The Disappointment

Warning: No more posts like this, I can’t stand chronicling my exploits. I like writing to express, not to report, so expect nothing else. I’ll put pictures soon, some are just too good not to share.

Even now that the holidays are over, I still have no time to write. It’s not that school is busy, it’s just that time passes, and before I’ve realized it, two weeks have passed and the world wonders what I’m doing. Wait no more, for the light has come, and glory will soon be!

As I suspected, the week abroad (abroad from my French abroad) was on a scale that was far past measurable. The week passed too quickly, and I barely recovered from my bus ride haze to notice it waving. I did pick up some memories that I know will last a lifetime, the ones that you automatically store in the section of your mind reserved for your most precious and life-changing memories. Although, I must admit, that section is getting quite full, so I don’t know how much I can preserve, at least fully.

The 17 hour bus ride actually passed quite quickly. While I spent only a very small portion of it doing schoolwork, the rest was productive. About 5 hours into the ride, my French relative called me to set up my correspondence with my Czech relatives. Since my level of French is not high, and her level of English was not much better, we spent a good hour trying to understand each other and set up our plans. Finally, I talked to the guy sitting next to me, and he took the phone and handled everything. I was all set to take a train to a town to meet my family. The rest of the trip passed smoothly, and was spent sleeping a full night, and conversing with a French student and a Polish student on their way to Poland. If there’s one thing I can’t help but always notice, it’s that you can’t help but feel inadequate when a person has to speak your language, rather than theirs.

I arrived in Vienna (Wien, I soon found out) early in the morning, and I set out on my adventures. The first day, I spent my time walking around, seeing random landmarks marked on a map, because I didn’t have a clue as to what I was seeing. I visited the Belvedere to see Gustav Klimt’s masterpiece, The Kiss, along with the most famous church in Vienna, St. Stephen’s. I toured the opera house, and in the evening I sat outside the opera house and watched a live performance of the opera occurring inside on a big screen that have set up on the outside of the building. Of course, in between each of these visits to different places, I stopped for food and wound up eating 6 sausage hotdogs and plenty of apple strudel. The next day was much the same, at least as far as food goes, but I spent the day at Schonbrunn palace, Vienna’s equivalent of Versailles. While the palace grounds were smaller, I felt that this palace had much more to offer. In other words, a zoo. The Schonbrunn zoo, the first zoo in the world, was an amazing spectacle, full of every creature imaginable. An afternoon wasted there was no waste at all.

The next day, I travelled to Prague, the most beautiful city I’ve seen besides Paris. Its ancient architecture mixed with the new city piled on top was a great combination, and I’ve never seen such a pretty place at night. Of course, like with every place I visit, I had a list of necessary food that I had to eat, so I spent the day ranging from food shop to food shop in search of my next fix. Luckily, everything in Prague was much cheaper because of the absence of the euro. The first day, and the morning of the second, were spent sightseeing. From Charles Bridge to the Castle, I took it all in, and never enjoyed myself more.

On the second day in Prague, I was all set to meet with my long-lost family. Early in the afternoon, I set out on my journey, and two hours later after a small train ride and a car ride, I was in another car with my extended family on the way to their house in Dnesice, 100 km from Paris. Upon arrival, I was greeted with hospitality unbeknownst by most, and was given my favorite Czech dish, Dolky, although I’m not sure how to spell it. After that, I spent the next few hours communicating with Petr, his wife, and his son Petr. None of them spoke enough English for conversation, and I don’t speak Czech, so our communication relied mostly on hand motions and the few words we do know.

The next morning, my only full day with them, I was shown around the Czech Republic. I was taken to Plsen, home of the Pilsner beer factory, and once more I was treated like a king. They took me to the line of demarcation in Roxycany, where the American troops had met the Russian troops at the end of the second world war, and consequently where my grandmother and grandfather met, and then I was driven through the town where my grandmother grew up. It was strange, seeing the direct line of my heritage and ancestry, but it was gratifying, knowing that I do have a homeland. The rest of the day was spent eating in a restaurant and at pubs sharing a few beers with young Petr, as his friend translated conversation for us.

Unfortunately, the next day I had to leave, and I returned to Prague for a few hours before I headed back to Paris. The Czech Republic was wonderful. It was exactly what I needed to prepare myself for the last half of the semester. Seeing my extended family treat me as their own just reminded me how deep bonds can run. I was instantly accepted, just like I instantly accepted them. I felt like young Petr was my brother and that his parents cared about me, and it was surreal, knowing that I was finally completely safe, with someone to turn to if things exploded. It was a special privilege, being in a foreign country and meeting distant family, and yet feeling at home all at the same time.

The vacation was not over though, and it was sure to get more interesting. Upon my return to Paris, I immediately set out for the city, where I spent the next two days staying at the apartment of a friend of a friend. It’s the first time I’ve actually lived in Paris, and it was the most amazing living I’ve done. The first night was uneventful, but we cooked fajitas, and home-cooked food has never tasted quite as wonderful. The night was spent out, walking around and seeing other friends. The next morning though, was the important part.

We woke up at about 8 in the morning and immediately set out for the nearest market. After browsing through the market for about an hour and collecting a random assortment of food items for breakfast, we made it back to the apartment, eager to eat our breakfast of bread, cheese, sausage, pastries, chicken, vegetables and jams. After setting everything out, we commenced eating, and two hours later we were finished. It wasn’t due to the amount of food though, because there was not much, but the atmosphere of the meal. I was French for those two hours, savoring the time I was with my friends, and just really relaxing for the first time. Time passed, but I had no care in the world, and none of us were willing to break the passage. It was gratifying, and it was a release. A release from the stigma that eating is not a part of life, but an evil that must happen every few hours. That meals are just for eating. But I finally understood a part of French culture. The culture of enjoying your friends, the morning, and life in general.

After this two hour cathartic lesson, I spent the rest of the day in a haze, seeing the city for the first time. I spent the afternoon in the Marais, another famous section of Paris, and at the famous Parisian mosque (featured in Paris, Je t’aime), where I had amazing Moroccan pastries and mint tea in the mosque’s café. It was a morning that lasted all day.

At night, after cooking about 15 pounds of stir-fry and eating it all, we three dressed up and headed to a Paris nightclub for a Halloween adventure in the city. In my spiderman costume, not only did I feel completely normal in Paris, but I also felt strangely alive, like I was studying abroad and doing the memorable things that I would tell my children. Every French youth was yelling at me, and though I couldn’t see through the mask, the metro was full of “Speedermahn, Speedermahn!” It was fun, doing something Parisian. The night was long and the dancing intense, but we finally made it to bed around 5 am.

Since then, I’ve been sitting in Jouy, doing schoolwork and relaxing. With one of my only finals past, and only a handful of simple assignments for the next few weeks, I have an open schedule. Tomorrow is Paris, for an exploration of a museum or the city. Friday, I start the best class HEC offers,
Wine Marketing. I spend the weekend learning about wine, how to taste, and how to sell it. It should be an interesting weekend. Saturday night, the international students are spending the night in Paris in a club, and then the week starts over. I was so relaxed by this weekend, that I’m not sure I want to travel anymore. I’m happy, and it only took me half of my trip to realize what it was that would make it permanent.

I don’t think I’ll be writing too often from now until the end. And certainly not like this. I don’t enjoy summing up my trip, I want to write about how I felt, to imbue you with a spirit of the rush that I feel. But I can’t. I can only give advice. The advice to come, to take whatever chance you have, and go to the place you’ve been most wanting to visit. The place where you think you’ll find happiness. Chances are, you’ll find it if you are willing to look for it. So please, make yourself happy, because I plan on doing nothing else.