5 Things You (Probably) Didn't Know About Paris

First, a little background. I am finishing up my year in Europe with a jaunt through some of its major cities. One of my new favorite ways to see a city is to take a walking tour, and in doing so, I find that I learn tons more about the place than I would have ever known just by wandering around on my own. So, to apprise yourself of all the things you never knew about Paris...

1. The Latin Quarter, which is over by Notre Dame and generally has tons of restaurants and nightlife, is thusly called because people used to speak Latin in the neighborhood instead of French. This occurred because the Sorbonne University is situated in the area, and back in its glory days all the students and professors spoke Latin, so as you walked around you would mostly hear Latin being spoken instead of French.

2. The Eiffel Tower was only meant to be a part of the Parisian landscape for 20 years. However, shortly after it was built in 1889, Gustave Eiffel had radio antennae installed on the tower (with an eye towards its preservation) and it soon became indispensable for communications - and it still is.

3. If you've ever been to the Parisian catacombs to see the bones, you've only been inside a small section of the catacomb network. The known Parisian catacombs range over 400km and this underground maze plays host to many restaurants and clubs - although it's also illegal to go to them.

4. Paris was originally settled around 250 B.C. by a Celtic tribe known as the Parisii. However, the Romans took over the city in 52 B.C. and renamed it Lutetia. That is why you'll find lots of cafés and shops in Paris called Le Lutetia or a similar name. When the Romans left around 400 A.D., the city was re-dubbed Paris.

5. The Notre Dame of Paris is just one of hundreds of Gothic churches that used to pepper Paris. The French had had it up-to-here with Gothic architecture and were in the process of tearing down many Gothic cathedrals when Victor Hugo stepped in. He thought it was a crying shame that the Parisians would willingly deprive themselves of such a cultural gem, so he wrote the Hunchback of Notre Dame to inspire Parisians to fall in love again with the cathedral. It worked, and if you've ever visited Notre Dame, you have Monsieur Hugo to thank for it.

I learned all of these things thanks to our tour guide Sam, through Sandeman's tours. If you are thinking about a trip to Paris, you should consider taking one of these tours yourself. All the guides are fantastic. Check out Sandeman's website here.

Peace out, Chambon Feugerolles

This is my last week of teaching in France - I have spent the past 6 months teaching English to elementary school students in Le Chambon-Feugerolles, a little town of 13,000 outside of St. Etienne, where I currently live. You can read more about St. E here.

The town is by turns picturesque, conveying a vaguely quaint, cozy feeling. My experience, however, has been far more complex than that.

(I see this house on the walk from my Monday morning school to my Monday afternoon school. I see its topsy-turvyness as a fitting metaphor for the absurdity I experience on a daily basis.)

Teaching has not been at all what I expected, and far more of a challenge than I ever realized it would be. I've been set adrift by many of my experiences, but I don't have the time to tell all the stories here. I am sad to say that my experience with teaching has been a negative one overall, although it hasn't been without its pleasant surprises, either. I am so very grateful to the teachers who have taken the time to get to know me and who made the effort to help me when I needed it.

French culture, and by extension, the children of France, remain enigmatic. France is a beast I still don't understand, and fully comprehending it is a feat I may never accomplish. On the other hand, I've certainly learned a lot trying.

In any case, that's all I've got to say on that. Peace out, Chambon-Feugerolles!

Andrenne

St. Victor's Abbey

My friend Jessie and I took a recent jaunt up to Marseille to see the city for ourselves, in all its glory. We only had 36 hours there, so we had to be picky about how to spend our time. At the end of our second afternoon however, we found ourselves with two hours to spare before we had to trek to the train station, so we referred to our handy-dandy 36-hour travel guide and decided to see the Abbaye St. Victor.

The article upon which we'd been relying asserted that the structure had been built in 4BC, describing it as a "dark austere church that is a good comparison to the more modern churches and cathedrals. It also revealed... the amazing advances that were made in engineering knowledge to make the more modern churches seem light and airy."

Well, we thought, that sounds like an interesting thing to see - let's go check it out!




Hmm, I thought to myself, this looks remarkably like a Christian church. I started to question the author's assertion that this structure was built in 4 BC. Because if you think about it, it would be mighty challenging to build a Christian structure before Christ.




I turned to Jessie and asked, "4 BC, you say?" We discussed the possibility that the abbey had been built in the name of a different religion. But in that case, it would make the most sense for the Romans to have built a Roman temple in the south of France in the late BC years. And then, given that assumption, shouldn't a Roman temple look like, well, a Roman temple?

I snapped a few more photos and resolved to look this up when I arrived home. Wikipedia set our travel author straight: "In about 415, John Cassian founded two monasteries of St. Victor at Marseille, one for men (the later Abbey of St. Victor), the other for women."

