Murphy was French.

Before I start, let me assure those faint of heart or predisposed to worrying, that everything worked out ok in the end.  But that was not guaranteed for most of my morning...

So good old Murphy used to say that if something can go wrong, it will.  He must have known the French pretty well.  Or he must have known people like me... I may have mentioned in previous posts that one of the hoops I have to jump through to stay and work in France, is applying for a residency card.  That little piece of plastic has caused more grief than I'm sure it's worth, EVEN if I have to have it in my hands before I can receive any sort of medical care in the country... 

Two weeks ago I went to the mayor's office in the city to talk with them about my residency card.  After chatting with them I figured out I had to schedule an appointment for 2 1/2 weeks later, even though I had nearly all the necessary documents with me at the moment.  This morning happened to be that appointment day.  So of course, being me, last night at 11pm I decided to glance over the list one more time to make sure I had everything ready.  And I did, besides one tiny little glitch.  I had 4 delightful COLOR passport photos, and there in front of my eyes, in bold, capital, underlined letters, the sheet of paper from the mayor's office clearly alerted me to the fact that I was in need of four BLACK and WHITE photos.  I tried to go through a couple scenarios in my head where I played the oblivious American who didn't understand the color vs. b&w thing, but quickly realized a) I HATE, nay DETEST when people play the ignorant American card, and b) yea right like the mayor wouldn't take the opportunity to make me jump through more hoops.  So I simply looked at the bus schedule, and decided I would go to the train station early in the morning, where I knew there was a photo booth.  Problem solved.  HA

Got up this morning, made it to the bus on time (you thought I was going to miss it, didn't you) and rode happily to the train station.  Got off, walked in, and realized I only had a 5 euro bill when the machine explicitly stated it only accepted coins.  Ok, no matter.  I kindly asked the lady working at the magazine/newspaper stand if she had change (something French people usually hate to be asked) but she was friendly, and gave me the coins.  I pulled back the curtain of the photo machine, plopped down on the stool and tucked my hair behind my ears, and then some automated French photo lady started  speaking to me.  But she didn't have good news.  "Machine pas disponible!"  Out of order.  Lovely.  My stomach dropped.  It was 8:50.  My appointment at the Mayor's office was at 10, and a 20 minute walk.  And I had absolutely NO idea where to find another photo machine.  The only other I knew of in Sens was at least 25 minutes from our apartment, which was 45 minutes from the train station in the other direction.  Decided to think fast and go to my allies first.  I approached the magazine lady again, "Excusez-moi, Madame..." Did she maybe know of another PhotoMaton close by?  She stared at me blankly, clearly forgetting that she was nice to me just moments before.  "Beh, je ne m'occupe pas de ça".  Roughly translated, "that doesn't really concern me, it's not my responsibility".  Yes, I said, I know but you see I REALLY need some photos, can you remember where one might be close by?  She said, well you should go to the supermarché of course, and directed me how to get to the supermarket right next to the train station.  Perfect.  Almost. 

I crossed over to the other side of the train station as it began to rain.  Doesn't it always start to rain at this point of the story?  I cursed all French photo machines all the way over to the grocery store, which was across two parking lots, several piles of leaves, and some large puddles.  I walked in, frantically searching for a blessed photobooth, and walked almost clear to the other side of the store before I finally found it.  Thank God.  I read the outside of the photobooth at least 4 times, to make sure that it did b&w photos, crossed my fingers before I pulled back the curtain, and let out a huge sigh of relief when I saw blinking lights on the inside.  The automated French photo lady's voice was welcoming this time, telling me to adjust my seat and "preparez" for the photo.  Awesome.  Except.  Every button I pressed, every prompt I was given, lead me to color photos instead of black and white.  No matter how many times I was at the main menu and pressed passport photos, it never gave me the option to see them in b&w.  I pulled back the curtain of the machine and spotted a security guard at the entrance.  Ally #2? Perhaps.  "Excusez-moi, monsieur..." and explained to him that I couldn't figure something out.  When he walked over to the photo machine with me, it was like he just then at that moment realized the machine existed, let alone in his grocery store.  Right then, I knew it was a disaster.  He inspected the machine, pushed every button I did, went back to the same menu I did, and in the end, had the same results as I did.  He tried  nicely to tell me that he had 'aucune idée', no idea.  Seeing my slight (slight?) panic, he asked if I would 'attendre', wait, till one of his colleagues arrived.  9:10, 10 appt, 20 minute walk.  Hm can't 'attendre' very long, but then again, did I have any options really?  His colleague came and went, and I was left with the same results.  Just for the record, I think every supermarket attendant, no matter what their job in the store, should be fulling prepped upon employment on how to work the PhotoMaton machines (and even before that, all PhotoMaton machines should be 'disponsible' in every French train station).  

