Sweetness

In my scramble to see all of Europe in two weeks, I bought all my train tickets for the rest of my trip, cramming my visit to Bruges into one day. While I was disappointed to have such a short time there, it was a great little trip. I arrived in the morning and walked to my hostel, which was the coolest place. There was a bar inside and my room had fourteen other travelers staying in it, two of whom sang California Dreamin' to me as a welcome. We had a great time getting to know each other that night in the hostel's lounge, but first I spent the day strolling the streets of Bruges.

It was a stroll for two reasons, the first being that if I walked too fast I would miss the street signs, which from my experience are very discrete in Europe and mostly aren't on any map. The second reason is that in Bruges, everyone is laid back. Bikes outnumber cars by a great margin, and people are in no hurry to get around. Maybe that's because in this small town, everything is there, especially chocolate. Every other store front lined their shelves with Belgian chocolate and more precisely, Praline chocolate from Bruges. My first task was to buy a mix of this famous treat, which was easy to say the least. Bruges reminded me of Paris with its beautiful little buildings and cobblestone streets, without the harassment from people trying to scam you, and without the big-city feel. Canals wind throughout the town and are lined with windmills.

I bought a hazelnut burger (YUM) and vegan fries with curry sauce from a local joint and carried my dinner up the hill to a windmill with a nice view of the old towers. Although I was soon surrounded by groups of tourists taking pictures in front of the scenery, I enjoyed every bite (and probably featured in the background of many photos, chomping away...).

Earlier in the day I walked to the top of the Belfry tower, 366 winding stairs to the big bell at the top, and could see its workings spin and move to make the quarter-hourly chimes. The view was nice, and the "museum" of information on the way up was mediocre... But the people watching was quite entertaining. The stairwell is narrow and the steps are small, and tourists are winded. I watched the look on their faces as they considered whether the entrance fee was worth the hike, the view and the body heat from other like-minded sightseers. Now on my list is to see the film In Bruges, in which two men travel around Bruges and make their way to the top of Belfry.

I visited little art galleries and shops in the area, stopping for the serenity of the canals, which were filled with swans and boats. I bought an antique spoon for my silverware collection and took my time exploring, passing many flower pots and bicycles.
That night I went back to the hostel to enjoy Belgian beer with my roommates. It was very tasty and went well with the fun atmosphere of the hostel's bar. My British and Australian friends had some lingo that created a funny language barrier even between English speakers, but that was a funny relief in relation to the actual divide that in which I've existed for the past week. In Belgium it's especially interesting, since their primary language differs depending on the region. In Brussels, it's all French and very little English. In Bruges most people speak English, but the main language is Flemmish, a Dutch dialect. Many of the locals, especially older generations prefer French, while the younger generations choose to study English. Being the tourist destination that Bruges now is, they also provide translations in Spanish and Netherland's Dutch. Soooo.... Lots of language is happening. And when people greet each other or run into each other, people have the same stuck expression as they don't know how to react.

After such a short trip to Bruges, I left very satisfied with my experiences, and I definitely want to go back one day. I returned to Paris and cancelled my train to Bordeux, as I wanted to rethink my plan for my final days before Seville. I spent yesterday walking around Paris, maintaining the relaxed ease I captured in Bruges, found a used book store that finally had English ones, and went to a local flea market where I bought a handcrafted leather notebook after talking to the Frenchman who makes them about his process and his artistic passion.

With a bag of remains from the hot, humid week I went to the Laverie, where someone taught me how to use the machines, since the directions were in French. I was surprised that people sat and waited for their washes, often just sitting and watching the spins. There is something about actually doing something, going to the Laverie and doing laundry and being there until it's done, that takes the stress away. It's funny to think that devoting one's time to a single activity is uncommon in the states, and I can say that we're really missing out on something here. I thought about time and the way it feels differently throughout the days, years. I thought maybe when we are presented with time each moment, and we try to use that single moment in multiple ways, we are creating a great illusion for ourselves. Often we think time is flying by, when really we are chopping it all up and expecting whole results. I think this is one of the things that the French and people of Bruges have done well, spending their time strategically. More simply maybe, leaving out many extremities that Americans are proud of , but they find complexity within it, in time as a whole. While it's uncommon to smile at passerby's in France unless more is expected to come beyond that, there is a kindness in saving these greetings for more genuine moments of interaction. It's been interesting to see how our views really create our realities, and it's amazing in many ways to feel that the world can be anyway we want it to be.

So there it is, the sweet fruit of my labor, the enlightenment I came here for. I am overwhelmed that it's only begun.

