Wine is Less Expensive Than Water

And it is wonderful. It may not be the best wine, but it is good nonetheless. Just a brief post here.

I've made a few friends in the local population here, it's always good to know people.

A quick story, another "cultural" experience:

I had dinner this evening at a local restaurant. I was attracted by the 7 Euro dinner price, and went in and sat down. I was served a very nice apperitif of wine and olives, so I was feeling pretty good about my decision. I was then given the menu, and went to the 7 Euro items. There were a few steak and chicken dishes, and this one that I did not recognize. I make it a point to be adventurous in my eating habits, so I ordered the dish I didn't know. After a while, the waiter brought me my plate of fries, salad and this brat looking meat. I got out my fork and knife and cut off a piece, put it in my mouth, and took it out soon after. Something in the texture was just not right. I investigated further and cut open this tube thing... only to find more tube type fleshy things, intestines in other words. In fact, it actually smelled a little like what I would expect intestines to smell like.

After I got over the shock of what was in front of me, I tried to decide if I should attempt another bite. Alas, the adventurer in me bailed out, and I could eat no more. I finished the fries and the salad and left it at that. The waiter was a little offended I believe, that I did not eat the delicacy that I was served, but so be it. I think he liked what I left better than what I would have had in store for him if I would have proceeded with the meal.

Lesson learned? Ask what that strange word on the menu is that I really just don't understand. Finally, no harm done, and off to another meal a little the wiser.

Being here is good for my sanity...

I always welcome these moments of inspiration. The night is my friend, it brings me thoughts of a life fulfilled. It brings me perspective, and satisfaction in the decisions that I've made, and the state of my world. It helps me see how much is left to do, and the person that I could be one day.

Being away from the world and the life that I have known since I was born has made me a lover of life in a new way. It legitimizes the ideal I held before, about the love that is due every single person. Before I arrived, the world was just an idea, just a thought, a dream... something that I had never touched and could only imagine. Now I am here, a stranger in a new world, a life of new people and places... and I realize how right I have been all along.

Life is about the people you meet, and the love you show them, whatever way that manifests itself. There are many roads to the same destination, wherever it is that we are going. Every one is as legitimate as the next, and each one has value.

This experience reminds me of what a good friend of mine always says, something to the effect: Life is a journey that you walk by yourself. Some people may join you for a while, but eventually each person may go their seperate ways. The meaning is in what you make out of the time you have with that fellow traveller, with whatever time you have together.

I have met many people. Some I knew for only a few short minutes, others hours, others days... some I still continue to know and I continue to walk with them, but always I return to myself alone. Being alone has taken on new meaning for me. Alone carries with it less of a feeling of loneliness, and more of a sentiment of a continued dialogue with the person I am discovering myself to be. I seek solitude in fact, and sometimes I prefer to walk alone than with another. And when I return to the big road, with all my fellow travellers, I realize how truly beautiful it is to walk with another... with the world.

I speak in the hypothetical quite a bit I know. It helps to verbalize the feelings that have no real translation. There are a thousand things that I could write about my experiences daily, but many things get lost in between the times of confusion and realization that take place as I walk between one class and another. Sometimes this takes place so often in one day, that my head physically begins to hurt.

There is no end in sight... Yes I will return to my home, but I know I will have to readjust as I return. And then I will finish school, and then I will leave again. I will go on to do what I must, get my law degree in international law, and then begin to change the world in my own way. And one day I will die, to pass on to whatever there may be after this world. And the world will go on. People will continue to live and fight and die for the same reasons they do today, for all those passions that move them. The more I learn about the world, the more I see of the similar story that we share as human beings.

I love the world. I say that honestly and without reservation. It hurts me, and I hurt it... but still I love it. I change it and it changes me... and I love it in a different way. It moves me, and I move on it... and I want to learn how to love it more.

Now I must learn how to live the love I claim to know so deeply.