So this is it, right?  I sat on the stool in the machine, realizing my fate, trying to press every combination of buttons imagineable, when finally (finally!) the option came up for b&w pictures.  And don't even ask me how, it took 4 people and a lot of button pushing, but finally I got the right combination.  Not wanting to push my luck, I hurried and took the photo as fast as possible, told the Monsieur at the front of the store 'merci' for his help (...) and speed walked all the way to my appointment at the mayors office.  

MAY I JUST ADD.  For dramatic effect, and my absolute HORROR.  There was a (WORKING!) PhotoMaton machine not 5 steps from the front door of the Mayor's office.  I almost dropped dead.  And would have, if I wouldn't have reminded myself how much grief those 4 photos in my purse had caused me.  I needed to persevere, if only to prove it to myself that I hadn't run around Sens for nothing all morning long.  

After a little squabbling with the lady at the Mayor's office (namely her telling me she wouldn't have my card ready by the time I leave to go home for Christmas thus leaving me empty handed and without a way to get back in the country.  Not to mention her reminding me I should have come in much earlier to get this all done) I left with a semi-satisfactory answer.  They will send me a letter in the mail that will tell me when to walk back into town to get a sheet of paper that does not count as my 'carte de sejour' but does, however, inform all parties concerned that I am in the process of getting a residency card.  I will from this point forward, have immense respect and (pity?) for anyone brave enough to request a residency card, let alone, gasp, citizenship!  I can only wonder what those set of hoops must be like...

It's a good thing I'm able to laugh at myself.  And the system.  And what an odd bureaucratic world we live in.  I guess it's maybe necessary in some cases.  Just a couple pieces of advice before I head to bed.  Never underestimate the problems that can occur on a Wednesday morning before an appointment.  Never forget your umbrella.  Never get mad at French magazine ladies or French supermarché men.  They're (usually) only trying to help.  Never rely on French PhotoMatons.  Always press all buttons possible- sooner or later you'll find the right combination.  

:D

à plus,

alli

A la suite! Berlin

Hello all!

I'm on a break between classes now, so I thought I would take the time to catch up my blogging a bit.  I had two classes this morning, and I have two more this afternoon.  The one I just had was all about the elections- turns out French kids will ALWAYS ask you who you are voting for, regardless of when the elections were.  That was a fun discussion though.  At the end of the class one of the students asked the teacher if I could speak to them in French now, and she didn't hesitate a minute to hand the class over to me.  So I began to explain to them in French how I rented a car and drove around Burgundy, and went to visit friends in Berlin.  They couldn't get over how weird it was for me to speak French to them, and I have to admit too, it was kinda weird!

Also eventful this morning, I learned the French word for tightrope walk: un funambule.  Always continuing my education... And this afternoon, I'm sharing all things American with my classes, playing one a Dixie Chicks song, and the other an America Rock (School House Rock series) song about the Great American Melting Pot.  A classic.

Ok so Berlin! I think it would be appropriate to start at the very beginning, that is to say in the wee Sunday morning hours when I got up to get ready to go to the airport in Paris (after Lyon we trained up to Paris, three from my group stayed there and I left for Berlin- just to recap).  Since I was so paranoid about oversleeping and missing my alarm set for 5am, I got up at 4:45 and decided to stay up.  I tiptoed around our hostel room to not wake anyone else up, and was out the door and walking the streets of Paris when no one should really be awake.  In fact, I’m pretty sure the only people I ran into on the metro were those who were still up from the night before.  And there were a lot of them!  Including the two boys who were sitting behind me saying I smelled wonderful.  Better than you that’s for sure, I wanted to turn around and tell them.  Held my tongue.

