Normandy and Syria

The cliffs of Normandy

In mid-October the Davidson program traveled to northern France to see Mont Saint Michel and the beaches of Normandy.  The region's beauty contrasted starkly with the horrific violence that took place there seventy years ago.  Bayeaux, France, a tiny town in Normandy, is home to a nearly 1,000 year old tapestry telling the story of the Norman invasion.  In it's local, centuries-old cathedral is a temporary photo exhibit of the Syrian civil war.

The Syrian Civil War in photos

France's history in Syria is a violent one (France occupied the region that is now modern-day Syria off and on up until WWII).  The quiet, peaceful interior of the cathedral was an odd location for the violent and shocking images of death and destruction.  At the same time the juxtaposition of the safety of modern France, the on-going anarchy in modern Syria, and Normandy's violent past created the perfect platform for a thought-provoking gallery.

The ceiling of the cathedral in Bayeux

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On a lighter subject... According to the ever-helpful Google I live 4,005 miles from my hometown in Ohio and 4,105 from Davidson.  The distance means that, while some aspects of my life in the U.S. and my life in France are the same, one cultural aspect stands out right now:

My all-girls education taught me that I do not need to wear make up (or just that I don't need to), but the older I get, the more I realize my opinion is in the minority.  French women share my approach to make up (also known as little-to-none)!  Unfortunately they do not share my love of yoga pants (my personal guilty pleasure) and other comfy, athletic clothes.  French children (also known as miniature adults) dress better than I do.  While some of this fashion sense must come from their parents, I find myself envying their sense of style.  But a large part of me is entirely okay with getting ten extra minutes of sleep and sacrificing my ability to compete with the fashion sense of the neighborhood's under-12 crowd.

Touring around Tours (puns galore), France

When compared to Paris, Tours smells like a bouquet of fresh flowers on a warm spring afternoon.  That's because it actually does.  The Loire and Cher Rivers sparkle.  The Seine in Paris sparkles if you catch it on a good day and if the wind is blowing in the right direction, but every time I pass the Loire, it shines away without fail.

The Cher River

Tours is my newfound favorite bread capital because it has this boulangerie with the BEST BAGUETTE I have ever had in my life.  I have eaten quite a lot of bread in my life.  Some might say too much.  But yes, I paired the baguette (which was a perfect blend of crunchy outside and soft inside) with hummus and blue cheese and ate the whole thing.  Bien sûr.  I did not take a picture of it.  I was too busy eating.  Next time!

Some days, as I sit next to the Loire river in the autumnal sunlight and eat my baguette by a group of traveling musicians, I am reminded of my immense privilege.  I have talked about this in many previous blog posts, but it deserves repeating.  Who in the world has the ability to travel the world before they reach their 21st birthday?  Who can go to London for a weekend for fun?  Who has the luxury to not have a job and to rely on their parents as an emergency source of income?  Who has their college education paid for entirely and will only have to worry about student loans during graduate school?  Who can assume that, if she wanted to, graduate school is entirely feasible and attainable?  I can.  Very few men and even fewer women in this world can say they have the same opportunities as I do.

Picnics by the Loire River

Similarities to India  (otherwise known as, India: The Country about which Sarah Never Stops Talking)

• Food culture: French mothers and Indian mothers (and aunties) love to cook.  They also will not take no for an answer.  I was at a potluck (pot d'acceuil) for the choir I just joined in Tours where all the French women had me try their own dishes.  After 6-7 treats I was stuffed... so naturally, I promptly went home and ate dinner with my host family.
• Heteronormativity: The standard, and albeit cute, "average" family in France consists of a mother, father, and their adorable 2.5 children.  Much is the same in India, though Indian families of 5 have the adept ability to all fit on the same tiny scooter, a feat which I have yet to see repeated here in France.
• Classism: social class is easily determined - How many times do you kiss your friends on the cheek?  1, 2, 3, 4?  That's indicative of one (possibly two) things: 1) Your social class or 2) The region of France in which you live.  I also learned that the more unique a person's name, the more likely their family is bourgeoise.  In the Indian Hindu community, social class is determined by last name (e.g. Sharma is often a Brahmin name) as well as by the number and style of forehead accouterments (think bindis, but with more artistic variation in color, size, shape and number).
• Public urination due to lack of public bathrooms.  France takes a third-world approach to public bathrooms, something I cannot understand.  If you want to use the bathroom, I suggest carrying around 1 euro coins for the rare pay-to-use bathroom or brush up on your ability to persuade hotel receptionists to use their establishment's facilities.  But humans aren't alone in this predicament.  Judging from the amount of dog excrement I see on the sidewalk, France is largely devoid of either a) green space (sometimes true) or b) doggy bags (never true).
• From dogs to cats (cat-calling that is...): Cat-calling is possibly one of my least favorite things about being a woman.  I thought France would be different than India on this account, but the universal pastime of making women feel uncomfortable walking down the street prevails all around the world.

I still liked more than I did not like about Paris.
Case-in-point: Parc Montsouris in the 14th arrondissement

Slowing down life

La vie se passe plus lentement ici. 