Inside the Aphitheatre in Arles. It dates to the 1st Century AD, and they still use it for spectacles such as bullfights. 

Exploding Faces

Hello once again. I feel a new presence in my life, a new passion, a new direction. Inspiration flows in my veins giving me the will to learn more, to know more about this world, myself, this life... How does it truly work? What pushes people to kill each other? Where does all the evil that exists in the world come from? Is it truly evil, or is it more an absence of good?

I think about every person in this world, and I believe that I can love their humanity. I cannot love the fact that some have ignored their own, however. I want to be a defender of humanity, an arbiter of conflict. I want to know more. I have to know more. There is a way that things can be better, and I want to find it, even if what I find be only a small part to a bigger puzzle.

Being here humbles me. It is the culture and the fact that I am a foreigner. I think about it, an I have no previous claim to this land. Despite this fact, I feel an attachment to it and a desire for its preservation. I have no previous claim for the well-being of the people that I have met here, yet I already share a bond with them. What creates attachment? What breaks it apart?

These observations and questions come from many sources. One such source is the travel to which I have become accustomed, and the eye opening effects it has. Being constantly on the move removes much of the violent possessiveness that I may have had before leaving. Another source is being in and around les batiments that are nearly as old as the dated time since Jesus Christ. There is always someone who has been here before me... and I will not be the last.

A big source, is the films I have seen in the last two days. The first was The Secret of Brokeback Mounta. Regardless of how you feel about the subject of this film, I strongly suggest that you feel it. No one deserves to suffer for the passions inside of themselves that they cannot control. Think of your own passions... The next film I saw was The Promised Land by Israeli film producer Amos Gitai. The sex trafficking of Eastern European women... I cannot even begin to describe the horror of the violations. Finally, in another film by Amos Gitai, The Countryside Journal the invasion of the Gaza strip and Lebanon and Jordan... I don't know enough about the history of it all to make a well-founded opinion, but...

There is so much to be done in the world. I am searching to find the place where I will be most useful. I know a lot of this talk sounds like the voice of youth claiming to be able to save the world. And maybe it is, but what is wrong with that anyway? Without such dreams, what would the world be like?

Cigars and wine... a great combination 

Matt and me on another mountain 

Political demonstrations in Florence... I can't read Italian but I think they were angry about something Senza did 

Saint Francis... take a close look at the ring around him 

Saint Francis' Hermitage 

Peacefully flying away 

Assisi in the dark of night 

I never got a chance to count all of them... No I didn't really put my mouth on it 

Hangin out in Assisi 

Assisi at dusk 

City Hall in Siena 

Matt and me in Siena in a music museum 

The Spirit of Umbrian Grapes

What does it take to change a life?

I never expected to find what I found in Italy. Italy is both very similar to France and very different. It is European, but distinctly Italian.

It felt really good to get out of France for four days, just a while to collect myself, and reflect on the things I had already learned in my time there. I met an Australian on the train to Milan who was taking a couple months to travel around Europe - paid by his job. I also met a couple of New Zealanders, or Kiwis as the Aussie called them. It's very interesting to talk to other anglophones who are not American. I'll get into more about that later.

My train from Aix left at 5:10AM and I arrived in Assisi at 10:35PM - a 17 hour trip all together. My cousin Matt met me when I got off the train. That is when my life began to take a big turn. Assisi is a very quiet and reflective town. Built into the mountains, it is the city that Saint Francis called home, and where his bones still rest. The city eminates a calm, soothing energy.

Altough I was exhausted from my trip, Matt and I got out some wine, and started the good vibes going. Matt and I are less than a year apart, and we were like best friends as kids. Needless to say, time had grown us apart and I had begun to think that those times were passed and gone. It sometimes takes some good spirits to get the real feelings out, and the words we exchanged I will not express here, for they are our words, but they transformed my life. Matt is much more than a friend. He is my Brother.