And that's not all - the structure from 415 doesn't even remain: "In the eighth or ninth centuries both monasteries were destroyed by the Saracens, either in 731 or in 838, when the then abbess, Saint Eusebia, was martyred with 39 nuns. The nunnery was never re-established.

No rebuilding took place until the first half of the eleventh century when through the efforts of the then abbot, Saint Wiffred, the men's monastery was at last rebuilt.

All that now remains of the abbey is the church of St. Victor, dedicated by Pope Benedict IX in 1040 and rebuilt in 1200. It was made into a minor basilica in 1934 by Pope Pius XI."

I feel better now that that's been cleared up. And to the travel writer, I say it pays to do your research before you publish. Even if it is just an online travel article.

Andrenne

Because No One Wants to Eat Plain Rice

I made rice as part of my dinner this evening. Rice is a rare culinary staple for me; pasta is my first-choice dinner carb - c'mon, you can just put butter on it and call it a delicious day - closely followed by grainy bread (invariably with butter also).

But tonight I was feeling ever-so-slightly adventurous, so I made rice! I mean, I have put just butter on my rice, and then called it a not-so-delicious day, but I think that as a general rule, rice calls out for something more... Asian.

The soy sauce was already out, for the zucchini I'd made as my appetizer. I added some off-brand sriracha to my soy-saucy rice, then fished around in the fridge for some fish sauce (ha!). Then I ate it, just so. Now that's what I call a decent bowl of rice.

Because truly, who wants to eat plain rice?

Smells Like Farts

My roommate Katherine, our resident Korean, and I had a slight problem just before vacation. We had a whole Chinese cabbage and no time to ferment it before we had to catch a plane. So we did the whole kimchi assemblage process and just tossed all the jars in the fridge before heading out of town.

Our previous kimchi batches had been left out at room temperature for four days or so before refrigeration. The batches were nice and pickle-y, but they weren't quite "real" kimchi. They served as a yummy substitute for the real deal.

To me, the real deal has to smell like farts. It's the fermentation - it releases a bit of sulphur in the process, and you get a nice whiff of it when you open the jar. That fart smell used to be what turned me off from kimchi, but I came 'round, and now that's precisely the quality I look for.

This promptly refrigerated batch wasn't even close to pickled. I got back into town before Katherine, so I picked a small jar and set it out on our kitschy kitchen table until K got back. Every day I tasted some, and it got better and better. When Katherine got back into town, I had her taste kimchi from the room-temp jar and from a fridge jar. She gave the room-temp jar a wholehearted thumbs up. We put all the jars out on the kitchen table for a few days.

Fast-forward a couple days, when our kimchi-uncultured friend Amanda came over for tea. I opened a jar of kimchi for a quick bite, and discovered a nice, farty surprise. I said, "Katherine, it's just like real kimchi! It smells like farts!"

Amanda's face grew a bit sour: "Ugh, that does smell like farts!" she agreed.



Well, it's certainly not apricot jam.

Who's right? Are Katherine and I just overly avid kimchi freaks? Is Amanda just missing out?

Should I get a Twitter? Is this a sign?

Let's face it. I shouldn't get a Twitter account - I can't even be trusted to blog once a month, much less to post my every mundane thought daily on Twitter. But, I sent some texts today to my roommate, Katherine, that lead me to believe that I may be well-suited to the medium.

Read on:

07:48am - Being awake - overrated - Andrenne > Katherine

07:59am - For real - Katherine > Andrenne

10:34am - Caffeine makes me sooo happy. Mm drugs - Andrenne > Katherine

04:42pm - Spinach artichoke dip? Andrenne > Katherine

Diiiip....


Should I get thee to a Twitter account? Or should people lay off the social media?




Me, enjoyin' that coffee.

Back Into the Swing of It

I admit it. I'm a delinquent blogger, and I apologize for that.

To get us back into the swing of things, I will post a few interesting visuals.

One thing that can be said in favor of St. Etienne is that it's got several interesting wall murals. I'm sure I've only discovered a few of them in my time here so far.

This painting of an old man, near my house, is much more poignant than the image it's covering. The previous old man mural was a grumpy-looking dude sitting on a mountain of loafers - it was very tongue-in-cheek.

These murals are painted off-site, then transferred onto the walls of buildings by pasting them there. I only know this because I have noticed several of the murals' edges flapping in the wind. Bits and pieces of the art also get torn away as time passes, as you can see at the bottom of the image below.

I have to say that this particular mural, with the old lady, is my favorite - she looks so angry!

This one is just very pretty.

I think that many of them are by the same artist, as evidenced by a similarity in the style and use of line. The only exception might be the butterfly mural. I also wonder if the bat at the bottom right of this mural acts as an artist signature. The little winged guy shows up in various spots around the city, with or without a mural to accompany him, as shown below.

What do you think? Are all these murals by the same artist? Is the bat acting as a stand-in signature? Do you think the city condones his artistry? Let me know your thoughts in the comments section below.

I hope you enjoyed this long-overdue post!