Turin, minus the Shroud

The trip to Turin started at 8am sharp. During my 17 day vacation, I had been looking forward to these two days in Italy - a place I've always wanted to visit. I slept through most of the 3 hour car ride, waking at the most opportune times: to see the Vanoise Mountains National Park, at each of the 6 toll booths along the way (it's expensive to drive the highways of Europe!), and upon arrival at the city itself.
I had expected Turin to be a medium sized, polluted, industrial city. I was ultimately surprised to see that it was a gorgeous expanse of Italian architecture, full of trees and statues. The streets were lined with beautiful boutiques, marble columns and archways, and people dressed to the nines. The city was vibrant, alive, and the people were the same.
We started at Via Roma, a large street lined with stores like Cartier, Louis Vuitton, Giorgio Armani, Chanel - my jaw dropped at the prices in the windows. There must be quite a wealthy population living in Turin.
At lunchtime we feasted on typical Italian fare - pasta! I went straight for the gnocchi, of course. We topped lunch off with an ice cream cone later on, in gourmet flavours like 'tiramisu', and 'cantaloupe'.
Over the two days, we visited a succession of museums, and other attractions in the city. The first museum displayed Egyptian wares: mummies, hyroglyphs, sarcophagus', and papyrus scrolls. The next was the Museum of Cinema, and is also the tallest museum in the world, due to it's observation tower where I saw over all of Turin and took many photos. The musuem had interactive displays of the history of film and projection, as well as stations set up to honour each type of film. The center of the building had no less than 100 lounge chairs with built in speakers to allow visiters to watch the enormous screens above, which displayed classic moments in film. After, we went to the Museum of Natural History, which had an exhibition on Inuits. I believe this was in place for the Olympics, because the next host city is Vancouver, and so this was like a tribute to Canada.
We finished off the last day by going shopping! Of course, we skipped going on Via Roma to shop - I personally didn't have the 500€ for a pen at Cartier. Instead we winded our way through the streets, visiting boutiques, and best of all - a marketplace.
This market takes place everyday, and is the biggest one I've ever seen. It had clothes, cheese, vegetables, fruit, jewelery, bread, meat...everything. The venders shouted from their stalls, advertising their goods. My host mom haggled in Italian (she takes a course for work, and can speak Italian now) and we all waited as she made friends with half of the people there.
I left in love with Italy, in love with Turin, in love with the Italian people. It was an amazing trip. With one exception. The Shroud of Turin, the famous cloth Jesus was buried in, and his image was transfered onto, was not displayed. At the church where the Shroud is held, only a photocopied image is available for the public to see. The real thing is hidden from the public. What a disappointment!
Nevertheless, I highly recommend Turin...just don't go with hopes of seeing the Shroud of Turin.

Je suis allé au Lyon aujourd'hui

Lyon was the destination for today, on this cold and windy Saturday. The sun was promising, but I knew enough to bring my warm, Canadian, down vest. It took an hour and fifteen minutes to get to the second biggest city in France, where my host family and I would take our guided tour of Vieux Lyon (Old Lyon).
As we arrived at noon, we parked the car alongside the street adjacent to the river, and ate our picnic lunch in the car. An idea I thought would be terrible, turned out to be very pleasant. I happily at my sandwich, yoghurt, and cookies as Anita placed Bounty bars in front of me. I saved one for later.
We met our tour group - a group of people who work for the same agency as Anita my host mom - in front of a large cathedral, which we would spend 45 minutes in. The tour started at 1:30 PM, and ended at 6:30 PM. It was a walking tour, in French, of historical details about Vieux Lyon. After a good hour or so, my mind was fully finished with translating historical French facts, and I was fully finished with any sort of attention span I might have had in the beginning. I was happy to be seeing Lyon, but not happy at all with the tour. I'm not a fan of tour groups.
It reminded me vididly of the previous week, when Nick - my friend from New Zealand - and I had paid to go on a walking, guided tour of Chambery. It was the same situation, all in French, and filled with historical facts. This is a fine concept, as long as it's interesting, and has certain time restrictions. Nick and I were interested in the promise of getting to see the famous Chateau de Ducs du Savoie, which by the way never ended up happening. What we were shown for THREE HOURS were various sets of dimly lit stairs, dating back from the 11th century until the present. WOW. Yawn. After about 30 sets of stairs that were hidden in corridors, courtyards, people's apartment buildings, and behind big, wooden doors, Nick and I could help ourselves no longer...we ran away. As our tour group went straight, we dodged left, and ran down the street, away from that boring, boring, tour.
The Lyon tour that I participated in today was just the same. Although, I didn't have the chance to run away. I can officially say I have seen every staircase in Lyon, France. Why are the French SO fascinated by staircases? It baffles my mind...I have no answer for this odd obsession.
The tour, as all things in France have been (school, vacations, tours, shopping), was way to long. 3 hours (or more, I didn't finish it!) for the tour of Chambery, 5 hours for the tour of Lyon, 10 hours per day for school - I have but one thing to say: The French don't know when to end things. France is the party guest, that you can't get to leave.