Life passes much slower here.  Yes, I know Paris is a sprawling city which houses more than 2,000,000 people in twenty arrondissements (quarters) and an additional 8+ million people in the outlying banlieues (suburbs).  For all the city's hustle and bustle, however, les Parisiens find and revel in the relaxing moments in their days.

The French, as I am learning, are masters of the art of both the protracted lunch break and dinner.  As the odd-one-out in America who loves to take her time eating meals, I have enjoyed having lengthy meals be the norm here in Paris.

Last week I spent the better part of two hours with friends at a cafe near Sciences Po.  We ate ice cream and talked, and the waiter never bothered us by asking us if we wanted our check.  It was heavenly.  Just tonight we spent 4.5 hours relaxing over our meal of delicious Moroccan couscous, pastries, and mint tea.

I live such a privileged existence.  To be able to study abroad two times across the globe, to immerse myself in a language because I think it would be fun, even to simply access consistent power, clean water, and other modern amenities.  Here is where my experiences in India contrast so strongly with my new experiences in France.  Both are adventures and challenges in different way.  Every day in India was exhausting, thrilling, and new.  The last three weeks in France have been long and event-filled, but somehow comforting.

Western Europe, in other words, is much more like home to me than the far reaches of South Asia.  I can fit in here.  Many people think I am French and have asked for directions.  (Whether or not I actually know where they want to go is a different question.)  I can explore and talk to new people by myself without feeling (too) uncomfortable.  I can (try) to speak the language and from time to time make coherent sentences, depending on my level of exhaustion.  Often I have the feeling that I've been to France before, either in another life or a dream.  When I take hours on a meal with friends or read my book on the metro, I find myself happy to be in Paris and to be able, for a short time, to pretend to be French.  Thus far, the daily adventures here suit me well.

A bientôt!

Paris: La Ville-Lumière

As of today we have been in Paris for four whole days.  In those four whole days we have thoroughly exhausted ourselves in our lengthy explorations of the city.  Below I've included some highlights.

Most memorable eating spot: eating a delicious chocolate pastry under the pleasant shade of trees… while in a cemetery (in my defense, many Parisiens faisaient la même chose).

Une tarte au chocolat

The best food I’ve had is simple and fresh.  My favorite meal so far has been a sandwich of fresh-baked bread with tomato, brie, and chèvre that I ate with friends in front of the Centre Pompidou.  You will not hear me complain about the warm pain au chocolat I have for breakfast every morning here.  Our hostel buys them, as well as its loaves of bread and croissants, fresh every morning.  I’ve found a people who, like me, find excuses to eat chocolate at every meal of the day, and I’m happy to have made it.

A mural near the Pompidou (modern art museum)

Best park (as of today, which is our fourth day here): Le Parc Montsouris.  A friend and I spent a good hour sitting on a bench in this park this morning people watching.  Since Sunday is a day the French set aside to spend with family, we watched a entertaining parade of petits enfants, tiny versions of their well-dressed parents, tottering along the path, chasing pigeons, and frolicking in the grass.

Honestly I would love nothing more than to spend hours over a meal with friends here.  Every café I pass has this perfect, glowing ambience and is filled with people.  I cannot wait to join them.

Seen as of today:  Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur, Montmartre, Bastille, le Tour Eiffel, boat tour of the Seine

Still to explore: Le Quartier Latin, Les Halles, and spontaneous coffee at a petit café  (**This list will continue to grow as I learn more about Paris.)

See below for pictures of our explorations in Montmartre: 

Exploring Montmartre

Sacre Coeur

From South India to Paris, France

While clearing out my bookshelves as I packed for a semester abroad in France I realized something about myself.  I am a young woman in transition.  As I sorted through the books, out went the Pendragon and Princess Diaries series, in came my favorite books from my last two years of college.  Books like In Spite of the Gods and Maimonides' Guide of the Perplexed rested next to my high school favorites, Mrs. Dalloway, Life of Pi, and others.  Yet my childhood favorites remained on the shelves.  Good Night Moon, Charlottes' Web, and the Harry Potter series, sat next to my new, grown-up novels.  My overflowing bookshelves chronicle my transition from child to young adult.  As I contemplate a semester (four months) in France, I carry these books, the books that have led me to attend Davidson, to study abroad in India, and now travel to France, with me in my heart and mind.

I write this from Davidson, North Carolina, where I have spent that past few days catching up with friends and finishing up my summer responsibilities.  Just as it was strange to be here before leaving for India, it is strange to be here now.  I am happy to be here and see friends before leaving, to enjoy the Carolina blue sky and the golden sunlight of the early morning, and to have the time to read the paper at leisure.  For me, August has always had a sense of excitement that hangs in the still, hot air.  As the hot, muggy days give way to crisp fall mornings, I inherently know it is time for me to start anew.

For the past three years, each August has brought me a new beginning.  The fall of my freshman year I headed off onto a backpacking trip and then onto my freshman orientation.  The fall of my sophomore year I flew to India for a semester abroad in South Asia and the Middle East.  The fall of this year, my junior year, I fly to France, where I will live for the the next four months.

