MEANDER & MUSE

Sometimes I have thoughts and if they're coherent enough, I write about them. I spend a lot of time musing over various things and trying to aptly word my feelings. 

[meanderandmuse]

#TellAStory mobile bookshop • Lisbon, Portugal

[meanderandmuse]

Ramblings: On Diversity and #OscarsSoWhite

For the past week or so, #OscarsSoWhite news stories have been prominent on my newsfeed, consistently resurfacing with news of celebrities such as Jada Pinkett Smith and Spike Lee publicly boycotting this year’s ceremony and with the addition of commentary that either veers on the controversial side (re: Charlotte Rampling) or hits the nail on the head (re: Viola Davis, slaying as always). As a female POC of Asian descent, diversity is something I never fail to bring up in numerous conversations with my friends, and it’s something I talk about enthusiastically with a lot of vigour as I take note of it very carefully in the books and media in my surroundings. This topic is no exception, having stemmed from a long message thread I was having with a good friend, which then lead me, a bit of an amateur cinephile, to write a rambling post about it summing my own thoughts and feelings on the matter at 1am on a Saturday night instead of actually tending to academic responsibilities.

I suppose the first thing a lot of people might ask is, “Who cares? It’s just the Oscars ... it’s an awards show. People win or lose and it doesn’t really make a difference to us.” It’s a sentiment I’ve seen repeated in the comments section of some of the articles I’ve read about the whole controversy. Sure, maybe Leo finally winning an Oscar won’t have any impact in my personal life (though I’d sure like to see him win one for The Revenant), but the prestige that comes with an Oscar is a cultural marker. It signifies top talent in the industry, and for many, it serves as a huge career boost. Furthermore, the talent that is nominated for the awards says a lot about what kind of movies are successful and praised in the industry and by the society that pays to indulge in the viewing pleasure of its products. Here’s the kicker that grinds people’s gears though: North America, specifically Canada and the United States, is a multicultural haven full of different ethnicities and backgrounds, a mosaic of cultures ... but from the movies that are constantly heralded and being put out, you wouldn’t know it; it would seem as Caucasian as they come, which is not representative of the population whatsoever. The aspirational tale about the American Dream, for instance, is different for each and every person, but it’s not being reflected in film, and the idea that you can achieve anything as long as you work hard at it is being downtrodden by lack of opportunities present. 

In no way do I mean to suggest that awards should be handed out based on skin colour. Talent is talent, and obviously the best performances should be recognized. But as Viola Davis put in her fantastic Emmys speech, “You cannot win [an Emmy] for roles that are simply not there.” If studios executives don’t find POC actors and their perspectives of approaching and interpreting a film script enough to make bank and be marketable, they simply don’t cast them. When you think about the majority of films, a lot of protagonists that are cast don’t necessarily have to be white or male, but it’s done so in a way that expresses the sentiment that anyone other than that wouldn’t be able to carry the story. If POC actors aren’t able to be cast in the first place due to inherent bias and prejudice from mostly white studio executives, how are they going to be able to be recognized for what they can do and how will they ever get nominated on such a platform like the Oscars? 

The blame is not entirely on the Academy, of course, but there’s a lot to be said when the membership is about 94% male and 77% white (this Vox video explains it well); this means that they have their own opinions of stories that should be told, and those stories inherently ignore the voices and perspectives of others that suffer at the plight of such privilege and ignorance. From this, studio executives want to make movies that will appease the Academy’s central demographic and cast actors and actresses under the guise that white actors are what’s going to sell the characters of the story. Beyond that, the roles that POC actors are normally praised for are roles that are historically seeped -- think Lupita Nyong’go winning in her portrayal of a slave or Octavia Spencer winning in her portrayal of a Southern maid. This brings about the notion that stories of POC actors can only be limited to those of a socioculturally known scope and that they aren’t capable of handling roles outside of conventions associated with a key component of their cultural history and shuts them out of countless opportunities to truly extend themselves and show their ability to act and showcase how they can embrace roles outside of the expected. This is something that I’m particularly fierce about with Asian-American actors who have lampooned against notions that they can only be cast as studious side characters or math nerds but never the action hero or multi-layered personality of a Patrick Bateman sort of character; there is so much more to Asian Americans than cultural stereotypes, which is why I love watching the productions of Wong Fu who showcase Asian American talent in various situations outside of stereotypes and embracing the fact that Asian Americans can hold their own in stories so commonly spun with white actors. 

