A Bittersweet Farewell

Well, my time in France is painfully coming to an end. As I've looked back on my amazing experience here this summer, I have nothing but gratitude for the diverse group of friends I have made here, young and old, all different nationalities, all walks of life.

A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to accompany a group of elderly people out to Morainvilliers to a beautiful house in the countryside. We spent the afternoon laughing and talking and singing together, and I truly felt as if these people, though at a different phase of life than me, were my dearest friends.

I had the opportunity to sing "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley to them, and it was a truly moving experience. Sharing my talents over the past couple of months has brought me so much joy. Though I can't always communicate perfectly in their language, I have been able to share my love for these wonderful elderly people in so many profound ways, be it service, singing, and even dancing ballet.

I have been amazed by countless stories of triumph, stories that you don't think of when you see the elderly in their lonely state. I met a woman who was the only woman in a philosophy class full of men at the Sorbonne. I met a woman who had been blind for nearly 50 years and had hardly ever relied on the help of another human being. I met a man who left his whole family behind in Algeria to make a better life for himself in France, who slaved and worked until he could make something of himself. I met a man who spoke five different languages, was an editor, and knew how to speak Hindi.

The people I was blessed to know have changed me forever, and though they might forget me even in between visits, I feel as if we are truly friends.

The beautiful Yvette. Blind nearly all of her life yet undeterred. 

And now a few final words on my home of the last eight weeks:

How am I going to tear myself from this beautiful dream? When will I ever lead a life like this again, sitting on a park bench with a view of the Eiffel Tower that could very well have come from a scene in Amelie?

I have loved in Paris, I have been loved in Paris. I loved Paris, and Paris loved me back. I wish I could wind my thoughts back down to the root of my love for this city, peer behind the curtain of where it all began.

Everything I have dreamed of in my life has almost disappointed me when it became my reality, but not Paris. It holds me captive at every turn, takes me down timeless alleyways and stonewalled lanes, shaded streets, loud streets, streets walked by the great and the nameless.

Did I choose Paris, or did Paris choose me? I feel like such a foreigner, and yet something tells me that I belong. I am not a tourist, I am an admirer. I am not here to amuse myself, prove that I was here. I make my mark in the quiet walks around an unfamiliarly familiar city.

I love the acid stained stones, chipping paint on benches. I love the sweaty, greasy grip on metro handles, upholstery that came from the 90s plastered to chairs grimed by numberless travelers.



I make my mark by loving what makes the monument. I love the smell of sweat and luxurious perfume trapped in the same hot metro car, spices that cling to the clothes of Algerians, Congolese, Chinese. I cringe on the garlic odor that clings to the chicly dressed French.

I'm warmed by smiling tourists and their selfie sticks in front of the Eiffel Tower, a reminder that I too sometimes am more preoccupied with getting the proof rather than indulging in my moment with the icon I have longed to filter through my own lenses.

What I say I say in solidarity with the dreamers and lovers of love: I love Paris. The cliché "Paris, je t'aime" rings in my ears, echoes when I walk on dusty cobblestone under a merciless sun. Paris, je t'aime. And yes, I do believe Paris loves me back.

 Catch you later, Paris. Au revoir. 

The Wonderland of Alsace

Well, I've been on yet another marvelous adventure! I love and adore Paris, but getting to see other regions of the country is always a special treat. This weekend we went out to visit Elder Riff in his homeland of Strasbourg, and oh my goodness gracious... I'm moving to Alsace!

We took an early train out to Strasbourg and enjoyed the most luscious scenery by the light of the sunrise. Elder Riff was at the station to greet us, and it was one fantastic reunion. We immediately settled in and watched Harry Potter 5 (I have no regrets), eating croissants and hot chocolate and enjoying the disgusting heat wave working its way over the whole country.