I stop now, thinking about all the words I need to truly describe my experience. I could recount the things we physically did, but that leaves 95% of what transpired unsaid. I will let the pictures do most of the talking about where we went and what we did. And a few can describe the things unsaid.

The people in Assisi were wonderful. Maybe it was because we brought them so much business, but I think it was more. They are just good people, and they always seemed to be in a good mood - slightly different than the French. I was fortunate enough to meet a man of Assisi who lived through World War II, and in fact was involved in hiding the Jews from the Fascists. I now have the book that recounts his story, graced by his signature. I was also fortunate enough to enter Saint Francis' hermitage in the mountains where he used to retreat to reflect. I also was able to celebrate Mass there with the group. Although I am not religious, it was indeed a privilege.

One sidenote before I get too far. Prices that look to good to be true, probably are. On our day trip to Siena we stopped at a restaurant that advertised an entree, pate and a glass of wine for 7 Euro. What a deal right? I've had better microwave dinners. Also in Siena, Medieval preserved body parts. Saint Catherine's head and her right index finger are in her cathedral in Siena. The Medieval Catholic Church is another one of those things that I do not understand.

I was able to spend a little over three hours in Florence before I had to hop a train back to Aix. That was just enough time to see Michaelangelo's dome and a cow with two dozen breasts. The dome was actually magnificent. I was able to go up to the top of the dome and see the paintings quite closely... absolutely amazing. How you could paint something that extensive on an enormous dome a couple hundred feet in the air just baffles me. The view from the top is stunning too. Some advice though, go without 40 pounds on your back, there are a lot of stairs. As for the two-dozen-breasted cow... Well, I think that says all that can be said about that.

The train ride home was mostly uneventful. I met an Italian woman who lives in Nice and we talked for a little bit. She also lived through world war two in a small town north of Florence. She moved to France shortly after the war because there was no work and had a flower shop in Nice. She is widowed, without parents and family except for a sister near Milan. It is amazing how people can lose so much and still keep on going.

Some travel advice now: If you are going to be arriving on a late train to Marseille, get a cheap hotel for the night and take the early train to Aix. Otherwise, be prepared to pay the 60 Euro cab fare at 1AM. I think next time I'll get a room.

I was actually excited to be back in France after my trip to Italy. It is amazing how comfortable I am here now, and how little Italian I could understand. After not understanding 99% of what the Italians were saying I realized that I really do know French pretty well.

It was hard to leave Matt. For most everything I recounted Matt was there with me. If I had made the trip to Assisi with just myself or with just some familiar friends I would not have thought so highly of it. Because my Brother Matt was there with me, it is now a place that I will never forget.

What does it take to change a life?

Love

Matt and me after I got off the train in Assisi 

Italy it is

So, here I go. I've got my reservations set up for Italy. After it's all said and done with transfers and layovers, my trip to Assisi will take me 17 hours and 25 min. Not bad for a days travel. It's actually pretty amazing that I will be able to see my cousin Matt in Italy at all.

I love travel, especially the actual transit. I love using the time to reflect and think about life, and what it all really means. I am discovering more about myself everyday, and I know that this will continue as I keep going on.

I will be sure to take plenty of pictures so that all can share in my voyages.

A bientot, my next post will be after I return.

Class is Good.... I know I'll regret saying this later

Well I actually really enjoyed class today. In fact I enjoyed the whole day. I don't know what my favorite part would be but lunch in front of the Hotel de Ville with the fruit I bought at the little marked was quite nice.

My first class was Relations Internationales Contemporains, which translates into "All the violent conflicts of the last century." As far as I can tell, Relations Internationales in French means international violent conflict. Anyway, we talked about the asymmetries of modern conflict, such as guerilla and terrorist actors. We discussed the strategies of the underdogs against global powers. The course was taught by a young woman by the name of Mlle Azourmanian, and she is extremely intelligent if not a little dominating. She started us off with an individual exercise of writing about 4 recent international affairs topics. I struggled to come up with four topics much less the French to describe them. After all was said and done, I think I did just fine.