Film is a powerful agent of discussion, capable of shifting opinions, molding minds, and provoking emotion. It’s meant to identify with its audience in sharing an overall message that will relate and be reiterated in viewings to come. The thing is, though, when you’re not seeing a lot of people on the screen looking like yourself on there, you feel like you’re just watching a story but not really getting much meaning out of it -- at least, not as much as you’d hoped. For myself personally, I have always struggled with having a lack of Asian screen presence in North American media and the tiny amount of representation available is again, very limiting; I find that the reason why I enjoy watching Asian dramas and listening to Asian music is because I’m able to see these faces at the forefront and feel a connection whereas it’s certainly not the case in the culture I live in. Those who are ignoring how POC feel underrepresented and that POC actors are not being allowed the opportunities that white actors are need to realize it’s not just a case of being a sore loser bellyaching about a lack of a nomination; after all, if you look at Sylvester Stallone’s nomination for Creed, you realize that he is the only actor nominated amidst an ensemble cast of black actors (I still can’t believe the Michael B. Jordan snub when he performed superbly in his role). This in turn seems to insinuate that the most important aspect the movie accomplished was including the role of a white male character. And as a note to actors such as Charlotte Rampling making comments on #OscarsSoWhite being racist on whites ... you need to check your privilege (that’s a whole other rant I can ramble on about another day). 

Sure, you can laugh it all off and flippantly mark this controversy as mere mindless fodder about an awards show, but what’s most disconcerting is that it is emphasizing how only stories concerning those who are Caucasian are the only ones worth recognizing and telling and any attempts to stray from that otherwise are patted on the back as a weird consolation. Like, no. However, with the news that the Academy is making huge changes in membership diversity is a step in the right direction that will set the mark, I hope, for studios to take note and will have them shifting to embrace more POC narratives and perspectives to make into film that isn’t just based on cultural convention. Diversity, as Will Smith recently tells Robin Roberts very aptly in this interview, is a superpower, and North American media needs to make better use of it for the sake of properly recognizing merit in film. 

[meanderandmuse]

Országház (Hungarian Parliament Building) • Budapest, Hungary 

[meanderandmuse]

Stationary setup at the Jane Austen Centre • Bath, England 

[meanderandmuse]

A snapshot of Stonehenge • Wiltshire, England

[meanderandmuse]

Things to Attempt in 2016

Happy New Year! I’m not really the best at maintaining resolutions, though I reckon I could probably manage a solid A for effort and trying to keep them in check. For the most part, there’s not too many things I resolve to change, save for the usual regarding health and mentally taking care of myself. In general, I see resolutions as hopes you harbour that may or may not come to fruition; as life is such an unpredictable path, one never knows what really will become of what you initially intended because it almost never actually goes that way. 

My first day of 2016 has been peaceful so far; it’s the last day I get to spend with my brother as he heads out of town and back up to school tomorrow morning with my parents. I’ve loved having him around again, as I still can’t quite get over being home alone without having him blasting rap music in the other room or coming into my room for chats. Our family had a wonderful time being altogether this holiday season given that I wasn’t around last year, and it was nice to spend time with them. I realize that as I get older, such moments might be harder to come by. 

So, getting down to it, here are things to keep in mind of for a new year that I will attempt to carry out:

Eat healthier (read: less meat consumption, better portion controlling, consistent intake of fruits and greens)

Stay hydrated (sometimes I’m terrible at this, especially during long school days)

Mentally treat myself more, whether it be putting down a school text for pleasure reading, Netflixing to relax myself of stress, or making an impulsive purchase 

Exercise more frequently (read: get back on that pilates routine, girl!)