Elder Riff showed us his neighborhood, walking us through dry fields and abandoned playgrounds beautiful canals and bushes of delicious berries. It was so nice to relax and take in the beautiful architecture of the old wood and mortar homes, even though it was burning hot and my body felt like it would never dry off. There is a definite blending of German and French cultures, and to hear the Alsace accent was quite something else.

After a relaxing day we went into the city to see Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Strasbourg and enjoy at least 10 sheets of flammekueche. So delicious, but I got the most evil glowers when I referred to it as pizza. It's not pizza, it's tarte flambé, or flammekueche-whatever. My goodness, get it right.

Photo tour time!

We went to Strasbourg at the perfect time. This year they are celebrating the millenial anniversary of the Strasbourg cathedral. That's right, a thousand years since the foundation was laid! It's honestly crazy. For the event they had a magnificent light show on the surface of this enormous structure (the tallest Medieval structure ever built, FYI), which was absolutely spectacular and awe-inspiring.

The next day we met up with one of Elder Riff's gorgeous besties (yes, I definitely had a woman crush on her) and visited la montagne des singes. No really, this mountain in Kintzheim has a colony of monkeys living on it, and you can go and feed them popcorn and watch them prance around! It was fantastic.

Photo proof of my day with the singes:

Sweet singes...

Our happy singe family 

And my two favorite singes, right here.

After our singe mountain excursion we wound our way through gorgeous forests and vineyards to Kaysersberg, which (fun fact) mean's "Emperor's Mountain" in German. This place was straight out of a storybook, beautiful, colorful, and majestic at absolutely every turn. We spent the afternoon wandering into delightful bakeries and eating almond cookies and meringues. We also hiked up to an old castle where we could see the most perfect view of the village and the surrounding region. It was honestly one of the most moving, joyful days of my life, and I have every intention of returning to this wonderful place.

Photo tour take two:

Beauty and the Beast, IRL. 

Ridiculous. 

I'll stop with the photo overload, but you get the idea.
This place was amazing.

I cannot even begin to explain how sad I was to leave. I learned a great many things during my time in Alsace: 1) Paris is kind of overrated 2) Beauty and the Beast is real 3) Singes are ridiculously adorable 4) Elder Riff's mom was quite possibly the nicest woman on the planet (I felt so loved) and 5) I should have been born French.

As I rode the train home alone I reflected on all of the amazing experiences I have had here in France this summer. Every moment has been spiritually moving and fulfilling. I have grown a lot, faced significant challenges and language barriers, yet have made the most wonderful friends and acquaintances and seen some of the most magical places in the world. Riding into a glorious sunset with my Jane Eyre soundtrack playing, Marilyn Robinson's Lila in my lap, and a blur of towering greenery before me, I cannot help but feel the deepest gratitude for the beautiful life and opportunities that I have had and still have before me.

Anxiously Engaged

Well, you could say this past weekend has been pretty monumental. Here's where it all began... 

For Roland's birthday last month I "surprised" him with a plane ticket to Italy. We arranged to go to Pisa and Florence for the weekend, and off we went.

At the beginning of the trip Roland asked me to try to be in a good mood that weekend, which may sound rude, but trust me, it was warranted. I am the world's worst travel companion... because hangriness. It's a real thing. All I want to do when I travel is eat, sleep, and spend all of my money. SO you can imagine that it takes great preparation and optimism on the other traveler's part to manage to enjoy their own vacation.

Well, I will have you all know that I was the most angelic travel companion on the first day. We arrive in Pisa bright and early that morning to beautiful skies and vibrantly colored Italian buildings. It took us some time and a little bickering to find the Leaning Tower, but finally we made it to that hallowed tourist spot where Galileo didn't actually drop anything.

Our tourist game was fierce that day. 

As we were enjoying Pisa there arose a magnificent storm out of nowhere. For a solid hour it poured and thundered and lighteninged, but luckily we were shelter under a little pizzeria eating delicious Italian pizza IRL. The rain was relentless, but luckily we made it to a train, our journey a little delayed, and safely on our way to Florence.

