Mr. Friendly, Dr. Pepper, and more pictures

I'm home again. I got in to Tulsa around 9 p.m. on the 19th, after 20 hours of airport shenanigans and travel. The strangest part for me was arriving in Detroit ... everyone was speaking in English and they were smiling and very friendly and it was chilly in the airport. Air conditioning!

I didn't even realize that I'd gotten used to people not being particularly friendly, as I never thought I'd been slighted by a French person and also thought they did smile a lot despite what we'd been told. However, it was like coming up out of water to take a breath when the customs officer was friendly and smiled and said "he didn't bite," which was very different than the way I was greeted by the French equivalent: silence and a placid half-smile. It didn't really matter to me either way; it's customs, it's annoying, and I didn't care to have anyone make small talk with me.

Getting used to being around a lot of Americans again was strange for a little while ... and I was unhappy to be in Detroit of all places (my connection from France to Tulsa), rather than Paris. I did not want to leave Europe at all, so I sat and cried about it for a little bit, which was also due to a massive lack of sleep and total exhaustion.

The first thing I did when I got back to the U.S. was buy a Dr. Pepper. I never ever saw Dr. Pepper anywhere in France or Italy. The rest of the OSU group and I pretty much love Dr. Pepper more than any other soda, so we were all suffering with the soda choices of Coke and Coke Light for an entire month. It was sweet consolation. Another strange thing: in Europe, Coke was almost as expensive, and sometimes more expensive than, alcohol. About 7 dollars, and often more, just for a regular 16 oz. Coke. Lucky I don't really like Coke at all, so I was never tempted to pay that.

Here are some pictures from our last full day in Paris:



A Paris Metro sign. I think I saw more of the Metro subway system than any other part of Paris itself. We'd finally gotten a good handle on the routes when it was time to go home. Of course.



On our last day, we decided to take a BatoBus, or bateaux (boat) bus, to tour the city down the Seine River. I would definitely do this again ... except I'd wear sunscreen next time, as I got a pretty good burn from standing out on the deck. The cool thing about the little water bus was that you can get off at different sites like Notre Dame or the Eiffel Tower, tour around, and then get back on whenever you want. We got off at the Notre Dame stop, the St. Germain stop (to eat lunch at a classic French cafe), and the Champs-Elysees stop. A long day of sightseeing!



Actually this wasn't the last day in Paris, but the day before. I like it because I was having fun with everyone at the Louvre. A lot of the kids tried the Da Vinci Code audio tour after I said it was the bomb, and everyone loved it. I tried the regular audio tour on my second visit, and it was extremely dull and obvious.



On the last night, the whole OSU group met at the top of Sacre Coeur, or the Sacred Heart Church, on top of a hill in Montmartre. It was a crazy hike, involving a walk up toward the hill and then another 180-200 steps up to the top, but worth it to see the city as the sun was setting on our final day. We all ate dinner at a little French cafe (it was gross and reminiscent of the cafeteria food we'd eaten in Dijon every day) and hung out one last time before we all splintered into little groups ...



My little group and I headed over to the Eiffel Tower for one last visit. I went to the Tower about 4-5 times while I was in France, and I could definitely see it many times again. But my final plan was to take the elevator up to the top to see the entire city lit up at night. So, Shane and I got in line about 2 hours before the Tower closed down for the night. It was really busy there, of course, and the sign was threatening an oversaturation of people but we didn't pay attention. However, as we kept waiting in line, suddenly the sign flashed "Troisieme etage ferme" which means "3rd stage closed." There was no more going to the top of the Eiffel Tower at all ... it was extremely disappointing. But that's only one more reason to go back - I have to take that elevator to the top someday!



Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. I'd always wanted to go to this airport after seeing the U2 video for their song "All That You Can't Leave Behind," which they filmed entirely in this futuristic place. Since I was the last person to fly out that day, I had some extra time to take pictures and take a good look at everything. I ended up being at the airport about 7 hours before my flight took off! But only one bus took all of us from our hotel to the airport, and I was worried I'd get lost if I didn't go with everyone else at 6:30 a.m. ... it was worth it.



