2009 - France

france 1

table of contents

masthead

Q&A

4

France

8-9

Tufts Traveler staff

Paris in a Day

10

Katherine Sadowski

A Ride on the Paris Metro

11

Lisa Chow

Paris Museum Guide

12

Emily de Armas

Eating Grenoble

13

Samantha Tempchin

Legacy of Talloires

14

Nunu Luo

Unique Summer Experience

15

Elizabeth Schrott

Le Mémoire Française

16-17

Elyse Rosenberg

No Longer a Foreigner

18

Katelyn Puishys

Naruwan

19

Samuel Lee

A Weekend in Valparaiso

20

Swapna Maruri

Willkommen Zum Oktoberfest

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Rachael Brill

table of contents

[FOCUS]

22-23

Lauren Lee

Sophia Michelen

Photo by Kelsey Bell

letter from the editor Salut tout le monde! After featuring India, China, and the islands of the Caribbean, Tufts Traveler has finally come to Europe. France has always been the romantic country, characterized by flavorful food, beautiful architecture, art, music, fashion, and literature. With such a rich culture, France has served as the destination for many Tufts students, whether studying abroad on the mountains of Talloires, backpacking along the Seine River, or people-watching on the Champs-Elysées. So it only seems appropriate to feature France as our first European country. And for those who have never been to France, hopefully this issue will inspire you to experience one day all of the wonders that this amazing country has to offer.

editor-in-chief • samuel lee • managing editors • ally gimbel • anna simon • laina rosebrock • boston editor • lauren lee • features editors • emily de armas • shaye martin • nancy wang • op/ed editors • rachael brill • shuran fan • nunu luo • swapna maruri • yushi wang • jiehua wu • photo editor • anna simon • layout editors • ally gimbel • tim li • swapna maruri • laina rosebrock • anna simon • contributing writers • rachael brill • lisa chow • emily de armas • lauren lee • nunu luo • swapna maruri • sophia michelen • katelyn puishys • elyse rosenberg • katherine sadowski • elizabeth schrott • samantha tempchin • contributing photographers • kelsey bell • meena bolourchi • kristin brethel • rachael brill • lisa chow • laura gilbert • rebecca grunberg • emma hanson • samuel lee • swapna maruri • sophia michelen • rebecca safier • elizabeth schrott • samantha tempchin • ivy vo • russell wang •

Happy travels, Samuel Lee Cover photo by Meena Bolourchi

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a & q

a t n e r ?

I t n o rtme Lee d a w n e r p u o a a L H ation c a v auri

Want a truly authentic and aM cheap travel experience in the ophi hi, S c r u lo o city/country of your choice? Look no furB eena ng, M ther than vacation rentals, which are fast becoming a W l el Russ popular choices. The process is easy plus the benefits of an aparts by o t o Ph ment or house rental definitely beat out hotels and hostels by a mile (private rooms! bathrooms! kitchen!). The soon-to-be vacationer simply goes online, peruses apartments or houses in their price range and desired location. Then, one contacts the owner directly via phone or e-mail to settle on method of payment (most accept all major credit cards) and date(s) of stay.

The major advantage of staying at a vacation rental over an exorbitantly priced hotel is that you can stay for as short as a day or week or negotiate rates for longer. Generally speaking, the longer you stay (a week and up) the cheaper the rate becomes, unlike hotels where you are charged a flat rate per night.

On top of being cheaper than standard hotels, you can choose where exactly in the city you want to be instead of being at the mercy of a few touristy areas where hostels and hotels are usually located. na M

wap len, S

iche

Some of the most commonly used websites at the moment are www.vrbo.com, www.vacationrentals. com, and www.triprentals.com. Rentals are available in the 50 states as well as many popular travel destinations in other countries (although options in Asian countries are somewhat sparse). As with all internet transactions like eBay and Craigslist, it’s always best to do a little homework and read reviews on the landlord at the bottom of each individual listing. Fortunately, if you arrive and discover that the rental is drastically different from the listing you viewed, most rental websites will fully refund you and help you find another place to stay.

Do you have any travel related questions? email us at tufts.traveler.magazine@ gmail.com

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Photo by Meena Bolourchi

6

7

FRANCE FACTS & FIGURES There are some

In France,

there are

40,000

more dogs

ch창teaux in France

20% of French people live in

than kids

Under French law, it is illegal to call a pig

Paris

Napoleon

Photos by: Samantha Tempchin, Laura Gilbert, Emma Hanson, Ivy Vo, Rebecca Grunberg, Sophia Michelen

8

99

Paris in a Day

by Katherine Sadowski Photo by Emma Hanson

F

or those of you who have not had the extreme pleasure of actually living in the City of Lights, I have come up with the perfect “Paris in a Day” plan. One day is limiting when you consider just how many things there are to see and do in Paris, especially considering that it would take at least a few days to get through the entire Louvre. There have been entire books written for the purpose of discovering Paris, and while I recommend those, it would take a whole semester to be able to see and do most of those things. If you’re only in Paris for a little bit—which is probably best for your wallet— try out this schedule. I guarantee you’ll have a good time…if it doesn’t rain. In that case you

could give a shot at conquering the Louvre.

Wake up and look out the window: Paris will almost always look distinctly like Paris no matter which neighborhood you’re in. If the sight of broad boulevards and rows of apartments with Mansard roofs and large French doors isn’t enough to remind you that you’re here, grab a real French croissant at a boulangerie or a café. Or, even better, some pain au chocolat, which is a croissant’s chocolate cousin. The French enjoy chocolate with their breakfast. You can’t argue with that.