The next class I attended was entitled France dans le Monde, which translates into "The history of the world according to the French." It was most interesting for me to listen to the French historian orate about this subject. For me as a young American I was fascinated to discover the origins of what I, as many others from my country, is simply French arrogance. Some select quotes from the lecture today:

"Humanity is contained in the history of France"

"The destiny of France is to be the annoyance of the world; she was created, and created herselfto frustrate the plot of established roles."
--Jean Giraudoux

"The positive side of me makes me believe that France is not herself but in the first rang"
--Charles de Gaulle, WWII general and hero of France

It was interesting to listen to the professor speak, while the students around me from Spain, Italy, England, Canada, Scandanavia and parts of Asia cringe at his incredibly bold statements about the history of the world according to France.

While I still believe they are quite arrogant, I have a new found appreciation for it. With my observations I am not trying to be cynical about the the above words, I am simply reporting what I learned. I myself have not decided how I feel about it all, and I have not forgotten that the class itself is indeed only the words of one Frenchmen out of the 60 million which I have yet to meet. What this day of class did for me is open up my eyes to a larger world than I before knew. That is what excites me.

Humanity is an animal that I no where near understand, at times frustrating, but always worth the awareness of the beauty that it inherently possesses.

The evidence of a global conflict 

The view over the city and the Old Port in the center. Marseille is a true Mediterranean town. 

Some of the lookout over the sea... I plan to return to get more 

Notre Dame de la Garde... the statue on top of the tower is of Mother Mary holding Baby Jesus. Baby Jesus' wrists measure over 1 meter in circumference. 

Marseille... my city on the sea

I went to Marseille yesterday, and I started a small love affair with the city. It was amazing, first getting off the bus, and simply feeling more alive, and at ease... and peaceful. The closer I got to the sea, the more invigorated I became. I have a deep deep affinity for the open sea, mind, body and soul. Not that Aix-en-Provence is a bad place to be in the least, but after making a trip to Marseille it feels a little claustrophaubic.

Marseille is an interesting city demographically. I could immediately see the immense North African influence it experiences. Marseille is a blatant example of the problems that France is experiencing with the massive influx of immigration from the Northern African states. There were many homeless, and many more street vendors selling little trinkets from their native lands. The city is slightly dirty in some areas and there was a lot of construction, but the city by the sea is magnificent.

There is nothing inherent to the city itself, the buildings and the layout and the landmarks, that make it attractive to me. There was definitely something more that I felt. Besides being enamored with the Mediterranean Sea right in front of me, I had a great sense of history there, not even present in Paris. There is a church on a high point in the city called Notre Dame de la Garde that overlooks the city and the coastline. We walked up to the top... and I was stunned. I am disappointed in myself now that I did not take more pictures, but it was overcast, and I plan on returning to this point without a doubt.

The view is breathtaking. Looking out over the city and the land and sea, I began to reflect on what it is this life is. I saw before me strongholds of both the ancient Greeks and the Romans, and in the distance I saw the island where the storied Count of Monte Cristo was fabled to have been held. The mountains all around and the church next to me, I thought, what an amazing world this truly is. The historical sights I saw before me, and the artillery scaring left on the church from the battle to liberate Provence, France from the Germans in World War II, left me stunned in wonderment at the human story that our existence is.

Whether we truly realize it or not, life has consequence... every single life. I walked away from Marseille, impressioned with a life I had never seen before. Every building, every market, every small merchant, every passerby, marked me with the power of that human existence...

Aix-en-Provence is where I live in France, but Marseille is my city of revelation.

The old church outside my beloved school, the IEP 

Christmas time in Aix 

French is hard, it makes my head hurt...

I offer a few impressions from my first few days in Aix-en-Provence...

It is one of the most beautiful cities that I have seen, beautiful in the sense that I have seen nothing like it before. It is incredibly old... I feel like someone has been here before, for a long, long time.