Try to be a bigger person in situations of conflict or tension when they arise

Stop trying to make things work with people who don’t want to reciprocate the effort 

Blog more often and don’t neglect it (I’m going to try REALLY hard to maintain this one)

Always maintain positivity wherever possible while helping others as much as I can! 

We’ll see how long this lasts. 

[meanderandmuse]

Recapping 2015 (Or, Hello There! Yes, I Still Blog ...)

Hello there, Internet. 

So …  it’s been awhile. I could probably make up a hundred excuses as to why I’ve been off the blogosphere for the past few months, but in all honesty, it boils down to one thing: nostalgia. The unwillingness to move on from the past, a heart-wrenching and all-consuming sense of sad yearning and sentimentality for what once was. I thought I would be able to come home from exchange able to catch up and write off my travels and experiences in quick succession to be seemingly “timely” under the guise of “moving on.” But it was a lot harder than I anticipated. Each time I had the chance to start a new post (read: every moment I spent procrastinating and neglecting actual academic/life responsibilities), I would feel a surge of excitement to begin putting to words my thoughts and feelings from the last of the travels and experiences I had abroad to this blog; however, that quickly shifted, and a slide into a more saddening frame of mind ensued. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like blogging. All I could do was to endlessly relive moments by scrolling through photo albums and keeping in touch with my exchange friends. The reminiscing made my heart ache and had me wanting to be back across the pond badly. At the same time, it wasn’t something I could talk about frequently either here at home; I felt that many of my close friends here probably weren’t keen on listening to me ramble on and on about my exchange, and the last thing I wanted was to come off as obnoxious. A strange sense of distance arose between me and everyone else; I felt isolated, though I put on a brave face and went about my daily duties in school, work, and extracurriculars seemingly with no issue. But deep down, I felt sad. Nostalgia sunk into my entire being and the only way to relieve myself of it was remaining in a stupor of the past, spending entirely too much time going through my camera roll and old blog posts. Writing new ones, to me, felt as though I was inching closer to writing it all off, when all I wanted was to keep it still unwritten and very much present in my life.

Of course, I came to realize that I was being overtly obsessive about it all, and that it probably wasn’t a good thing that I was dwelling so much on the past (reminds me of Dumbledore’s quote about it). But it didn’t change how I felt. I had thought taking a summer course upon my return home that I would readjust to my Canadian life again. I didn’t. Reverse culture shock struck, to say the least. When the new academic school year started, I tackled the beginnings of what would be my last year of undergraduate studies, and tried to look ahead in figuring out what applications I would have to do for future plans. It was all very overwhelming, and after a year in an exchange/French system of schooling, getting back into the tedious and stressful rhythm of a bajillion readings, assignments, and tasks stretched me mentally thin. On top of that, the distance I felt between myself and others widened, leading my social anxiety and feelings of sadness to worsen as I further isolated myself. It wasn’t until halfway through the semester when I was talking to a good friend of mine who happened to be experiencing things along the same vein that I was starting to look forward to other things beyond a technically finished chapter of my life.

I know I have a lot of things to look forward to, but to be honest, I don’t think I could have been expected to simply bounce back from being away for so long and just re-insert myself with no issue. It had to take time, and it took longer than I thought. Now, with the many things I’ve been preoccupying myself with this year with extracurriculars and school, I think I can finally put my words forth in writing off my exchange experience (which will have to be done through multiple throwback posts) while anticipating future adventures to come. I also decided to revamp this blog to suit not only as a means of documenting my travels, but also as a personal space to discuss thoughts and feelings (I have a lot concerning NUMEROUS things). I mean, why not? 

In spite of the minor emotional rollercoaster I’ve been on for the latter half of the year, 2015 was a great year for me regardless, one of the best I’ve ever had I reckon; from the second semester of my exchange and travels to kicking off my fourth year of undergrad involving some great projects and activities, it’s been one heck of a year. I can’t wait to see what the next year will bring. And thus, I’d like to announce a lift off of my blogging hiatus in the face of a new year, and furthermore, I’d like to wish everyone out there a safe and wonderful 2016, filled with love and joy! 