Once you’ve been sated by your “little lunch,” which is the literal translation for breakfast in French, get walking.

You’ll have to build up an appetite for the real thing. Walk along the Seine, which will most likely take you to the Eiffel Tower depending on where you start and which direction you’re heading in. You’re only here for a day, so check it out.

It’s hard to miss. The Eiffel Tower is also extremely close to such attractions as Les Invalides, L’Ecole Militaire, Place de la Concorde, and a whole bunch of museums. I recommend crossing the Seine and checking out the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs-Elysees, making your way down the Jardin des Tuileries to the Louvre. The Louvre is pretty impressive on the outside, so get a good look. If you have time and are feeling touristy enough (and if it’s still there), there’s a giant Ferris wheel, somewhat like the London Eye, right near the Tuileries that will give you a great view of the whole city. It’s a relatively cheap way to relax your legs while getting a better look at one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

If you have time on your walk then stop and window shop on the street between Concorde and Madeleine (get out your handy-dandy metro map to figure out where these are), Rue Royale, which has some of the most impressive window displays I’ve ever seen. There’s no need to step inside since the prices may take away a bit of the fun. The chocolate shops will get your mouth watering, so eventually you’ll want to make your way towards lunch.

Once you’ve seen a good bit of the Rive Droite, head south of the Seine again to La Grande Epicerie, a giant food market near the metro stop Vaneau (on the 10) and buy yourself some lunch. Get some baguette sandwiches here or at a boulangerie, but don’t forget a bottle of wine, or even better, wine in juice boxes. Take it to the Jardin du Luxembourg for a picnic. Afterward, I recommend exploring the Latin Quarter and the St. Germain-des-Pres neighborhood to get a sense of what hip and bustling Parisian neighborhoods are like, and après, check out Ile-de-la-Cité for some true historical perspective and perhaps a little Notre Dame action. Then head north a bit and meander through the Marais, one of the oldest districts in Paris, complete with narrow cobblestone streets, cute boutiques, and falafel. Try to resist. Or better yet, give in.

By now you may be tired from all of the walking and the sightseeing, and lucky for you there’s the perfect cure: catch the 1 line to the Tuileries stop on the Rue de Rivoli and find Angelina’s, which has the best hot chocolate in Paris, and maybe in the world. I was told this many times before I came here and I shrugged everyone off—that’s quite a big statement. But even with this enormous expectation you won’t be disappointed.

At this point I recommend a late afternoon nap, perhaps initiated by the hot chocolate coma. Once you’ve gathered up your strength, prepare for the grand finale of your day in Paris: the Refuge des Fondues in the 18th arrondissement.

This tiny restaurant on the Rue des Trois Freres (Metro: Abbesses) will fill you with delicious fondue until your heart’s content. The restaurant is so small that you’ll have to climb on top of the table in order to get to your seat, and you may end up rubbing elbows with the people sitting next to you. It can be a great way to make international friends. The best part: the wine comes in baby bottles. So drink and be merry and indulge in all the best things French: wine and cheese, good friends, and Paris.

10

A Ride on the

Paris Metro

One of my favorite places in Paris is line 6 on the metro. I usually think of the subway system merely as a mode of transportation, a necessity rather than a destination. But line 6 is different. Mostly above ground, the elevated train tracks allow passengers to see many parts of the city from up above. During my semester abroad in Paris last spring, I would often take the metro to my host family’s apartment in the sixteenth arrondissement from Montparnasse, a busy commercial district in the fourteenth arrondissement where several Tufts classes are held.

Before boarding a train from the Montparnasse-Bienvenüe station, however, it was necessary to find my way to the appropriate platform.

This was always the unpleasant part, especially at rush hour. The station provides access to four different metro lines and also connects to the Gare Montparnasse, where TGV trains (France’s high-speed rail service) depart. Simply said, the station is huge. Combined with the fact that seemingly hundreds of commuters are trying to get home, the maze of tunnels underground can make one feel like a rat racing alongside other speed-walking rats (albeit very stylishly dressed ones). One segment of the station even features a moving walkway that is almost two hundred yards long. Amusingly enough, there are two conveyer belts to choose from—a slower rolling one labeled “Très confortable,” and another marked “Très rapide,” for those who prefer the fast lane.

Getting on the train is a relief, even when surrounded by many other commuters. Unlike in the States, a ride on the Paris metro is likely accompanied by an amateur musician performing for money. These performers often play for several stops before switching cars, and can range from individual singers and accordion players to instrumental duets of songs from France, the United States, Italy, Latin America, and other regions of the world. Each of the metro musicians usually carries around his or her own

by Lisa Chow

stereo system, which consists of a speaker hooked up to a compact metal rolling cart. Twice, I even saw a man set up a long, black curtain between two train poles and present a skit of two puppets rapping in French.

Once the train zooms up above ground, one is eyelevel with French windows and curvy black iron balconies of six-story apartments. From up above, one catches glimpses of life in Paris— corner cafés, Monoprix supermarkets, patisseries, grocery stands, Invalides, gardens, kids playing. As the train moves past the Dupleix station and towards Bir-Hakeim, the Eiffel Tower comes into view. Rising over the Seine, it is a beautiful structure to see, no matter how cliché that may sound. If it is early afternoon, there might be a group of schoolchildren on the train, and they would rush to look out the windows, squeaking excitedly, “Le Tour Eiffel! Le Tour Eiffel!” If it happens to be late evening or night, one might be lucky enough to pass the Eiffel Tower on the hour, which is when it starts to sparkle for a few minutes. At that time, it would be groups of tourists who exclaim and whip out their cameras for a souvenir photo. Even after weeks and months of passing the Eiffel Tower by train, I never failed to share the delight of these children and tourists. What could be better than gazing at the Eiffel Tower every day on the way home?