My host mother is wonderful. She has given me a great room and I am very comfortable. And I get to eat pretty well too.

At this point, the shock from classes has nearly worn off. But it was there, God was it ever.

A glimpse from a journal entry yesterday evening...

"I hesitate to begin to write. My hand is so tired, like never before. Parts of me hurt that I thought never would, my brain, my mind. I have never written so feverishly and had it make so little sense. Class is incredibly difficult, like I never imagined. I have never felt as if i understood so little after sitting through a lecture, three of them in fact."

It doesn't seem so bad now looking at it. But I had a small crisis during my second lecture. It doesn't help that lectures are 2 and 1/2 hours.

Things are better now. It's incredible how I've adjusted to the language after being immersed in it for just a few days. Some people think I speak well... others, I can see the pain in their faces as they watch me struggle to get out the words that don't quite express what I'm trying to say.

It takes a while to settle back into yourself after travelling abroad, especially for the first real time. I'm beginning to remember why I ever came here in the first place. It's strange though still, waking up and thinking I should be somewhere else. The nights and the mornings are the hardest that way... everything else is enjoyable and actually exciting.

I'm taking 10 courses for the moment. The system over here is borderline ridiculous. Very little is organized online, and to see when, and if, your courses are taking place, you have to reference a little bulletin board at the entrance to the school. The building itself is about 300 years old I think, and the professors lecture with grand orations that last for hours... They speak, and you listen...... and take notes as fast as possible, and if you can at all. That's what I do at least.

I'm sitting in a little computer lab right now, that some student association called Students in Aix put together. It's one of the few places I can readily have acces to the internet, and thank God for it.

I'm getting used to not having a cell phone or the internet constantly at my fingertips. It's almost becoming a little liberating.

This experience is providing me with ample opportunities to develop new perspectives on the world, and the United States in particular. These involve observations and insights that I am not yet ready to divulge, as they have not had ample time to develop and incubate. I hope that I'll say something smart soon, because to this point, in this environment, I've felt quite incompetent at times.

Well, time to go soon. But I can't leave before I say that I genuinely miss a lot of things. Most of them are simple comforts to which I had become overly accustomed like my own room, my own refrigerator, familiar places and the ease of knowing the environment I'm in. The most poignant are the people that I love. I can't help but wish at times I was with everyone again... But I know I can't rest there for long. This is an opportunity is here only once, and I have a new world at my fingertips. In fact, I almost have too many opportunities in front of me that I cannot distinguish one from the other to make a clear decision.

I'm tired now. It's approaching midnight here. Time for the walk home, and then to bed.


You cannot escape the Uggs...

Me and Pat at the lookout at le Sacre Coeur, Montmartre 

Me on top of le Tour Eiffel 

Non Illigitimi Carpudendum

I think that's how it goes..

Don't Let the Bastards Get You Down...

Paris, France

December 30, 2005 - January 1, 2006

Ahhh, where to begin? I am sitting here in Aix-en-Provence, after three incredibly trying days in Paris. I have to say that it was a rough introduction to France in the beautiful city of lights. It is hard to say how I feel right now about the whole thing, I am torn internally about my resting emotions.

Everyone talks really really fast. Getting used to the language has been difficult, and is still going on for me. Anyway, before I get too far, I will recount my adventures to this point.

I arrived in Paris at Charles de Gaulle at 11:30 am local time. The plane ride was almost pleasant, and I was seated next to Scott Wahl, an alumus from the University of Wisconsin who lives in Paris and was returning from Green Bay, Wisconsin from the holidays with his family. To boot, he went to Abbot Pennings High School, one of the three predecessors to my alma mater Notre Dame de la Baie. What a small world it is.

When I arrived in Paris, it was snowing... well, it was actually freezing rain. That ended up not boding so well for me. Anyway, I got a metro ticket from the airport to the city at Gare du Nord, from which I took a taxi to my godforsaken hostel, way out on the outskirts of town in the 20th Arrondissement. After the 20 Euro fare, I checked into my hostel and tried to call Pat. I got a hold of him to find out that I had no idea how to get to Notre Dame, our rendez-vous point.

