Expat Thanksgiving

Nothing tugs at the heartstrings of an American abroad like turkey day.

I honestly thought it would make no difference if I skipped celebrating Thanksgiving this year. After all, the rest of Europe would take no notice of our little American holiday, and I wouldn't either if I could manage to avoid Facebook for the day. Luckily for me, I have wonderful friends who believe in the power of mashed potatoes and patriotic celebrations in Barcelona hostels. This is the story of an expat Thanksgiving. (And I'm not quite sure we fit the exact definition of "expatriate" but lets go with it.)

It began as a normal day. Well, normal for us. Actually, that's not true either, because our week long stay in Barcelona was shared with (dun dun nun na!) Kurt Oleson, who flew all the way from Boston to spend his Thanksgiving break with us. So many thanks for your presence! After traveling as two for so long, it was fun to have another person involved in the mix. It shed light on the little ways Liz and I have adjusted to life on the road with each other. For example, I know that for hangover breakfast we need to settle for the incredibly average-looking cafe on the corner because Liz will not have the stamina to search for a better one in her fragile state.

Back to that morning! Kurt, Liz and I left our apartment style hostel and walked down the popular La Rambla for the hundredth time. It's a must-see street in Barcelona, but by the end of our stay we were taking any possible route to circumvent the demanding tapas restaurants and men selling beer and glowing parachute toys. There is one haven tucked between all this madness: La Boqueria. This food market had equivalent amounts of chaos, as most markets do, but it was the kind that made your senses come alive. We were surrounded by heaps of fresh fruit and vegetables, rows of juices, gelato, giant sea creature still moving on the ice, old ladies laughing and chatting as they butcher the head off of a fish. One stand in the fish section had only one fish, it was so massive that they just kept hacking pieces of it off to sell. Needless to say, we frequented this place for the food as well as the entertainment. We got breakfast here on Thanksgiving, as well as ingredients for our dinner.

It's not every Thanksgiving that you can go by foot to the Gaudí houses before cooking commences, which is precisely what we did. Casa Batlló and Casa Milà are two of Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí's designs. We were pleasantly surprised to find them nestled between the more traditional buildings of Passeig de Gràcia, a wide high street. I really do enjoy his work, his modern architecture is unlike anything I've ever seen, and is especially refreshing after all of the Gothic and Renaissance style we've seen repeated throughout Europe. On other days, we visited Sagrada Familia and Park Güell to get our fill of Gaudí.

The next stage of Thanksgiving Day was grocery shopping for the food we couldn't find at the market. We hadn't intended to cook a feast, but there were a few dishes we wanted to make, like mashed potatoes and nachos. (We had to capitalize on the availability of queso, in case you were wondering.) After stopping twice in Carrefour, once in Dia, and once in the tiny Asian grocer across the street for a few simple ingredients, I flooded in frustration with European grocery stores. It had been building up for the past two and half months, to be honest. Why is there only one brand of overpriced salsa? Why isn't there cookie dough when I need it? Combined with how accustomed I am to abundance at Thanksgiving, I must admit I missed the ease and familiarity of being in my own country. Luckily Kurt was there to follow me around with a basket as we went up and down the stairs looking for tortilla chips. It's not about the food, anyway, but rather, the company.

The grocery crisis took long enough that we were forced to forgo siesta. Another problem: I'm not very knowledgable about cooking, so I stood by while Kurt and Liz attempted to peel and cut the mysteriously hard "squash" that we had purchased earlier. We never did find out exactly what it was, but it was delicious. Enya spotify was the soundtrack to our making-do in the hostel's little kitchen. The hostel, by the way, was entirely empty, so it quickly became our own space where we could do as we pleased. After an hour or two, we had produced an amount of food that pleasantly surprised us. It may not have been the classic thanksgiving lineup, considering we replaced turkey with nachos among other tweaks, but that didn't stop us from reaching the ultimate Thanksgiving goal: getting ungodly full to the point that we all needed to lay on the couch.

That definitely happened. But in all seriousness, what made our dinner a true Thanksgiving was the fact that we each shared something we were thankful for (at my request, it's a tradition), and we had a chance to reflect on how far we come (or gone) in only 365 days. I would have never imagined last Thanksgiving that, in a year, I would be in Barcelona, with two people I met at Tufts, drinking crappy wine we bought at a Supermercat. I'm still so struck by the unpredictable ends the cumulation of our choices brings us to, even in the short span of one year.

