Through the back door

Right now, The Civil Wars is on shuffle and I’m on a train that is speeding through the Swiss countryside, soon to be German. Tomorrow is a new year yet I’m constantly thinking of the past. It’s beautiful country here; chalet style wooden houses, more often than not connected to barns, are covered in a fresh layer of snow and Christmas lights still twinkle in every town we pass. Coming into Switzerland on the train four days ago, Kristen and I were greeted by huge snowy peaks and sleepy little valley towns. But my favorite train ride backdrop was on the trip south from Prague to Vienna. The rural Czech countryside is reminiscent of the Northeastern forests I call home but more mysterious. You pass by endless stands of tall, skinny pine trees with forest floors carpeted in needles. There are soft rolling hills that go on endlessly like this broken up only by industrial looking towns and the occasional farmhouse. And every now and then a break in the pines comes in the form of a grass meadow. This is my favorite. It’s a welcoming space of green in the face of the stoic pines, like some magical sign of human life in all this silence. The meadows look like they are farmed but I haven’t seen any tractors. Maybe the agriculture in this country is like that of Romania, still worked by man and horse, or in some cases just man and woman. It’s a hard way to make a living, but in these beautiful woods I can understand why people persist.

France: Brittany, Normandy, Toulouse, Lyon, Angers, Bordeaux, Dax, Biarritz, the Pyrenees, Paris, the Loire Valley, the Dordogne, Burgundy, Carcassone

Spain: Spanish Pyrenees, Basque Country, Barcelona

Italy: Piacenza, Piemonte, Rome

Romania: Bucharest

Greece: Athens, Spetses Island

Czech Republic: Prague

Austria: Vienna

Switzerland: St. Gallen, Appenzell, Gossau

Germany: Munich

These are all the places I have been in the last seven months. The places I never found the time to tell you about between work and school. I want to write about each place separately; each had different charms and different experiences for me. Each was spectacularly beautiful and all I really want to do now is keep traveling. Because for some reason the more I see, the less I think I know about this world. Each new person I meet teaches me something else and every place helps build my perspective of how we rely on each other to make this life what it is. Like the Lincoln log houses I use to make as a child, I keep tearing down walls and rebuilding them, trying to make it all fit.

The most recent traveling has been in the past two weeks on my Europe trip with Kristen. First, we spent three days in Rome. She had been there all semester and served as an excellent tour guide. The first night we went to mass at the Vatican and stopped at an out of the way place for some pasta after. Although I am not Catholic, the Vatican is an undeniably impressive and awe-inspiring place. And just before Christmas, with a tree standing taller than my house all decked out in twinkling lights, Vatican square was just about magical. There is something about being in a city so old, with so much history and so many stories to tell, that is thrilling. It feels like every ancient ruin is speaking to you. Standing in the Roman Forum you can almost visualize what a bustling square it might have been thousands of years ago. Closing my eyes I heard the clatter of hooves on stones and felt the heat of the day settle into the carefully carved stone statues of various gods. The Coliseum, however, was my favorite historic landmark. So much death and suffering was brought about in this place for the sole purpose of entertainment and it reminds me how much people can change with enough time.

Prague was the goal after Rome. We found a cheap flight on a low budget airline to the Czech Republic and were in Prague after two hours on the plane. Prague greeted us with snow and a Christmas spirit like I have never seen before. Our hostel was on a quaint side street off of the Old Town Square, which had a Christmas market day and night. At night the Old Town Square was my favorite place to be. Shoppers wandered from stall to stall eating Trdelnik and buying handmade ornaments. Others sipped hot wine and took horse drawn carriage rides. The old astronomical clock always attracted a crowd when it changed hours and the twin towers of The Church of Our Lady Before Tyn were lit up like the Disney Castle. During the day, we made our way down Karlova Street and across the Charles Bridge, heading up to the Prague Castle. Unfortunately, we arrived in Prague just one day after the death of former president Vaclav Havel and most buildings in the castle compound were closed. However, given my love of food and cooking, it was only natural that I tried about everything on a Czech menu during our three days in Prague. All in all, it’s a lot of meat, potatoes, and bread in gravy. And let’s not forget the beer; it is the home of Pilsner after all.