So after I took a metro, a bus, and finally found the right terminal, I waited in line to check in.  When I got to the counter, the guy checked my bag through, handed me my ticket, and as if it were an afterthought,  asked me if I was au courrant (aware) of the delay for my flight.  Uh, no monsieur, I told him, I am not.  Oh, he added in broken English, your flaight wil bee leeving at 1 o’ clock this afternoooon.  I stood there dumbfounded.  Let me remind you, that I was checking in at 6:40 AM.  And Now I was being told I would have to sit in that blasted airport for another 6 hours???  That I would be leaving for Berlin at the time when I was supposed to have been there already for at least 3 hours? He didn’t even explain to me why we were so delayed, directing me instead upstairs where I could ‘eet breakfast’ for free.  Well, it should be!  If nothing else, I got to see the sunrise, and spend way more time than necessary at the Orly airport.  Not a highlight of the trip. 

When I finally got on the plane the pilot explained to us passengers in German, French, and English, that there had been a technical problem with the airplane stationed in Paris, and that they had to call in the crew from Berlin which is why it had taken so long.  By that time I was so exhausted, I slept almost all the way to Berlin.  And could have slept through the landing too.  Actually, I could have missed it all together even if I had been glued to the window- that’s how socked in the city was.  Literally saw the ground about 20 feet before we were ON the ground.  And that’s the exact same weather I had the whole time I was there! So here comes my first piece of advice for you all:  If you are going to Berlin to se promene (walk around) and enjoy the wonderful sunshine, don’t go in November!  It probably wasn’t AS bad as I’m making it out to be, but after rain had followed us throughout Burgundy and Lyon, I was seriously lacking some sunshine. 

It wasn’t very long after landing that I had my first German adventure.  Namely, that my friend who was supposed to come to the airport to pick me up got on the wrong train to come to the airport.  He was now somewhere outside of Berlin, and couldn’t even get off the train to switch to the other direction for another 20 minutes at the next stop.  So he asked me if I could get on the S Bahn, the Berlin metro, and ride to some obscure German word which I assumed to be a metro stop.  I assured him that if he could send me a text message with that obscure German name, yes, I could somehow find the train and get myself on it.  Turned out to be Ostbanhof.  Once I knew the metro stop, I just kept walking in the direction of the big S signs which I could only assume denoted the S Bahn (great powers of observation here).  After asking a friendly German woman where I could find Ostbanhof (and then just pointing to that word in the text message that Ryan sent me), I got myself to platform 7 and waited for my train.  I had a mini freak out moment when I looked up at the first stop to see another stop I couldn’t pronounce.  I had looked at my metro map and found the next stop to be sure I was going in the right direction, but it was completely different from where I was now.  And not only could I not figure out if I had been going in the opposite direction, I couldn’t find that metro stop AT ALL on my map.  After minutes of panicking and wondering if I should haul my stuff off the train and figure out what to do next, I finally found the stop on my map, at least 6 stops after the one I was expecting.  My friend explained to me later that I had gotten on an express train, which although super convenient by skipping some stops, really left me stumped.  My stop was actually the next one, and I got off and found my friend without a problem, and we walked back to their apartment. 

After I left all my luggage at the friend’s apartment where I stayed for the week, we were off to explore.  We didn’t have much sunlight, however, since it was dark by 4:15- 4:30 in the afternoon.  So not only are you a little depressed because you’re in a foggy cloud, it gets dark well before dinnertime.  All the Berliners seem well adapted though, riding their bikes every which way to work, home, and all around the city.  We saw the well known Brandenburg Gate as well as the Reichstag, otherwise known as the German Parliament building.  They were impressive to see at night, illuminated in the dark.  After seeing some of the basics and doing a little walking tour our their neighborhood, we went back to the apartment, meeting our other friend along the way at a bus stop.  These friends that I keep alluding to, are both Redlands Alum and Fulbright scholars- one is teaching English in a German highschool and the other is doing a research on immigrant banking in Berlin.  They were both incredibly hospitable during my entire stay, going out of their way to show me Berlin, introducing me to some of their German friends and other Fulbright students.  And they completely spoiled me with the OVEN and DISHWASHER they have in their apartment.  Oh. Still miss that oven.  It was great to be with Redlands folk, and chat about what we’re doing and what we will be doing soon…. Ah the great unknown.