I know this blog post is belated, but I'm going to give my thanks anyway. I couldn't be more thankful for being on this incredible, ridiculous trip. I've learned so much about the world and about myself already. I'm thankful for the people who supported us in this endeavor: our parents, family, friends, counselors. For those who have helped us along the way with their advice or kindness, or by opening their homes to us. I'm thankful for Liz and my miraculous relationship, which allows us to be in silence together and also share things no one else would want to hear, and that has impressed people who are used to hearing travel partner horror stories. I'm thankful for Kurt coming to visit, we wouldn't have pulled off Thanksgiving without your help and your spirit. Thanks for bringing us a piece of home. Literally...the Poptarts and Cracklin' Oat Bran were just what we needed.

If you're still reading, I hope you had an equally (ful)filling Thanksgiving, and props for making it this far in the post. I figure I need to share these thoughts now while I have reliable European wifi! Expect a bit more on Barcelona when I get my shhh together at last.

Love,
Alexis

Beaujolais Nouveau

Contrary to Liz, spending a week in the serene countryside of central France made me realized how cut out I am for city life. I've always found spending time in nature rejuvenating, but before long the isolation and peacefulness of Marsat made me feel...claustrophobic. As a result, I was happy to drive into the nearby town of Riom with Alex and her daughter Margot to take part in the lively tradition of Beaujolais Nouveau. Beaujolais Nouveau is the name of a red wine produced in the region each year. It is made to be drank soon after its production, so the locals make an event of sampling the wine together and assessing its flavor that year. Tradition trumps taste in this case, as everyone knows the wine is not great. That doesn't stop them from celebrating. 

The bar we arrived to in Riom was full, and featured a live french folk band whose sound was distinguished by their accordion player. There were local snacks for sampling, like slices from a large cheese wheel and saucisson. We sat outside on the patio with some of Alex's friends and family, eating, sharing bottles of this year's Beaujolais Nouveau, and socializing in a combination of english and french. Only Liz and I, a pregnant friend, and all of the children did not chain smoke the entire time, a stereotype that has proved very true in France. It was a nice afternoon that segwayed into our last evening. We had dinner with Alex, her father, and her two children, which we had gotten to know over the past week despite a language barrier. Margot is 12, and her style reminded me a lot of myself when I was her age. She even had the same converse I did. Sascha is 15 and autistic, and was looking at different high school options during our stay. He was sometimes difficult to communicate with given my inexperience with french, but roads like this one to mutual understanding are what makes homestays so enriching. It's where we tap into a culture, observing the small differences and weeding out the misconceptions until, suddenly, you find that you are home again.  

Please excuse us for our belated blog posts! We will have updates about Thanksgiving and beyond within the next few days.  

Love,
Alexis

Hiking Volvic

After Paris we traveled to central France to Marsat. You probably haven't heard of it. Neither has anyone else in France. It is near Clermont Ferrand which is generally considered the center of France. Marsat is a tiny village with no restaurants, shops or really anything else. Our walk to the grocery store took us through farms and tiny dirt roads. For me, it was a really nice change from all of the big cities that we've been in.* Marsat is a few kilometers away from Volvic, the town where Volvic mineral water comes from. There is a castle on a hill overlooking Volvic called le Chateau Tournoël. We hiked up there on a glorious sunny day via Notre Dame de la Garde, an impressive statue of the "guard of their city." Made of the volcanic stone of the area, it dominates the hillside at 55m tall.

The hike up made it evident just how out of shape we have become on this trip, it was a little embarrassing. But we made it, and it was so worth it to be able to look out on the French countryside in the fall. It was all just beautiful. From there it was a short walk to Chateau Tournoël. There was one point during the walk, I'll post the picture because I'm going to butcher describing it, but it is basically straight out of the scene from Lord of the Rings where Frodo first encounters the "Black Riders", we were waiting for the road to stretch out and distort as it did in the movie!

We made it to the castle and then took our lunch sitting on a stone wall in front of the castle. At this point it was getting just a little chilly (because we needed no long sleeves that day!) so we decided to head home via Le Clerc. Le Clerc is probably the closest thing to America that we've seen on our travels and is basically a Walmart. It was so strange because one second you are walking on a deserted road with horses on one side and a field with grouses on the other and then BAM! You are on this giant strip of road with massive stores on either side. It was pretty overwhelming to be in Le Clerc after we haven't seen anything half so big this whole time but in a sad way it was comforting too, proof that we are totally absorbed in American culture. But then you walk 100 meters and you're back on that country road with the horses that you feed apples to from the nearby apple tree. It really was so nice. And the smells! Every other step was a new earthy, smoky, woody smell all of which sent me waves of nostalgia from a time I couldn't quite remember. I suppose I truly am a country girl at heart (despite my previous sentiment for Walmarts and other superstores of the like!) :)