The train ride was absolutely breathtaking. Every image I had ever built of the Italian countryside in my mind was real. The sun shone brightly again upon beautiful little gardens, sunflowers, fields, green hills, and luscious trees. This glorious hour and a half would have been perfection if not for the doobie-smoking hooligans that hopped on the train halfway through the trip and blasted their crappy music for all disgruntled train riders to hear. It was literally the most Italian-magic-ruining thing ever, but it all made for an authentic experience. 

When we arrived in Florence the first order of business was to grab a second serving of gelato. The city wasn't even real--not at all. There was just no way. What I love about going to these European cities is that nothing seems to have changed for hundreds of years. Buildings that were perhaps once convents become apartments, but they never really lose their original facade. 

Later in the afternoon we treked all the way up to Piazzale Michelangelo and saw the most gorgeous view of the city. Everything felt so quintessentially Italian that I very well might have been living in a dream. 

Photo tour!

David just babin'

Roland also babin'

And pervin' ...

Well, by the time we had hiked all around Pisa and Florence, I was getting pretty tired, but I had promised Roland that I would try to be in a good mood for the entire day. We went to a restaurant to get more authentic Italian goodness, but my pasta was kind of a disappointment. I still stayed joyful and optimistic. 

Roland started to get a little antsy around late evening. He had planned to take me to a park to see the sunset, but said park wasn't on the map, so we weren't really sure how long it was going to take. So, tired and bedraggled as I was, I put on a smile and trudged through the entire city of Florence and up to this park. About a half hour before we got to the park, Roland asked me to share my five favorite memories of our relationship. Well, I knew where this was going...

So, nervous and excited for his impending proposal, we talked and laughed and shared all of our best memories, and for a moment I really did forget how much my legs hurt. However, the sky was getting darker and darker, and the park was nowhere to be found. We finally encountered an elderly, lovely Italian couple at the base of the road leading to the park and asked if we were getting close (in French) to which they responded in their own broken French: "Ferrrrmé! Ferrrmé!" 

My. Heart. Shattered. 

Roland was persistent and suggested that we find a way to sneak into the park, or at least try to make the long walk back to the city, but I was too devastated to carry on. Almost making it an entire day without being a pill, I finally caved in and sat down on a bench in utter defeat. (Gosh, talk about a drama queen.) I sat there for a good half hour, upset and complaining about my legs, while Roland was still plotting how he might salvage his proposal. 

Suddenly out of the blue,  two missionaries came walking toward us, and my heart was cheered again--but I was still in a weird, tired, frustrated mood. In my defense we had been walking all day, and my legs are two flabby stalks that can only handle so much.

To make a long story short, I absolutely ruined Roland's proposal with my bad mood, but we still had another day to make up for it.

We started the day in bitter spirits, but there is nothing that a little gelato won't heal. We started the day at the gorgeous Gothic cathedral of Florence, cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fior, wandering the city and waiting for a socially acceptable time of day to eat more pizza. 

Handsome Roland

The slaughter of my hero, Medusa :(

 

Perfection.

Our trip to Florence would not have been complete without visiting the Uffizi Gallery, where I had my first encounter with two of my favorite paintings: Venus on a Half Shell, by Botticelli, and Artemisia Gentileschi's Judith Beheading Holofernes. Encountering the works of Botticelli was definitely a spiritual experience. I had been wandering through the gallery aimlessly, appreciating Medieval pieces and famous Italian paintings I had perhaps encountered in history books, when suddenly I walked into a random room, looked up, and beheld Venus. It was absolutely incredible, and I have never felt such a profound connection to a painting. It was healing to stand in front of this masterpiece and forget all of the disappointments of the weekend and to bask in the beauty of this beautiful, sensual image. 

Roland was nervous when I asked him to take a photo of me in front of this.
 Perhaps my expression does come off as a little too gleeful. 