Gloomy Day

Today I was truly happy, partly due to the weather. Even though it wasn't by any means a beautiful day outside, I enjoyed everything about it. The sky was overcast, the temperature warm and comfortable, and the sun wasn't shining. I could feel that at any moment the sky would rumble and pelt down rain on me, and yet I decided to leave the house for a brisk walk. I need to get out for a while.
I often take this route now, the only semi-flat route around this mountainous area. It holds so much to discover each time I walk. I find bubbling streams alongside the road, open wells dated with numbers like 1882, blonde cows grazing on subtle hillsides, foals and their mothers beside forests that look misty and enchanted, grape vines that release a sweet intoxicating smell, children playing in their gated yards, and red tulips pushing their way up from the ground. I'm always so amazed at these things, I often stop on the side of the road and gaze at them for minutes.
When my mother asks me each and every night in Canada if I'd like to go for a walk with her, I almost always decline the invitation. The idea of walking half of a country mile of pin straight road with nothing but grass and trees on either side makes me cringe. I get bored so easily, even my music can't keep me entertained. But here...here is a different story. The sights, the sounds, the looming mountains dotted with different coloured trees - they make me stare in wonder. It's enough to keep me going for walks as often as I can. I love this about France.
And so how does the weather fit into my ramblings? Why did the weather make me love today so much? Even in Canada, I've loved the warm calm before a thunderstorm. In the summer when the sky is dark and ready to crack with rain and lighting, I love to sit on the porch and wait for it all. There's something magnificent about it, the humidity, the dark sky, the waiting.
Just as I arrived home and settled down on the couch, I watched the sky open up and begin to rain. It was a perfect day.

Vacances de Printemps

Ahh the springtime, the translation of which is actually 'vacation'. No. I lied. It would make more sense though, as I have three weeks left of my France exchange, with only 2 days of school left. "How does that work?" you might query, scratching your head and pondering the reasons. I'll promptly tell you why: The French love their vacations. And actually take them. Often.
And so that brings me to today, the start of my Vacances de Printemps (Spring Break in North American terms) during which I'll spend my 17 lovely days under the sun in the East of France - the Alps, if you will.
Even though the end of April is just starting to come around the corner, already I've experienced my First Sunburn of the Year. I'm throughly shocked at how much more effective the sun is in Europe than in Canada, and can't wait to test this revelation with my new black-with-coloured-polka-dots bathing suit I bought at Roxy (thank-you Vincent!)
Tanning, however, is not the only activity I plan to indulge in. Today, with the help of Bonnie and Nick I purchased a skipping rope to play outside with, and maybe get a little exercise at the same time. I didn't do a great job of starting on a healthy streak, as earlier in the day we hit up French McDonalds to see how it's burgers stack up (haha I love puns) to the North American version. Of course, McDonalds was founded on our great continent, and thrives in our fast food obsessed culture. Clearly the winner was the North American Mickey D's in the Great Continental Burger Debate. It's a well known debate, don't you read?
In celebration of the start of the Vacances de Printemps, I plan on staying up late tonight, sleeping in until noon tomorrow, and soaking up as much European sun as possible. Voila!