We left Prague on Christmas Eve, arriving by train in Vienna, Austria that afternoon. We checked into our new hostel, dropped our bags, and went in search of Christmas Eve dinner. We found it at a small Italian restaurant just a few blocks from the main square and St. Stephens Cathedral. The place might have been Italian but they served apple strudel for dessert in true Austrian style. After dinner we hunted for a church that had either a midnight service or midnight mass and settled on the main tourist attraction of St Stephen’s Cathedral. Assuming it would be packed, we got there an hour early and found a line almost leading out of the church already. We did get seats however, right in front of the nativity scene, and by the time the mass started it was standing room only. The service was beautiful, the homily given in three languages, and the church was glowing gold from Christmas lights and candlelight. Because many sights were closed on Christmas day, we decided to dedicate it to food. Quite simply, we tried every regional or national specialty that Vienna had to offer. First stop was the Christmas market. Where we sipped hot mugs of gluewine and spooned goulash soup out of huge bread bowls. Dessert was several pastries we couldn’t pronounce and a pretzel filled with bacon bits. After the market we walked to the Hofburg Palace and through the gardens. We found the Spanish Riding School and decided to come back the next morning to watch them practice. Watching the Lipizzaner horses and their riders practice was like watching dressage on steroids. The horses are so powerful yet so controlled and their gait transitions are almost imperceptible. It was two hours of sheer awe. We also visited Belvedere in Vienna; an old palace turned art museum, on the outskirts of the city. It is a massive, three story palace with a beautiful pond in the front and gardens stretching to the stables behind.

After a memorable Christmas in Vienna, Kristen and I took a train to Switzerland, with beautiful views of the mountains the last two hours. Switzerland was our break from city hopping. Kristen has family friends, Werner and Monica, who live at Werner’s family home in the countryside near St. Gallen. This was probably the best part of the trip given the family atmosphere Werner and Monica provided for us. They gave us beds, fed us (A LOT), and took us around their part of Switzerland. It is such a beautiful and traditional country. Many people still farm, all small, family run businesses. Switzerland also prohibits new houses being built unless there was already one standing in its place, so much of the farmland and green space is preserved. The first night we arrived, Werner and Monica made us raclette; potatoes smothered in melted cheese with tomatoes, onions, and pickles. There was also a plate of Swiss chocolate in our room when we arrived… if that doesn’t tell you how well we ate there then I won’t bother to detail the “meatloaf” and beef stroganoff or nougat cake. We visited an Appenzeller cheese making facility and tried a very old, extremely smelly cheese that Werner ordered for us, not noticing the women warning us in German that we wouldn’t like it. Werner had a good laugh anyway. We also visited several small towns and poked around the Abbey of Saint Gall Library that has a mummy dating back to B.C. times and at least 2000 handwritten books. We walked part of the trail through fields and a forest that Werner and his brothers and sisters used to take to school every day and visited a dairy farm owned by his sister. Switzerland still has much to offer and I would like to go back with a backpack and a tent and hike for a few weeks. And of course visit my new friends again. Werner and Monica are a rare breed. They are kind, very well traveled and knowledgeable people. Every night, the dinner table was filled with discussion from politics to books to places we have and haven’t seen and what we’ve learned from other cultures. I miss them already.

It has taken me a bit longer than expected to post this update and the train that was carrying me through Switzerland in the beginning of this post made it to Munich, Germany yesterday. But I’m still listening to the Civil Wars. They’ve become my new writing playlist. New Year’s Eve in Munich was something to be remembered. Never have I seen so many fireworks in my life. You could turn 360 degrees and the entire skyline was lit up with fireworks, those of the city of Munich and private citizens alike. But Kristen and I turned in shortly after midnight in order to wake up early this morning and take the regional train out to the former Dachau concentration camp. That is a memorial that rivals the slave castles I saw in Ghana almost four years ago. I know no one needs a history lesson in the Holocaust but being at an actual concentration camp is not comparable to any written account. The horrors people experienced there are beyond reason and understanding. I am saddened by the things people have done to each other and was struck by the heavy feeling the place still has. It’s as if the ground has soaked up all of the death and still clings to the memories.