[typeaadventures]

I miss this real bad most days, but especially since Christmas break has hit 

[meanderandmuse]

Missing this very, very much. Why can’t my life always feature German Christmas markets and glühwein? 

[meanderandmuse]

Summer Travels (1): Perusing Paris (Rd 3) feat. Roland Garros

**First of many catch-up posts about my summer travels in Europe that took place before coming home to Canada at the end of June.

I’ve mentioned this before, but I truly love that I lived in Lyon for my exchange; it’s so handy to live in a big city that’s close enough to everything in France because its rail connections are centralized so much more efficiently. France’s capital, Paris, is no exception to this, and I love that it’s so easy to pop over to there from Lyon in a mere 2-hour TGV ride.

I decided to visit Paris for five days to kick off my post-exam travels; it was my third time this year going to the French capital. Although, yes, I had already been there on two different occasions, there were still many Parisian sights in the city and its surrounding area that I hadn’t seen and I wanted to check them off. These sights included Notre Dame, Les Invalides (where I spent a good three hours browsing the exhibits on French military history and then paid a visit to Napoleon Bonaparte’s tomb), the Panthéon (gotta love some good Neoclassical architecture), and Musée de l’Orangerie with a couple of day trips to Tours + Château de Chenonceau and Giverny for Monet’s garden (will do separate posts for the latter two later). 

(1)(2)(3) Snapshots at Les Invalides

(4) Architectural admiration: the French national burial edition

(5) Sunny strolling along the Seine

Furthermore, Paris in May for me usually signals one thing: FRENCH OPEN SEASON. I’m a HUGE tennis fan (tennis in my household is treated like American football in most North American homes; my family and I get pretty into watching matches on TV), and I decided to buy a ticket for Roland Garros Kids’ Day. For only €20, the ticket allows you access onto any of the courts in the Roland Garros complex to watch a series of exhibition matches and to browse the site at your leisure, and all of the ticket’s proceeds go to charity. Because I’m a poor student who cannot afford to shell out €120+ for average seats at a tennis match, I leaped at the chance to purchase tickets for RG Kids’ Day. 

(6)(7) Live at Roland Garros

(8) Serena Williams

(9) Jo-Wilfried Tsonga

(10) Stan Wawrinka, future RG ‘15 champion

(11) The only decent shot of Nadal I got ... his backside

It was so cool to be walking around the RG complex and being up front on Centre Court where I’ve seen so many matches played on TV; I mean, I took a seat right next to the clay court and then realized that Serena WIlliams was having a practice session right in front of me! A few moments later, Jo-Wilfried Tsonga came out to play an exhibition match. I later learned that the best way to spot players was to wander around the practice courts; I ended up being able to spot Stan Wawrinka, Gael Monfils, Victoria Azarenka, Novak Djokovic, and Rafael Nadal. My Nadal encounter was entirely by chance and I was glad of it because I’m a HUGE fan of his. I happened to be walking by a massive crowd outside a particular practice court, and I asked a French girl who was inside. As soon as she responded, “Nadal,” I sprinted to the entrance of the next court over and to the top of its bleachers to see Nadal swinging some hits; there was a connecting bridge between the two courts, so I ended up crossing over and then descending down to eye level where he was, but by that point he was wrapping up his practice and signing some fans’ notepads and giant tennis balls. As he left the court, the crowd followed him in a mob and he had about ten security guards surrounding him and making way for him through people. It was absolutely insane! (I loved everything about my day at RG; the only thing that could’ve made the day PERFECT would be seeing Roger Federer ... but alas, no luck!) 

Thus, all in all, my third round of Parisian perusal was equally as eventful as the other two times I went, with new sights and sounds discovered and new experiences to remember. Being able to go to a small part of a Grand Slam tennis tournament was epically awesome for me, and I really hope to get a chance to actually see some matches in the future (when I have the moneys to do so sigh). Anyhow, further Paris-related posts to come soon regarding the day trips I took from the city as I try to catch up as quickly as possible amidst other things as school looms for me within the next couple of weeks (le gasp!). Until then, à plus!

