, Part 5: France

I was an admitted, open Francophile from middle school through college - occcasionally mistaken for being French by native French-speakers (sadly, no more.) In fact, I'm listening to Edith Piaf right now. But despite all my obsessions with the language, the culture, and the land, the thought of being in France frankly scared the sh*t out of me. Fortunately, my fears were misplaced, and I've had nothing but good experiences everywhere in that country... well, except for having to turn down a marriage proposal from my then-boyfriend on the banks of the Seine:



I'm big on finding hidden treasures, but as far as Paris goes, I'm not even going to waste my breath other than to say "screw the L'Ouvre, visit Musee D'Orsay and Musee Rodin instead." You pretty much have to be a tourist in Paris. You pretty much have to ride the carousels, eat entire baguettes on the Metro, and pant your way to the top of the Eiffel Tower.



I've had the good fortunate to stay in Paris on many occasions, but not until the last time did I tour the beautiful Pere Lachaise Cemetiere. I laid a rose on the grave of Gertrude Stein who said: a rose is a rose is a rose.

And after seeking all the other literary greats I wanted to visit, we swung by the infamously decorated grave of Jim Morisson.

You've already seen my photos of the quaint picturesque little Auvers-sur-Oise, an easy twenty minute train ride from Paris. So my next suggestion would have to be the French Riviera hideaway called Cassis. This is another of those places where you will see your share of tourists, but they will all be half-naked, impeccably bronzed French folks. The air smells of wild lavendar, the streets are lined with birch trees, and the coconut ice cream is killer. If you have time, you can take an afternoon boatride to one of many coves like this:



The most frustrating days of my entire semester abroad came at the very end - when my two-week post-school travels were winding down and I was ready to head home. That's when French workers decided to throw an impromptu version of their favorite pasttime: a transportation strike. Not only did I lose out on the tail end of my Eurail pass, I also missed my flight home! For four days, my then-boyfriend and I were stranded, virtually broke, in Marseilles. This is all I feel like sharing - a shot of the train station I never want to see again:

(and a man torturing a small child.)

Unfortunately, I have no digital pictures to share of my time spent in northern France in 1999. I lived with a family and studied for seven weeks in the cute but forgettable St. Brieuc, and toured fun spots like Mont St. Michel, Bayeux, and Caen. The latter is the home of the world's most fascinating museum, "Musee de la Paix," dedicated to the memory of WWII and the hope for peace. Put it on your list of things to visit if you ever make a trip to Normandy and the D-Day beaches.