This is an advertisement in Charles de Gaulle, which I thought summed up my trip. Next to the funky shoes it says "journey," and to the right of them, it basically says "To be open to the world is to understand the differences in points of view." And that was the note with which I ended my amazing month-long adventure in Europe.

Ridin' the Rails: Part Deux

So, we had a great time partying it up - 8 people squashed together in one tiny couchette (that's what they're offically called). However, as two a.m. rolled around, we really needed to try to get some sleep since we had class at 9 that morning (our train left Sunday evening at 8 p.m. and arrived in Dijon at 5:30 a.m., and then class started at 9 a.m.). So, we started pulling down the bunks and getting arranged. But then two of my college classmates decided to literally SHARE a tiny bunk - not even the size of a normal twin bed - which was maybe 3 feet away from me. Shenanigans ensued, which featured nausea-inducing slurp noises and such like. Also, the Italian man who spoke no English promptly fell into a sleep in which he frequently called out in either Italian or French random things. All of a sudden he'd turn violently and shout "Oh la la!" or some such. And he was in the bunk directly above me. I took to walking from car to car, as the train swayed dramatically. It was also going very fast, so the wind was whistling and rattling the cabin windows. Also, going between the coupled cars was an adventure, as they were shaking and getting the doors open and closed was difficult in the dark. But I couldn't sleep. I even went into the one of the bathrooms and sat on the toilet seat, writing in my journal for a little while until someone padded out in the night to use it. Here's some of what I wrote:

"Right now I'm sitting in the bathroom because Person A and Person B are sharing a bunk and being disgustingly loud. I've been so homesick today. I'm locked in a toilet in a dirty night train. It's so weird. Dr. Miller (our professor here in Dijon) said that oftentimes students on the study abroad program have a great first week, are up and at 'em every day, but then by the second week become massively depressed and homesick, and then sort of come out of it by the third week. I don't want that to be me. And I don't feel like actually going home; I just have a vague empty feeling that nags at me sometimes at night. It's stupid because I'm having a great time and I love everything I'm seeing and doing and all of my new friends ..."

Later, when I was back in my bunk and the shenanigans in the nearby bunk had subsided, I wrote some more by this weird blue light that are in all the couchettes. I suppose it's some sort of night light, and maybe they think that blue is the least disturbing, but frankly it makes everything look eerie and surreal. And there's no way to turn it off - we tried several times. Here's what I wrote by the eerie blue light:

"Still on the night train and can't sleep as the weird Italian man keeps calling out and moving or groaning. So. Night trains are first of all noisy: the creaking of the rails, a steely high-pitched whine and the howling wind. Earlier, when I was walking the narrow, slightly spooky halls, the windows were shuddering and teh steel floor boards fluttered from the wind. Then there's the sound of the snoring ... a pretty funny symphony of sleep, which between the Aussie husband and the Italian, is a chorus of bad sleep by itself. As for the smells - well, these bunks are clearly unsanitary, made of the same plastic-y material they use for airplane seats, but scratchier and older. They smell of world-weary travel - the bad kind. In my coach, it also smells of stale alcohol, spilled Fanta and the Aussie wife's fading perfume. Little bottles of grappa and Bailey's are rolling down the hallways because of our room's little party earlier tonight ..."

So, that was as far as I got before I fell asleep on my book. Only to be awakened a few minutes later by more French phrases and coughing. I'd look up once in a while and the Aussie wife, Sana, and I would just shake our heads at each other as if to say, What can you do?

I'm planning on taking a nap today and then doing some laundry. The laundry here is expensive. Must go eat lunch ... love everyone and miss everyone muchly. :)

A Beaune to pick

We went to the Burgundy region last week on a little bus excursion for class. We saw the small neighboring town of Beaune, a lot of vineyards, as well as one little family-owned vineyard, owned by the family of our own tour guide, the awesomely funny Claude. And believe you me, a funny Frenchman, a truly funny one, is very rare indeed. Here are the pics of the Burgundy region ...