We now have three days left in Europe. Tomorrow we will pick up our rental car and drive, first, south to Neuschwanstein Castle and then north to Rothenburg. After that we will spend a night in Frankfort or Heidelberg and see the Eltz Castle. Then it’s still north to Hamburg where we will spend the night in the airport and catch a seven am flight to London and then home.

And if you were still wondering about the picture in the last post, it is Notre Dame, in Paris. It’s always more beautiful to me at night.

Now that two months have passed since my last update, I think it’s safe to say I have more than could ever be written to tell you all about. In order to break it down manageably, I’ll give you updates in pieces. I always liked suspense.

For all of August and September I was living at Chateau La Garde and interning there in the vineyard and cellar. I survived the four-day harvest for white grapes and the two-week harvest for reds (and I mean two full weeks, weekends included). Maybe without my sanity or any sleep, but harvest makes one big family out of people who normally just work nine to five hours. More on harvest later, it takes a lot of concentration to dig that far back in my memory and at the moment I’m distracted by the smell of my homemade, simmering spaghetti sauce on the stove.

The homemade spaghetti sauce is key to where I am currently. In my little apartment on the fourth floor of a building in the big city; Lyon, France. Every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday mornings there is a fresh produce market on my street where farmers from the countryside around Lyon bring their veggies and fruits at pretty good prices. One of my favorite farmers (who I always buy my apples from for my apple pies) gave me a discount on tomatoes yesterday morning and I couldn’t say no. Hence, the homemade spaghetti sauce currently simmering on my stove. And then, of course, I had to get some fresh parsley, cinnamon, potatoes, yesterday’s bread from the baker, and ground beef for the meatballs. My French roommates are never sure what I am making, or what they are eating for that matter, but I think they are just happy that they won’t have to cook again for the foreseeable future with me around.

I have been in Lyon for almost two weeks now, taking classes about viticulture and marketing in the wine industry and touring some of the wine regions of eastern France. Burgundy is hilly with more dairy farms than I expected to see, Beaujolais has vast, sweeping valleys of vineyards, and Cotes-du-Rhone has some of the steepest, most interesting terrace work I have seen. All of the wines are as different as night and day. The Beaujolais Nouveau is young, fresh, and exotic but they also have some outstanding Crus that I was not expecting. Burgundy never disappoints in the variety and uniqueness of reds or whites and Cotes-du-Rhone remains my favorite for an aged, toasted, oaky red. The city of Lyon is an adventure in itself. It is the third largest city in France after Paris and Marseille and has a beautiful old section with a network of pedestrian streets and small shops that I don’t mind losing myself in. The city is split into three sections because of two rivers, the Saone and the Rhone, running through it. There is a large park in the northern end of my side of the city called the Parc de la Tete d’Or. This has quickly become my favorite spot in the city, possibly because of the existence of a small zoo within its borders. On chilly October afternoons the park is quiet and I enjoy sitting on a bench next to the reindeer field and reading a book. I have yet to explore all of it so a full description will have to wait.

Paris is only two hours away by train and last weekend I met up with my good friend Kristen, from Cornell, for a whirlwind twenty-four hours of site seeing. She is currently studying in Rome and will be my travel partner for our three week European adventure after we both finish our programs in the middle of December. We stopped in at the Luxembourg Gardens, Versailles, and the Eiffel Tower. And, of course, tasted a bit of French cuisine throughout the day, finishing with crepes after the 700 stair climb at the Tower.

Kristen and I in the beautiful Luxembourg Garden

Fall bliss

Hall of Mirrors in Versailles

Probably the most photographed monument in the world

Going back to the end of August, I had another reunion with two very special people. Mom and Grandpa Dave came to visit for one week in between harvests and got an idea of life in France. We spent the last weekend in Normandy visiting the D-Day beaches and stayed in a lovely old stone house with an English couple who have a never-ending supply of hilarious stories about the British military. We spent our last day in the Loire Valley visiting Chateau de Cheverny and picnicking French style with goat cheese, duck pate, and baguettes.

Mom and Grandpa at Utah Beach

The view from a gun station at Pointe du Hoc

The Normandy American Cemetary sits on a cliff overlooking Omaha Beach

Chateau de Cheverny

The sleepy hunting hounds of the Chateau

My spaghetti sauce is almost done and the meatballs are practically jumping out of the pan so I’ll save all of the details from harvest, Lyon explorations, quiet days in the park, and visits with friends and family for another time. Oh and just so you all know, I chopped my hair off yesterday. A good eight inches. Why? The window of the hairdresser looked inviting and it said no reservations required.