Let it Shine

Nowadays, everyone has MP3 players. They're not just for teenagers anymore - goes to show EVERYONE likes listening to their favourite music on demand. What a concept. Ho-hum. And of course, I'm a teenager who loves to listen to her own music all the time - as an escape from the loudness in a café, to add some enjoyment into doing homework, to sleep to on the bus, to write poetry surrounded with my favourite lyrics and sounds.
Today I found myself contemplating a conversation I had on the weekend with a friend, and I needed some good music to accompany my thoughts. The insightful lyrics of David Gray came to the rescue, and summed up my thoughts exactly. This is such a beautiful thing when it happens, a song speaks directly to you - like David Gray knew all about my issue. And so I've posted the lyrics to Shine by David Gray here, so you can see the song that Captures Life for Me Today:

I can see it in your eyes,
What I know in my heart is true,
That our love it has faded,
Like the summer run through.

We walked down the shoreline,
One last time together.
Feel the wind blow our wandering hearts like a feather.
But who knows what’s waiting in the wings of time.
Dry your eyes, we’re going to go where we can shine.

Don’t be hiding in sorrow,
Or clinging, let ‘er pass.
With your beauty so precious,
And the seasons so fast.

Hey, no matter how cold, your eyes appear,
Or how far the first night, when I held you near.
We’re going to rise from these ashes, like a bird aflame.
Take my hand, we’re going to go where we can shine.

And for all that we struggle, for all we pretend,
You know, you know, you know,
It don’t come down to nothing,
Except love in the end.
And ours is a road that is strewn with goodbyes,
And as it unfolds, as it all unwinds,
Remember your soul is one thing you can’t compromise,
Step out of the shadow,
We’re gonna go, where we can shine.

Lookin’ through windows of midnight,
the moon full of silver.

The Chambery Adventures

The past three days I have soaked up culture like a sponge. Making productive use of my 19 hours per week of free time during school, Bonnie and I visited 3 stops on our 3 week long tour of Chambery - doing it the way tourists do. While yes, we are tourists, we're here for an extended stay which upgrades our status to that of the 'semi-permanent citizen', and we have to make that special effort to take full advantage of all that Chambery has to offer.
The first stop on our tour began at La Musée des Beaux Arts, a museum of art very near to our school. I was awestruck as I walked through the gallery, the paintings had been painted 500 or more years ago. I have never been within inches of something that old. Someone had conveyed a message that lasted 500 years, and now I was on the recieving end. It blew my mind.
Thursday brought the the trip to La Musée d'Histoire Naturelle de Savoie. I'm glad I arrived without expectations, because if I had, this museum would not have filled them. It consisted of 4 rooms: shells, minerals, animals, and insects. All of the rooms had very little to do with Chambery. Even if they had, it was not explained. There were cases of shells and mineral rocks with labels indicating they came from Afghanistan, Brazil, and on occasion Savoie. The insect room really was no better, showcasing Monarch butterflies from Canada that migrate to Mexico every winter. Who's brilliant idea was that?
The animal room was by far the most entertaining. I was horrified and sad to see a room filled with dead, stuffed animals. There were angry foxes, snakes in coils, eagles with their wings spread, and a mountain goat too. So after Bonnie and I finished being shocked, we pulled out the camera, posed with some of the animals, and had a good laugh over how ridiculous the museum was. Then we got the hell out of there.
Friday allowed us to experience the bus system first hand. We took a city bus to La Maison d'Energies - a house built to run solely on solar power. At first we ended up in the wrong place, about 10 minutes too far from where we wanted to go. After arriving, we had a private tour with a very informative guide, and learned about the placement of windows, solar panels, natural insulators, cooking using the sun's rays, and gardens on the roof.
Making our way home was not so pleasant. We got lost on the bus, ended up at the opposite end of town from where we wanted to go, I left my coat at a bus stop and had to go back to find it, took another bus, used 5 bus tickets, and FINALLY arrived at the city centre.
Nevertheless, our day was hilariously fun and informative. And now, I look forward to the last 2 weeks, of our Chambery Adventure.

Pictures, anyone?