Some advice if you plan on travelling to France in December... it's still winter, bring winter clothes, especially shoes. My shoes were sopping wet with freezing sleet after a few minutes. After navigating the metro, I found my way to the cathedral and went inside. In short, I didn't find Pat and ended up wandering around the Notre Dame for about an hour, catching a little bit of the evening vespers. I left shortly after to go back to my bed and sleep.

I got lost on the way back. Damn the street signs in Paris. Another adjustment is the street signs around here. After a little shower without soap, shampoo or a towel for lack of all three, I journaled for a second and went to sleep.

The next day I finally met up with Pat, and we had a tour of the city. We saw the Eiffel Tower in only two hours, thanks to Pat's shifty work with jumping the line. Actually, he cut in front of two American tourists who complained about our delinquince for the rest of the time. Paris is incredible from the Eiffel Tower, incredibly cold. I snapped a couple pictures and took off.

Next we went to Pat's room and hung out with he and his girlfriend Carina. She was actually with us the whole time I just didn't mention her. She didn't speak a whole lot of English but she's a very kind girl. We next went to Montmartre where we had dinner and drank Vodka on the steps of the Church of le Sacre Coeur. I think God was after me for that sacrilege.

On the steps down from le Sacre Coeur we were stopped by a bunch of Senegales wanting to tie some strings around our wrists. Being a soft-hearted American boy, I stopped and entertained them while they told me about peace and love and their bracelet tradition thing. After they finished they demanded 20 Euro. Bullshit... I dropped a 2Euro piece by accident and cut loose.

After finishing our bottle of vodka, we went to the Champs Ellysees to see all the hubub. It was alright, lots of people around. A bunch of cars were driving around l'Arc de Triomphe and we stood by a couple of Brits and had our champagne. A relatively calm ring in of the New Year. And as my sister Celeste had reminded me, I was cheated out of 7 years of my life, damn time zones.

Well, this is where my relationship with Paris turned sour. Instead of going back and going to bed, I went to the bar at the hostel to find some international friendlies. I forgot to mention the overabundance of old people and family staying at this hostel looking for a cheap dive outside of the city. But anyway, I found a bottle of blush wine and a couple of youngsters to try and share it with.

Long story short, I drank most of the bottle. The last thing I remember is having what I thought was a cigarette with the Norwegian bartender and going to bed.

I woke up with the worst hangover I've had to date. After throwing up my water breakfast I slept on the benches at the hostel until 5PM when I had to get up and leave for my train to Aix. I was no where near recovered, and the 100lbs of luggage I had with me were not friendly.

I can only imagine the sight I was walking down the streets of Paris, in the Metro, at the station.. hungover and with my volume in bags strapped onto me. I can't believe that I threw up in the train station. Better than in the train, and at least I had a plastic bag from the fruit I had bought. I realised then that I really didn't want the fruit, I only bought it for the bag... God works in mysterious ways.

Well, to those of you who made it through my admittedly dry narration, I thank you. I'm new at this international traveler blogging, and I hope that future ones will be more interesting. If I had had the chance to write this a little sooner after all these events took place the snyde remarks full with introspections and epiphanies might have shown through a little better. Oh well... I guess I've forgotten most of the details already after the 16 hours of class I've had in the last two days. Ahhh, that all my friends is for another post.

To end, I want to say a cheers to James "Brutus" Kuczkowski. I wore his tie, for which I have entitled this post, to commemorate this beloved man, and bring him with me into the New Year. In fact, I wore it for damn near 48 hours straight for lack of time and sense to change it. I credit him for the strength and the wits to get it through Paris to Aix with my shaken body and baggage. To you my dear friend, I say thank you... and remember, to everyone...


Don't Let the Bastards Get You Down!