[meanderandmuse]

Coming Home + Catching Up

The calendar says I’ve been home for just a little over a month now, which is surreal to me. Walking down the streets of my neighbourhood, driving back to campus for my summer Psych course, going back to my part-time job, and seeing familiar faces again still haven’t quite sunk in as my normal life, even though I know it is. It’s almost like I’m in this weird post-Europe jetsetting limbo that has me thinking that my time home is only temporary and that I’ll be getting ready to back my bags again come September; it’s not the case, I know, but that’s just what I’m feeling. Slowly but surely, the routine of my daily life back in Canada is seeping itself into me. 

However, I only just uploaded the last of my summer travel pictures last week, and it’s with that where I finally come to terms with the fact that the adventure is over. But then I remembered -- I still haven’t even blogged about my summer travels! I’ve been terribly busy getting back into the swing of things and almost unwilling to write such late posts, as though doing so will just make me overtly nostalgic. At the same time, it’ll be nice to do some blogging on my down time; it’s a nice alternative to Netflix and personal reading (which I’ve really picked up again now that I’m back home and back at work at the library). 

So here’s a head’s up for a slew of throwback catch-up posts within the next few weeks before school starts, so that I can (quite literally) write off the end of my exchange chapter. Until then ... à plus!

[meanderandmuse]

Annecy, the Venice of the Alps

Salut, mes amis! I realize that it’s been quite some time since I’ve last updated this blog; however, in my defense, it’s been pretty hectic and it’s hard to update with blog posts while on the road (that’s what Instagram’s for -- brief photographic snippets of what one is up to). I just got back to Lyon a couple of days ago after about a month of travels, and now I’m here to start playing catch up with all of them while also sort out a multitude of things for my -- get this -- departure of Lyon this upcoming Tuesday. Yes, after ten whole months, my academic exchange year abroad is coming to a close in a couple of days.

Anyways, I set off for travels out of Lyon in late May after my last exam, but I did manage to make another small day trip within the Rhône-Alpes region before that with my good friends Enda and Mathias; we decided to spend a day in the lovely town of Annecy. It’s only about an hour and a half away from Lyon, and the mountain views you get on the road are breathtaking. Even though it really isn’t all that far from Lyon, it certainly felt as though we were much farther away amidst the mountain scenery. We spent the day essentially chilling and lounging by Lake Annecy, whose stunningly clear turquoise waters were some of the cleanest I’ve ever seen in a lake and the mountain backdrop surrounding it made for quite the scenic view.

(1)(2) The beautiful Lake Annecy, which Enda and I both loved

Annecy is known as the Venice of the Alps, as it has canal features that are reminiscent of the Italian floating city and the old town is extremely quaint and charming. The day we went happened to be quite a scorcher (resulting in some red arms, necks, and shoulders between us), but luckily we sought some lakeside shade and both Enda and Mathias brought along their respective ukeleles to strum some tunes. We picnicked and chatted, and it was all in all just a lovely time.

(3) Annecy really does live up to its title of “Venice of the Alps” 

(4) Mathias playing some ukelele in the sunshine

(5) Posing by one of the many lovely canals

So that wraps up a quick catch up post; there wasn’t too much to talk about, but regardless Annecy itself was a very enjoyable day trip made from Lyon and I would definitely recommend it. Further posts will be up in due time detailling my May and June summer travels, once I find the time to sort out my photos and have the mindset for some blogging. Until then, as always ... à plus! 

