France Week One

Okay so I have been in France for a week now. Sorry about the blogging in French, it is for class. Here goes the English part. So far, I have loved my time here, but I am also realizing how much I love the United States.  I loved smiling at strangers and talking loud, buying cheap food and watching people be themselves in public. These types of things don't really happen in France. I do love the food here though, and the metro is so convenient.

This is me after two days on a plane. #firstfewhouseinparis

My host family consists of one person: our host mom. She is Brazilian, divorced (she was married in Vegas actually), and has two daughters that are studying abroad). She is very nice and speaks slow French, which I am so grateful for. I understand basically everything she says, or I did until I had been here for a week and started to not know how to speak in any language. After speaking and listening to French for a week, my brain is so tired! I think my French is getting worse, or at least it will get worse before it gets better. I need to build up some metal endurance.

Spending time with the members of the church is my favorite. Yesterday we spent the day with the JA (YSA). We had a devotional, ate lunch, and then went around Paris taking a picture in every district (there are 20). It was really cool to talk with them and get to know them. They have such strong testimonies and there are so few of them! Their strength definitely strengthened me. My directors told us to look for the differences in the church between home and here, but really the church is exactly the same. I love it because it feels very much like home. I talked to one girl who is eighteen, and she was very excited to turn nineteen and put in her mission papers. Everyone is going on missions here too; this mission craze isn't just happening in Utah.

Cultural differences that I love: I love how they greet people. They touch each cheek and make a kissing noise. Maybe I like it because it made us feel very welcome, or maybe because it is a good difference between hugging and and shaking hands. BYU culture has made hugging hands into something strange: It gets associated with return missionaries acting weird before they break into normal society again.

I also love how they eat dinner. This is probably my favorite French tradition. Dinners are very long and slow and lots of time is spent just sitting around and talking. First they bring out the salad. The first few times they did this, I thought that was what we were having for dinner and I was worried that I was going to starve. Then, after the salad, they bring out the main course, then dessert, then coffee or tea. We drink herbal tea of course. I love ending dinner just sitting around the table talking and drinking tea. I think I am going to try to implement this tradition in my future family for Sunday dinners. There is no way this would work on every day of the week in the United States. People are too rushed and too busy.

Commercialism and advertisements are interesting. There are so many American flags hanging around and so many English words everywhere. It reminds me of Anthropology (and other stores) where there are lots of French words embroidered on notebooks or shirts.

Mont-Saint-Michel

When we first got here, we got up the next day and took a bus to Normandy and Brittany. It was really cool to see the different regions in France. Each region is very proud of their food and whatever makes them unique. France is a very unified country politically (and culturally even), but it is a compilation of a bunch of different regions that revel in their uniqueness. We spent some times on the Normandy beaches learning about World War II, and in some little towns to experience their regionalisms. One thing I noticed was that people are extremely friendly in Brittany. They just come up and talk to you and are all so nice. My favorite Normandy beach was Pointe du Hoc, which was where the US soldiers had to climb up the cliffs. There were all these huge craters left from bombs and there were old abandoned bunkers you could walk through. In Brittany, we stayed in a beautiful walled town called Saint-Malo. I can't even imagine how much fun a hot summer day would be in Saint-Malo especially is you have a hotel there because all the tourists leave and the city is so peaceful.

A bombed bunker

In Paris, we have visited le Notre Dame and the Cluny Museum which is a museum of the middle ages. It was cool to see their combs and toys, bowls and art. We also went to Versailles  which is so ridiculously gaudy that it kind of makes me sick that Louis the 14th would build such a place. It was interesting though because he forced all the nobles to move there so he could try to unify France. So basically it was a prison for the nobles right? But it is also such a place of political peace. At the end, I watched a quick video that showed a bunch of different presidents from other countries visiting Versailles, and it showed the signings of the treaty of Versailles as well.

