Author: lemus432

Venturing Out

As I predicted, I got completely sidetracked and have only just remembered to make another blog post. There is always so much to write about that it seems overwhelming, but as I’m writing this, I’m on a plane back from Basel, Switzerland and I’ve heard the songs on my downloaded playlist a few too many times. So, now’s as good a time as ever. And with that, let’s talk about my first trip outside of the UK this weekend.

To start, I really thought that travel within Europe once I got here would be so much cheaper but turns out Aberdeen is JUST small enough of a city that it is actually pretty expensive to go anywhere but London or Belfast. Even still, I wanted to get to the mainland of Europe for a few reasons. First, my friend Char from back at Kalamazoo College is also studying abroad this fall in Germany, and we had talked so much about how one of us was going to visit the other that I couldn’t not, you know. Second, even if it’s not the $20 flights I was told about and anticipating, it’s still so much cheaper to get around once I’m on this continent, so I would be throwing away a great opportunity if I didn’t travel somewhere else other than the UK. Not to mention I don’t have to fight jetlag now that I’m adjusted. Third, I sort of wanted to experience the scared helplessness of being in a country that speaks a language I am in no way familiar with. I don’t know, sounds fun. Sounds like a cool adrenaline rush.

So anyway, why did I settle on Switzerland? No specific reason actually, it was just the cheapest flight that got me to closest to my friend, Char. But as someone who has been nowhere in Europe except for Aberdeen and Edinburgh, I am really willing to go anywhere if it means a chance to explore and see more than I had when I started. So Switzerland it is!

The flight there was nice and relaxing, which was a bit surprising to me because that was my first time traveling internationally completely alone. But honestly, I think I prefer it that way. I can go at my own pace, I have nobody to wait in line at Starbucks with, I can pee as many times as I want, and I have nobody to tell where I’m going. It’s freeing, really. Just put your headphones in, full steam ahead. I also think I might’ve gotten a bit of a tan on my face from the sun, since being on the plane was the first time in a couple of months that I wasn’t under cloud cover for more than five minutes. Gotta love Aberdeen.

But anyway, it was of course very exciting landing in the Basel airport, and I found out that Char had come to the airport to “pick me up” and was waiting outside for me. Thank God they were there, because that whole German-speaking-country thing really caught me off guard. Some things are in English and plenty of people speak it, but I was not about to be expecting everyone I talked with to speak English for me. Just feels a little rude, I’m in their country right? But Char was my saving grace this weekend, and it was so cool to see a good friend that I’ve known for almost a year speak a completely different language. I know they don’t think so, but I was super impressed with how they could carry a conversation, be so natural while ordering a coffee, and navigate the bus and tram system without having even been to the city before. It just motivates me to keep trying with other languages, even if I’ve never been particularly good at picking them up.

It felt very refreshing to be in such a different culture of Europe. I know of course that there are so many other (and probably better) cities to experience that would be more enriching, but it was exciting to be in a city that felt more like the classic idea of “Europe” (though I’m slowly learning that you really cannot sum up the culture of the continent with that one word). But when I was first thinking of studying abroad, I pictured myself exploring cities like Basel. The day I flew in, Char and I went to grab food in the older downtown area, and there was a very calming energy to the city, especially at dusk. Small streets ran up and down a hill, winding in all directions with all kinds of hidden alleyways and cobblestone staircases. There were dozens of little restaurants, bakeries, chocolate shops, and candle shops that glowed warm yellow light onto the sidewalk. The air was perfectly cool, chilly enough that each store pulled my brain in to come in, sit down, look around. The restaurants had wooden tables out front that sloped and fit naturally with the hill of the street, each table fitted with a tea candle and each chair draped with cloth or faux fur. In classic European fashion, groups of all ages sat around in the candlelight with trails of cigarette smoke snaking from their mouths or puffing out in calm conversation. All of this, plus being with my friend for the first time in months, made me feel very peaceful.

I think that the word “peaceful” would be a great way to describe the whole weekend, too. We filled our time strolling through history and art museums, seeing pieces from Van Gogh, Monet, and Warhol. We stopped at corner coffee shops to get cappuccinos and croissants (Basel is right on the border of France so of course both were delicious), and we took our time to enjoy them and enjoy the environments of each café. We took our time to walk by the river and take in beautiful sunsets while the sound of a woman playing the accordion echoed in the background. We stopped at all things that drew our attention, in no rush to make a schedule and knowing we wouldn’t be able to see everything. We stopped by a local festival for mulled wine and sat on the steps of a church to people-watch kids and families brave their way through carnival rides. It was my favorite kind of travel trip. We really had nowhere to be but where we were in each moment, and I felt like I could just simply enjoy each place for what it was in that moment.

