Genève

The walk for Geneva was very confusing; luckily enough, the group with which I was trying to complete the walk ran into Professor Hudson. The reason this was so lucky was because had our group tried to complete the walk by ourselves, we would have been lost all day never completing the walk. The city was absolutely beautiful. The houses looked as though they came from a straight from a fairytale story. There was a huge clock made out of flowers, which was very cool. I saw clocks all over the city which I thought was interesting and good because I am always wondering what time it is.

We walked by many pianos that were chained to the ground, but were free to play. Amy and Caleb played a nice little song; I really liked the idea of having free pianos just chilling around the city. I thought it made the city so much more unique.

The city impressed me with its beautiful lake, parks, and freezing cold water fountains found all over the city. I also saw the coolest clock ever. The bells rang and there was a parade of characters that moved in front of the clock for about 5 minutes.


The last thing that really amazed me was the Jet D'eau. Professor Hudson had a handful of interesting facts to share about this sight. I enjoyed the facts he shared and looking at the Jet D'eau. This is just a short list of the really awesome sights to see in Genève.

Apres: La Tour Eiffel

La Tour Eiffel. An icon of Paris. Beautiful. It makes me feel things I've never felt before. I went there in the morning, afternoon, and night. I felt very attached to it each time I went there as if there was nothing in the world that could make me any happier. I loved seeing glimpses of it in surprising places throughout Paris. It was a pleasant reminder of where we were. Sometimes I would see it and think, "Oh yeah, I'm in Paris right now." I feel like I got to know the Eiffel Tower very well. As much as I loved being at the base of it, there are a lot of tourists and obnoxious street vendors selling Eiffel Tower key chains. I felt bombarded while I was trying to have my own soul searching experience. I finally had my experience, but not at the Eiffel Tower. It was on a bright green bridge near Porte D'Auteuil metro stop. It was a beautiful day with a slight breeze. I leaned on the railing of the bridge looking out onto the Seine with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower. I felt like I was breathing the Eiffel Tower. I wasn't worrying about anything. I wasn't thinking about the past or anticipating the future. I was simply living in the moment as me, Sarah Scoville. I let the present envelope me and seep into every part of me. I was healing any stress or care I had. There was nothing more I needed. I can't describe what I learned in this moment, but it's a moment that I will never forget.

The Eiffel Tower is a symbol of Paris for me and Paris will always be in my heart. I know that sounds really cheesey or cliche, but that's the only way I can describe how I feel about Paris.

Lyon Walk

There is a noticeable difference between Lyon and Paris in how the people live. "Douceur de vivre" is a real thing. I noticed it on the metro when we first arrived. The people get on and off the metro slower than in Paris. The doors are opened longer. It was a little frustrating at first because I was used to the bustle of the Paris metro. Honestly, I had a hard time being in Lyon. I had fallen in love with Paris and I didn't want to leave. The metro in Lyon was clean and I couldn't fully appreciate it because I was missing the stinky metro of Paris. The people of Lyon are gentle and slow which is a lot nicer than the harshness of Paris, but it took me a while to appreciate that. In fact, the first morning in Lyon was the first time I was in a bad mood on the study abroad. I blame this on the fact that I wasn't in Paris anymore where I really wanted to be. However, doing the walk helped because Lyon is a very beautiful city. We sat in front of the Hotel de Ville for a while because that's something we used to do in Paris a lot. It was interesting to observe the people of Lyon instead of Parisians. During the sunset, we sat on a dock where the Saone and the Rhone meet. It was beautiful and very calming. I finally felt like I could love Lyon as much as I love Paris (almost).

geneeeeve

geneva “land of the milk and honey”

I remember the first day I stepped foot on genevois soil almost four years ago! a completely new undiscovered culture and land laid before me! I had no clue what to expect! on one hand I felt very lucky to know we were finishing the program in geneva. frankly it was one of the primary reasons I came out. already having the hang of things around the city and having some great friends out there was very motivating! on the other hand though i wish I could have found myself in the shoes of my fellow classmates as they chartered on a new extraordinary piece of terre. I overheard a few say that it had become their new favorite city in the world! of course things had changed and I actually felt silly when id make a mistake attempting to guide us through the city! so needless to say I also felt new to the city! in fact, very new! I had never experienced the city life past 9h30 pm! and as “cheese”y as it may sound I found that when the sun sets on geneva lake it is almost a fantasy! we completed the walk in combining a few separate walks! and I was able for the first time visit les jardins botaniques and also got to climb saint pierre which was magnificent view over the city! however my nothing could compare to a nice job down the lac leman, a nice cool dip in the lake, only to cap it all with a “light show” at the jet d’eauI!!! thank you all for making my trip complete!

 

salut

john

call.your.girlfriend

What the River Said {Or "after," if you will}

Île de la Cité from the Pont des Arts

[From my journal, in the end of May, in response to this]
Well, here I am, listening to the river. I'm on the Pont des Arts because, whether or not it's cliche, it's my favorite bridge in Paris. (Then again, loving Paris itself can be a cliche, can't it? So it's alright.)
It's definitely the most welcoming bridge in this old town of mine. 