Trying to get back home from Versailles was not the easiest thing in the world. My roommate and I live in Neuilly sur Seine, which is a suburb right outside of Paris. We just take the metro everyday, but our Versaille is out of metro bounds, so we have to take the RER, which is basically a bigger underground train system. So we had to jumble in with everyone else in the world speaking French who wanted to come back from their day at Versailles. We were all at the train station trying to buy tickets from these machines that half the time don't work. No one was happy, and neither were we. We were there for about three hours trying to figure it out, just my roommate and I. Finally, we were able to buy tickets, but them mine wouldn't work! I was so frustrated. Then, I think I got it to work without realizing it, but wasn't able to go through, which used up the ticket. Now my roommate, Lauren, was on one side, and I was stuck on the other. There was no one to help us and we didn't know what to do. In a split second, I just squeezed up right behind someone and slipped through when the doors opened for them. They didn't even notice, and I don't even feel bad because I payed for the ticket at this crazy station. It was quite an adventure.

That was week one. Today we went to church, and I just want all foreign speaking missionaries out there to know that I have a new respect for you. Learning a language is so hard! At church, I always knew what we were talking about, but I would miss phrases or explanations or comments, which was so frustrating because I wanted to know what people were talking about! They actually have all of church translated into English, but I am trying to learn French here!

I am learning a lot of French! Like seriously a lot. But I am also realizing there is so much I don't know. Sometimes, I love the experience I am having, and sometimes I miss my family, friends, all the people I love back home, and being able to actually communicate with people. France is pretty great, but then again, I also really love the USA.

So mimes have grammar? I seriously love seeing mimes!
so interesting!

A comb from the Middle Ages.

Statues without heads from the Middle Ages.

The beach around Pont-Sant-Michel was so muddy.
There was actually sinking sand everywhere too!

Candles at Notre Dame

Our group!

Hidden staircase between two shops.

The water is so blue and clear!

Together, we're gonna change the world: one student at a time

Stanley Kunitz

In my poetry of the natural world class we were studying the nature poetry of Stanley Kunitz, and this quote stuck out to me: "to be human is to know yourself to be living and dying at the same time." I am not sure what I think about this quote, but it definitely made me think. One of my American literature professors would always say that each breath that we breathe out is an exhale closer to death, but breathing is also one of the most fundamental things associated with life.

A good friend of mine is a deep thinker and has quite a reflective blog. When he graduated from college, we wrote about his lament of all the things, mostly the people, he left behind. He said that we wishes that he had begun these relationships knowing there was an end to them.

Is there an end to our relationships?

I have a particularly hard time with losing people, but I don't think that I want to start every relationship knowing it will end. Cherish the moments together, yes, but always be anticipating when things will end? Are we always dying? Are relationships going to end? Honestly, I am not sure. So I might as well always live and love as if living and loving are never going to end, and even if they do, I don't think I would change my mind.

When Hamlet said, "To be or not to be?" I like to think this is what he was talking about.

Poem a Day

A Disillusionment of Ten O'Clock

The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches Tigers
In red weather.

 - Wallace Stevens

This poem has had a huge influence on my own poetry.

Sports Camps

What did I do with my summer? Sports Camps! Here is a picture of a bunch of wonderful soccer counselors. This year, I am a dorm counselor, so I don't have a group of girls, but I am over a group of counselors. I miss being a regular counselor and having a group of girls, but I have learned so much as a DC, and I am so grateful I had this opportunity.

The biggest thing I learned:

A good leader loves those she/he serves. Love is the only way to have an good influence on others and inspire change for the better. This love comes from Christ's atonement in which we must rely on for every thing. The counselor who loves her girls, makes a difference in their lives. I was so lucky to work with so many great counselors who did exactly that.

Here is the fam. Well, most of them. For Independence day we made T-shirts. Taylor's wins the most patriotic award.

Ready for a 9:30 meeting in David John Lobby? Yes, this is an awkward couch picture. We girl DC's stick together like glue (or something like that). But, in all reality, I have loved working with each of these girls. They all have very unique gifts that bring so much to the table, but the one thing they all have in common is how freely they love those around them. I am lucky to rub shoulders with them.

Now, it wouldn't be sports camps without a little bit of personality. AKA: ostriching contest. And this isn't the least of it.

And finally, a small little greeting from the Head Counselors. I was often impressed by how well they handled situations and made everything run smoothly. A huge thanks to them and all their hard work. 