Finally, an update! Long overdue, I know. But between Italy, Romania, Greece, coming back to France, and preparing to move to Bordeaux on Thursday… life has been outrunning me for about a month now. To really do the last four weeks justice I would have to write a book. For now, I’m settling for a few paragraphs.

We can start with Italy, the first country on the Master Vintage program’s tour. Keep in mind, the three and a half weeks I was traveling was with a group of about thirty five other students from a university in Angers, France. They are all studying various aspects of wine making from enology to marketing. Of the thirty five students, 17 different countries and close to ten languages are represented. Luckily, English is one of those languages spoken by all.

Travis, the other student from Cornell (and only American) joining me on the program, and I left Toulouse the morning of the 26^th of June. We took a train from the Toulouse station to Piacenza, Italy. I won’t take the time here to detail that day, but I will tell you it was twelve hours long involving three trains and playing charades with several Italian train conductors. Regardless, we finally reached Piacenza that night and met up with the rest of the group at our hotel. The next morning we were off and running with an introductory lecture at the local university on Italian wines and the commercial market.

The basic idea of the three weeks was to tour wineries in all three countries and compare and contrast operations, marketing, vine techniques, and management strategies. Wineries in all three countries varied in size from ten hectares to several thousand. So we would get to a country, get on a bus, visit a winery, get back on the bus, usually drive for an hour, visit another winery, drive a few hours, stop at a hotel for the night, wake up, get on the bus, drive another hour or so, visit another few wineries, stop at another hotel…. And so on. Although it was a lot of time on the bus, never staying in one hotel longer than two nights (except in Greece when we based our excursions for the week out of a hotel in Athens), I appreciated how much of each country we saw in a week. No day was similar to the one before and all the people we met astounded me with their generosity and willingness to share their life with us.

Italy was beautiful and by far the most similar to France in terms of culture, geography, and language. It was also HOT. Pushing 40 degrees Celsius everyday, I could jump in an ice cold shower fully clothed and 15 minutes later be completely dry. Aside from that, I loved Italy. The wineries and vineyards we visited that week were in the beautiful, rolling hills of the Piemonte region. We also saw bigger operations in the flatlands of Emilia Romagna and vineyards nestled into the foothills of the Alps in the north.

Vineyards as far as you can see in the countryside of northern Italy

My favorite spot, however, was not any of these wineries. One night, driving on the big highway that winds through the Alps just south of Austria and Switzerland, we stopped in a small, mountain town. After stowing our bags in our rooms for the night, several of us headed out to find dinner. The town isn’t very big, probably four or five hundred people, so we quickly found a pizza and pasta restaurant with menus in either Italian or German… needless to say we just ordered a plain pizza in broken Italian and enjoyed the views of the Alps surrounding us. After dinner we headed toward the center of the old town, containing a cobblestone square and a modest gothic church. After reaching it, we noticed a few side streets winding up the hill so we took one and decided we couldn’t get lost in a town that size. We ended up halfway up a small hill on the west side of the village where we could overlook the entire valley, bathed in the warmth of nighttime street lamps. The stars overhead were bright and easily visible in the emptiness of the mountains. If Thomas Kinkade had been standing there with us I don’t think even he could have done it justice.

At the eastern end of the town, before the road disappears into the foggy mountains

Next on the list was Romania. We hopped a plane from Venice to Bucharest and arrived within a few hours. If I had to pick a favorite country of the three, it may have been Romania. It was dirty and poor, there are more starving dogs roaming the streets in packs than people, and farmers still herd sheep and drive their crops to market with a horse and cart. Yet, Romania felt like home. They are hardworking people, living close to the land, with a fierce sense of nationalism. Their meals, if they are well off, consist of no less than three courses and the lay out for breakfast could be mistaken for dinner at a restaurant.