As the train approaches the Trocadéro station, it dips underground again and pulls into the transfer point for line 9. Here, you can get off and see one of the best views of the Eiffel Tower, as well as watch street performers or buy inexpensive key chains from the persistent vendors.

After a whirlwind walk through the Montparnasse metro station, listening to musicians, and taking in slices of daily life in Paris, it’s best to get off the metro to stroll under the Eiffel Tower yourself or find some of those cute cafés and patisseries. Line 6 is a charming little introduction to Paris, and it’s just the beginning.

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Paris Museum Guide

by Emily de Armas Paris is one of the most magical cities on earth: the quaint streets, the smell of croissants wafting in the air, the whimsy and frivolity of gold-embellished statues and impeccably dressed Parisians sitting in cafes. It’s a cliché and a time-honored sentiment, but there’s just a certain something about Paris. Maybe it’s the romantic atmosphere or the sophisticated French cuisine, but Paris is a city with everything you would ever want in a cultural mecca, particularly in the way of a bustling art scene. As the home of the “Mona Lisa” and countless other works, Parisian museums are well worth standing in line for.

The Louvre: Probably the most famous museum in the world, the Louvre houses a massive collection of very impressive art. With a collection of 35,000 works, there are a few approaches to tackling the Louvre—you can either go early with the intention of seeing as much as possible by systematically planning a course through the many wings, or you can pick and choose the works you want to see without attempting to see it all. Either way, I recommend setting aside a day to visit the Louvre properly. This museum is inevitably crowded no matter the season, but it’s best to go later in the day to avoid the morning rush.

“The Winged Victory” and the “Mona Lisa” are among the most famous works in this museum but they are not the only jewels. Monumental works by Inge, Gericault, Delacroix and David are housed in adjacent rooms to the “Mona Lisa” and deserve as much attention.

The Musée D’Orsay: Less daunting that the Louvre, the Musée D’Orsay features French art dated from 1848 to 1915. Best known for its collection of impressionist works, this unique museum housed in an old railway station is well worth visiting. The upper levels display seminal works by the Impressionists, such as Renoir’s “Bal au Moulin de la Galette,” Manet’s “The Luncheon on the Grass,” and Montmartre. Be sure to check out the lower level where the larger pieces are kept, in particular, Courbet’s larger-than-life “Burial at Ornans” and Manet’s “Olympia”. The Musée D’Orsay is also home to a great collection of drawings by Odilon Redon, as well as to a sculpture court in the center of the museum.

Espace Dali, Montmarte: Located in the pedestrian area of Montmarte, where artists such as Picasso, Toulouse Lautrec, and Dali made their home, this museum is a hidden gem that includes many of Dali’s lesser known surrealist drawings and sculptures. The collection includes some of Dali’s short films and rarer etchings, a colorful series of drawings of famous tales such as Don Quixote and Romeo and Juliet.

Centre Pompidou: The façade of this modern art museum is as interesting as the collections housed inside.

Designed by Renzo Piano, the exterior patio and fountain is a great place to sit and people watch. The collection itself is located on the second and third floors and is deceptively large. Consisting of 20th century works of art as well as Post-Impressionist works, this museum has many famous paintings by Europeans and nonEuropeans alike. The top floor features special exhibits as well as video screenings.

Before you leave, ride the escalators located on the outside of the façade to the top floor for an amazing view of Paris.

Photo by Samantha Tempchin Opposite page: Photo by Rebecca Safier

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Eating Grenoble

by Samantha Tempchin One thing is very clear about my study abroad experience: I went to England to study Shakespeare, and I went to France to eat. Don’t get me wrong, British food significantly exceeded my (admittedly low) expectations. London’s fish and chips, chicken tikka masala, and Sunday roast with Yorkshire pudding quickly became my new favorite things. But while the deep-fried joy of Britain’s food filled my stomach, the delicate art of French cuisine ran away with my heart.

Thanks to the wonders of cheap European air travel, I was able to cross the channel to France twice while I was studying in London. My first excursion was to Grenoble, a small city surrounded by big mountains in the southeast Rhône-Alps region. I flew into the miniscule Grenoble-Isère airport and took a quick bus into the city itself to meet Clare, an old friend who was studying abroad there. Clearly, Clare knows me pretty well: she met me at the bus terminal with a pain au chocolat in hand. Unlike the generic, half-inked stamp in my passport, the pastry’s buttery flakes said “Welcome to France” loud and clear. This was going to be a weekend for eating well, indeed.

The first things I noticed were the pastries. Oh, the pastries. Over the course of the weekend, we must have visited half the patisseries in town. Citywide, the tartelette framboise (raspberry tarts) emerged as the clear winner. Even from this chocoholic’s perspective, the combination of ridiculously fresh raspberries, sweet-but-not-too-sweet custard, and dark cookie-like crust is hard to beat.

For dinner, Clare and her friends had planned a home-cooked meal. One of the activities her abroad program offered was a French cooking class, so we went over to a friend’s apartment to make the light but flavorful tomato tart they had learned to cook in that week’s lesson. [Lucky for my squeamish side, Clare is a vegetarian: the non-veggie cooking class had learned to prepare a bone marrow dish that week.] Prefaced with a unique, tangy mozzarella salad appetizer and finished with an inexpensive (but quality!) Côtes du Rhone wine, it was a very successful meal.