Now, if anyone is reading this and is saying to themselves “wow Ale, that sounds great, I think I want to go to Switzerland now”, I would say you should except for the fact that it was so. Damn. Expensive. So maybe think twice. And you know, my sister and my dad warned me that Switzerland was going to be like that, but I’ll be totally honest and and say that I thought they might be exaggerating because that’s kinda what they do sometimes. Sorry y’all. But the thing that really drove it in for me that they were not, in fact, lying was when we went to dinner on the second night. Or I should say, sat down about to have dinner and immediately left after we got charged about ten dollars for two glasses of water. That was one of the most glaringly obvious “we are Americans who don’t know what’s going on” moments we had while we were there. Even Char, who speaks great German, was having a lot of trouble speaking with our waitress, who apparently spoke very heavy Swiss German. I don’t know the difference between Swiss German and “German” German, but according to Char it can be quite drastic, and that moment made me realize it. So anyway, great city, great country, but proceed with caution.

Now, going into the rest of my time here, I am looking to do more to explore Scotland and the places local to Aberdeen. I keep on needing to remind myself that a) it is ok to not be SO on top of school if it means I’m truly experiencing the place that I’m in and b) I need to actually start taking advantage of being here because I really won’t be here much longer. So with that, you can expect my next blog post to really focus in on what it is to be in Scotland. I will talk to you all soon. Cheers!

Late Start to Aberdeen

Well, here it is! The long-anticipated first blog post is finally here. Just like how I promised myself to write in my journal at least every other day, the promise to keep my friends and family updated through the legacy of Lemus Study Abroad has gotten overshadowed and pushed to the side by other experiences. Honestly though, I can’t complain. The fact that I come home every night exhausted and can’t seem to find time to sit down at my computer to write about what I’ve been doing is far from a disappointing. The fact that I do not plan to refine this post or look back over my grammar is a refreshing break from the rigidity of academic essays. For me, this just means that I have been prioritizing and filling my days with the right things. I knew when I came here that although I want to remember as much as possible, I refuse to distract myself from missing how it feels as I’m living it. I’m trying not to care so much about how other people are viewing my time here, if they think I’m “living” enough, if they think my experience is worthy. My time here is meant for me, and if I spend too much time trying to record it for my future self, I’m not going to feel how it feels to be here in the first place. So with that, here is a somewhat messy but very real summary of what has been most important to me since being in Aberdeen!

Somewhat ironically, I think the best place to start is with my first trip OUTSIDE of Aberdeen, to Balmoral Castle and Stonehaven. To be completely honest, I was scared to go and considered backing out the night before leaving. I’m not a huge fan of group travel or enclosed vehicles, and a chartered bus ride full of people totaling 3 hours of road time combined both. I remember thinking that I could call it success enough that I even made it to Europe in the first place without throwing up, and that I didn’t have to do more if I didn’t want to. But I did want to, and I still want to. I’m only living in Scotland as a 20-year-old once, so why would I rob myself of these experiences just because I’m scared of what, getting from one place to another? A silly little car ride? Nah, I can’t let myself do that. Even if it took all kinds of preparation like packing myself puke bags and having strong anxiety medications on hand, I was going to go and I was going to have fun dammit! Don’t worry, this story ends well.

I’m not going to lie, the bus ride to Balmoral Castle was rough. Multiple vomiters, bumpy windy roads that made my head spin, and a little dry heaving myself. Sorry for the detail, but I must tell my truth! But anyway, as soon as we arrived, it started to sink in that I was in the place that I’d been googling pictures of since February. This was SCOTLAND Scotland. Oh look, that field is covered in little white dots of sheep fleece. Oh look, in that one is a sleeping orange cow, with a crow stretching its wings on a moss-covered stone wall. And how could I miss the beautiful rolling hills, lush and deeply green, surrounding us in every direction? Are you kidding me? Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, that’s what I’ve been anticipating for the past 6 months. Finally, I’m here.