A Romanian farmer, probably wondering a) why we're crowding his road and b) how much more hay he could fit in our bus

On the Fourth of July, while most of America was barbecuing and lighting fireworks, we were on the bus in the middle of the Romanian countryside. With the nearest city more than two hours away in any direction, we opted to stay the night in a large house/gas station/bar owned by the manager of a winery we had toured earlier in the day. The bar happens to be off the left wing of the gas station and directly under where our rooms were located. Knowing we would not get any sleep with the sound of loud Romanians pounding their mugs of beer on the bar, out of tune with the lively polka-like music coming out of the ancient stereo, we decided to join them. And what a Fourth of July it was. We met several Romanian farmers, none of whom spoke English except for one man who spoke close to five words, which consisted of ‘jump!’ every time we were supposed to kick our legs to the music, ‘New York City!’ whenever he saw me, and ‘America!’ whenever he saw anyone else. His wife was also the one who spent the better part of an hour showing us how to dance like proper Romanian women, arms crossed, shoulders straight, bouncing in place, legs unhinged at the knee, kicking left, right, up and back at different intervals.

The church of a monestary we visited in rural Romania

After the mild culture shock of Romania, Greece was it’s own breed. Unlike the previous two countries, we stayed the entire week in one hotel in a shady part of Athens. Drug dealers openly sold their goods on the street, prostitutes cat called anyone within ear shot as soon as eight pm every night, and I saw more homeless people than Italy and Romania combined. Yet, I could walk for 15 minutes down the main street around the corner from our hotel and be surrounded by Americans in the square below the hill from the Acropolis. And the touristic part of Athens was stunningly beautiful with an old-world feel. Roman ruins dot the hills and if you close your eyes for a moment you feel like you will open them to an Athens run by the world’s oldest society once again. It was a strange dynamic.

Downtown Athens at night, with the Acropolis shining brightly on the hill overlooking the city

Our professor in Greece (we had a different one meet us in each country) felt that because Greece was a hot country and we had been virtually homeless for two weeks, we could use a break. So everyday he scheduled us two winery tours in the morning and an afternoon at a different beach. It was a relaxing week and a great way to wind down the three-week trip. We walked all over Athens, stopping in every little shop we found, and also visited the new Acropolis museum and the Acropolis itself. Coming from a relatively new continent such as America and being in Greece, so rich in history, was breathtaking for me. I could spend a year pouring over the old texts and studying the thousand-year-old sculptures in the city.

A supporting building on the hill of the Acropolis, overlooking Athens and the sea beyond

Our study trip ended on Sunday the 17^th of July. Yet, some of us weren’t quite sure we wanted Greece out of our system so fast. So we found a ferry to Spetses Island, off the southern coast of Greece, and decided to soak in the sun and ocean breeze there for a few days. Spetses, as I’m sure is true with most of the Greek Islands, is a little piece of heaven. It has one road, about an eight km circle, and most of the island is uninhabited except for the beautifully restored old mansions and vacation homes surrounding the port on the south side of the island. Spetses also has close to 15 beaches. Wanting to see all of them, but not willing to walk in the heat that was bearable only because of the ocean breezes, we rented motorized scooters. Scooters and quads are the only form of transportation on the island besides the taxis… horse drawn carriages. Unfortunately, even these three days came to an end and we found ourselves back on a ferry headed to Athens once again.

Nothing but clear blue

Taking a break to catch some shade during our island touring

At the Athens airport, I finally split from my new French friends and found myself alone for the first time in three weeks. Wanting to save money, I decided not to pay for a hotel room Tuesday night and instead pulled out a jacket and towel from my suitcase and bedded down against a wall near the Departures desk. You wouldn’t believe how many people opt for sleeping in airports; it’s a relatively safe option and totally free of charge. Next time, I’m bringing a sleeping bag and a pillow.

My flight arrived in Paris Wednesday afternoon and I wandered the streets, with my suitcase in tow, for a few hours before taking the night train back to Toulouse. After two solid days of travel, I moved back into the student dorms I had been living in three weeks earlier. I have a meeting with the French office of immigration on Wednesday afternoon and if that goes well, I move to Bordeaux on Thursday to start my internship. I’m so excited for this next adventure; Bordeaux is a wonderful region with rolling hills and 18^th century castles nestled into woods and vineyards around every turn.

Although this may have been the longest blog post in the history of blogging, I barely scratched the surface of the past month. It was a whirlwind of an experience, and I met so many genuine people. We are truly blessed to share this beautiful world together.

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!