Through the back door

Last weekend was filled with tapas, lots of walking, and sand. Barcelona is a beautiful, lively city with much to offer. We got there Friday evening, checked into our hotel, asked for a map, and started searching. We walked to downtown (what I assumed by looking at the touristy map we were navigating by was that downtown was about a 20 minute walk)…. an hour later, we found ourselves strolling down the beach fending off scarf salesmen. Barcelona at night is also a beautiful sight. It was warm, with a light ocean breeze, and the sand under my feet couldn’t have felt better. We forgot all about dinner and just sat by the Mediterranean looking up at the stars until we got kicked off of the beach at two am by the cleaning crews.

The next morning, on Saturday, we woke up early and set out to walk the city. Armed with our touristy map from the night before (but slightly better sense of walking distances) we first went to the Segrada Familia. Segrada Familia is a church that has been under construction for close to one hundred years. It is a breathtaking sight, with large, intricately designed towers that block out the sun even at mid-day.

Awe inspiring attention to design makes the church a major attraction

Unfortunately, the line to get into the church was a few hours long and with only one weekend to see Barcelona, we kept walking.

Our next stop was closer to the sea and held the promise of tapas and cool drinks. Barcelona has a large park near downtown that houses a zoo, a large fountain the size of a modest, two story house, and their own ‘Arc de Triomphe’. The park is a quiet relief from the bustle and liveliness of Barcelona’s streets.

Horses are common around Barcelona; a ride in a carraige is a relaxing way to see the city

After relaxing in the park for a while, we walked still closer to downtown. Distracted by a sign for tapas and sangria, we stopped in at a small cafe on a side street and had lunch. While there, we met a women from Australia who was traveling with her sister. They will be driving across America this summer, from LA to NYC and wanted to know our favorite parts of the States. I told them to avoid Vegas and take an extra week to go hiking in Glacier.

Leaving the cafe, and saying goodbye to our new friends, we headed into downtown and the famous street, ‘La Rambla’. La Rambla could be a city in itself. It has extensive shopping (mostly tacky but some worth a look), entertaining street performers, and untold numbers of pick-pocketers. My favorite thing about downtown was not colorful La Rambla, but all of the side streets offering unique shops and funny locals.

Saturday night I called my good friend from Cornell, Caroline, who is living in Barcelona this semester. She met up with us for dinner at a great place off La Rambla and we filled in the missing pieces of our lives for a few hours. After dinner, Caroline took us to a few of her favorite local pubs including one that looks like a forest on the inside (complete with little waterfalls and rivers by the bar and mini trees for tables) and one whose entire menu consists of four hundred different types of shots (we tried one that the bar tender lit on fire….).

The next morning, having figured out Barcelona’s metro system and no longer in need of my touristy map, I set off alone for downtown. I went with the idea of grabbing breakfast at a little cafe, walking around some shops, and getting back to the hotel by noon in time to get on the bus with everyone else and leave. Instead, I accidentally found the Picasso Museum and spent my morning there (don’t worry I still made it back to the bus and didn’t get left in Barcelona). Not being the most cultured art history person, I took all the pamphlets they gave me and asked way too many questions. As it would turn out, the museum is home to much of Picasso’s earlier work so it was really interesting to see his progression from landscape paintings to his later interpretations of other pieces.

This week, after returning from Barcelona, we had intensive French classes and introduction to Viticulture and Enology lectures. We also visited a dairy farm and three different wineries in the Gaillac Region. Now, I’ve spent the better part of today packing and cleaning my apartment. I went to the train station this morning, got my ticket for Milan and scoped out the station so I know where I’m going in the morning. I’ll be sad to leave Toulouse, it’s a beautiful, clean, and charming city, but I’m also excited for the next three weeks. On to Italy, Romania, and Greece!

Nine to five class days and weekend trips hiking in the Pyrenees and wandering the streets of Barcelona don’t leave much time for blogging or updating, so I’m sorry the newest updates are so late! Also distracting me this week was news that my study tour of wineries for the next three weeks was changed from Spain and Portugal to Italy, Romania, and Greece… woah. So instead of posting pictures and detailed descriptions of breathtaking mountains, I’ve been googling Romanian wines.

In any case, two weekends ago now I was in the Pyrenees mountains. The Pyrenees are a range of mountains in the south of France, on the border with Spain. The Pyrenees are stunning. Stretching for somewhere around 300 miles, the range contains so many back door, hilly towns and interesting people; I could probably spend all seven months hiking there. The entire group from school went and we spent Sunday hiking to the Cirque de Gavarnie. This is a huge bowl in the side of the one of the mountains. Formed by glaciers, the cirque is at a high enough elevation to maintain snow all year and has amazing views of the surrounding valleys.

