it's summer

This is how I imagine summer mornings in Paris or the South of France.

(un p'tit déj' parisien)

(blackberry confiture)

Wish I were over there, you have no idea.

obligatorty sentimental pre-departure post.

Bear with me as I get all sentimental:

Currently writing this on the final leg of our journey back to France from Turkey and surprised at how natural it feels – how strangely comfortable it is – to be going “home” to Lyon.

Which worries me. Before leaving for Turkey (and many of you can attest to this) I was wishing time away, thinking of little more than my rapidly (although at the time it felt much slower) approaching return to the States. For some reason, I found myself in a rut deeper than any other I’d experienced over the course of the past 9 months. And at the time, I convinced myself that this was a good thing more than a bad thing. Not because I wanted to leave France, but because I figured it’d make the transition back into American life that much easier.

But being in Istanbul and away from Lyon for six days made me realize how intensely I’m going to miss this place. After the first day, I was already going through croissant and baguette withdrawal; I was eating delicious Turkish delicacies, but part of me just wanted a 4 Saisons sandwich from my favorite boulangerie; and surrounded by Turkish, of which I don’t speak a single word, I felt an odd sense of solidarity when we passed groups of French tourists.

In general, I think the most shocking realization was the discovery that I have, and was excited to get back to, my comfort zone in France. Especially since so much of this experience has been about leaving the ol’ comfort zone back in the U.S. It’s going to be so strange going home, but I think it’ll be interesting to see how I’ve changed…

Anyway, enough of that. Mama Atwood gets here in 6 hours, and the two of us hit up Paris in just a couple of days! I will write about the magic that is Istanbul when I get home. Until then, here’s a little taste:

(sunset view from the rooftop terrace of our hotel)

ces petits moments

I know I just posted pictures of my shoes, but wanted to document this petit moment. Every day, the morning sun pours into my yellow room through the filter of sheer, orange curtains that, I must admit, I used to hate but have since come to appreciate. And then it disappears behind the building for the rest of the day -- except for about twenty minutes in the early evening, when it somehow reflects off of the window of an apartment across the courtyard and into my room again. This is hands down one of my favorite moments of the day.

Today when it happened, I was sitting in my bed listening to some favorite tunes from last semester, checking out the headlines on NYTimes.com, and sipping on hot coffee. I paused to take a snapshot of my shoes bathing in the warm light.

I think I'm gonna miss moments like this.

la flemme!

French lesson of the day:

Expression: J'ai la flemme!

[Rough] Translation: I'm straight up lazy.

3 finals down, 2 to go, and never before have I been in such a raw state of lethargy. Reasons for my sluggishness:

- An entire school year without work has left me with the attention span of a 3-year-old.

- The pressure of all of my grades coming down to one final exam has done the exact opposite of motivate me. I just don't care.

- Spring was a tease. Welcome back, winter. (Current "feels like" temperature: 35. It's May, folks.) Also, 10-day forecast: rain.

My body's in France but I think my mind's already back in the States. The fact that I've accepted my inevitable departure (in 26 days - the final countdown has begun) has made me restless, and I just can't wait to be home. Don't get me wrong, I love it here and there are SO many things I'm going to miss about France. And if I still had several months here, I know I wouldn't be feeling like this.

Perhaps I should heed my own advice, though, and appreciate the days I have left here instead of wishing time away or realizing that my year abroad is coming to such a speedy close. There are still so many things to look forward to before I'm back in Crozet. In particular:

- Blake's arrival in 8 days! I don't know if Lyon is ready for us.

- ISTANBUL in 13 days! Turkey's definitely not ready for us.

- Mom's arrival in 19 days!

- Paris in 21 days!

- Packing (sarcasm. don't even want to start thinking about the burden of stuffing the last 8 months into one suitcase.)

Best discovery of the day: one of the coolest bookstores I've ever been to. So many dusty, leather-bound books! In a rare moment of self control, I left the store les mains vides (empty-handed). Liz should be grateful she didn't have to drag my wailing body out of there.

(if only I could justify buying a 45€ copy of Aesop's fables in French

when my books alone are going to put me over my 50-pound limit...)

if these shoes could talk...

Because my Chucks can say more about the last 8 months than I ever could...

may day muguet

Special shout-out to JL and Anna for these May Day muguets!