The small town of Beaune ... Claude told us that the conservative townspeople didn't want the railroad coming through their city ... so instead, Dijon got the train and subsequently became much more modern and populized (a word?). Now Beaune is just this little antiquated city on the outskirts. Some people think it's good that way, some think it's bad.



A large vineyard we stopped at on the way ... it was a Clos du something (don't remember?). A Clos is very different from a Chateau, and one cannot just call themselves these specific names. There are definite reasons for both, which I do not recall at this moment ... I shall consult Wikipedia in the near future. :)



I took this while on a hill overlooking the Burgundy region near a beautiful old castle ... we walked through the remnants of where the moat used to be.



We visited an old "hopital" in Beaune ... not in use anymore, clearly, but it's still set up so that you can see how they used to run things. This was a large room lined with red-colored beds. The beds are all too short, because they thought it was a bad idea for sick people to lay down - they thought they would die, so they made them sit up in short beds.



Scenario picture! We were making the first face that came to mind when we said, "Someone just left this winery to you in their will!" Jen and I on the bus. I look a bit worse for wear, but oh well. That's travel. :)



Claude the tour guide's winery! Or at least his family's. He lives in the village nearby. We got to see all the workings of a tiny, 5-acre winery ... including the wine cellar underground. We also had a wine tasting - it was a bit dry for my taste but I still drank it all!



The wine cellar ... it was very dank and moldy and cold down there. Also, the ceilings were extremely low, and covered with a fine black mold and smelled strongly of alcohol. I liked it, but some people really felt claustrophobic down there.



And one more installment in the Strange Signs Across Europe Series ... a few little posters for some kind of who knows what, hanging in the doorway to an ancient wine press. Out of place much?

Luggage storm!

The day before a trip, as you probably know, should not to be confused with the eye of a vacation storm, or even the calm before the storm. It is, in fact, a messy part of the swirling hurricane-y vortex of the whole vacation experience. The planning, packing, weighing of suitcases, and general running around that goes into leaving the country for a month pours out before the actual eye of the storm. Which is, if you think about it, probably that time when you're just sitting in the airport with nothing to do but wait.

I'm anxious. My brother called tonight, and said, So are you nervous? And I said, Well, yeah, I'm sort of a mess. He said, I knew it, I know you too well. So I'm what my family and friends consider "high-anxiety," however, I'm also an intense procrastinator, which only adds to my stress.

All in all, though, pretty much everything is done. I just need to double-check absolutely everything, finish some last minute laundry, do some last minute shopping, and oh yeah, a few more pages to read for class... but I have this vague buzzing filling my head, making it impossible for me to concentrate. I'm filled up with a prickly sense that I'm missing, forgetting something or not doing something extremely critical to my survival in France.

It doesn't help that I'm also at work right now, trying to be careful about my job, but also imagining that my suitcase will have to be re-packed or something once I get home. At this point, I can pretty much imagine all of my favorite things suddenly becoming filthy or unwearable while my French phrase book inches underneath the couch... my brain has become a hive of bees. I need something to calm me down, but what?

The next two days will be difficult: I fly all night to get to Paris around noon, and am the very last student to arrive (it was a cheap flight and had the fewest layovers, so I had to go with it); then, there's customs and baggage claim followed by a 4-hour bus ride to Dijon. All in all, it's a solid 24 hours of travel ... in the same clothes. But by the end of my world-traveling weekend, I will be in Lake Geneva, Switzerland. I can't imagine it now, as I sit in a flourescent, yellowy newsroom with green, faded, stained carpet, typing away on a sticky keyboard and waiting for funeral homes to send me gritty faxes ...

Le sigh. One more day, one more long night, and I'll be on my way. Gotta get these last death notices done before I go.

