Arrival!

Bonjour! I've been in Paris almost two week nows, so I feel equipped and stable enough to give a good balanced report on my situation. Actually, I meant to update this earlier, but you know how the time slips away.  I think I'll talk around large topics: host family, school, church and life (la vie parisienne).

HOST FAMILY:
I live in a jolie chambre lumineuse (as described on the half sheet of paper I received with the address and a phone number) in the home of AJ. No, I have never said that name out loud. It's an apartment on the top (5th) floor of an building in the 20th arrondissement on the east side of Paris-même (it's an awesome neighborhood, I'll write more about it later). AJ, my french mom, looks like Meryl Streep, especially when she smiles. Really warm eyes. Once a documentary filmmaker, she now mostly manages and deals her father's artwork, who is a painter. Here's a painting of his:

Her daughter, Leila, 26, also lives in the apartment. She is an actress, but also holds a day job for steady income. Like her mother, Leila is beautiful. She's in Poland right now visiting her painter-grandfather, because if you didn't notice the last name, they have heritage in Poland. However Aldona was born and raised here in Paris. Being artists and all, they always know the cool things going on in our quarter and Paris in general. Jackpot. Here's a photo of the two ladies:

The other night, we celebrated the Epiphany by eating galette du roi. This galette is meant to be eaten on the 6th of January, but the French continue buying and eating it for the first three weeks of January. Patisseries are full of them. Not unlike King's Cake at  Mardi Gras, each cake contains a little fève (a fava bean, historically; ours had a mini red porcelain boot) baked into the center. Here's me looking awkward after I spit out the fève, crowned as roi (reine, actually). Family dinners are the best.

I don't spend an awful lot of time here at the apartment, but not for lack of comfort. There are two levels, and I have my own room and shower (salle de bain-different from a bathroom...no toilet). It often smells of incense and pachouli.  And, on the rare occasion that I find myself alone in the apartment, I teach myself songs from Amelie on the piano in the living room. It's no Haussmann flat on the Champs-élysées,  but you can see the Eiffel tour from the hallway window. And I'm tickled to call it home for four more months.

Dublin

After Belfast, I caught a bus down to Dublin with another old friend from the Ulster Project, Andrew Mullan. He is in his last year at Trinity College, and offered to host and show me around during the tail end of his winter break.  Andrew is one of those people who never cuts corners-it would have been generous if he had offered a room and a map or brought me to one or two sights. But, in above-and-beyond fashion, we hit Dublin running and only stopped a few times so I could go to the toilets.  Among the highlights of the 40 hours were into the future Prime Minister of Ireland twice in one day (on the street and in a pub), stopping at everything named for a famous writer (statues, cafés, parks: Yeats, Joyce, Wilde), and the book of Kells (from which the intricate patterns on millions of irish dance costumes are apparently taken). And as the reality of of the duration of my trip began to set in, it was encouraging to hear about his study abroad experience and be assured that mine would be great, too. 
Photos:

Guinness factory! Puts Miller brewery to shame, really. Luckily I made a fool of myself in Belfast in regards to how to drink a Guinness so at the factory I looked like a pro. 

Fish and chips! The only food that can really fill Moolan, ie the mark of an Irishman. Served with baby food style peas. Mmm. 

This arch is in the movie Once! Where Glen Hansard chases the man who stole his guitar case. 

W. B. Yeats exhibit at the National Library. Brilliant. 

This is the back of the future Prime Minister of Ireland (left), according to a fourth year law student. Also dull as dishwater, apparently. We'll see how he fairs in the election. Except that I don't remember his name.    

A pub with a bookshelf nook. Cheers. 

So now I've been to Ireland, North and South! I'll have to call my grandma Carol and chat about our long removed country of descent.

Belfast, Northern Ireland

My first destination was to visit my long friend, Becky Long at her home in Belfast, NI. In 2004, I participated in the Ulster Project, which brought her and 15 other 15 year olds from Belfast to Milwaukee for the month of July to live with American 15 year olds. The premise is to foster reconciliation between catholic and protestant young people in hopes of ameliorating the tension between the historically rival groups. Our project summer was 7 and a half years ago, and I finally fulfilled the invitation to reciprocate the exchange. Here is lovely Rebekah Long, poking the icy lake at Castle Wellan:

During the project, the leaders told us that much thought had gone into matching each Belfast teen with a Milwaukee team. I kind of scoffed at that, especially since my match shares the same name as me. "Really insightful," I thought, "Put the two Becs together and call it destiny." Mostly I looked forward to  the fun activities in the big group. But after spending time with Becky again (although short) and her family, I now believe the match could not have been better. Similarities in our lives, faith, family, area of study, aspirations, taste buds...were unbelievably frequent. Not to say we're identical or anything, but it was really fun to talk to and relate to an old friend. A kindred spirit, if you will. Further, in the same way returning to significant locations helps to mark growth, picking up an old friendship helped me to realize some ways I've (hopefully) grown. I felt like we were able to be genuinely interested in one another's lives, worries and triumphs whereas when I was 15 I cared far to much about myself to really invest in Becky. Does that make sense? It's hard to explain but felt really obviously different.