Cheers,
Liz

Une famille de Paris

We've thus far failed to elaborate on one of the best parts of our stay in Paris - our host family. We owe them many thanks for an authentic and welcoming French experience. Each day after we wandered the city, Liz and I had the pleasure of coming home to Aline and Nicolas' house just outside the city, and practicing our French with Arthur (3 years old) and Amandine (5). I'm convinced I could not find two cuter children in the greater Paris area if I tried. Subtract watching Beauty and the Beast french edition and putting too much sugar in the kid's crêpes, living in a house with small children for a week is still an experience in it itself. It lent itself well to discussions of the future. For example, in a moment of peace following the chaos of preparing for the children's bedtime, we gave each other the same overwhelmed look. "I'm never having kids." "I can't wait to have kids."

Each night, typically after Arthur and Amandine's bedtime, we ate dinner with Aline and Nicolas. They had us sample new wines and cheeses each meal, and prepared traditional french cuisine like onion soup, crêpes, and beef stew. Conversation was abundant, as both liked to tell stories and hear about what we did in Paris that day. A memorable snippet of talk was explaining what a "bagel" is. And along with a bagel, cream cheese, which (a wikipedia search later) actually originated from a failed attempt to make french Neufchâtel cheese.

If I do say so myself, Liz and I adjusted quite well to the french lifestyle. Once, we met up at Saint-Michel, like the lovers of Paris do. We frequented the local Fontenay Sous-Bois patisserie, surely making the people who worked there wonder where we came from and why we were buying baguettes at all hours of the day and night. On Sunday morning, we went with Nicolas to the market and purchased fresh veggies for our meal that night. We tried new things, like eating small bowls of plain marrow. Well, trying to. Our stomachs, perhaps, were a little slower on the uptake when it came to french culture, having particular difficulty with the moldy cheeses. Each night was ended with caramel-pear infusions to aid with sleep. And after a long bout of couchsurfing, Liz and I snoozed away happily in...a bed! I may have cried when I first saw it.

It was sad to leave Paris, as it meant leaving another family we connected with. I am so very thankful for Aline and Nicolas and their lovely children, its amazing how much more meaningful a city becomes when you establish ties to its inhabitants. I would like more than anything to return, and see where this family is at in a few years. For now, au revoir et plein de bisous!

Finally Museums

We've been holding out everywhere on buying tickets to museums because we wanted to wait for France but finally now we've done it! We started with the Louvre. Naturally we needed to spend the whole day there. So, we woke up early, packed snacks and lunch and lots of water and headed to the Louvre. We tried to get there a little before opening (at 9 am) but unfortunately public transportation was not on our side. We arrived around 9:20 and bee-lined it for the Mona Lisa. It's not that we only care about seeing the famous pieces, we just don't want then to be surrounded by a crowd 10 feet deep of people. We were still early enough that we got a front row view. It seemed kind of sad though, sitting behind so much glass with a barrier around it, alone on it's wall. I prefer walking down a hall in a museum and then you backtrack because you realize wait, that's Monet's water lilies. But alas.

After seeing the Mona Lisa we decided to go our separate ways and meet back for lunch, because with five miles of museum, how could we hope to stay together? Most of my favorite pieces were by lesser known artists on the second floor. I spent the morning doing a thorough tour of the second floor. There are less of the large format narrative paintings that I associate with the Louvre, but there were lots of nature and landscape paintings which are my cup of tea.

In general however, the artwork that fills the Louvre is not my favorite style. What makes the Museum worth doing every time is the grandness of it. All of the rooms are exquisite. You have Napoleon's apartments and the Apollo gallery, and then the fact that it is FIVE miles of art!

We met back for lunch and then split again at which point I focused my attention on the first floor. All very impressive but after our second meeting at 4pm we were both waning a little bit. We did the ground floor with it's Greek and Egyptian antiquities fairly quickly so we were out of the museum by about 5:00. But still, ladies and gentleman that amounts for a whopping 7.5 hours in the Louvre!

You'd think we'd be museum-ed out by then, but no! Our stamina! I spent the next afternoon at the Museé D'Orsay. This is much more my style. Of course there's the impressionist painting which it is known for, but I was also taken with the art on the first floor which is mostly naturalist and symbolist work. My favorite piece of the day was Dante et Virgile aux Enfers by William Bouguereau. From far away it looks like it may be lovers locked in an embrace but close up you can see one man in the depths of hell having the life sucked out of him. What made it so striking was the action that was evident. The man's body has been completely drained lifeless, except for his face which maintains its human color. Trapped in time, he remains with own drop if humanity left in his body. It's very striking. I could go on for pages about all of the work that was incredible, but I suppose one day, you will have to visit the museum yourself.