[meanderandmuse]

European Family Time in the Midi-Pyrénées

I recently came back from a weekend trip down to the Midi-Pyrénées region, spending time in Toulouse and Carcassonne. I stayed with the sister of my Spanish host dad and her family, all of whom I had first met in Madrid earlier this year when I went to spend Christmas with my old Spanish host family. My host dad had mentioned that his sister Leo had moved to Toulouse working as an aerospace engineer for Airbus, producer of the world’s largest passenger airliner (the A380) and the heart of the European aerospace industry (on the last day of my trip, Leo and the family took me to Aeroscopia, a newly built aeronautical museum that preserves the region’s aviation history and heritage and featured some models that Leo herself was involved with in the design and maintenance). When I met her, she offered an open invitation to visit her and her family at any time where I was free to visit the area. I took her up on that, and after a rather long almost four-hour TGV train ride, I arrived in Toulouse. 

TOULOUSE

Toulouse is known as the la ville rose (”the Pink City”) and it’s due to its unique architecture of pink terracotta bricks. The entire layout of the city is sprawled conveniently for pedestrians and bikes and it’s full of side shops embedded into the pink-bricked buildings. All street signs and markers are written in two languages: French and Occitan; I couldn’t quite distinguish Occitan and only learned this much later from Pablo, Leo’s husband, and at first glance I thought it was a weird mix between Catalan and French. The Capitole de Toulouse and its square was immense, reminiscent to me of Madrid’s Plaza Mayor on a bit of a smaller scale, with a ring of restaurants and market stalls a few feet away from the capitole’s entrance; known to be the heart of municipal administration (and also the housing for its opera company and symphony orchestra)  for Toulouse, the Capitole is a prime example of what makes Toulouse known as the Pink City in its Neoclassical structure of pink brick. It also has the astrological symbols marked out in brass a few feet away from its entrance, which caught my attention from it catching light from the bright afternoon sun that the south of France brings. It was a lovely square to wander about and I ended up sitting at a cafe with an espresso and enjoying the hustle and bustle of it all.

(1)(2) A couple shots of the plaza in which the Capitole of Toulouse stands and a close-up on the pretty in pink brick façade the building possesses (3) Plaza sign in French and Occitan, marking the direction towards the Saint-Sernin Basilica

I then wandered a little further off to the side of the plaza, following signs for the Saint-Sernin Basilica, a UNESCO World Heritage site marked as part of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimmage route. The exterior of the basilica was gorgeous with its looming tower. I then headed off in the opposite direction from the basilica and found myself on the quay of the Garonne river, with the Pont Neuf on one end in my line of vision and Pont Saint Pierre just a ways down with a grassy knoll on the and cars whizzing past to cross on both bridges. I found a nice comfortable bench to rest my legs and took out my e-reader; I was pretty exhausted at this point, as I had gotten up at 6am to catch my 7am train to get down to Toulouse so I just wanted to be at peace while getting through a few chapters of my current read, Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment.

(4)(5) Exterior shots of the gorgeous architecture (particularly of the tower) at the Saint-Sernin Basilica (6)(7) Along the riverbank of the Garonne river, with the Pont Neuf on one end and Pont Saint Pierre at the other; my afternoon reading spot was pretty cozy and nifty

After about an hour and a half or so, I walked from the city centre back to Toulouse Matabiau station, where I took a quick 20-minute train to Colomiers, the biggest suburb in the Toulouse metropolitan area and where Leo and her family lives. Leo met me at the train station and drove me to their lovely new house and for the first time in ages I was back in suburbia, where kids and pets roamed in neighbourhoods full of families rather than apartment settings and skyscrapers dotting the landscape. It reminded me of Alcobendas, the suburban neighbourhood where I stayed with Fede and Sole back in Madrid, but just on a bit of a smaller scale. I thoroughly enjoyed having wonderful home-cooked meals and sharing them with Julia and Marcos, Leo and Pablo’s children (meaning Marta and David’s cousins). I got along really well with the children, as we ran around as you do when playing with them and re-enacting random scenarios with wooden swords, entering places with room passwords, and having story time.

CARCASSONNE

As the children didn’t have school and it was apparently a bank holiday, the parents didn’t have to work either and they decided to take me to Carcassonne for the day. The drive took a little longer than the normal hour-long drive it’s supposed to be as there were a surplus of cars heading there to hoping to spend the day there as well; we spotted tons of other French cars but also numerous Spanish and Italian ones as well as a few tour buses. 