And so began our hike. Sadly we couldn’t make it to the castle itself, which was disappointing for me because I was sort of hoping to catch a glimpse of a ghost queen. We can’t always get what we want I guess. But I can’t complain about what we did instead. When I tell you the scenery was EXACTLY how I’d been imagining it, I mean I could barely take it in as I was looking at it. The hike was steep and rocky, and I was pretty scared that if I didn’t stare at my feel the whole time I would catch a loose stone and go tumbling. But I’m glad I took the risk of looking up. You know in the movie Brave at the beginning when Merida is running through the forest on her horse and looking all heroic shooting arrows and jumping over mossy trees and huge stones? That was not my best description, but I felt like I was there. It was truly gorgeous. To top it all off, it was a crisp sunny morning, barely 10 am, and the earthy smell brought on by a recent rainfall really drove in where I was. Our hike ended at the top of the hill at a pyramid built by Queen Victoria for her late husband. For me, the pyramid was hardly the attraction compared to the view of the trees, cliffs, and farms at the top. We were given about an hour to relax, take pictures, and mingle with the group. Our conversations were nothing special, but being there with my friends is what made it for me. The simplicity of just existing in a place so beautiful and enjoying the company and even silence of each other was my favorite part of the trip. The peace I felt on that hilltop almost let me forget the three times I fell on my way back down.

Next was a drive back towards the east coast, to a smaller town called Stonehaven. This drive was much smoother, more relaxing, and I was able to take in the views of the countryside as I was far more relaxed and willing to look out the window. It is strange sometimes to experience a ride through the country in a place that feels like home but that you know is so different. If I didn’t think too hard about it, there were times where I could imagine I was back in Michigan. I mean, a tree is a tree, a sheep is a sheep, a field is a field. But I am determined on this trip to not let myself get so comfortable as to not appreciate the beauty and newness of where I am. My sisters will make fun of me for it, but I really find that listening to dramatic folky acoustic music (yes, Hozier) really snaps my brain into my reality. In general, I think that music speaks to a part of your brain that you can’t access otherwise, so listening to something that that deep part of my brain responds to is basically a foolproof way for me to not take my surroundings for granted.

Now, maybe it’s because it is the only real castle I’ve visited so far on this trip, but I think that walking through the ruins of Dunnottar Castle really takes the cake of my favorite experience here so far. I honestly can’t really describe what it felt like to see it. I suddenly found myself in a postcard, and even though we were there for about two hours I still don’t think I fully processed what I was seeing. There was so much to take in that I was dizzy almost the whole time we were there. Dizzy in the best way though, and I actually stayed upright this time. And to be completely honest, I don’t really want to try to write out what it felt like to be there, because I think no matter what I’m not going to be satisfied with my description and I will accidentally end this entry with disappointment. So instead, I’ll just attach some pictures on here. Enjoy!

Like I said, I am not looking to make these entries particularly coherent or well-written. Of course, MUCH more has happened since I’ve been here than what’s in this post, but right now I think I’d rather keep having those experiences than focus on writing about them. I’ve been here for almost a month, but still feel like I’ve only scratched the surface of what can be done. So with that, it’s time for me to go and collect more memories and more snippets of life in Aberdeen. Love you all and hopefully I will have another post soon!

One Door Closes, Another Opens

I’m back in the States!

Actually, I’ve been back for quite some time, but between graduation, taking summer classes, working at Plainwell Ice Cream, job hunting, car hunting, catching up with friends, working on a certification, gardening, and just living life, this final post has been pushed off just a bit.

In fact, I’ve pushed it off long enough that the week has approached where the next Lemus leaves on her own trip across the pond! This Friday we will be dropping Alejandra off at the airport where she will fly to Aberdeen in Scotland (in the UK? it’s confusing to me too).

This said, I write this final post not just as a reflection on my time abroad, but as advice to her as she gets ready for her journey.

First, enjoy my favorite pictures from Croatia. Blog post about Croatia can be found here.

My first piece of advice : Don’t study.

Ok, maybe study a bit. But when it’s your last week of classes and you have the choice between spending 3 hours in the library, or 3 hours at dinner with your friends, take dinner. Time is funny. It goes slowest when you want it to go fast, and fastest when you want it to stop. A stay that seems daunting at the start (and might have you questioning what on Earth you think you’re doing, and who on Earth you think you are committing yourself to a completely new environment and continent for the next few months, and who will take care of your cat?) flies by before you know it. That time is meant to be cherished. 

Relish each moment, but believe in the next too. Today you might be waking up to the best sunrise. Tomorrow you might be farther from your friends. Today’s flight may be full of turbulence, but tomorrow’s will be a little smoother. Enjoy the good, and know the bad will pass. Both will make great blog posts.

My second piece of advice : Study.