After a long day in Florence of art and culture and gelato and pesto pizza and glorious architecture and spiritual encounters with Venus we boarded the train and made our way back to the Pisa airport. The landscape radiated such warmth and beauty, and Roland and I shared a special train ride of forgiveness and resolution of bitter feelings. It wasn't Roland's fault that the park was closed before he proposed, and it wasn't entirely my fault that I was so tired and grumpy....

Resolved in my heart that I would probably never get engaged, we flew back to the city of love in one piece, exhausted and travel weary. On the way home from the airport Roland was insistent that we go to St. Michel and get crêpes. It was already getting late, and I was really confused as to why he so desperately wanted a crêpe so late at night. Absolutely oblivious to his plans, I went along with it and trailed after him to St. Michel for a midnight crêpe. Miracle of miracles, there just happened to be a crêpe vendor open. 

Well, it wasn't about the crêpes, as I soon discovered. It was midnight, freezing, and raining, yet Roland was determined not to end the evening. As we were walking down to the Seine, it suddenly hit me: Roland was going to make his last attempt at proposing. 

Nervous and flustered, I walked with him hand and hand through icy rain by the glow of Notre-Dame Cathedral, absolutely disbelieving yet sure that I was about to become an engaged woman. We stopped on a bridge that overlooked the Seine, lights bleeding into the calm, rain-spotted waters. 

Roland held me there in his arms, shielding me from the cold in a warm embrace and whispering my favorite poem, Keats' "Bright Star." After a beautiful speech, he knelt down on one knee, the bridge suddenly empty of passersby. He asked me to marry him, midnight in Paris on a perfect, rainy night, and after an anguished pause I of course said yes. 

So there you have it. One long, whirlwind of a weekend in Florence, a failed proposal and a perfect proposal. It has been a crazy ride here in Paris, but I am discovering this beautiful world with my true love, and for that I will be eternally grateful. 

Vive la Révolution!

HAPPY BASTILLE DAY!

Well, it was the fête nationale this week, and I got to celebrate the French way! We didn't have to go into work, so I was able to BBQ it up with Roland's family and uncle and cousin.

Later in the evening we went to the base of the Eiffel Tower with Daniel to watch the most magnificent fireworks show of my entire life. It's one thing to even be at the Eiffel Tower, but to see explosions galore and sing the national anthem with thousands upon thousands of Frenchmen was just too good to be true.

It was definitely a day I will never forget!

But the best part of this week was definitely my visit to the Musée d'Orsay. Oh my goodness. I think I might have walked straight into heaven. I've always loved Impressionism, but to be honest I hadn't seen many Impressionist paintings in the flesh. To walk into a room full of Monet, Manet, Degas, 

Morisot...! Aaah! It was fantastic! Every level, every painting, every style... perfection. Musée d'Orsay is by far my favorite museum in Paris, and I will try to live there the rest of my time here in France. 

Photo tour! 

Nymphs! 

Dancers in Blue, Degas.... swoon. 

Okay, I could go on forever with the photos because I honestly took a million, but I could not possibly take in all of the beauty that surrounded me in every room I passed into. It has been so incredible to be surrounded by some of the most lauded, beautiful paintings, buildings, sculptures, and scenes in the entire world. I am so in love with Paris, and now I don't even care how cliché that sounds. As every instagram girl ever would say: Paris, je t'aime! 

Weekend in Bretagne

This is the story about my past weekend's excursion to the region of Bretagne!

So over the weekend I escaped to the magical land of Bretagne to meet Roland's grandparents, aunt, uncle, and cousins. To say I was nervous is an understatement. It's unbelievably frustrating to make a good impression in a second language, but that is the story of my life this summer. I realize that I am a completely different person under my French-speaking identity. Let's just say French-speaking Sylvia is not nearly as a intelligent as English-speaking Sylvia, but a great deal smilier and noddier. (No, not naughtier, though sometimes I wish that were the case.)

