Take Me to the Country

After a long weekend in Bourgogne, I have finally gotten back to Paris. Bourgogne is a lovely province of France about 4 hours outside of Paris by car.

If I’m starting from the beginning I have to tell you about the night before we left for Bourgogne. My friends Kate and Simran were both celebrating their 21st birthdays. Kate had a nice dinner in Paris that I didn’t go to because I’m cheap and I thought she was going out with us later. So I packed a bag for the weekend and made plans to stay with my friend Francis in Bercy (a very new quartier of Paris).

At about eleven, Francis, her friend, Joanna, Joanna’s very cute French boyfriend, Alex, and I set out in a cab for the Champs-Elysees where we were meeting our friends at a club/discothèque. It turns out they had decided against it when we got there and had gone to another club about 5 blocks away. Well, when we got there, that club was jam-packed at the door and we would have waited all night long to get in. We were very upset with all of them for not waiting or telling us earlier, plus we’d been dragging Francis’s friends around Paris.

Francis and I were all set to head home, but Alex mentioned another party he had heard about, so we moved in that direction. After another cab ride, we found ourselves on a boat on the Seine at the Place de la Concorde! It turns out it was Eighties night on a stationary boat on the Seine with a very reasonable cover charge (entrance fee - for those who don’t know what that is), and there were no tourists. It seems only Parisian kids knew about this. I don’t think they happen all the time, just maybe once a week or so, but it was SO much fun. There is nothing like French boys on a discothèque dance floor – so different than American boys. They are all over the place, dancing crazy with arms and legs stretched out and jumping around. It is totally a cultural experience – while American guys just stand there and move back and forth. Both French and American eighties rock. If we wanted to get some air, we could go to the deck of the boat and look out on the Tour Eiffel or the Notre Dame Cathedral. In the end, it didn’t matter that our friends had pretty much blown us off.

We had a terrible time getting a cab home, though. Apparently 4am is the most popular hour for Parisians at the Place de la Concorde. I used up all my cell phone minutes on the phone with the cab company and it cut off just as they were looking for a cab for us. Add one more “Don’t do that again” to my long list of trials and errors.

At Francis’s, her host mother had made the roll-out couch for me with my own blankets and sheets. It was so sweet. In the morning we had a quick breakfast and left for the bus at about 8am. APA somehow managed to assemble a really awesome group of people and I was totally pumped about the trip to Bourgogne.

The way there was pretty uneventful save for Mary Beth sleeping on the floor of the bus because she was uncomfortable in the seat and our pit stop about 2 hours in, where everyone made a point to buy the weirdest stuff we could find. The weirdest for me: rotisserie flavored potato chips and Crackly Crepes (totally nasty packaged chocolate crepes).

Our first stop was in Semur en Auxois, a very small, quaint town full of people that I am sure truly hate American tourists. It was clearly one of those towns full of older folks that had always lived there and everyone was in everyone else’s business – and in walks a bunch of very loud American kids taking pictures and ordering everything on the café menu.

After that, we hit the Abbaye de Fontenay, built by a very conservative sect of Benedictine monks, the Cistercians. The gardens were very beautiful and the countryside was so peaceful and wonderful – such a change from busy, exciting Paris. The abbaye itself dates back to over 1000 years old and is very impressive. That being said, our tour guide was kind of boring and the building is almost entirely without any decoration or visual stimulation. The monks did nothing but work and worship, and did not believe in decoration. The abbaye consisted mainly of a large church, a sleeping room, a work room, and a prayer room. I just kept thinking – how did they just wander around this hermitage every single day? But then again, living alone in the country (besides being oddly separatist and commune-like) must have shielded them from ugly city politics and plague.

Afterward, we checked into our hotel/hostel, which was very nice. It was a large place and we were the only people in the entire complex, which was great. It was also in the middle of nowhere so it didn’t matter how much commotion we created. We ate the biggest dinner I’ve ever had in my life, and they had two birthday cakes for Kate and Simran.

On Sunday, we made our first stop in Beaune, another beautiful, famous wine town, where we visited the Hotel-Dieu de Beaune, a free hospital and hostel created for the poor in 1443. It was beautiful and remained fully operational for 5 centuries, until the 1970s, when it became a museum. There is still an old folks’ home there, as well. It’s a really incredible building. There are also three very important works of art by Van der Weyden that I have studied before (not realizing they were there). We ate lunch in Beaune, which, unlike Semur, was overrun by American, French, and German tourists. There was also a motorcycle parade in the middle of the street that day.

After that – wine tasting at “Morin Pere et Fils” in Nuit St. Georges, which was one of the most fun experiences of the trip. I learned so much I didn’t know before about wine and the guide was such a nice man who had such an appreciation for what he does. We got a chance to wander through the vineyard, learn about how the wine is made (that part I didn’t understand because of the whole French thing) and tasted 4 wines. I decided the second red wine was my favorite because I loved the bitterness from the grape’s skin. See, now I’m an expert. I bought a 10 euro bottle of an aperitif (a drink that going with the appetizer) for my host family. I know they don’t ever drink wine, but I had no idea what to bring them back and they’ve got to have company over sometime.

Another dinner four times the size of my stomach.

Finally, this morning we made our way to Vezelay, where we had some time to explore the gorgeous shops on the main road. This I will say for Vezelay: it has some beautiful things to offer and the most beautiful garden shop I have ever seen with an incredible, peaceful view – but it lost a lot of its appeal when we discovered that it was practically impossible to find a normal toilet. I have never in my life had such gross experiences with public restrooms. I had to take pictures of the nasty toilets. The first ones near the bus drop-off were bad enough – nasty and no toilet seats – but I didn’t know it could get worse.

We had a nice lunch at “Le Bougainville” and afterward, a very long, sort of boring tour of the Basilica of Saint Madeleine. The church is magnificent – so beautiful and incredible history, light and architecture – but our guide spent an impressive amount of time talking about the most trivial aspects of the architecture. I wanted to just explore and drink it in, but it was the tour that would never end.

After what felt like 10 hours, some of us had to go to the restroom really badly (not including myself – thank goodness), so we went in search of the restrooms behind the church, where we found holes in the ground. I’m so not kidding at all. In each stall were literal holes in the ground, fully equipped with nothing except markers to place your feet as you squat down. It was so gross! I laughed so hard I cried. And my friends had to go to the bathroom so bad they had no choice except to suck it up and squat down. I did not share that experience with them, I’m afraid.

Following that debacle, my friend Koa and I decided to check out the church’s crypt, where, instead of tombs, we found a relic of Mary Magdalene – one of her bones.

I realize that this basement/crypt is intended to be an entirely reverent place that has been a famous pilgrimage destination for many centuries, but I have to be honest. I was totally creeped out. It was very dungeon-like and there was a very scary statue of Jesus dying on the cross opposite the bone. It was also incredibly small and we managed to sneak in following the exit of about 35 senior citizen tourists, who pulled an impressive clown-car act climbing out the crypt.

Then the bus ride home, where I fell asleep and woke up in Paris again. All in all, it was a great weekend. I can completely understand why someone would choose to study or even live in the countryside outside of Paris. It is too beautiful to take for granted.

It is strange to me that every single town in France has its own history and quaint or exciting existence – so unlike America, where there is so much commercialism.

I was sort of disappointed to end our vacation, but then I realized I was going home to Paris.

That’s it for this long one. Class tomorrow morning until noon. I have decided to start packing my lunch to save money so a trip to the market. Maybe some exploration of Arcueil if I don’t get lost. Then, we are going to see the ballet “Wuthering Heights” at the Opera Garnier in my new dress and heels.

More later! Love you guys!