My missing blog

You might have noticed that I skipped a day on my blog. I'm upset about it too, but I have a good reason. On the evening of my boat ride, I watched the people on the Seine with warmth, and some jealousy too. I didn't know then that in a few short hours, I would arrive at my hostel and meet a girl and boy from California, who go to Westmont College and are close friends with my friend in high school. Being in such a small world, they invited me to their table full of students from the US and Great Britain. Before I knew it, we were on the metro on our way to the Seine to do just as the Parisians do (Well, in English). This was the night of my first European all-nighter, and it was fantastic. We shared our experiences, suggestions, horror stories, and ideas. When we asked the British boy questions, he often wouldn't answer, as he refused to shout over everyone like we Americans do. I laughed at this and admired his acceptance. One of the great things about being abroad and around other traveling students is that nearly everyone is open to understanding one another, nonjudgmental, and not afraid to make mistakes. People have embraced the bittersweet fact that the others you meet are in your life briefly. There is something magical about not getting too attached to people and places and things. Or to plans. Many travelers I've met have missed a train or don't know where their next destination might be, and there is an ease that comes with that. My itinerary, while I tried to restrict it to my first four days, would have brought me out of Paris early this week. But because of my inexperience at reserving trains, finding stations on the map, even having to pay for wifi all led me to stay for six days in Ile d'France, four of them in the heart of Paris. I had many amazing experiences during that time, and despite the Euros wasted on cancelled bookings and last-minute train reservations, I couldn't be happier with the journey it became.

So I continue on now to Bruges, Belgium, with a heartache for the city of love but a comfortable au revior, which if I spoke French would not be goodbye, but see-you-soon. (Although I will pat myself on the back: at every brasserie, I ordered in French until I reached my limit of communication or until the waiters noticed my accent and quickly switched to English, of which most of them knew at least a little. During my time in Paris I quickly became impressed with the number of languages that Parisians and European travelers could speak. I think it says much about their cultural views.)

Now on the high-speed rail to Bruges, I've enjoyed the scenic views as I flew by them from my window seat, and the darling, delicious breakfast on the train. Since I missed my train, evidenced by the gnarly scrape on my knee I got from running for it, I had to take the next one, which cost me a little extra sum, but for two Euros more I could ride first class, which served the dainty breakfast that made up for my mistake. Plans change and things happen, but I'm learning that it's all about letting go and enjoying the ride.

Pictures: okay, so I went back to stay longer and took a picture of the tower at night... Let's say I did it for you ;)

I had the best French onion soup ever before I parted with Paris... although here it's just onion soup.

Capturing the moment

Since my last entry, I spent my day at the Musee Louvre. I arrived around noon and didn't leave until its closing five hours later. With no one to pull me away from the pieces of art that fill the exquisite structure, which was erected as a castle outside of Medieval Paris as protection, I dwelled over every beauty with my favorite companion, the audio guide.

The Louvre... a beautiful castle filled with glorious works of art

My listening tour began underground in the moat that surrounded the old castle, leading me through the so-called masterpieces and stopping at great works along the way. There's so much to be said about the contents of the louvre, including the people who spend time there. Tourists filled every space of the gran place, snapping picture after picture. It was interesting to watch them step in front of one work to the next, getting their picture and moving on, and I wondered if they would look back at their photos having even remembered them at all. Note to the world, when you are capturing, or trying to capture a historically renowned image, TURN OFF YOUR FLASH. I cringed at the lights as they slowly damaged the works of art and added to the collection of what in my mind become lost moments for the enthused tourists. Not to say I didn't capture a couple here and there... I understand the excitement that causes one to want to preserve every overwhelming feeling of artistic brilliance, but sometimes you have to forgo the postcard to retain the memory.

Me and Mona Lisa!

I experienced such enlightenment later that night, as I rode on the Batobus down the Seine and watched the river glisten under the Eifel tower. As the lights shone on the tower and flickered in the water, I was sad at first not to have my camera and instead a dead battery on my phone. But it didn't take long for my mind to change, as I looked around at the picture-takers and thinking back to visitors at the Louvre. Looking through a screen, my memory of the Tour d'Eifel would be much different, because no matter how many times I would look back at that image, I could never get those moments when I was taking in all the beauty back again. I realized that when a moment passes, it's passed, no matter how well you've captured it. So I hummed a soundtrack to my view of the Seine from the balcony of my tourbus, trying (and failing) to match the beauty to my French-ish tune, but it surpassed me. They say Paris at night is a whole different experience, and it's true. From the people sitting along the Seine, drinking wine and having conversation, to the sparkles of light, everything feels calm and alive all at once. Everything feels beautiful.

So I captured the moment in the best way there is, by just being in it.

A day in Paris

I spent my third day in France in the heart of Paris. I am proud to say I made it from hotel to hostel without missing a train or getting lost-- a great and first-time success. On my walk to the Young & Happy Hostel, I stopped at a brasserie and enjoyed my first croissant, and I mean I enjoyed it. I couldn't have been in a better mood, walking the streets of Paris with flakes of my croissant blowing away as I sacred every bite. It's safe to say I know what I'll be eating for breakfast tomorrow (and maybe every day after that). I dropped off my pack in storage for the day and headed out with no destination in mind. I checked out the shops and made my way to the Seine, where I got a 2-day pass to travel by boat from one popular destination to another. Since it was mid-afternoon by the time I got there, having cruised by boutiques, the Pantheon, and Notre Dame on foot, I decided to save my trip to the Louvre for tomorrow and headed to the Eiffel Tower.