But back to Bretagne! First off all, shout out to Roland's dad for giving me a chance to see another part of France besides Paris. This region of France is so incredibly different and delightful. I would have been sad to have missed out on experiencing such a gorgeous and interesting side of the country.

After a long and transcendently beautiful drive we arrived at Roland's grandparents' home well into the evening. They live in a gorgeous, old stone home surrounded by hydrangeas and the most delightful smelling flowers in the world. From the moment I met his grandparents I could immediately see their features in Roland. It's always a curious experience, and one I can never get over. I now see that Roland gets his gangly body from his grandfather, bearing an uncanny resemblance to both of his grandparents.

In the morning Roland's dad got us up bright and early to accompany him for a shopping excursion through town. The old stone buildings felt so typically French and timeless that I thought I might cry. We bought candies, un far breton (the heaviest dessert ever), and fresh flowers from une fleuriste.

My social skills were once again put to the test. We drove out to Bringnogan to Roland's aunt and uncle's beach house for a family lunch with his cousins and their small children. I think I passed the test, but I'm not sure. In any case I'm skinny and pretty enough to be passable for Roland, so at least I have that going for me. ;) I ate fresh-caught fish straight from the ocean, and I finally got to try foie gras for the first time (so good). Roland's uncle is Breton and an expert fisherman, so needless to say our meal was extraordinary.

After lunch Roland's dad walked out to the water with us (less than five minutes from their house) and took in the most exquisite scenery of my life. I'm used to seeing beautiful waters in the context of more modern cities, but this was unparalleled. All of the stone homes surrounding the water create this timeless feeling, like you're stepping back into history (and in a lot of ways you really are).

Photo time!

This is what I mean by timeless. 

The next day we woke up early and drove through the most majestic landscape to Huelgoat grotto and forest. I definitely felt the pagan magic as we descended deep within an ancient grotto and felt the cool mists of the underground waterfalls. 

We hiked a good deal, perhaps where Roman soldiers had once dared to wander under thick, disorienting greenery and boulders. Now, my name means "of the forest," and I have always felt a deep connection to the mountain forests in Utah. But this? I don't think I have ever experienced such beauty in my life. The forests have such a spirit about them, and I definitely felt like a pagan goddess as I roamed through these fairy-infested woods. 

The photos here won't do it justice: 

Trolland and the Three Billy Goats Gruff 

After a long day of hiking I had my first Sarasin crêpe, and... oh. my. goodness. I will never be able to go back to any old crêpe again. It was literally the best thing I have ever eaten in my life. I will definitely need to go back before I die just so I can partake of at least one more. Seriously, changed my life.

On the way home we passed through several different villages and looked through beautiful, preserved churches. One place we stopped was called Locronan, and part of this village is built on a bridge and suspended over a large river. Every place we visited felt as if we were stepping back in time, and the beauty was truly indescribable. 

The next morning we walked through the moors to a chapel that had once been buried in sand. Though I wasn't in the English countryside, I felt as if we were Catherine and Heathcliff walking through this vast, desolate space. I honestly could not believe the beauty of all of the landscapes we visited. Bretagne is definitely one of the most beautiful, magical, mysterious places in the world. 

On our journey back to Paris, Roland's dad asked if I wanted to take a detour to Mount Saint Michel, to which I obviously said yes. Ever since I can remember I have watched videos and documentaries in French classes on this magnificent feudal structure. It's cool to ascend and see how you have the markets and houses, then the great halls, and finally the monastery, representing God. We were able to watch the tide as it rose, seemingly endless in the vast landscape surrounding it.

After a full day of driving we finally made it back to Paris, so strikingly different compared to the landscape I had just experienced, but I was happy to be back. Roland's dad took us to Chinese food near my apartment and then we called it a day/weekend. It was a memorable, beautiful experience, and I am so grateful to have seen such a magical part of France.