Study how the roof of an old church meets the sky. Study which bars seem bright and inviting and full of local accents. Keep an eye out for bizarre meals and brush up on your sense of curiosity, try the new plate. Make sure to review your history. Learn the meanings behind funny street names and statues. Watch the native birds in the park and the people who feed them. Take cues from your environment, it’s often the best way to learn.

Aside from your environment, study yourself. Take note of what you enjoy, and what you don’t. Which customs are easy to embody, and which are best left observed? Do you feel like running your social battery tonight, or taking a moment to rest? Which new acquaintances feel like old friends? When you are all alone, with the people you might frequently depend on thousands of miles away, you will learn how to depend on yourself. You will become more versed in your own thoughts and emotions than ever before, and even more confident in your decisions and actions.

A final thought:

A few summers ago, I sat on the grass in a park in my hometown and felt suffocated. Amid the pandemic, barely able to leave my house, I was clouded with the thought that I had biked every street, walked every sidewalk, and squeezed every experience out of my hometown of the past 20 years that I ever possibly could. 

When I arrived home earlier this summer, my eyes felt cleared. The veil was lifted from what I remembered as a dreary, monotonous place. Why hadn’t I noticed the flowers growing alongside the road before? Had there always been a yoga practice so close by? Sure, some aspects of our small town still aren’t for me, but I can see them now with the same eye I saw my new town in France, with a quiet appraisal and a curious anticipation of unexpected joys. 

To answer any last questions:

Yes, I became fairly fluent in French. I spent my entire last day walking around with my host sister (who obviously speaks French) without reverting to English (maybe just once). I also learned some lovely filler words including bahhhh, franchement, and du coup, so I’d say that counts for something. No, I do not think the “chocolate croissants” from Starbucks taste like my dear pan au chocolat. Yes, I would go back to France in a heartbeat and live there, or Croatia, or Barcelona. Yes, I do still keep in contact with my friends and host family from the trip, I miss them all the time.

Yes, I do want to travel more. After such an exciting first few months of the year, I feel I’ve only scratched the surface of all the cultures, languages, relationships, and experiences the world has to offer. 

If I’m lucky in life, maybe I’ll have more opportunities to find them. 

To Jandra :

I hereby leave this blog to you. Go be your best self in Scotland, and then find an even better self that none of us knew was even possible. Being on your own only means there is absolutely nothing to hold you back. I can’t wait to visit you and learn all about your new favorite places and people, and chug a Guinness with you. As they say in France, bon voyage, bon courage, et bonne aventure!

“L’aventure c’est le trésor que l’on découvre à chaque matin.”

Adventure is the treasure we discover every morning.

Jacques Brel (French singer and songwriter)

Your sister,

Isabella

Crumbs

A reflection on happiness

I admit, at the moment I am not being a good student. Instead of devoting my attention to my Translation class, where I am currently sitting, I am writing this blog post. In fact, I can’t exactly say I was a good student before I started writing this either, since I missed the first half of class to get a spur-of-the-moment tattoo. Don’t worry Mom and Papi, it’s small!

Instead, it was this tattoo and a phone call with my sister that inspired me to put some thoughts to my keyboard. These, and our latest topic in my French class, le bonheur.

We started our class last week with a collection of quotes. What exactly is le bonheur, or happiness? It is a grand question, but one of my favorite answers was the following:

<<Le bonheur est un festin des miettes>>

Jacques Faizant

Translation: Happiness is a feast of crumbs. I’ll let you interpret this as you will. The meaning of happiness is different for everyone, and whether or not this definition resonates with you is entirely up to you. Either way, I love to hear any new philosophies on well-being and happiness, feel free to leave comments!

Personally, this quote encourages me to be perceptive. Notice the little things and let them add up to a feast. Since I read it, I’ve been reminded to start appreciating the crumbs in my life. 

The appetizer last night was the conversation I had with my host sister about her future travels to the US. Her optimism and eager spirit were contagious.

To drink, the moonlight glowing through the roof of the dining room as I finished a paper late at night while the cat purred on the chair nearby.

Today, a main course. The steady poking of a needle on my skin while the sun illuminated the milky walls. A side of melody as my favorite song came on the radio while my head rested in my arms.

For dessert, a walk across the university campus, the balmy scent of sun and breeze walking with me. 