Carcassonne is best-known for its medieval fortified city on a hilltop; it has history dating back from the Gallo-Roman period and over its 2500-year-old existence, it’s seen Romans, Visigoths, and Crusaders. The long walls that surround the city were once demolished on a decision made by the French government in the 1800s and then later on restored in the 19th century as the demolition was strongly opposed by the locals in the area. Today it’s an extremely popular attraction and going to it is like stepping into a medieval time of knights and sword fights; in fact, Marcos brought along a few of his wooden swords and roleplayed as a knight for most of the day when we were there and we sparred for a fun a little outside the castle walls when walking along them. It was very cool to be there, and I had a great lunch with Leo’s family where I sampled cassoulet, a traditional Southern French dish originating from Carcassonne and Toulouse that is essentially a white bean casserole dish with pork sausage and mutton in it as well. It was super delicious albeit a bit heavy and very rich but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

(8)(9) Entrance to the citadel of Carcassonne and the Château Comtal (Count’s Castle) within it (10) A lunch of cassoulet, which was seriously one of the best bean-based casseroles I’ve ever had (11) Shot outside of the castle within the citadel walls

I had an absolutely lovely time with Leo’s family and to be a part of a family for a weekend made me miss mine a little bit more and I was happy to tag along on normal family activities like tennis practice and fast food play place ventures for the kids (not that I could enter it ... sigh). I was super thankful to spend the trip and time with Leo’s family, whom I loved immensely and I loved spending time with the children. Like, who would’ve thought that a summer au pair experience in Spain would lead to connections in the south of France as well? I thought about this much later on a bit of deeper thought level while on the train ride back to Lyon how it’s so amazing that the entirety of this family has accepted me with open arms ever since I first au paired back in Spain that summer that was two years ago and I feel so fortunate to be a part of their lives and families in such an open and kindhearted way; in fact, their overwhelming generosity and kindness to me has stayed with me in my heart so much that I can most definitely consider them all to be family to me. They’re my European family of sorts, and I love them like I do with my family back home and I remain entirely grateful for the twist of fate that put me into their lives. 

[meanderandmuse]

Pootling Down in Portugal (2)

The first part of my week in Portugal was pretty fantastic, and it got even better as the week went on. After Porto and a quick stop to Coimbra, Kevin and I were on our way to Portugal’s capital city of Lisbon. We had heard a lot of varied opinions about Lisbon in comparison to Porto, and we were ready to see for ourselves we what we would think of it. We arrived into the city in the evening after our day in Coimbra and found our way to our fantastic Oasis Backpackers hostel where we would be staying during our time there. I will say that Oasis was probably one of the friendliest and best hostel experiences I have ever had in all my travelling thus far; the hostel had tons of activities for guests and even nightly dinners at the mansion for travellers to share a meal together consisting of many Portuguese specialities and it allowed for plenty of opportunity to meet other travellers. 

LISBON

Simply put, Lisbon was absolutely amazing. Its narrow cobblestoned streets twisted and winded to an assortment of places with a vibrant atmosphere everywhere we went. We took a free walking tour offered by the hostel, and our guide was a fantastic local who stayed with us for three and a half hours all over the city. Because our hostel was so well centrally located, we walked all the way to Alfama, the city’s old district and atop an area full of fantastic street graffiti for an amazing view overlooking the Tejo river with the Golden Gate-esque 25th of April Bridge in the skyline. Alfama was most likely my favourite part of Lisbon; its beautiful colourful buildings covered in various tile patterns gave the city a great vibrant atmosphere, its bright tram cars zipped up and down smoothly, and the Saturday “thieves’ market” at Mercado Santa Clara had some of the most interesting items from all walks of life.