May 1st is Labor Day in France, which means pretty much nothing is open. But it's also a tradition for people to sell tiny bouquets of these flowers (called muguet or "lily of the valley") on the street, which you're supposed to give to friends and family. Kind of neat.

audrey tautou and team tandoori

I’m determined to soak up as much sun as possible, but also ashamed about my lack of blogging. So today I compromise: I’m currently sitting in the quiet courtyard outside of my apartment, where the sun’s early-afternoon rays create a speckled show of light and shadow before hiding themselves behind the building for the hottest part of the day. I’m probably straining my eyes to the point of blindness to see the screen and text beyond the sunny glare but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

Many modifications need to be made to the post before this because things have certainly changed. First and foremost (and perhaps saddest of all) is the fact that Paul and I are no longer getting chickens. Please take the time you need to process this news and its implications (no fresh omelets?!) before moving on. Unfortunately, Paul’s dad made him warn the neighbors that we’d be housing two poules in our miniature back yard, and some bitter single woman on the 6th étage (that’s the 7^th floor, folks) rejected the idea. People on the 7^th floor shouldn’t even get a vote. Anyone need a chicken coop?

Anyway, here’s a question for you guys to ponder: who knew volcanoes (and Iceland at that) were things worthy of our attention? After a tedious series of plane cancellations and reschedulings, my mom decided to postpone her visit to the end of May. Which, along with a most conveniently timed SNCF strike, left Tyler stranded in Paris for 5 days. Stranded? In Paris? Life is hard.

Luckily, I spent very little time alone. When I wasn’t visiting museums (a grand total of five), drinking coffee (I am obsessed with Paris’ café culture – they are everywhere!), or seeing plays starring Audrey Tautou from the second row of the Théâtre de la Madeleine, I had Gina, a friend from governor’s school who’s been studying abroad there all year, show me some of the finer aspects of Paris, most of which involved food. I finally fulfilled my 3-month-old craving for blueberry pancakes at Breakfast in America, an experience that made all 129,600 minutes of waiting worth it. [Interjection: a balloon just hit me in the head. No idea where it came from.] Also delicious were Berthillon ice cream and the yummy chicken dinner served by Gina and her friends at her host-family-free apartment on Saturday night. Additionally, I was fortunate enough to meet up with Kimberly, a friend from Davidson studying abroad in Paris, and we added a free play at the Théâtre le Temple to our food list of Pizza Pino and falafel in the Place des Vosges. Liz, a friend from my program in Lyon, made it up to Paris Sunday afternoon with her mom, and in addition to being graciously treated to an Italian risotto dinner, Liz and I wandered up and down the Champs-Elysées before we got ice cream and I returned to my hotel to prepare for my early-morning train back to Lyon (which I reserved only after waiting in line for over an hour and a half at the Gare de Lyon Saturday afternoon).

I was in Lyon for a grand total of 3 hours before JL and I met up for a terrace lunch at Au Petit Café Rose and spontaneously decided to buy train tickets to Nice. (Her trip to Greece was canceled because of the volcano.) After about a day and a half of studying (read: napping) in the sun next to the Rhône, she and I boarded, along with Ned, our train to Nice and rolled into the city’s beautiful gare around 11:30. Franny, a friend from Crozet doing a teaching assistantship in Nice was kind enough to let us crash in her apartment for the two nights we were there, and she showed us such a good time! In hindsight, we did very little that didn’t involve food, the sun, or beer. I think what struck us most about the city was all of its color: the bright oranges/corals/yellows of the buildings in Vieux Nice, the magnificent shades of Mediterranean blue…in Nice you are constantly confronted with a palette of vibrantly beautiful colors.

Activities included: Indian Lounge, the best Indian restaurant I’ve ever been to (I had what was easily among my top 3 favorite meals in France). Watching the OL soccer game at a bar called Thor on Wednesday night. Lounging on the rocky beach all day Thursday followed by a raspberry-lime milkshake at Fenocchio and then pub quiz at Ma Nolan’s. Crêpe lunch with Franny before catching our rainy-day train back to Lyon Friday afternoon.

In short, Spring Break ’10 (part two I suppose) was completely unexpected but entirely satisfying. It was so nice to get away for a while, but at the same time it's always comforting to return to a familar place. Spent the weekend in a happy stupor before returning to earth to study for the two finals I had this week. 2 down, 3 to go, and it’s the weekend. Time to meet up with my favorite Austrians for a picnic on the berges.