When compiled, these crumbs truly make a feast, yet realistically they are often hard to notice. Before talking with my sister, I felt guilty about sleeping in as late as I did. This morning, I felt stressed running late to class. I became nervous heading to my tattoo appointment, not knowing if my French could get me through this new situation. Sitting here, I worry about wasting daylight while sitting inside, and the four page paper due Wednesday that I may or may not have started yet…

Still, the crumbs are there, and the best thing about them is that they are messy. Crumbs show up where we don’t expect them or want them. There are even times when you have to make crumbs yourself. Miss part of class to get a spontaneous tattoo. Let life get a little messy. Then, in that mess, find le bonheur.

Day in the Life: Nantes, France

A post written on and about March 12, 2022. Posted today, March 13, because I’m always late.

The Nantes winter is far from the worst I’ve ever experienced in my life, but it can be dreary. Days on end of clouds, rain, and wind have even my friend from Portland longing for the sun.

Today, however, I think we finally crossed that invisible line between winter and spring. There have been signs, like the flowers sprouting or the numerous slugs sliding up the walls of our garden, but today stepping outside was like entering a different world.

Sun shone, birds sang, people ran on the walking path, and the water glittered. It was a beautiful day and I was ready to make the most of it.

In the morning, I woke up to a text from my friends that reminded me about our plans to make the pancakes we were craving last night. We were to meet at the IES center and find a way to pick the lock of the stovetop or bust.

After a long struggle with consciousness, I finally made it up and out of bed, got ready, and left my house (Sleep: 1, Bella: 0). Even in my lateness I slowed my steps a little walking past the river, taking in the way it glowed blue in the bright sun. I waited for the tram then headed downtown.

Kebab: A delicacy

At a whim, I stopped at a kabab place to pick up something more to go with my pancakes. Never before have I seen the restaurant so busy, nor have I had such admiration for that kabab chef. He twirled around with spitting fries and meats, holding bottles of sauces like guns ready to duel. Fast, precise, and graceful. In that moment I wanted to write a poem about my appreciation for the kabab man and his creations, but instead I paid for my lunch and went on my way.

Flowers blooming in the Jardin de Plants

When I arrived at IES, I was met with sunny music, the smell of butter, and a smoky haze hanging in the kitchen. A cookie sheet on the stovetop serving as the makeshift pan for our pancakes explained the haze. I offered my help in wafting the smoke out of the kitchen so that we wouldn’t set off the building’s alarms, but in truth my friends were the real pancake chefs. The alarms never did go off though, so I’d say I did my job well enough (Smoke: 0, Bella: 1).

Once our food was eaten, we met with another friend and stopped by a vintage market that we anticipated would be a lot bigger and less expensive than in reality. Even if it wasn’t what we expected, it was nice to see a new part of the city and grab coffee from the truck parked outside the store.

Next we made our way to a park. The sun was still high when we entered the Jardin de Plants, one of the prettiest places in the city. It still amazes me sometimes to see the amount of wildlife there, intermingling with anyone out to enjoy the day. To our right, as we walked along a path, stood a blue heron in the middle of a duck pond, surrounded by plenty more strange and average looking birds alike. A birdwatcher’s paradise.

The cool kids

The rest of our afternoon was made up of inventing any game that can be played with a ball and a skateboard. At a point, some kids saw us playing one of our creations and asked to join. We threw the ball around our circle and held poses, getting looks of confusion that melted to understanding and amusement, until the ball was brown with dirt.

Now I sit typing in my kitchen. Our cat, Reeses, wheezes in his sleep across from me on his tree and the water fountain trickles its little song. My family members are going out for various dinner and birthday parties tonight, and my mind is running through the few things I know how to make for dinner. Later, I’ll meet my friend and her friend who came to visit at a bar a few minutes away, where we’ll have some more conversation and drinks. I feel pleasantly tired and a little hungry, but fully content.

Today, I am grateful for blueberries, sunshine, dirt, baseball hats, and simple pleasures.

On Wednesdays, We Go to the Market

Another early release of a post that will soon be up on Hope’s Off-Campus Study Blog!

This week: My first French farmers market

This month my friend and I made a pact: each day we would visit a new place in Nantes. Whether that be a store or café, a study spot or garden, we wanted to push ourselves to keep exploring our city during the second half of our time here.

On Wednesday, the new place we visited was a farmers market. The market is held every weekday morning in an indoor/outdoor vending area near Viarme (for those familiar with Nantes). It is larger on weekends and certain weekdays, when there are more vendors who come to sell their goods. 