After a night out on the town encountering the “giraffe” (a 2-litre tower of Stella Artois) at a decidedly continental bar called London Pub, we awoke to a mystery smell wafting up from the kitchen. Clare was skeptical at first, having previously discovered her host father, a Michelin food critic, cooking a whole octopus in a giant pot on the stove, but what

we found was far sweeter. This time, he had turned the pile of fresh strawberries we’d seen on the kitchen table the night before into enormous jars of jam. Eaten on waffles with powdered sugar, the hours-old jam was the perfect start to the day.

The gloriously sunny afternoon provided the perfect opportunity for hiking. A strenuous walk put us at the top of the Bastille, a network of fortifications overlooking the city. Despite being surrounded by three mountain ranges and considered by the French to be the “capital of the Alps,” Grenoble proper is actually the flattest city in France. This meant that our steep hike was richly rewarded by clear views of the entire city laid out before us. The steep hike also meant that we were starving by the time we reached the top.

Passing over the sit-down restaurant, we headed to the more student-budget-friendly take-away stand.

The small stone building served up a wonderfully crisp tartine chèvre, pairing peppers and goat cheese on a flaky crust. Of course, our tarts and sandwiches tasted even better eaten on the uppermost roof of the fortress, from which Mont Blanc, 150km away, is visible a clear day.

Owing to the fact that we had nowhere urgent to go for several hours, we were able to go to an actual sit-down restaurant for dinner that night. A word of advice: if you get nervous in a restaurant when twenty minutes pass without sight of your waiter, dining in France may not be for you. We definitely used up the entire two hours we’d allotted for dinner—and then some. Clare took me to a family-run Breton-style crêperie with a large local following. Over the course of two and a half hours, I enjoyed the sweet cider traditionally served with crêpes (cidre doux), a ham and gruyere savory crêpe (actually called a galette, made with buckwheat flour), an over-the-top dessert crêpe that included bananas, chocolate sauce, and chantilly, as well as lively conversation in broken Frenglish with the delightful old women at the adjacent table. The meal was well worth the wait and the crowded quarters, and ended up not deflating my wallet as much as I’d expected. We capped off the night with wine and cheese at a friend’s apartment, and I went to bed with an extremely happy stomach.

Back on the bus to the airport the next morning with another delightful pain au chocolat in hand (from a patisserie Clare’s host mom deemed “just average,” but which certainly seemed more than passable to me), I reflected on my all-too-brief time in this curious city that Starbucks has yet to colonize. From the stunning Alpine views to the rich goat cheeses, this was certainly a visit to remember, both culinary and otherwise.

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Legacy of Talloires:

by Nunu Luo

This year is the 30th anniversary of the European Center, which sponsors the Tufts in Talloires and Annecy programs, where students spend parts of their summers living in a priory in the French countryside. Adam Schoene, program coordinator for Tufts in Talloires, Maura Leary, program coordinator for Tufts Summit and Tufts in Annecy, and Gabby Gabriella Goldstein, administrative director of the European Center tell us about this auspicious program.

Tufts Traveler : How does Talloires reflect the French Culture?

Gabby: Talloires is the antithesis of Paris. It’s an agriculture community, a place that is guided by nature and the weather. For example, when you’re driving along the road, you’ll come across cows simply grazing there.

Furthermore, Everything over there is home grown.

There’s a special connection between the land and the people. Oh! And the cheese! The cheese is magnifique.

We come back from Talloires thinking that if we see any more cheese again, it will only be too soon.

Adam: The region itself is very special. Talloires is in the region of Savoy and it was the last part to get attached to France. It’s proximity to Italy and Switzerland helps one understand how France is situated in Europe.

TT: Describe the Priory that the students stay in.

Gabby: The Priory is a place that holds mystical charm, it has a certain gravitas. It was originally a place of reflection, a peaceful place.

Maura: There’s something that’s not really tangible. There’s this feeling in the atmosphere, it’s like you’re stepping into living history.

TT: What can Talloires provide for Tufts students?

Gabby: For one, it provides students another dimension of learning. The way you learn goes beyond what you can accomplish with pen and paper. It represents the best of Tufts in some way because it takes learning to a new, experiential level. Furthermore, students are able to connect with their professors in a way that the lecture classes at Tufts might not allow. The teachers that go there are also blown away by the beauty of the region so it’s a shared experience for both.

Maura: I remember when I first flew with a group of kids from Boston to Geneva. During the drive from Geneva to Annecy/Talloires, everyone was resting on the bus exhausted from a long trip.

Then, suddenly, we were driving over the Pont de la Caille, a bridge with a huge deep gorge below it. One by one, the kids woke each other up and in an instant, everyone was on one side of the bus, mesmerized by the scenery, I was almost afraid that the bus was going to tip over!

TT: How has the European Center served as a bridge between Talloires and Tufts?

Gabby: The people of Talloires all know Tufts. There are so many memories and connections that are created for both sides during our trips there over the summer. All the local merchants and shopkeepers are fond of us. Throughout the years, a trust for the students has slowly developed. The minute we arrive in town, we’re already welcome because of the Tufts name.

Once, an alum with no connection was just traveling in the region and when she told a local shopkeeper that she was from Boston, his reply was, “Oh! You must be from Tufts!” The kindness both sides have experienced over the years leads to a strong foundation between two very different parts of the world.