Here are some little photos with captions of some of the trip's highlights-

Castle Wellan Castle outside of Belfast. Becky drove us there and we took a we stroll around the lake. Today the castle is owned by missionaries and is used as a retreat center for NI churches! I guess it might possibly rival Cedar Campus.

The maze up the hill from Castle Wellan Castle. Seriously: who actually makes hedged mazes? Becky and I almost got lost forever in there, but eventually maneuvered  our way to the center;) Later, her friend, Clara, told us the secret to winning the maze, so give me a call if you find yourself stuck. Funny, my facebook status the day I left was Psalm 139 : You have hedged me in behind and before. (KJV)  Hedges everywhere!

A view of Belfast city centre from Victoria's Square Dome.  Same -day sighting of the British boy band sensation called jls.

An example of the religious/political murals which speckle the city commemorating both sides of the internal Northern Irish independence conflict. "To one person a hero, to his neighbor a terrorist," Trev, Becky's father explained. 

Trevor, Leslie and David (17) Long: the rest of Becky's family minus her older brother, Chris. These three hosted me for three nights after Becky went off to university in Scotland. Some would think that's awkward, but it was amazing. Les fed me with delicious homemade buns (ie:cookies) and treated me like her own. Trev provided impeccable tours of the city and its history ( in addition to his many other responsibilities). David drove me around and kept the situation light. Thanks, Longs:)

Next post: Dublin. Oh, and I arrived in Paris today!

introduction

Hello, my name is Becca. I've decided to keep a blog while away from home for four months mostly because I have no real reason not to when people ask me if I will. Plus, everyone likes to write about themselves, right? However, it is a bit overwhelming to imagine writing to such a diverse audience as my grandparents, best friends, classmates and optometrist all at once. But I think it will be overall beneficial and maybe even entertaining? Anyway, here it goes.

I've been in Belfast, Northern Ireland now for about five days on a stop over before heading to Paris, France for four months. Here are the journal entries of a few of my first experiences. I apologize if some of the vocabulary is funny- being surrounded by Belfast accents has left me thinking in a Belfast accent, as well as adapting some new slang.

Please do not leave your baggage unattended

(I added the title. I don't normally title journal entries)

January 5, 2010
First Parisien adventure: leaving my glasses on my vol (flight). Yes, I did. I took them off while I was sleeping and they must have fallen off my lap. And by the time I realized their absence, I had walked through those automatic, double door, one -way hallways. I skirted my way back through the first one but could not get through the second because the motion sensor was on the other side of the door and all of the other passengers were avoiding me. So I rejoined the proper flow of traffic, asking several uniformed personnel what I should do and getting vaguely consistent responses (en francais!). After passing through the border police, as I made my way to the information desk, about a half dozen police begin herding everyone toward the baggage carousels. The reason: worker's strike. I had been twenty minutes in Paris and was experiencing my first french strike. Good thing I'd been warned (thanks, pinckney palace). There was a single, inexplicable gunshot. After twenty minutes,  the police released us.  The women at the information desk called my airplane, finding no glasses.  I was seeing double and had thirty minutes until my next flight. Reluctantly I decided to deal with the vision problem later and try to make my flight so I got in line for customs, endured a thorough pat-down at security and ran to my gate with belt and laptop in arm. Fortunately the airline women let me through despite the, "Boarding closed" sign, and as she returned my ticket and passport to me, asked, "Rebecca? Are zeses your glasses?" whilst producing my very glasses from behind the desk.
Really. What the heck!

Bus: Dublin-->Belfast
Sheep! It's sunny in Ireland in January, is that supposed to happen? The world is way too big to even consider knowing and loving it all. I love Atwater Beach, but probably not until about the 700th time I went there. How could I ever discover all the brilliant places in the world? The small number of significant places are way more important. This countryside makes me want to listen to Once. 


January 6, 2010
This time I almost lost my luggage. I left it on the bus and walked away. None of the station workers could find it and they told me to file a police report. Somehow, someway, as I recounted the situation to Becky Long, my friend/host in Belfast, the bag appeared, sitting in the middle of the hallway I had traversed three times looking for it. Becky's mum asked me skeptically, "Have you ever travelled alone before?"Yes. Embarrassing. My mum told me that my guardian angel must be really worn out when I travel. "There she goes again, losing her glasses. Now it's the whole suitcase!"  It's really too bad because I've been trying to nix the image people have of me of being absentminded. But the evidence leaves me quite guilty. It sort of humbles me, and reminds me of this verse that kept coming up as I prepared for the trip : Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the LORD (Zechariah 4:6). No matter what image I'm trying to fit into, or more generally no matter what plans I have for this semester, reality always reveals to me that I have no control over life, what happens to me. So I'm continually giving these four months up to the Lord, because he does have control. And I want what he wants.
________

My laptop battery is about to die and I haven't got a UK charge converter. So I'll leave off with a promise to describe my actual trip soon! I can honestly say that I'm really sad to be leaving Belfast after five days. I just started meeting some wonderful people and getting to know the Longs a bit better. On the Dublin.