A spread of spreads
Fresh Ravioli
Sea urchin

Personally, I’ve never been a farmers market fanatic. Though I always love the concept of them, and enjoy them once I’m there, something about going still feels as mundane to me as grocery shopping. However, the small group of friends I planned on meeting there gave me all the motivation I needed to put aside my preconceptions. 

Upon stepping through the doors into the cool, airy interior of the building, I was immediately greeted with the highest tower of sea urchin and crab I have ever seen. I quickly took a picture to send to my mom, who always asks for uni when we go out to Mizu in Holland. This was just the start of the numerous treasures to be found in the market. Tables were piled high with bright fruits, vegetables, seafood, cheeses, and meats, all waiting for my attention.

Candied fruits, including clementines which I bought

As we continued walking, I began to embrace my curiosity for the gems we would find in each new stall. To our left a stack of slick anchovies. To our right freshly cut ravioli, small and pink as flower petals. Just ahead dried fruits, sugared to their core. These things weren’t complex culinary masterpieces, but they were the pure, simple details, and I wanted to taste them all. 

Finishing off our excursion on the banks of the Erdre

What I did end up tasting first were the fruits. A stall we found in the middle of the market had dried mangoes, prunes, dates, sugared pineapples and ginger, even candied clementines, kumquats and flower blossoms. I picked out two clementines to try. To my surprise, the first bite was all skin! The clementines had been sugared whole, so instead of bitter and tough, the skin was sweet and slightly chewy. The inside was completely soft, and even more sweet than the outside. Though they were tasty, I definitely could not handle more than a few bites at a time due to all the sugar.

My friends and I ended up buying a variety of nordic tartine, artichoke dip, goat cheeses, garlic shrimp, sweet dates, cinnamon apples, and, of course, a baguette to share for lunch. We lounged in the sun on the banks of the river, tearing bits of bread off with our hands and savoring our discoveries. I don’t know who was more grateful that I decided to step out of my habits that day, my mind or my stomach.

Draw, Like One Of Your French Girls

An early release of an article to be posted on the blog I write for Hope’s Off Campus Study website! Link to the site and other articles here

My first day at l’Ecole de Beaux-Arts de Nantes, I got lost. After three levels of gray cement floors, catwalks, and metal railings, the only things that reassured me I was still in the right place were the eccentrically-dressed students and a mass at the entrance that slightly resembled a globe made out of tissue paper and a yoga ball. I was definitely in a Fine Arts building.

Unfinished projects in the hallways of the Beaux-Arts school

Finally, I pushed through a heavy white door into a gray room as balmy as a summer day. At the center sat an elderly man in nothing but a robe. Around him roughly ten men and women, the youngest at least 40 years my senior, unfolded easels and wagged around sheets of paper the size of cookie sheets. 

As the student next to me began arranging his sticks of chalk onto a tray beside us, meticulous as a surgeon preparing for operation, I suddenly felt as naked as the man in the robe. My humble sketchbook and mechanical pencil, the only tools that I had thought to bring, sat meekly before me. I was entirely unprepared. In a stroke of inspiration (desperation) I snatched a discarded scrap of charcoal off the coal-powdered floor. Thankfully the professor took notice of my lack of preparation and out of kindness (pity) donated a few sheets of paper to my easel. Thus began my first live-model sketching class at the Beaux-Arts school of Nantes.

Finally getting the hang of drawing legs!
…feet still pose a challenge

When I tell people about my drawing class, one of the first questions they ask is, “Is it awkward?” The answer? At first. After all, it’s not everyday that I spend 30 minutes painstakingly analyzing a naked stranger. Only Tuesdays. 

That first day, I saw a human. I saw wrinkles and lumps and caves. Most of my worry the first day didn’t even concern my sketching abilities, but rather if I would offend him by drawing an insecurity. Would I expose a wrinkle? Bring attention to his nose, his stomach? Soon, however, the person faded. What started as a human body, something judged and critiqued and compared, became shapes and light. A line, curved at the start. A square. An edge. A half moon. His body was the art, and became neutral and abstract as such. There was no good or bad, too big or too small. Just shapes and light.

By the time the professor stopped us all to turn our easels and view the works of our classmates, I felt calm. I did what I could with what I had. There is no right or wrong in art, I assured myself. And it was true. Walking among the other students, I was in awe. Each board presented the softness of a gray arm, streaks of muscle through leg, shadows cut into a stomach. I felt like yelling. Why aren’t these in a museum! But I don’t think they would have understood me.