I like that no matter when you come here, someone will be playing the guitar and someone else will be drinking wine in glasses with their friends, and Japanese tourists will be waving up at you from below as they spend their first day in Paris on an "informative boat ride."
I like the ugly padlocks that cover the grilles, fiercely affirming that Claire and Jerome will equal <3 4 ever, because it is clamped publicly,
just within view of the Eiffel Tower (if the Eiffel Tower stands on its tip-toes).
I like that I can see the Seine just as it decides to fork, making way for the Île de la Cité, and giving a peak of Notre Dame at Paris' heart.
I like the memories I have on this bridge, like Wednesday night drinks and smokes (them, not me) with nice but insistent french men, or the guy who knelt in front of me, politely said "vous êtes magnifique,"and then went on his merry French way without a backward glance.
But what is the river telling me, you ask? Well, that's between me and the river. But I'll tell you some of what I hear:

Stilettos, church bells, and a whistle.

Garbage bag rustling.

Oh no, now I'm distracted by how good the sun feels on my legs.

French, German. (The sun feels amazing!)

Little kids laughing, Arabic, stroller.

Americans (they're loud).

Rollerskates... a sort of late afternoon hum...

Bus.
Boat. 
French. 
Wind.      Vent.

So how does this translate? It's telling me that I came here with a heavy heart and some desperate hopes of escape and reinvention. But I'm not Sabrina.

No, no. I'm trying to grow my hair out and my french still isn't that good.

I haven't acquired a poodle or much of a lilting, monochrome walk, and I still look very much like me, with a few more zits and maybe a few extra pastry pounds. Maybe I'm even starting to look a little bit like a pastry. (I am what I eat...or I eat, therefore I am. Something like that)

But I feel the effects of dipping my toes in a  culture steeped in a love of beauty and a complicated past; something a little like myself, but foreign enough that I've been so confused and uncomfortable on so many occasions that I've had to get to know myself better as a means of survival.

The river is telling me that I can run away to Paris but not from myself, and when it's time to leave it will be possible (it must be) to find beauty and healing and myself elsewhere. In Adam Gopnik's delightful Paris to the Moon (I highly recommend, even if you know/ care nothing about France), his wife Martha says as it's time to go home, 

"In Paris we have a beautiful existence but not a full life, and in New York we have a full life but an unbeautiful existence."

I find comfort in this, realizing that my sun on the Pont des Arts is fast setting, and my time in Paris is waning like that moon it takes you to. But this beautiful existence has helped me begin to tentatively cross the bridge to the full life I want to have when reality picks me up at the airport.
And I'll never be able to repay the river for that. 

After: le Metro

The metro is quite possibly one of the greatest inventions ever.  I'm glad that I chose it as my before & after post because probably a quarter of my time in Paris was spent on it.  I love that you can ride it anywhere you want to go at any time you want to go. Even when I wasn't 100% sure where I was, I never felt completely lost because I knew that there was always a metro nearby.



Metros definitely aren't the most glamorous things in the city.  Although the above picture isn't the most crowded metro in the world, I definitely experienced my fair share of jam packed metros.  Some days we were crammed like sardines into those little trains with full body contact with every person around you.  I remember one exceptionally busy day  being squeezed between the door & the people behind me causing my face to be plastered against the glass on the door.

Being on the metro often symbolized something great.  Whether we were riding it at 5:30 AM to get to the sunrise at Sacre Coeur, or riding it home after watching the lights at the Eiffel Tower at 11:00 PM, it always meant a good time.  

I also learned that it was THE spot for people watching.  Everyone rides it, and while you're underground riding through dark tunnels there's really nothing else to look at than the other people riding it.  People watching became one of my favorite things to do. 

The easiness of the metro made me quickly feel at home in Paris.  Being able to know my general location in the city was always comforting and I loved the freedom that it gave me to explore the city.  The next time I go to Paris I'll be sure to visit all of my favorite stops, including the stop in the picture below, which I came to know as home.

After: victory for all

The magic of Paris is something that will never leave me. No matter how life throws me around or if the years make my memories fuzzy, Paris will forever occupy a space in my heart that was waiting to be filled, nearly unbeknownst to me. Ernest Hemingway once wrote of the power that paris has over the human soul, especially the first time it touches your heart. Though my first foray into Paris is through, reflecting on everything that i learned I wait with baited breath for my next adventure among the cobblestones and cigarette smoke.

Before making this journey I wrote of my great desire to stand before "Winged Victory of Samothrace," an inspiring statue which stands in the Louvre. First of all, the Louvre is ginormous. There is simply no conquering it. The first time I went I saw nothing I even remotely recognized, my carefully honed humanities skills were ill-used in the realms of medieval tapestries and silver services. After this first visit, I was determined to return and find something that at least pricked my memory. My second attempt to walk among masterpieces was at the side of my dear friend Holly, and this time I was finally victorious. I walked into the stoney edifice with determination in my heart and a map in my hand. After some coaxing and tricky use of my ever-growing french-speaking skills, I finagled my way into getting a free ticket. Holly and I, with gratuit tickets in hand, plunged into the louvre head first. What a rush. Dashing through crowds of bleary-eyed tourists, and my eyes were plastered to my map to make sure i was heading in the right direction. Without looking up I noticed that Holly had stopped. I slowed to a brisk walk and suddenly raised my head to behold a thing of miraculous beauty. At the top of a flight of stairs there stood a woman. With no head or arms to speak of, this woman had stood for thousands of years proclaiming victory and denouncing defeat on the coast of Greece and now she stood before me. The "Winged Victory of Samothrace" stands above the hoards of tourists which litter the halls of the Louvre, composed and calm. Seeing this statue simply took my breath away. Her determination seemed to be contagious. In many ways she embodies my experience in France. In a strange country, far from home, she rises to the occasion and does not let the fear of defeat threaten her poised confidence. That day, victory was mine when I stood before this statue and realized that victory, no matter how far-flung, is always within reach.

link to my BEFORE post