The next day Ryan, the teaching assistant, invited me to go to his classes with him- it was interesting to see how his experience teaching compared to my own in France.  All the German teachers were really nice- some even spoke English with me.  Of course everyone wanted to talk about the elections, which were held the next day.  After the two classes Ryan had we headed back to their place to have lunch, and then I set out with the other Berliner, David and another friend visiting him as well, to explore some more.  We had originally decided to go up the TV tower in the middle of the city, to see a great view of the city. When we got downtown and couldn’t even see halfway up the tower, we decided it might not be the best of ideas.  We walked around and saw the French cathedral, some national museums, and the opera house.  One thing I found pretty interesting, is that the French cathedral is placed RIGHT next to a Protestant church- so close that they actually share the same walls.  After all the things you hear from around the world about the conflicts between the two churches, it was nice to see something to the contrary. 

We also saw Alexanderplatz, which is a big plaza with the famous Berlin World Clock (it tells the time for everywhere in the entire world) and shopping center.  After that we grabbed some groceries for dinner and headed home.  The boys had one of their German friends over for dinner, who spoke impeccable English.  She spent a year of high school in Minnesota, so she could speak very well.  After dinner we went to a dinner for the Berlin Fulbright students, past and present- they’re organized as a way for the Fulbright students to talk to each other, share stories, etc.  The restaurant was a little bizarre though- it was called White Trash Restaurant, and the best way I can describe it would be as a TGIFriday’s, with a Las Vegas/Saloon house feel to it.  Bizarre. 

The next day Ryan went to work and David slept in, so I set off to explore a bit by myself.  I walked the route I had come to memorize from their apartment to the closest S Bahn stop, taking a few detours to look in an interesting church, and walk down a little green park/pathway.  Where I saw the cutest little German toddlers ever.  With their cute little square German backpacks and lunch in their Tupperware containers.  They were all bundled up, like me, trying to battle the cold!  One of my greatest victories that day was figuring out which train platform to stand at, which train to hop on, and which stop to get off at.  Happy to say I got all of those right! : ) Anything like that is a big victory when you’re doing it in a different language.  I explored downtown a little bit, walking between the shops and taking in the city.  They have a city wide display of bears painted in different patterns, much like how throughout Salt Lake/Park City there are different colored and patterned buffaloes.  I saw several of them on my walk, and there was a whole line of them next to a store that I found.  There wasn’t one from the U.S., but from several other countries a lot smaller.  My favorite was the one from Moldova.  Painted on the bear’s stomach was a big map, with two guys standing below it.  One of the guys has a pointer-stick and is pointing to the map.  He has a big wide smile and the caption reads, “Here’s Moldova!”.  It was just so cute, and simple.

That afternoon après lunch, the three of us got all bundled up again and went to Humboldt University, where David is taking some business and economics courses.  After exploring a library whose English and American literature collection rivals any I’ve seen in the states, David and I set out to one of the more well-known museums in Berlin, the Pergamon.  What an incredible museum!  I don’t think I’ve ever described a museum like this, but they really were creative when deciding how to use their space.  The walls were very tall and the rooms had huge vaulted ceilings, and they filled them all up.  One of the first main rooms we walked into had a huge Roman coliseum built right into the back of the room.  Many of the pieces had been excavated years ago, so the displays were half replicas, half originals.  They basically took what they had and filled in the blanks with similar pieces.  It was the same in many rooms that followed, where they displayed beautiful floor tiles and engraved stone.  My favorite wing was the one where they replicated one of the 8 doors of a walled city.  But these weren’t just any walls or doors.  From floor to ceiling they were deep blue (kind of like lapis almost) tiles, with patterns and animals tiled in the middle parts.  The first room was an example of just the door, and in the next room, the walls were covered in dark blue the whole length of the room.  In some cases you could tell which tiles were older and which had been replaced.  It was quite impressive! 

Since it was election night, after a quick dinner we left for a group of American expats who were gathering in Berlin to watch the results roll in.  They had a live feed from CNN.com, and I expect many of the guests stayed all the way until Obama’s acceptance speech, which would be about 6-7am in the morning.  We left around 2:30, settling for sleep instead of crazy celebrations.  It was shocking to see how many Germans were so enthusiastic about the electoral process and the results.  There were almost more Germans there than Americans! 