I can't say it was something I was dying to see, but I knew I couldn't leave Paris without a visit under my belt. I brought a brie sandwich along and sat under the tower as I enjoyed the cheese and the view. I took my share of pictures along with the rest of the tourists, but many folks, I assume the locals, we're napping on the grass. So, I decided to nap too. It was a peaceful way to enjoy the historic monument, especially in comparison to those who waiting in line underneath the tower to climb in an eyesore of an elevator taking them to the top. I guess I'm a little bitter about the blury line that divides art and attraction, as the iron lady is the most visited paid-attraction in the world. It was created as a centerpiece for the World's Fair in 1889Erected in 1889 as the entrance arch to the 1889 World's Fair, which would celebrate the centennial of the French Revolution. As the tallest structure in Paris, I first saw the tower from the Pantheon, which was a pleasant surprise that made me think, 'Wow, I'm in Paris'.

After my nap I had an Italian ice cream and made my way back to the hostel, where I worked up the courage to introduce myself to two girls who spoke English with a heavy accent. Although we parted ways, they later invited me to share wine, and we talked about our travels. They are from Germany and traveling around Europe before starting at the University (not college, as that equivocates high school). They are 20 like me, but because of Germany's education system, they have yet to start secondary school although already know more about what they want to do with their careers than I do, and have been studying for them since sixteen. I got a glimpse of life as a teen in Europe from Nastia and Jana, and we parted with Facebook contact information and tired legs from all the walking that our travels require.

Basilique Saint Denis

Today I took a trip to the first Gothic cathedral, the basilica of Saint Denis. On the way, I stopped at a brasserie and had a crêpe banane-- it was almost as delicious as the café crème. The waiter as usual seemed disappointed when at first I spoke very little, and awful french. I kept trying, and before I left he had asked me where I was from and told me he liked Americans. (He laughed when I replies that I liked French people.)

I got to the basilique after a couple hours of travel (mostly consisting of getting lost). In the 12th century, Abbot Suger rebuilt parts of the abbey church using artistic and structural techniques that would make it the first of its kinds. Although I didn't get to find it today, Suger signed his name in the stone, an uncommon practice of the old ages to take credit for such work. He must have known what a masterpiece he was creating because boy! is it beautiful. Despite the construction happening to restore many of the stained glass windows that have been destroyed time and again, the cathedral was a sight to see. Filled with tombs of nearly every French king from the 10th to the 18th century and many of their family members, the church became a place of pilgrimage and honorable burial place.

My favorite part though, as maybe Suger intended, we're the windows. The cathedral, with its incredibly high ceilings for that time period, is filled with colorful glass including cobalt blue, and when the sun shines through, rainbow specks decorate the architecture. I learned today that Suger focused on the stained glass windows as a symbol of God, as light shines through the windows to create such beauty without harming them. I learned many many things on my audio tour, much of which went in one ear and out the other (history has never been a strength of mine). I spent hours in that cathedral, listening to every bit of commentary on the tombs and architecture from the audio guide. With his French accent, it was the most English I've heard in two days.

French people like to sing. As I sit outside of my hotel, I hear men singing classical music to one playing violin inside, and the ones outside decided to join in. Another is playing a little guitar on the lawn. Every other metro I get on has a musician or a dancer performing for change or just because. It's funny what different cultures do with free time.

French people also like cheese. See that photo? That was my salad... Ad yes, somewhere underneath the delicious mountain of cheese lie cucumbers and tomatoes in dressing, the tasty dinner I had after a great visit to the Basilique.

Send me on my way

"There are two basic approaches to dressing: stay in the same town and change clothes every day, or wear the same clothes and just change towns," says my most adored summer read, First-Time Europe. So here I am, having just finished packing my Vegabond Tour 40 backpack from REI to accompany me on my journey abroad. OK, maybe I packed more than one outfit, but I'm excited to say that everything I need will be on my shoulders, and beyond that is pure experience.

I can guess what my feelings will be getting on the plane tomorrow morning, as I'll try to grasp that my trip is actually beginning. I can reckon my thoughts in Toronto during my layover will be more along the lines of an anxious haze from long hours in crowded airports. But I can't imagine how I will feel stepping off the Boeing 777 airplane in Paris. After a summer of neurotic preparation, resisting the urge to plan out every minute of my travels, I will finally be in Europe, where I can do just about anything. Wow, am I lucky. Lucky and grateful, and more than ready to embark on this adventure. One thing I do know is, my luggage won't be weighing me down.