14

Looking for a Unique Summer Experience?

by Elizabeth Schrott Spend a month in the charming French village, Le Chambon-sur-Lignon, located in the Massif Central region of France. The history of Le Chambon compels thousands of visitors to spend a summer there each year and immerse themselves in its spectacular culture. During World War II when the Nazi’s were occupying France, there were three Protestant pastors living in Le Chambon who believed it was imperative to help Jewish children escape persecution. They communicated with local townspeople and via the railroad that went through their village, transported thousands of Jewish children to houses and farms in and around Le Chambon. These courageous people risked their lives, yet did not take any form of heroic credit. They saved these children because they believed it was what they had to do. Today there is a plaque in the town commemorating the people for their acts of courage and kindness.

After the war the three pastors built a school called the Collège Cevenol. To this day the Collège Cevenol is an international French high school. Initially, the school ran on private funding, but with passing years their reserve has begun to dwindle. As a result, the American alumni of the school created a group called the American Friends of the Collège Cevenol, designed to send one group per summer to provide aid to the school in areas where they cannot afford to hire their own employees.

For one month a group of students from all across America live in dorms in the Collège Cevenol and work together doing various community service projects on the campus. In previous years students have done the following: sanded and varnished the doors and windows to the cafeteria, painted the outside of the atelier, painted the interior rooms of the director’s house, planted gardens, painted lines on the basketball and tennis courts, and other smaller urban beautification projects. These projects are extremely gratifying and significantly help the Collège Cevenol to keep their school from disrepair.

Another important aspect of this program is the fact that students have the opportunity to interact with refugees who are seeking asylum in France and living in Le Chambon. These refugee families come from countries such as Armenia, Albania, and Angola; nations that are not safe for them to live in. According to regulations that the refugees must adhere, to they are not allowed to work and earn a living. Consequently, their time awaiting asylum is slow and at points uneventful. For participants in the program, it is important to develop and maintain lasting relationships with these people. In recent years students have interacted with the refugees by celebrating birthdays or Bastille day, learning how to cook specialties from the refugees’ hometowns, and listening to them share their tragic experiences that forced them to leave their former countries. It is heartbreaking to hear what these families have been through, yet their strength and hospitality is remarkable.

In addition to interacting with refugees, students gain the experience of living in a French village. There are a plethora of activities to do in Le Chambon and day trips are taken over the weekends to various cities or beautiful natural sites. Students can spend their Saturdays shopping for locally grown fruit and cheese at the market, having lunch at the delicious creperie, or eating pastries in the town square. There are places to hike, rent bikes, and ride horses. In recent years some amazing weekend trips included a hike to the apex of an ancient volcano, visits to local art galleries, museums, and churches, a trip to the nearby city Le Puy, an excursion to the medieval fortress, Polignac, and going to see the Tour de France.

Overall, the summer program run by the American Friends of the Collège Cevenol provides students with a once-in-a-lifetime experience to explore the diverse aspects of a small town with a rich history, while having an amazing time in France. If you are interested in participating in this program please visit the website: http://www.cevenolfriends.org.

Photos by Kristin Brethel and Emma Hansen

15

le Mémoire Français

by Elyse Rosenberg

“Trois billets, s’il vous plait,” I asked in my very best accent, handing the driver a few coins as he printed three tick-

finish every last morsel of food from the beautifully crafted

so momentously transformed me.

serving bowls. “Il faut finir!” she always said, “we must fin-

It was three months into my semester abroad when they

ish!” I translated almost the entire evening, as I talked about

came, exactly when I needed a break from people and rushing

my time at Tufts and in Paris since I had last seen them and

around and the whirlwind of the city, exactly when I needed some

answered questions about all of their careers and childhoods.

grounding and a taste of home.

My parents’ jaws dropped simultaneously as Marie-Noel ex-

ets. I gave one to each of my parents, then demonstrated how

We had gotten off the train, meandered through the familiar

plained—in English, with my help—that she grew up in the

to stamp them using the little machine at the front of the bus.

and cozy streets to our hotel, and gone out to walk around, remi-

only town in France without a train station. Having grown up

Maintaining our balance as well as we could as we tore through

nisce, and explore. Then I pulled out my cell phone to call the peo-

in Brooklyn and New Haven, this idea was difficult for them

the narrow French streets, I pointed out all of my favorite stores,

ple whom we were so excited to see, my host family from when I

to fathom. Completely satiated, we ventured upstairs to look

cafés, gardens—anything that would fill in the gaps left by the pho-

had lived there. Yves and Marie-Noel are a relatively older couple,

at old family photographs and albums of their recent vaca-

tographs I had taken and the stories I had told; anything to paint

with two grown children who had moved away. They lived in

tions to Tunisia and China. Yves even attempted to show my

a brighter, more detailed picture. As we approached the lake and

Annecy-le-Vieux, the older part of town, in a little house way up

parents how to make these professional-looking albums on

caught our first glimpse of the sunset over the snow-capped Alps,

on the hill, with a tiny little yard and a cherry tree. I could not wait

iPhoto. It was somewhere in these moments of shared laugh-

like something you would find on a postcard but never actually ex-

to see them again, to see my room and the garden and the table in

ter and connection that I began to realize that it was not sim-

pect to witness, I watched my parents’ eyes widen in amazement

the cozy kitchen to which a steaming bowl of café au lait and bread

ply in the words that were spoken that evening where these

just as mine had so many times the previous summer.

smothered in Nutella had drawn me every morning, and a different

two pieces of my life began to meld, but the melting was big-

mouth-watering specialité de l’Haute Savoie, specialty of the region

ger than that, more than that. It was the fact that we were all

we were in, had drawn me every night.

there, together in that little house hidden away in the French

It had been just under a year, but within minutes I was back in that reverie, in which the mountains engulfed me and the lake swallowed my sadness and the sudden rainstorms washed away anything that wasn’t wonder or bliss. And the cheap but omnipresent

Tu nous apelleras quand vous serez arrivés, they had e-mailed me: call us when you’ve arrived.

