Tag: France

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.

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.