The cirque de gavernie, with another two hours of walking to go

The hike was easy and flat until right at the end when you had a steep ascent to the bottom of the falls; ten minutes of taking one step forward and three backward finally got us up the rocky slope. If I had a week in the Pyrenees it would definitely be a great place to backpack and get in some serious climbing.

Hardy, mountain bred horses are common in the Pyrenees

Justine and I at the cirque de gavernie, with a stretch of valley behind us

Sunday night we stayed at one of the Alpine Club’s (similar to the Adirondack 46ers Club) hostels in the mountains and enjoyed a three course, home cooked dinner. After, a few of us went for a short hike to the top of a nearby hill that overlooks the town of Gavernie. On the top of the hill you get a beautiful look at the town below and the peaks above. There is also a statue of Mary holding baby Jesus, keeping watch on the sleepy farms in the surrounding mountains. The sight from the top of that hill has been one of my favorites so far on this trip. So much so that I woke up at 5:30 the next morning and hiked back up to get pictures as the sun rose and cut colors across the valley.

The view from the hill outside Gavernie, looking north east through the Pyrenees

The statue in the mountains, keeping watch

Unfortunately, we did have to leave the Pyrenees and head back to reality. Before we got back to school, however, we stopped at a small dairy farm in the foothills. The farm is run by a man, Pierre (who speaks not a lick of English), and his wife who are regionally famous for the incredibly smooth and creamy yogurt made from their cows. Farms in France are much smaller than in the US and production is always done on a much smaller scale. Pierre has about 40 cows and 20 heifers; along with yogurt, he produces cheese and raw milk commercially. It was the first farm visit I’ve had in France so far and it was amazing to see how efficient and yet very natural the agriculture is here.

The milking, processing, and packaging of products is all done at the farm. From cow to food right before your eyes

After my weekend of back door experiences in the Pyrenees, we had a week of intensive classes and a few more farm visits, including a trip to the Roquefort cheese caves. Roquefort is a famous blue cheese in France that has been produced for a few hundred years. Also, last weekend, we went to Barcelona and had free time to spend in the city. It was a relaxing three days and I am in love with Barcelona’s carefree attitude. More on those trips soon!

Hey Everyone! It’s been a little while since my last post; I’ve been in Toulouse for nine days now. Classes have started, the rest of the American sutdents have arrived, and life is busier than ever.

We have class from 9 am until 5 pm every week day unless we have farm visits, which is about once a week. European history or agriculture lectures are three hours long in the morning, then we break for two hours for lunch, and then finish the day with three hours of French class. These days do get long but lunch at the school cantine makes up for it three-fold. The school usually serves a quiche or meat dish for lunch topped with more green beans than you ever wanted to see in your life. What makes is special, however, is not the outstanding amount of legumes on the plate; it’s the dessert table. Picture pies, apricot and rasberry crumbles, dishes of chilled chocolate glaze and strawberries, crystal bowls of vanilla and chocolate mousse with rasberry sauce on the bottom, and perfectly crusted creme brulee. All of it is included in your student plan for only 0,80 cents.

This week, our school visit was to the medieval walled city of Carcassone.

One of the main entries into the walled city

Past merges with present

The fortress, founded by the Visigoths during the Golden Age and now on the UNESCO World Heritage Site list, is breathtaking. With the Black Mountains in the distance, Carcassonne stands on a rise in the valley that was easily defensible for its early inhabitants. The city is composed of three walls; the first outer wall allows for a small road around the perimeter and much space between itself and the second, and the third protects the innermost buildings of the city. Within the city now lies small, touristy shops with outrageously expensive food and trinkets. Yet the walls of Carcassonne are also home to quaint, cobblestone streets reminiscent of medieval times and a glorious, candle lit cathedral.

One of the many quiet streets within the walls of Carcassone

The cathedral in the fortress, a quiet sanctuary

The patient greeter at one of Carcassonne's shops

After a tour of Carcassonne and wandering its many narrow, winding streets, we broke for lunch in the town outside of the fortress and down the hill. Our next adventure was a barge ride on the Canal du Midi. The Canal du Midi, built for transporting goods in the 17th century, stretches from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean. It’s peaceful and serene atmosphere provides relief for river-goers in the hot summer months of southern France; the old pathway alongside it, once used for mules and donkeys, is now frequented by dog walkers and bikers. We took an hour long barge ride on the canal, going through the lock system and watching small country homes and vineyards pass by.