Alps, sharing this one common experience. I remember how the language barrier suddenly seemed so insignificant, how

wine made it all that much sweeter. I knew it wasn’t just because I

The bus ascended higher and higher up the hill, along the

between translation and broken sentences and mostly just the

was across the Atlantic Ocean, its comforting expanse placing three

route I had taken at the end of every day. I could sense how excited

desire to connect, to know and understand this other family,

thousand miles between me and reality, or even just because it was

my parents were to see where I had lived and to meet the people

being there felt so natural.

France. I had been there since January, swept up in the sophisticated

who had fed and housed and taken care of their little girl while she

I don’t recall how long we were there, but it was fairly late into

lifestyle of the magical city of lights and love, but it was not until

was so far away, who had taken her hiking and had her try new

the evening when we left, sometime after Yves had had my dad

our train pulled into this small town that looked like Disneyworld

foods and test the limits of her language abilities and adopted her

try the alcohol made from roots an old friend of theirs had made in

and smelled of tulips and cheeses of the Haute-Savoie on that warm

into their family. I was so happy to be taking them to this place that

the 1970’s. Saying goodbye was difficult, but not as much as I had

April evening that the feeling enveloped me again.

I knew was the closest thing to another home—besides our house

expected; after being there, I knew that I would be back, not in the

My life had been different for those six and a half weeks I had

in Connecticut—I had had so far in my life. I was also apprehensive,

way that you say you will see someone again but aren’t sure if you

spent in Talloires. I had been different. I was myself and not myself

although only slightly, about the hours upon hours of translation I

ever will, but in the way that I knew I needed to come back there, to

simultaneously, as though only those aspects I liked were there and

was about to embark on, as Marie-Noel spoke very limited Eng-

see them and breathe the mountain air and feel this way again.

everything else just melted away. Maybe it was the timing, a much-

lish, and Yves even less, and my parents came armed only with my

needed escape smack in the middle of college, after two long years and before the disjointed one I

dad’s few years of high school French.

Marie-Noel drove us back into town, and we wandered through the cobblestone streets among the illuminated old build-

would soon split between Tufts and Paris. Maybe it was the people, the new faces and new friends

We walked down the path from the bus stop and into the

ings and bridges and the reflections sparkling in the canals. I knew

and the absence of those whom I needed to be away from. Or maybe it was just this place, tucked away

Volpi family’s driveway, surrounded by the glow of the sun setting

that my parents had now begun to better understand not only this

in an eastern province of France, with its sparkling blue lake and towering mountains and crisp, fresh

behind the mountains and the delicate scent of late-April flowers.

place, what it meant to me, and why I had been so happy there. But

air and cobblestone streets and ancient castles and quaint canals and patisseries and outdoor markets and

I saw the very top of the cherry tree, its branches dangling around

more importantly they could better understand me, and who I was

paddleboats and carousels. Whatever it was, I was happy there—not simply happy to be seeing another

the skylight in what had been my room. My mom confirmed with

for having experienced this. By meeting my host family and seeing

part of the world, or to be speaking the beautiful language I loved so much, or to be able to walk around

me for the third time in ten minutes how to pronounce my host

where I had slept and eaten and lived, and connecting with them by

with an open bottle of wine at any hour of the day, or to be surrounded by picture-perfect scenery—but I was

parents’ names, although to little avail. Then I rang the doorbell and

a means greater than language, they had seen why I was so at home

actually, totally, genuinely, happy. I’m a worrier by nature, a perfectionist with an incredible attention to detail.

suddenly found myself in a whirlwind of hugs and kisses and intro-

there and why I would always need to go back.

And somehow I had found myself in a picturesque European paradise, where there was nothing to worry about,

ductions in French and English. Yves and Marie-Noel were exactly

My family is where I came from, and so much of what I am, I

how I remembered them—petite, adorable, welcoming, warm, and

am because of them. And so until I was able to share this place with

nothing I wanted to change. I just wanted to soak it all in; to simply exist there.

Photo by Rebecca Grunberg

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or the calm, understated charm of this place that had so briefly but

I have always shared everything with my parents. For me, being an only child meant that

funny. We gave my parents a tour of the house and then sat down

them, the person that I had been during that short time last summer

they were the only people who had been there through it all, who really and truly knew me. I see

for appertifs. This is what I had been nervous about: what will these

wasn’t completely real, to me or to anyone. By sharing and experi-

so much of my parents in myself, from my academic interests to my excessive organization to

four people who do not speak the same language and had been

encing this extraordinary place with the people that mean more to

my love of running. They were always so happy to be able to provide for me everything that I

brought together in this great big world only by me talk about for

me than anything in the world, that part of me became genuine,

could ever need, and although none of us knew it then, that place at that time was exactly what

an entire evening? But what I witnessed was, to me, an inexplicable

whole, grounded.

I needed. And so I wanted them to know this place that meant so much to me; I had told them

miracle of human communication and human connection.