One last notice:
Dateline: Tulsa
Boredom, Ennui Frustration, 27, liaison to Jennie Lloyd and general contractor for her days and nights, died Thursday. Service 5:01 p.m. Tulsa International Airport Terminal, and graveside service 11:20 a.m. Friday, Charles De Gaulle Airport, Paris, France. Adventure Funeral Home, Dijon.

Whew!

Just found this on Think Progress:

O’Reilly lifts boycott of France

“In March 2003, Bill O’Reilly called on all Americans to boycott the use of French products because of France’s disagreement with the United States decision to invade Iraq… Through the years O’Reilly has claimed his boycott of France has cost the country “billions of dollars” (O’Reilly himself quoted that figure in the non-existent “Paris Business Review“).” But now that France has elected conservative Nicolas Sarkozy, the French can rest easy. O’Reilly said yesterday, “The Factor is lifting the boycott of France. However, ‘Boycott France’ bumper stickers do remain available on BillOReilly.com for nostalgia purposes, and you never know… we may have to re-impose it."

I'm so glad I'm going to an O'Reilly-approved country...

4742 miles

This is my itinerary, for any family and friends who are particularly curious, which I'm sure you're not. I've never been in Detroit before. I can't think of two cities that are less related in my mind - Detroit and Paris. Detroit = Eminem and smoking auto factories. Paris = M&M (mimes & Montmartre, natch) and smoking Frenchmen. I suppose this could be good fodder for stalkers ... very wealthy, international stalkers.

Traveler(s)
JENNIFER LLOYD

Thursday, May 24, 2007 Leave
Depart: 5:01pm
evening Tulsa, OK
Tulsa International (TUL)
Arrive: 8:24pm
evening Detroit, MI
Detroit Wayne County (DTW)
Seats: 12A
Economy | Canadair Regional Jet (CRJ) | 2hr 23min | 800 miles
Change planes.
Northwest Airlines #50
Depart: 9:15pm
evening Detroit, MI
Detroit Wayne County (DTW)
Arrive: 11:20am
morning Paris, France
Paris Ch. De Gaulle (CDG)
Seats: 22A
Economy | Airbus Industrie A330-300 (333) | Dinner | 8hr 5min | 3942 miles
This is an overnight flight.
Total duration: 11hr 19min | Total miles: 4742 miles


Tuesday, June 19, 2007 Return
Northwest Airlines #49
Depart: 2:00pm
afternoon Paris, France
Paris Ch. De Gaulle (CDG)
Arrive: 5:00pm
evening Detroit, MI
Detroit Wayne County (DTW)
Seats: 15A
Economy | Airbus Industrie A330-300 (333) | Dinner | 9hr 0min | 3942 miles
Change planes.
Northwest Airlines #3755
Depart: 7:00pm
evening Detroit, MI
Detroit Wayne County (DTW)
Arrive: 8:31pm
evening Tulsa, OK
Tulsa International (TUL)
Seats: 5A
Economy | Canadair Regional Jet (CRJ) | 2hr 31min | 800 miles

Total duration: 13hr 31min | Total miles: 4742 miles

How do you say "I'm sorry" in French?

I'm terrible at speaking French, not that great at English, and can't hear worth a damn. The first thing I asked my friend, who's helping me learn conversational French, was, How do I say I'm sorry? I figured that would be very helpful in the likely event that I act retarded, stupid, spill something, fall over, or generally insult someone of the French persuasion with the dumb look on my face.

It's "Je suis desole," by the way. And I'm practicing it, over and over, like a mantra. I'm sorry, so sorry, so sorry. Sorry about that accidental punch in the face. Sorry about the way I made you stop what you were doing to help me find my way. Sorry for making you repeat yourself eighteen times before I caught the gist of what was being said. Sorry for not making a greater effort to learn a language other than English. Ever.

I've still got a little over a month before I leave on my OSU study abroad trip to France. I will post more specifics about the trip soon.