Backs are the most interesting to shade, many muscles create lots of shadowing and lines

I ended that first day exhausted. I trudged out of the studio into the night, fingertips dusted black with charcoal. But this exhaustion wasn’t the ‘go cry in the nearest bathroom’ type. I searched myself. My shoulders ached as I tramped across the bridge. My stomach was empty with reverence and hunger. It wasn’t until I took note of the strain in my eyes, still searching for residual shapes and shadows to scratch on a page, that I identified it. I felt eager. I felt enthusiastic. I felt proud. 

Mostly, though, I noticed what I did not feel. Not once throughout the entire night did I feel self-consciousness. Maybe the time limits kept me present, or maybe there was just no room for such judgements in a space of creativity. Only shapes and lines, shadows and art. I couldn’t wait to go back again.

Weekend Excursions: Rennes and Normandy

Half-Timbered Architecture

Knowing my study abroad is taking place in the COVID era, I had the expectation for myself that I would limit my traveling outside of the country in order to minimize risk of COVID, as well as risk of getting stranded in another country if situations were to change and borders to close. Even so, I know that one thing a lot of people regret after studying abroad is not exploring their home countries enough, which is exactly why I want to take the opportunity to do so. 

The first trip I took was a day-long outing in Rennes with some friends from IES. The capital of France’s Brittany region, it was only about one hour from Nantes by train. The city is well known for its half-timbered houses dating nearly 2,000 years, and it was fun to spot the ancient architecture hiding in between later-constructed buildings.

My favorite part of the trip had to be an art installation we came upon. The piece, entitled S E C R E T S de Rennes was constructed by Dan Acher. Made up of giant wooden letters spelling out the word ‘secret’, the general public was invited to write their own untold sentiments and stories on a piece of paper, which they could either hang immediately on the wooden blocks or put in a box to be hung later. At the end of the installation, which was the day after we left, the blocks and papers attached to them would be burned. 

The ‘S E C R E T S de Rennes’ exhibit

It was especially interesting to walk around the blocks and read all of the anonymous notes. Some were love letters, some concerned politics or identity, some revealed regrets, and others were just unpopular opinions. It compelled me to reflect on the reasons we chose to hide the parts of ourselves that we do, and consider what would happen if we decided to expose those things. Though pictures of the secrets themselves were prohibited, we were able to take photos from afar.

The next weekend trip that I went on was a trip to the northern region of Normandy. This was a trip with IES, so it included some more cultural experiences provided through the program. First we spent our Saturday in Caen, a village known for its buildings dating back to the reign of William the Conqueror, the first Norman monarch of England from 1066 to 1087. We learned more about his history through our visit to the Tapestry of Bayeux, an embroidered fabric from 1066 reaching 70 meters in length that depicts the events of William’s conquests. I loved seeing the old architecture in the bayeux region and the history they held. It was a charming place, and as I said to my friend there, they just don’t build houses like that anymore.

Our last day was spent visiting the Memorial Museum of Caen, as well as the American Cemetery of Normandy, Omaha Beach, and Pointe du Hoc. The day was heavy with emotion, as we reread and saw in greater detail the absolute atrocity and human carnage that took place during WWII. Lunch was a relief to spend with my friend that day, talking over our thoughts during the visit and how our opinions on war were brought to light.

Later it was a rainy, aggressively windy walk through the cemetery, where I ended up finding the headstone of a soldier from Michigan. I wondered about his thoughts when he stood in the same place, and if he also told his friends that the ocean there looked exactly like Lake Michigan. Our final stop at Pointe du Hoc was the shortest, but it was again sobering to see the ground still so torn by bombs that we seemed to be surrounded by giant molehills and tiny valleys. 

The last thing I took away from both of these trips were my feelings upon returning to Nantes. It’s been surprising each time to notice my renewed sense of comfort when my train pulls into the station or our bus to the entrance of IES. More and more Nantes has felt like my landing place, and I am grateful to have a home to return to after my adventures.

Also, if anyone has a new word for ‘adventure’, please let me know. 

Write again soon,

Isabella

Food: An appreciation post

Almost every night since my arrival, I’ve had family dinner. This has been quite the change from Phelps dining or a meal hurriedly whipped-up around 5:30 pm before rushing out for my evening activities, as is normal for me at Hope. 