I knew that the next day we would take the train back to Paris,

all about it, about my daily schedule, where I had my classes, what I ate, where we went hik-

We all sat and talked for hours, over copious amounts of

and that in a month after that my European adventures would be

ing, what the town looked like, and I had shown them pictures of all my favorite places from

red wine, delicate salads, a soul-warming casserole of duck

over for the time being. But for that evening, I felt so very far away

every possible angle to try and piece together the scene. But anyone who has ever been to An-

and potatoes, bread and cheese, mousse au chocolat, and coffee

from it all; I was the purest form of myself, cloaked in the cover of

necy, France, will tell you that no amount of photographs could capture the exquisite beauty

and tea; just as I had known she would, Marie-Noel made us

the stars in the night sky in that perfect, tiny corner of the world.

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No Longer a Foreigner

by Katelyn Puishys

Being extremely tall and blond in Germany is nothing special. In fact, it is pretty ordinary, which is exactly how I felt after spending a few months abroad in a small south western German village. I have never felt out of place before. Other than my habit of wearing flip flops, a fashion choice Europeans avoid at all costs, I looked and felt like a native German. After months of fitting in, imagine my surprise when I found myself hundreds of miles away in the middle of Cairo standing out like a black sheep in a herd of white. Unfortunately, in Egyptian culture, it is perfectly okay to shout catcalls and random Arabic phrases at female tourists, especially ones that look as out of place as I did. Fortunately for my sake, two factors helped me keep my sanity while uncomfortably walking through the train station, the bazaar, Alexandria or pretty much any other place that consisted of anyone else other than myself and my two American friends. Firstly, my Arabic is limited to three words (no, thank you, and tip) so any insults in Arabic went completely over my head. Secondly, most Egyptians with some knowledge in English know and unsparingly use the word “beautiful” to sell random trinkets to tourists. Even though it was stressful constantly being talked to by strange men, I felt my ego inflating by the instant. My friend John even joked when we were flying back to Europe that I was taking “the ugly plane back to Germany.” Eventually though, I relaxed enough to thoroughly enjoy my weekend getaway. But don’t let me paint too bleak a picture of the people who live in one of the best places I have ever visited. Beneath the pollution and catcalls is a country filled with many genuine and caring individuals.

We were treated with kindness and respect by so many people that it is impossible to recount them all. My faith in men was restored while, out of sorts in Alexandria’s crowded and bustling downtown, one Egyptian man got off the trolley early and walked with us for five minutes to a bus stop we never would have found on our own.

After my trip, I discovered that there are two ways to do Egypt. The first is by being shuttled from an air conditioned hotel room to a tourist attraction. The second way, and in my opinion the only way to actually experience Egypt, is by exploring the city and actually living the culture. John and I were lucky enough to have had an Arabic speaking friend who was studying abroad in Cairo. She turned out to be the best (and cheapest!) tour guide we could have asked for. After our trip, I really felt like I experienced Egypt and all it had to offer. Of course, we visited the majestic pyramids, towering over the ancient city, grand in their splendor, and did other touristy things like riding camels, but because of our friend we were also able to get into the heart of Cairo and experience its nitty-gritty. And even though I looked and felt like an outsider, I experienced Egypt as an insider; and that made all the difference.

Naruwan

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Samuel Lee

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A Weekend in Valparaiso

by Swapna Maruri

We stepped off a 20-hour bus ride from Buenos Aires to the cool breeze of a Santiago wind. As excited as I was to finally be in Santiago, when I looked around, it appeared to be the same as Buenos Aires: a somewhat European influenced, planned city with a busy urbanite population quickly entering and exiting the nearby Metro station. The early afternoon in Santiago was spent meandering through the financial district, where I changed my US dollars for Chilean pesos. After fanning myself with thousands upon thousands of pesos (it was probably only 60 US dollars), we spent the latter part of our afternoon eating lunch in a plaza and sipping on mote de huesillo, a Chilean favorite of cooked dried peaches and corn rehydrated in sweetened water.

When dining in Chile, it is imperative to take advantage of the amazing fruit available there. As a major exporter of fruit, Chile has some of the best fresh fruit drinks in the world, including the exotic mote described earlier and more traditional drinks like raspberry smoothies. In addition, the avocados are ripe to perfection and make any ordinary sandwich dance upon the palate ever so deliciously. Chile, like Argentina, is also known for its production of wine; so don’t hesitate to indulge in a glass of carmenere with your meal either.

Though Santiago has a lot to offer the curious traveler, the real excitement and intrigue lies just one hour outside the capital in Valparaiso. Valpo, as it is affectionately referred to, is a small, bustling city near the coast, just northwest of Santiago. The eccentricities and uniqueness of the city are instantly apparent upon entering its borders. The structured downtown valley comes into stark contrast with its hilly counterparts that seem haphazardly sprawled. Every winding street leads you up or downhill to some new awaiting adventure.

After checking into our Valpo hostel in the evening, we immediately decided to explore our rather hip surroundings, which had a quaint feel, especially without the small busetas (buses) running throughout the city.

However, this “quaintness” didn’t equate to provinciality, as we discovered by exploring the local music and bar scene, both of which were extremely lively. We visited a couple of bars and drank pisco, another Chilean favorite made from distilled grapes, and then headed to Huevo, a local club.

Huevo is the ideal Valparaiso club, with four floors, each with different music and cheap drinks. There is even a rooftop-turned-dance-floor with a perfect view of the waterfront glowing with the lights of the cityscape.

While on the rooftop, I was pulled onto the dance floor by a random Chilean and given a quick tutorial on salsa moves before attempting to master the steps and dance with this near-pro. Chileans certainly know how to enjoy themselves. The Valparaiso culture is to stay out really late, only ending your night after the sun rises.