Why a semester in India and then a semester in France?  Could I have chosen to study abroad in two more different places?  Probably not.  Though, since I have never been to France, I cannot yet say.  So far I have been able to predict and experience these differences:

• Packing for three seasons in one suitcase is a nightmare.  Long-gone are the days in India where I could pack two pair of shoes and 5 outfits and be just fine for 4 months.

• In France I will be able to drink tap water and eat fruit and salad! (It's the little things.)

• I'm expecting a drastic transition from multi-religious India to secular France.  In India religion was a normal, almost expected part of daily life.  Everyone, save the few young, secular Hindus I encountered, considered religion a critical part of their lives (more on this, I'm sure).

Advice I've received: wear black clothing, walk everywhere, (within reason) say yes to new experiences, make friends with locals, and speak and think only in French.  Some of these tasks will be easier than others.

As with many new opportunities in life, everyone will have their own opinion and advice on the matter.  Only by going to France myself will I learn for myself, through trial and error, what works and what does not, such as where the good running paths and coziest cafes are, and what's the fastest route to school.  

So begins my next adventure!  A bientôt!

Summarizing a Semester Abroad

“How was India?” is the most common question I have gotten since returning home.  Friends, family, and even strangers all ask.  I always answer with “It was great!,” which it was.  In reality, my answer should be “I have no clue.” 

I have no clue how to summarize 3 ½ months of my life into one engaging sentence.  I have no way to put India’s overwhelming sights and smells into words let alone one sentence.  I rode elephants, climbed mountains, wrote, took pictures, ate my weight in rice and sambar, rode in consistently-unsafe autos, got very ill with a myriad of bugs, and drank buckets of chai.  This list could go on for paragraphs.

Without question my favorite part about India was experiencing something new every single day.  I never knew what to expect from India, but I knew to expect something new, whether it was trying goat for the first time, exploring a new city, or meeting new people. 

The generosity of the people whom we met in India never failed to impress me.  Indians are hospitable to total strangers.  Indian families and professors welcomed us into their homes and hearts with cups of chai and steaming samosas and gave us parting gifts of jewelry and saris.  Never before have I experienced the same boundless and indiscriminate kindness.

India has many flaws – its medical, political, and educational systems to name three.  (I could say the same exact thing for the United States of America.)  Despite their myriad of woes, the Indian youth whom I met had an excitement and hope for the future, a hope many disillusioned Americans have lost.  In the face of crushing poverty and economic uncertainty, India’s youth dream and invent with an unparalleled entrepreneurial spirit.  The United States has lost its drive to succeed and rise.  India, though realists might warn against growth without regulation or infrastructure, is experiencing the same increase in relevance and economic growth the United States faced at the turn of the 20^th century.  It builds hopes of Superpower status at the same time that political analysts predict the fading relevance of the United States.

I have so many places I want to go, people I want to understand, and languages I want to learn.  Next on my list of “Places to Go” include France, Chile, Peru, Thailand, Jordan, and New Zealand.  I do not know when I will go to these places, but I will do everything in my power to go there.  All 7 continents by the time I am 30, right? 

Until the next Adventure!

The Remnants of War

A monument hit by errant bullets and shrapnel during the war

This country was broken, but with the hard work of its people, it is on the mend.

In our ten days in the country, we spent only four days in the northern province of Sri Lanka where the government and the Tamil Tigers fought hardest during their thirty years of civil war.

Driving in to Jaffna, the North’s major city, two things struck me.

Northern Jaffna is how I imagine the southern United States might have been after the Civil War. On every block at least a few bombed-out buildings stood. Not one building escaped the cross fire; I found small bullet and shrapnel holes carved into their thick plaster walls. Sri Lanka fought three successive wars against the Tamil Tigers between 1983-2009. The most recent war or “humanitarian effort” as the government calls it lasted from 2006-2009 and culminated with the government soundly defeating the Tamil Tigers. That victory came at great loss of civilian lives and livelihoods. Their families missing, their homes destroyed, and their communities broken, civilians and militants in the north and east of Sri Lanka are returning to their native land after decades in refugee camps.

A bombed-out church in Jaffna

People are slowly recovering. They are opening shops, repairing and rebuilding their homes, and learning new employable skills. Young school girls, dressed all in white, smiled as they meandered past the shells of former shops and homes. As a victor’s peace, the government had the option to deny the defeated Tamils of all reconstruction efforts and foreign aid. For the most part, it has dedicated itself to appeasing the former combatants through reconciliation and rehabilitation so that the war never happens again.

For now, Sri Lanka has peace. It should last, but no one, not the Sri Lankan military officers nor the Tamil civilians would tell us without a doubt that peace would be permanent.

**An additional note: Since returning to America, I have talked with many family members and friends.  Few of them knew that Sri Lanka had a war that ravaged its country off and on for 30 years, or that the two main forces were the Sri Lankan government and the Tamil Tigers (LTTE).  The country is rebuilding, but many issues remain unresolved (e.g. property rights, freedom of speech, human rights abuses, and English language education - to name a few).