Wednesday we went for a walk at a castle in Potsdam, a small city to the southwest of Berlin.  It was the castle and grounds for King Friedrich the Great way back when.  And even though we didn’t quite plan for it to get dark at 4:30 in the afternoon (it was PITCH black when we got to the park at 4:45) it was at least nice to see the buildings all lit up : ) We were joking that if I come back to Berlin in the summertime, or at least when there’s SUN, I would see a completely different city, and not recognize a thing.  Probably true.

Since my flight didn’t leave until the early evening on Thursday, I got some more sightseeing in during the morning.  We visited the Berlin Wall Museum, which included testimonies of East and West Berlin residents, outlined most of the history leading up to the construction of the wall, the duration, and the fall.  It was laid out on several floors of a tower, and on the top floor there was a view out to an area of the wall that has been preserved.  Behind the wall that closed off West Berlin to the East, there was a big patch of sand/gravel and a sidewalk where the guards would patrol.  They would keep the sand meticulously combed, so if anyone every escaped through, they could tell the exact steps they took, and either punish the responsible guard, or make sure to strengthen the security of the wall in that section extra well for the future.  There was thick barbed wire lining the top of each wall, as well as big tire-poppers designed to prevent tanks from crossing the barrier.  One other thing I found interesting, if not completely ironic, was the story of a church that was caught in the middle of the borders after the construction of the wall.  The wall closed it off to the West Berliners who had been going to church there each Sunday for years.  For several years, border controllers allowed West Berliners to cross over only to go to church, but they got tired of that after awhile, and destroyed the church. It was only a couple years later, unfortunately, that the wall fell.  Of all things, the church was named The Reconciliation Church, even before all the conflict started.

One of the last things we saw in Berlin that afternoon also happened to be a church.  After visiting the German department store abbreviated KaDaWe (department store of the west, similar to Harrods or Galeries Lafayette) we walked down the street Ryan described as similar to ‘Rodeo Drive’.  At the end of the street was a church that looked like it had seen better days.  I didn’t even understand what happened to it until I got much closer.  The church was bombed several times throughout the war, but instead of tearing it down or restoring it, Berliners left it standing as is.  To me, it was even more shocking a memorial that way- like a living reminder of the destruction that can come from such awful things as war.  Any reconstruction would have somehow taken away the honesty and meaning of the battered church, it was actually quite beautiful. 

My ride back to Paris was uneventful, except if you count it as the first time I saw sunlight in almost a week.  Once we climbed over the clouds we flew towards a magnificent sunset all the way to Paris, and I was lucky enough to snag a window seat. 

So there you go!  My vacance, part deux!  I’ll try to import some pictures when I post this too, we’ll see how that goes : ) Hope all is well, I would love to hear from everyone!

à +

alli

Ps. Just as an afternote, I went to my classes in between writing this entry.  The class that I explained the song to, “Goodbye Earl”, was just too funny.  The song is about two girls, Maryanne and Wanda, who poisoned Wanda’s husband Earl because he was abusing her.  There’s one line in the song that goes ‘Those black-eyed peas? They tasted alright to me, Earl?’  Well, of course I had to explain what black-eyed peas were…. And the only thing close to black-eyed peas that the students knew of was the musical group, of course.  Let me tell you that they were devastated when I broke the news that one of their favorite American rock groups were named after a little vegetable.  I will consider myself responsible if their album sales suddenly fall in Sens, France.  On the other hand, maybe it would help…

Vacances, Part 1

Salut!!  I am back from break, a little sniffly but nothing a restful weekend couldn't cure : )  I realize I have SO much ground to cover, and stories to tell, so I'm planning on doing it in two entries.  The first entry will raconte (tell, share) the first part of my vacation, and I'll have another entry about Berlin.  Since I can't quite figure out how to insert pictures into the body of blog, I'll put them at the beginning for you to see, and then I'll fill in the blanks later! 

This is a statue in one of the main squares in Lyon.






Above, the street of restaurants! Lyon

Left, the view we had along most of our drive- beautiful vineyards! 

Left, the signs we were following the whole vacation it seemed.  Grapes, appropriately enough.

Right, me standing beside some cool grapevines : )
 

A view in Chablis, tiny little vineyard town.  