Often, hunger kicks in during these wee hours and any native from Valpo knows the best solution is a completo, a hot dog with all the fixings including guacamole, mayonnaise, and ketchup. The long nights are key to the Valparaiso experience, but the daytime activities are just as unique and fun.

One of the coolest places in Valpo is the ex-carcel Parque Central: prison grounds turned into an art commune, where artists come together and create murals, mosaics and much more. Wandering around the center, you’re bound to stumble across countless works that are simply stunning. Furthermore, the atmosphere of a former jail with its constricting cells and structures adds an interesting backdrop to all of the artwork.

Still, Valpo has even more to offer the eager tourist. Take one of the busetas to Viña del Mar and take in a day at the beach, soaking in the powerful Southern suns. Or head downtown to check out some of the small crafts fairs or fresh fruit markets. No matter where you go, you’ll be greeted with the kindness of any native Valaparaisan and a fun activity at your fingertips.

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Willkommen Zum Oktoberfest

by Rachael Brill Imagine an adult carnival, complete with costumes, food, and of course, beer. Insert a little more Bavarian pride, gigantic sausages and pretzels, even more beer, and you will have Oktoberfest in a nutshell.

Two American friends and I arrived in Munich the evening before the opening day of Oktoberfest.

That night, we entertained far off thoughts of what the legendary event would be like, dreaming of beer fountains on golden sidewalks. We woke up at 4 a.m. the next morning to leave our hotel early, hoping to beat the crowds and secure a table at the coveted Schottenhamel tent, where the mayor of Munich traditionally taps the first keg each year. We arrived at the front gate before the sun had even risen. We were wearing what the three of us considered to be appropriate autumn beer-drinking attire: jeans, a fleece, and warm winter hats. When we entered, we immediately felt underdressed. The Germans surrounding us proudly displayed their traditional Bavarian garb. The men donned lederhosen and pointy green hats complete with small red feathers poking out from the sides, while the women wore colorful short dresses with puffy white sleeves, and tightened up their busts to achieve maximum cleavage. Nonetheless, we forged onwards through the thickening crowds, determined to gain entry to the Schottenhamel tent.

We finally reached the tent. Now when I say tent, I’m not talking about an L.L. Bean style, poles and nylon fabric kind of construction. I’m not even talking about an open, white carnival-style tent. I’m talking about a fortified structure, complete with wooden support beams and full heating. We found a place in the long line in front of the main “tent.”

The cold air nipped at our exposed cheeks, but we huddled together with the masses of beer enthusiasts for warmth. There we met Chris, a Munich native, and two Spaniards, Didac and Fran, as we waited together until the tent opened. Meanwhile, the six of us passed around a few Paulaners and bonded over lengthy discussions about the biting Munich wind, our travel plans, and you guessed it, beer. Four hours later, the officials opened the side doors, and the surging crowd pushed forward from behind us in a futile attempt to enter the tent. We stood outside for another hour, shoulder to shoulder with our neighbors, barely able to stretch our arms, let alone to take another sip of beer. Finally, we gave up our aspirations to see the mayor and pushed our way out of the hoards and onto the main street.

As we walked down the main drag between all the tents, each sponsored by a different German beer, we passed countless souvenir stands selling beer steins and T-shirts, food vendors cooking bratwurst and entire chickens, and merry Germans swinging their beer steins in the air. Aromas of baked bread and greasy sausage whirled past our noses as we sat down to finish our beers. We watched a parade of German officials riding decorated horses and wreathed kegs go by, as we nursed the last drops of our drinks. Groups of locals passed by us as well, singing traditional songs and basking in the merriment of the occasion. We didn’t know enough German to join in the song and dance, but we raised our mugs in solidarity, appreciating the vibrant Bavarian culture. I learned that day not only that Germans love their beer, but also that those tasty brews can bring people together from all over the world, at least for one month each year.

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Tufts Traveler: Have you ever faced cultural or social backlash when trying to take pictures in a different country? For example, have people refused to let you take pictures of them?

Sophia Michelen: This past winter when I went to Ghana, I did face backlash when trying to photograph people. Some of the reasons for their unwelcoming attitude towards being photographed had to do with cultural beliefs, but for the most part people enjoyed being photographed. In addition, under various circumstances, I do ask for permission to photograph people and I have had others come up to me directly asking to be photographed.

TT: Given your travel experiences, where have you been able to experience the most through your camera?

SM: There really is a rare moment when I do not have a camera on me at all times – my friends can attest! I really just enjoy photographing anything from scenery to people to events; however, I just love photographing my travels. It is my own form of a diary, a photo-diary, where I can visually record the places I see, the events I experience, and, most importantly, the people I meet around the world.

TT: Do you usually take pictures of people or more scenic landscape pictures? And why?

SM: Up until junior year, my primary focus was photographing scenic landscapes. However, since I have had more opportunities to expand my travels during college, my focus has shifted to people. Since culture, experiences and memories revolve around the nationals, I think photographing them has encapsulated the essence of a country. Whether it is the local taxi driver, the street vendor or the aristocrat, everyone has a story and understanding them gives greater insight to the culture you are experiencing. This way, the travel becomes more meaningful.

TT: What is one advice/tip you would give to someone who wants take their camera and just travel?

SM: Just go out and shoot! Don’t hesitate; play around with shot angles and have fun! There will be so much more meaning behind a photograph if there is a story behind it. Having met the person being photographed, having had a significant experience at a specific location, or just having had a fun day with friends, will make the photographs personal and sentimental.

[FOCUS]

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Sophia Michelen

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