I had a gut feeling this afternoon that there would be a package waiting for me when I arrived home after school. Even though it wasn't to arrive until mid-week, I still had that tingling intuition that there would be a brown envelope sitting on the counter, the kind I've come to love. Each day as I sit in the car, waiting in the driveway for Anita to collect the mail, I have my fingers crossed hoping there will be something for me. Not that I don't talk for at least an hour a week to my family (and on occasion 3 hours to my friends!), it's just that I can visually see the love, sent flying through the air and over the Atlantic ocean, into my hands - by mail. J'adore the mail!
I knew exactly what this package contained - a way to show my family and friends I'm still alive. No, it's not as drastic as all that, but my USB cords had finally arrived. Maintenant, I can share my photos with everyone in Canada! So without further adieu, I present to you, Michelle en France:















This is a lovely cake that Zhers didn't put enough sprinkles on, so I added some extra. This is clearly my Bon Voyage Michelle/Happy 50th DA party the weekend before I left : )















My 5 day ski trip to Meribel, a ski station about an hour and a bit away from Chambery. See the pretty chalets and large mountains?? Oriane and I smile for the camera.















Bonnie and I grin at O'Tac on a Friday night. Roseanne's head makes a brief appearance in the background.




















At 3pm on a weekday, Bonnie and I eat a 'typiquement Français' lunch, complete with a baguette, cheese, and of course red wine!















The view from Bonnie's balcony in Chambery. Yes, this is Chambery, but only the residential apartment part at one end. Look past, however, to see the mountains that surround the town. I like the pointy-snow-capped ones.

Bonjour, y'all!

This morning I found myself trapped within the courtyard of the school, a large paved square fenced in by the building itself, along with the other 1,000+ people who attend Lycee Vaugela. After struggling for an hour to understand what was happening - why I wasn't allowed to go inside, why there was a guy with a loud speaker, why the vice principal was handing out little white sheets - I finally understood that we were to vote for a 'blocus', whether we wanted it to happen or not. A 'blocus' meant that kids would barricade the doors in protest, and also meant no classes for the rest of us. And so we did like anyone would, wrote 'pour' on the white slips, and avoided the dull grind of a Friday at school.
Later in the day, Bonnie and I found ourselves taking a stroll in an area of town we had never explored before. We had nearly 4 hours to kill, and a saunter in the warm weather felt so good after weeks of cold and rain. We were chatting in English - of course - and not thinking a thing of it, when we were shouted at in a familar accent.
"Hey, other Americans! They're speaking English! Americans!" And although we were not, we stopped and turned back towards the bar where a group of 10 Americans sat on the outdoor patio drinking dark beers.
They were happy to see us (and to hear us speak English) in a place where they couldn't speak a word of the native tongue. We introduced ourselves (firstly correcting the loose term of 'American' and replacing it proudly as 'Canadians'), and were invited to sit down with the group. They ordered drinks for us - on the house - and told us about themselves. We learned that the men were all in their early 20's, and hailed from states like Vermont and Massachusetts. They were here on a university trip to do some skiing in the Alps for 8 days, and had a hotel close by.
As I told about myself, I clearly shocked them. Revealing I was here for three months on exchange went down fine, as did my name and where I'm from. However, dropping the age bomb nearly blew them away. "I'm 17", I said, as their eyes widened.
Now, this is my favourite game to play with older guys. They're very interested, buying drinks, smiling, asking questions. All the while thinking I'm older than in reality. And then I casually say my age and laugh in my head as their expressions grow less subtle. After the idea sinks in, I ask how old they thought I was, and their replies are always so far off. "21 or 22 at least!" I love hearing it. It's enough to drown their hopes, but not enough to scare them off. :)
However, these guys were really interesting to talk to. They told us about their problems here so far, and funny things they've noticed about the French. Example, driving dirt bikes on city streets. Example, teeny tiny tin can cars. And all the things Bonnie and I have gotten over since first coming to France.
The funniest thing about our conversation was how little French they knew, and how little they planned on using during their stay. Instead of bringing the dictionary around, they attempted to speak to the waiters in English. At the bar, the waiter didn't understand, so they simply said the foreign English words louder (as if it would help!). They stared in amazement as Bonnie consulted the waiter in French for them, like they had never seen such a thing. Later, I said something to Bonnie in French, and was scolded for 'les mots'. And no, I wasn't poking fun at their accents, because they had the same one as me! Vermont isn't so far off, you know.
And so I found it very interesting how in Chambéry, France, I encountered Americans. They were relieved to hear another like themselves walking down the street, and provided a good hour and a half of entertainment for Bonnie and myself. It was truly cool how a common language brought us all together, even if it was just for a laugh and a beer.