A glimpse of French countryside and a quiet afternoon accompanies a ride down the Canal du Midi

Ready for a relaxing barge ride

Daily life in Toulouse is also wonderful. The nightlife is alive and pulsing, a low key creperie and a pricey restaurant serving melt-in-your-mouth duck with fresh vegetables are right across the street from each other, and drinks along the river where you can watch the sun set over Toulouse are my favorite days. The people are welcoming and friendly and I am enjoying living in the fast lane and spending time with new friends.

Dinner in Toulouse after a long day of school is always full of laughter

Sunset over the Garonne river in Toulouse

This weekend we head to the Pyrenees for some hiking and mountain air. The Pyrenees, the mountain range separating France and Spain, are supposed to be quite spectacular. After a lifetime of hiking in the beautiful Adirondack mountains of New York, I’m excited to see what France has to offer!

One of the first things I noticed living here in the land of bread and wine is people have style. The women accessorize with scarves, tasteful necklaces, and classic bags. You won’t ever catch a french man wearing jeans and a tee shirt at the same time. A tee shirt with khakis? Sure. Jeans with a button up dress shirt? Obviously (The exception to this rule seems to be on game day when everyone wears their team’s jersey). The women are also always feminine. A trip to the grocery store requires designer ballet flats, a cropped jacket, and white or neutral capris in summer. I’m certainly not in upstate New York anymore… a trip to the shops downtown is in store.

On another note, the cultural stereotype of everything in Europe being smaller is generally quite true. They drive like race car drivers in cars that could fit in my bedroom. I have yet to meet a French person over five foot seven. A truck would never make it down the streets of Toulouse without taking out both sidewalks. And yet even this stereotype has an exception, they like their meals big and their coffee strong. Crepes too, as I think I have mentioned, don’t come smaller than the standard flatscreen tv. Ahh and the cheese aisle in the supermarche could feed all of Collegetown for two weeks. Yes, I think I’ve found heaven.

I have been in Toulouse, named the pink city for it’s faded red brick buildings, since Wednesday night. I was met at the airport by one of the four program assistants, Emilie. And perhaps that is where I should start this post, discussing the reason I am in France (I’m sorry for the tedious nature of this post, we have to get the boring stuff out of the way first).

I started looking for a summer internship this past September and stumbled upon a Cornell program where I could take French classes at a university in southern France, then intern with a winery in France for a summer. I could also stay for the fall semester and lengthen my internship by a month and in October and November study at different universities in the north of France. How could I pass up such an opportunity? So here I am in France with a return flight ticket to the US not valid until 2012…

After a long night in the airport in JFK (my plane was scheduled to leave at 11 pm, it didn’t take off until closer to 1:30 am), I landed in the Heathrow, London airport. If you have never been to the Heathrow airport, try to avoid it. Like any major airport it takes an hour of walking and two buses just to get to your next gate. Unlike other major airports, it is inhabited by strange children who will walk up to you and ask “Have you seen a paper ’round love?”. I’m not sure what kind of school they are sending four year olds to in England these days.

Once Emilie picked me up at the airport we headed to the residence, where I will be living for June. It is sort of like the dorms at any American university except with better security and your own bathroom in each room. I live in a flat with six other students and we all start school on Monday at Purpan, only a ten minute walk away.

My first night here, the four program assistants welcomed me with friendly conversation and a dinner of red wine, toast, and duck pate. If this is any indication of what my diet will consist of for the next seven months, I’m hooked. Pate is a french favorite, made from a few different meats like duck or pork.

The next night, Emilie and I went to downtown Toulouse and waited at the train station for two more students to arrive. Their train was delayed for some time however, giving us a chance to run over to a local creperie and have dinner. Creperies sell salty or sweet crepes (basically dinner or desert crepes) and are the size of a medium dinner plate. I had the special, which included a dinner and desert crepe and a glass of hard cidre (apple cider) all for only 11 euros. Because the place was a local favorite and had probably never seen an American, I put my French to the test and chatted with the waiter. Turns out I have quite the American accent… even when speaking French.

This weekend, all the other students from different Universities in the US will arrive and we will start classes early Monday morning. Pictures soon!

First, let me tell you my goal for this blog. The title, if you missed it, is Through the back door. Borrowed from the philosophy of euro traveler Rick Steves, “through the back door” is meant to be an inside look at foreign cultures and travel. It means staying in hostels or camping on train floors, it means trying to live on five euros a day in Paris, and it means having a beer in the local pub rather than a fine glass of wine in the lobby of a five star hotel. I want my time in France and the rest of Europe to be “through the back door”, living with locals and diving into the culture head first. Living frugally in a country where gas is five to seven euros a gallon is difficult unless you attempt to leave your American tourist ways behind… heavy luggage included. So leave your comments and let me know what you think as the blog progresses. If you have questions, ask! Because this is really for you.