Ok! Sorry about the picture confusion.  Hopefully all the captions semi line up with the right pictures!  I'm working on getting the rest of mine posted up on Snapfish, so everyone can see all of them.  I'll let you know when I do.

It has been a whirlwind two weeks, that is for sure.  Being back in Sens is actually a relief, since I can rest up and stay in one place for awhile.  With all our plans set, we jumped into our vacation, and what an adventure it was.  Monday morning, in the rain of course, we took the bus to the train station to pick up our rental car.  For those of you who know the Happ family, you'll be disappointed to know our rental wasn't a Grand Am comme d'habitude (as usual), but a tiny little silver Renault.  I was appointed chef, or driver in command, in part because I knew how to drive stick, but also because I was accustomed to driving on the right side of the road (a problem for our British driver...).  And really, I miss driving!  So it was a treat for me.  After getting the hang of all the ronds-points, roundabouts, it was smooth sailing.  

Although we wished several times that we had a nifty GPS, we resorted to our maps and mapquest directions which were 8 times out of 10... adequate.  Better than a map or GPS, however, were the grape signs guiding us along the famous route du vin that winds through Burgundy.  We started following the route which lead us to our first stop, which happened to be at a winery very much in the living room of a family's house.  When we got out of our car and walked up to a gate a little unsure if we had the right place, a woman working in the yard told us to come in, she would be right with us.  We assumed we had the right place, and walked cautiously into the yard, a big furry dog welcoming us (well, kind of) at the porch.  We walked into the house and had an incredibly informal wine tasting right there in the living room, the lady's son explaining each wine to us.  Guess when you're a car full of 20 something year old girls doing a wine tour in the rainy off season, you don't exactly have to fight for attention...

Afterwards we hopped back into our car and found the grape trail again, which lead us to Chablis, a tiny little wine town south east of Sens.  Which would probably go unnoticed if it weren't for the vineyards surrounding it.  Of course with our great timing, we got there just before the 12-2 lunch break, in time to grab some sandwiches and coffee.  We did a little walking tour of the town in the rain, admiring the tiny cobblestoned streets.  That's where one of the above pictures was taken, the one with the river and bridge with the vineyards in the background.  On our way back into the centre ville we stopped at a wine 'cave' and tasted some more wine.  Let me mention that in both places where we tasted the wine, we were trying different types of Chablis, the light white wine known in the area.  Although they were all similar, each varied a little with sweetness and body.  

After Chablis, we followed more grape signs, following what I'm sure most all the tourists do.  I would love to see it in the high season, since I'm pretty positive we had the whole place to ourselves.  It was rainy and post-harvest, but it was still awesome to be surrounded by the vineyards.  At one point, we were driving down a very narrow dirt/stone path with grape plants on either side and in front of us as far as we could see.  We got out to take a few pictures, and followed more grape signs along tiny winding roads, singing to ourselves since our radio didn't work!  

The rest of the day was spent driving through vineyards, as we made our way down to Vezelay where we were going to spend our first night.  Now when I made the reservation for the hostel a week before, the man asked me if we had sleeping bags.  I asked him if they were necessary, and he said, no there were blankets provided, but if we were staying in other hostels, we might want to invest in sleeping bags anyways, or bring our own sheets.  I tried to explain that we couldn't really bring our sheets along everywhere, and that the blankets would be enough.  HA.  When we pulled up to the hostel, which very much resembled a KOA campground, I began wishing I took him up on the sleeping bag thing.  He lead us to our room (we were the ONLY guests) and turned on the heat after trying to light the radiator at least 8 times (we had to pay extra for the heat btw) and explained that we could leave the key by the front door in the morning.  Meaning, he was there only for checkin, and left us the entire hostel/campground that night.  The door to our room locked, but not the outside door, and all I could hope when I woke up in the middle of the night, was that Texas Chainsaw Massacre wasn't based on real-life occurences in  Vezelay, France.  To comfort all parties concerned, we had a thankfully  uneventful night, and packed up in the morning to explore Vezelay.  