Grève, Lights Out, Presents, and a Good Laugh

My Tuesday was filled with the sounds of chanting crowds, silent stores, French explanations, and started off with a good laugh.

In the morning I woke up at 6 - like usual - and headed downstairs to eat the same breakfast I eat everyday (I have a habit of eating the same thing for an entire month. In this case, it's been one and a half months.) The radio was on, but not with the normal French talk show. No, instead was the absolute worst English song I have ever heard. I write this with a straight face. It must have originally been a French song, with the meaning of the lyrics lost in translation to English.

"Washing machine, waasssshing maachhhhhhhhhhhhhhine!" was the chorus, sung by a warbling woman who drew out the words for a painfully long time. "I thought I saw you outside, but it was just your shirrrtt on the line!" Who was on crack when they signed this singer? And so I started laughing out loud, and Anita (my host mother) gave me an enquiring look. "Les mots de la chanson...elle a dit 'Machine à laver! Machine à laver!" What a hilarious start to a day.

Bonnie and I decided to do some shopping during the afternoon. Classes were cancelled due to the big grève which was taking place, and it had occurred to me that I only have a month and a half left of my stay. So we took my list and hit the streets of Chambéry to find gifts that would be in some way unique to France, Savoie (or something like that).

When we went in one store, the lights were out. The clerk didn't know why. And the next store was the same. And so on and so forth. And as Bonnie and I were on the 3rd floor of Pier 1 Imports (so French, right?) in the dark, we heard it. We heard the crowd, the 'manifestation', crossing a street nearby. Outside on the street we saw them down the way from us, with a cloud of smoke rising up from the fireworks.

However, considering the size of the 'gréve' on Tuesday, it's surprising we never actually crossed it's path. All we saw were short glimpses of the procession, but continued on shopping for presents for everyone at home. I quickly blew through 50€, but hey, it's for other people. So that makes it okay. Right?

I'm starting to really appreciate my stay in Chambéry, as the weather gets warmer, French becomes easier, and I begin to feel as if I have a place here. At the start I was so unsure of everything, I felt like a child who had to be taught how to speak, how to ride the bus, how to find her way around. But now I don't have a fear of getting lost in Chambéry (I always carried a map around before!), I have a friend here (Bonnie!), and I'm throughly enjoying my 'séjour en France'. Voila!

Joyeux Anniversaire!

Happy Birthday to me! Today isn't my birthday, but this was taken March 13th in France on my 17th birthday.
I thought my birthday might be a difficult day to be away from home, but my day was one of the best I've had yet during my stay in France.
When I went to school all the kids in my class said happy birthday to me and asked how old I now was. I got e-mails from a few friends, recieved phone calls from Jessica and from my dad (who dramatically sung Happy Birthday to me), and had a little celebration with my host family who gave me earrings as a present.
And even now two weeks later I'm still recieving things in the mail. My Oma sent me a birthday card, my family sent a new outfit with a matching necklace and a magazine, and Alyssa sent me a lovely birthday letter!
Even though I was away from home, I got to see how much everyone cares just by their small gestures of recognizing my birthday. I think if I was home, I wouldn't have felt the love like I did here! It meant so much to hear from everyone on my birthday!
So what does being 17 mean? It never really feels like you're any different on that one day, especially since I always refer to myself as the next age for at least two weeks before the actual day. "I'm nearly 17". It's like rounding up, I suppose! It's getting ready to say it full time, maybe?
Anyways, being 17 means I'm no longer 'Sweet 16', a title I'm ready to get rid of, and I can actually feel like I'm a teenager. I'm in the last 3 teenage years, which to me, feel like the years I'm finally comfortable with myself and can get down to doing all those typical teenage things.
So here's to the start of the final phase of being a teenager, and having an absolute party with the remaining years!