Alexis passed on the Museé D'Orsay preferring modern art over it and visited le Centre Pompidou. As I did not accompany her I can't tell you how it was but I think she liked it.

Cheers,
Liz

**Note from Alexis: Centre Pompidou was a great experience. I arrived near dark, and went up the series of escalators encased in tubes on the outside of the building to get a spectacular view of the city. The top floor explores modern art from the early 1900s-1940s, featuring artists like Picasso, Kandinsky, and Braque and styles such as cubism and dada. The next floor down had collections of photography, large scale and interactive works, and more paintings. A must see! Go inside the building even if you don't go to the museum.

Paris Part One

Our first two days in Paris were spent couch surfing with a Parisian near La Bastille. The only bummer was that we were sleeping on the floor. In all of our travels was actually have not had to do this so we woke up with a few aches and bruises. But we were in Paris! Our first day was spent walking around. On our way into the city center we passed La Bastille and La Place des Voges. La Place was built between 1605 and 1612 so it is one of the oldest squares in Paris. Victor Hugo's house was along this square. From there we walked down a grand Paris street that took us to our first viewing of Notre Dame. We crossed over to L'Île de la Cité to get a better look. Unfortunately, the square in front of Notre Dame which is normally a big open space so you can take great pictures of the cathedral was under construction so it was hard to get a good picture. It's little things like that which make it very clear that we're traveling during the off season. But it was still pretty grand.

The sun was out and it was a lovely day so we decided to walk through the Latin Quartier to Les Jardins du Luxemburg, where we sat and had a picnic while watching children play with sailboats in the fountain. Aside from the very feisty pigeons it was a fabulous picnic of crackers, cheese and salami. From there we walked by La Sorbonne and then got our first crèpe from a street cart. It was mind blowing. So good it made my mouth water more while I ate it.

We crossed La Seine again and went to Le Centre Pompidou where we had an amusing run-in while the public restrooms. Unlike most cities we've been to Paris actually has free restrooms scattered periodically on the streets. The catch? For a line of 3 people it takes maybe 20-30 min. After each person goes the toilet, floor, the entire receptacle in fact, is washed, disinfected and dried. This process takes 3 times longer than the time it takes to actually use the bathroom! Anyone about to have an accident, these are not for you.

We had some trouble finding the restaurant where we were supposed to meet our host because it's location and the place that Pierre marked on the map were not anywhere near each other. We ended up having to power walk 2 km to get to where we were supposed to be. Le Chartier has been around for two centuries and is a classic Parisian restaurant. It is one massive room with all the chaos and bustle of no other European restaurant. The place is designed to get you in and out because so many people frequent it every night. They serve "typical" French dishes according to our host. We all had some version of meat and fries with mustard sauce. It was pretty good although not what I would have expected as a typical meal. The hectic atmosphere and the gingham red and white table clothes made it sort of feel likes chintzy American restaurant. But hey I guess we had to copy the idea from somewhere, this is the original.

On day two we did more typical tourist things. We started the day at L'Arc du Triomphe and then walked along La Champs D'Elysees. They were beginning to put up Christmas decorations along the road. There are so many lights everywhere, they have to start now in order to get them all up by December! We walked to the Pont Alexandre III in front of Les Invalides to get our first view of la Tour d'Eiffel! After picking up some bread, cheese, butter and jam, we headed to the Eiffel Tower for a (chilly) picnic. The food was amazing and the view spectacular. We had the perfect view because no one else was sitting on the grass so we had the pick of the land. It did get pretty chilly though so to warm up we decided to climb up the Eiffel Tower. The view was pretty cool although not landmark Paris because there was no Eiffel Tower to see! We made our way then to La Place de la Concorde. We saw the obelisk and then made our way down Les Tuileries to get the Le Louvre. The gardens were not as striking as they are in the summer town when everything is in full bloom, in fact it was pretty brown, but hey, we got a better view of Le Louvre. By then it was getting pretty dark so we decided to find a café and wait until it was time to go to our new hosts house. We were going to a place in the suburbs of Paris called Fontenay-Sous-Bois. Aline is sisters with Gaëlle, who we stayed with in Belgium, and we will be staying with them for the remainder of our stay in Paris.