I may have made it sound like sports camps are over for the summer. Surprise, they're not. Two more weeks for me! 

What I currently understand about differences; I am sure I have a lot to learn.

I found this picture online claiming that it was the border between the Baltic and North seas, but with a little more research, I think it was taken in Alaska. Some of the water is fresh water that has been created from glacier melt. Because of the differing densities, the bodies of water are mixing much slower, so much that is appears as if they are not mixing at all. I don't know how valid this argument is, but this picture really got me thinking.

America is all about borders - that law in this state and this law in that state, moving west and pushing forward the frontier, this race/color verses that race/color. Why can't these boarders mix?

This is apparently the border between Belgium and The Netherlands, right along side a cafe. Can you imagine eating your lunch in The Netherlands and then stepping over to Belgium to take a stroll? What if it were like this between California and Mexico? Maybe you are thinking: that is not the same thing - Americans and Mexicans are just different. How different? (2 Cor 4:18) Seriously, let's think about what really matters. (Weightier Matters, Dallin H Oaks)

I am an English major emphasizing in teaching and therefore, American literature. The more I read, the more I feel sick when people talk nonchalantly about slavery or color. The more I read, the more frustrated I get with causal descriptions of what race is. Do you know what race is? Seriously, think about it. In my multicultural education class we learned that Race is a social construction that categorizes people based on physical appearance. Ethnicity explains where each individual comes from. So what race am I?

When I was little, I always thought I was White. Actually, I thought everyone whose skin wasn't really dark was White. Then my Asian and Mexican and Middle Eastern friends told me they weren't White. I came to find out that at one time in American history, people who came from Ireland were not considered white, or people who came from Bohemia or Italy - anyone who came in as an outsider, an "other." The definition of white has changed over time, and it really isn't just about the lightness of ones skin. What a racist term. I don't want to be white.

But then, am I Caucasian? Someone told me Caucasians came from the Caucus Mountains. I didn't come from there. A quick skim over the Wikipedia page confirmed my opinion that Caucasian is about as racist a term as White. So what race am I?

Who cares what race I am; that is not what it is all about anyway.

This is a picture of the class divide somewhere in Brazil. How could you seriously sit in one of those balcony swimming pools, look down on all that poverty and seriously enjoy yourself? Things like this, interactions between people who are different from one another, don't have to be like oil and water.

Now I am not saying we are all the same. We are not. We are all very different from one another. But I have come to the conclusion that engaging with "the other" is the only way to truly express one's self. A community of people function like a body (1 Cor 12:12-26). If you begin to draw a stick figure and only draw the circle, the drawing does not reach its full meaning until the body is attached. Each of us with our differences makes up a part of a beautiful whole (for more, look into relationality).

So regardless of what race society says you are or what race your neighbor is, I want to always remember that society made up these classifications, and God made up people who look different, talk different, act different - all in different beautiful ways - but all with the same amount of worth as children of God with divine potential. There doesn't have to be borders between us unless we create them.

For more: No More Strangers  by Alexander B. Morrison and Concern for the One  by Joseph B. Wirthlin

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Everyone shares love differently, but no matter what, love heals.

I saw this last night with a group of friends. It was beautifully done, intensely sad, but expressed so much love in such a broken way - very postmodern (accepting that life is broken fragments and enjoying what is there). Although parts of it did break my heart, I would recommend it with a little bit of reservation.

What I have been reading...

if you are an American, you know the basics of American history - the revolution, Boston tea party, slavery, Gettysburg, Pearl Harbor, Nine Eleven. But what most Americans don't know, and what I didn't know before I started flipping through the pages of my American literature anthology, is the personal and real stories of the people who made up America and American ideals today. They were wrong about things; they were right about things; they did things, things that made a difference.

Most recently, I just read Harriet Jacobs account of being a slave. Even a peek into the dark side of America reveals such courage and strength. Without strong men and woman like her, America today would be different. Even though she had almost everything taken from her, they could not take away her voice.  I shudder to read what happened during the time of slavery, but I also applaud slaves like Jacobs who changed her world, and changed ours.