The kitchen table, set up for my host sister’s birthday lunch of bread, cheese, meats, pickled vegetables, and spreads

Family dinner typically consists of lots of delicious smells hanging around the kitchen, sitting down around 7:30 to 8:00 pm, eating and debriefing our days until about 9 or 9:30, when we end with a dessert of fruit, cheese, or sometimes some chocolate. Each home cooked meal has been different since I’ve arrived. One night beef bourguignon, the next teriyaki beef, rice and vegetables, and the next salmon with bread and cheese. But one thing does remain consistent: Every plate is clean by the end of the meal. Not only because the food is delicious, but because of the culture of eating in France. The French tend to be very cognizant of food waste. There is a saying we were taught at the start of our stay here, that after a meal the plate should be clean enough to put immediately back in the cabinets. Of course this is not literal, but it is something I’ve noticed among my host family and others I’ve dined with. 

Asian beef, vegetables, and rice with a sweet teriyaki sauce

This has been one of the mealtime changes I’ve had to adjust to the most. In the States, I’m used to taking a large helping of a meal, eating until I am full, and ending with some food still left on my plate. At first here, I felt pressured to eat almost excessively, but I soon learned that the key is to listen to your body and take only what you’re hungry for. If there is a new dish, where I am unsure of the flavor, I’ll take a small taste before serving myself more to be sure I like it. By cutting down my portion sizes to only what I’ll actually eat, I’ve been able to keep up with the culture, and can proudly say my plates have been as clean as the rest.

Dessert has been another adjustment. At home, it is well known that I have an affinity for sweets. I would typically think of fruit as more of a breakfast food, a snack, or a supplementary part of a meal. Though I’ve missed indulging in some of my usual post-meal desserts, I’ve also realized how much of my appetite they did take up. Here I typically fill up on the main course (hello clean plate club), and then end with the milder and lighter taste of fruit, though I do keep a small stash of cookies in my room for when I’ve craving chocolate.

Couscous and chicken in a vegetable sauce

Many of the other IES students have told me about their similar experiences. Dinner in France does typically tend to be eaten later, and usually is a family event. It’s a time for everyone to be social, relax, and talk about the day. This approach to meals extends to lunch too. Though I frequently buy a sandwich from a ‘sandwicherie’ or eat a panini at the University cafeteria, my host sister leaves school for daily lunch at home. Over the weekends, even lunch is a sit down event, again consisting of a main meal and small dessert. Even when I do eat with friends, there is typically ample time to dine and a general focus on the social aspect of the meal. 

Personally, meal times have become a great way for me to exercise my French through speaking and listening. Hearing my younger host sister fire off stories about her school day, my host father making jokes at the expense of my sister, or my host mom asking me about my day in colloquial French is the best kind of language lesson.

En Français, S’il Vous Plaît

Hello family, friends, and random readers!

It’s officially been a little over a week since I’ve arrived in France, which is a little later than I anticipated writing my first blog post. Adjusting to typing on a French keyboard definitely does not help my timeliness! Of course, the keyboards have not been the only big adjustment here, and part of my hesitation to write has come from my indecision on what exactly I should write about first, so I think I will start with the most obvious; the language. 

Since arriving, my brain has been split. For most of the day, I spend my day at the IES Center with other students, where we are required to speak French. In fact, the first thing you see when you enter the center is the doormat which reads ‘En Français, s’il vous plaît!’, a very common phrase here if you’re caught speaking English. I also speak French with my host family, who I typically see each night when we have dinner all together. My only English breaks come at home at the end of the day, where I might go on social media or talk to family and friends, or outside the center if I go for a coffee, shopping, or out with the other students. 

When I say my brain has been split, I really mean it. Every time I switch from French to English throughout my day, I feel the connections rewiring. Sometimes my friends and I forget words in English, in French, or in both languages at once so we’re left to struggle through giving a description of the thing like a spontaneous game of catch phrase. 

However, one of my favorite things about this experience has been this forced weakness. All of us students started with the same anxieties, and for the most part the same range of vocabulary. Our conversations are slow, but that means I am really, actively listening to the words being spoken, as well as telling my stories and sharing my thoughts carefully. 

With my family, I feel very encouraged. I am given the time and patience to speak, and every successful story is an encouragement to keep going. Going to stores and ordering food was another obstacle. But again, with each purchase I feel more and more confident in my abilities to navigate the new world I’m in.

Today, I was finally placed in one of the four French classes IES offers to its students for the semester. I cannot wait to continue building and practicing my language skills. My friend put it precisely in a way that stuck with me. Up until now, we’ve been using our French grammar and language skills we learned weeks, months; and years ago. We’ve been receiving so much input here though, and now these classes will give us the grammar structures to be able to form the sentences we need.

Until next time, which will hopefully be much sooner!

Isabella