Although finding breakfast was somewhat of a challenge, we enjoyed walking up and down the one street that goes through the center of Vezelay.  It reminded me a lot of another town in northwestern France, called Mont Saint Michel.  Vezelay was built in a very similar way, with a town set on a hill leading up to a cathedral (in Mont St. Michel's case, it's a monastery).  We made our way up to the Cathedral, stopping at an awesome little market on the way up, and poking around in some of the cute antique stores.  It was a chilly morning, and I'm sure the place is just crawling in the summertime, when people don't have to bundle up in scarves, hats, mittens, wool socks and leg warmers.  Yes, I was wearing all those,  minus the hat. 

After Vezelay, we hopped back in our car and drove on, stopping briefly at Bazoches, a castle we found on the side of the road (I realize that's an odd sentence, but I assure you, it's absolutely true. You find interesting things on the sides of the road here in France).  We drove to another tiny town called Autun, where we stopped to explore again.  In most of these towns, we would walk around for awhile until we were freezing and wind beaten, at which point we would seek refuge in a café, thawing out and planning our next step.  I should have kept track of the number of cafés we stopped at, I'm sure I'd even be shocked with my findings.  After wandering around, seeing the cathedral, etc, we headed for Beaune, our next stop.  

Beaune is a cute little town south of Dijon, and we stayed a full day and a half there before heading even farther south to Lyon.  Also on the wine route, there were several caves, wineries, and lieux de dégustation, places where you could taste wine.  We visited the morning market, the Hotel de Ville, and a wine museum.  The Hotel de Ville was used as a hospital way back when- it must have been a pretty spectacular hospital too, with the painted ceilings and red velour curtains draping each bed.  It was the big scandal in those times that patients of both sexes were placed in the same hall, and someone donated a large amount of money so they could build another wing so women could be placed in a separate wing from men.  The outside courtyard was beautiful, the roofs tiled with colorful patterned tiles.  After we dropped our car off at the Beaune train station, with a few tears in our eyes, we decided to see a movie and grab a late dinner in town.  

Lyon was our next stop, and I'm really glad we made that one of our stops.  Lyon is the second biggest city in France, and also the only city besides Paris that is divided up into arrondissements or neighborhoods.  It has the same big city feel as Paris, but it's so much different.  Our hostel was up on a hill overlooking the whole city, which was a great choice.  It was pretty far away from the train station, but was completely worth the walk/bus ride/funiculaire ride.  The best way I can describe a funiculaire is that it's a train/elevator that takes you through a tunnel up to the top of the hill.  Our hostel was a happening place, the biggest in Lyon, and it was incredibly international.  We dropped our stuff off and headed out to explore, gloves and umbrellas in hand.  Lindsay had already spent some time in Lyon before this trip, so she showed us some interesting things.  We went to the Musée des Tissus, basically a fabric and textile museum, where they had collections of old silks and clothes from all over the world.  We walked down the main street in Lyon, Rue de la République, with the rest of the shoppers trying their best to shop but avoid the rain at the same time... One morning we climbed up to a church on top of a hill, called the Fourvière.  It was unexpectedly gorgeous and very impressive church.  Lindsay told me as we were walking in the doors, that I would be surprised at the inside, and she was right.  It's tall walls and vaulted ceiling were decorated with mosaics and paintings of bible parables and passages.  The crypt on the bottom floor was nearly the same size as the main floor, with the Hail Mary prayer translated into at least 35 languages all along the stairs on the way down.  It was impressive, as was the view from the terrace outside of the church, where we could see the edges of the Alps all the way in the distance.  I'm sure it would be even more spectacular on a sunny day- it made me miss my mountains at home!  

Other highlights of Lyon included dinner at one of Lindsay's favorite restaurants (and now one of mine, too) called La Menthe, and a Saturday morning market in the Lyonnais neighborhood called La Croix Russe.  It reminded me so much of Montmarte, in Paris, because of the climb we made up hundreds of stairs, and the view we had as a reward once we were up.  We rejoiced in some of the only sunshine we had seen the whole vacation, and celebrated by eating our lunch OUTSIDE!  You just have to celebrate the small things in life : )

We headed to the train station late Saturday afternoon, heading up to Paris.  I left on Sunday morning for Berlin, while the rest of the girls stayed in Paris for the last days of our vacation. 

So I think I'll give you a break to digest, and my hands a break from typing- I'll post up another entry soon that tells all about Berlin!  Starting with the 6 hours I spent in the Paris Orly Sud airport before I even set on my way.  Yep, nothing but fun : ) Happy Sunday everyone!

alli