(1) Rua da Bica, the most photographed street in Lisbon (2) Rossio quarter in Lisbon (3) Sunset with the 25th of April bridge from Alfama (4) Mercado Santa Clara decorative display

Our guide gave us a great in-depth historical overview of the city, whose architecture was all geared towards honouring the country’s heyday and glory during the 16th century when it took charge during the Age of Discovery. There were numerous statues and monuments dedicated to various figures from the time period, from Vasco da Gama to Luís de Camões, both of whom are laid to rest in the architecturally stunning Jerónimos Monastery, which we visited on a separate day. He also took us to a small shop selling ginjinha, and we all partook in drinking a shot of the Portuguese cherry liquor meant to be drank slowly (despite being served in a shot glass); our guide also brought us to a stand selling a giant aluminum tin of piri piri chicken for less than €4 on our way back to the hostel as lunch after a above-and-beyond walking tour (again, the cheapness of things in Portugal continued to amaze me and still does). We wandered through Bairro Alto and Chiado and eventually made our way to the majestically lovely public square of Praça do Comércio. And to end off our tour, we hiked up to the top of the hill where São Jorge castle stands while enjoying pastel de nata and espresso on a gorgeously sunny Wednesday afternoon. 

Later that night, myself, Kevin, and two newfound friends from our hostel, Enrique from the Netherlands and Félix from France, went out to a fado bar to take in a live performance of the genre. Fado music has traditional Portuguese roots that tells stories of just about anything infused with melancholia, mournfulness, and resignation. It’s implemented with a singer belting notes of longing and a Portuguese guitar back-up. Despite not understanding a single word of anything that was sung, I could sense the amount of emotion within each note sung by the singer and it was quite the cultural experience.

(5) ALL THE PASTEL DE NATA OMNOMNOM (6)(7) Praça do Comércio, “the Times Square of Lisbon” with the stunning Rua da Augusta arch 

On a separate day, Kevin and I took a tram into the Belém area of the city, where I went to visit the monastery and he went to visit the city’s maritime museum. After our separate ventures, we met up again and walked over to see the Tower of Belém, where Kevin trolled some street sellers for fake Ray Bans by making use of his Portuguese to do so (it was kind of amusing to watch him bargain out the transaction with them). We then took a long walk by the river and had a good day just wandering about.

(8)(9) Gorgeous architecture all around with the San Jerónimos monastery (10) Standing by the Bélem Tower, a monument to Portugal’s Age of Discovery

SINTRA

Our tour guide recommended all of us on the walking tour to take a day trip out to Sintra, whose trains depart from Lisbon’s Rossio station daily. The trip only takes about 30 minutes and the tickets are only €4.15 return. The reason to head there? Well, the entire town is populated with many artists who sell a lot of their handmade work there and make a lot of the coloured tiles that decorate the many buildings in the capital and other places in Portugal; there’s also a significant amount of literary heritage within the town. Furthermore, it has numerous 19th-century Romantic architectural monuments – three grand palaces (with a couple more just on its outskirts) and the backdrop of the Sintra Mountains that make up the Sintra-Cascais Nature Park to hike up on towards two of them, the Castelos dos Mouros (Castle of the Moors) and the Pena National Palace (the third grand palace, the National Palace of Sintra, is located relatively low to the ground and doesn’t quite require a hike to get to it). All of this mark Sintra to be a UNESCO World Heritage site and the day Kevin and I spent there was definitely a highlight of our Portugal trip.

We got to Sintra relatively early in the morning and out of all the palaces, we decided to go to Pena Palace; all three of the palaces are quite pricey separately, so I proposed to go to one of them and I chose to go to Pena Palace because a) it’s super colourful and b) if you don’t know me, you should know that I LOVE colourful things. Kevin was iffy with the idea at first, but he relented and agreed (he later said that deciding to go to the palace was definitely a good decision). The hike up the mountain towards Pena Palace took about an hour or so, with lush greenery and even chickens pecking about. When we finally caught glimpse of the bright yellow, purple, and red hues of the castle towers and reached its entrance, we took a few moments taking it the colourful wonder of a palace.

(11)(12)(13) A couple exterior shots of one heck of a colourful palace 

The inside of the palace was quite nice too (I’m a sucker for palaces and châteaus because castles are cool), but at the end of it all, the exterior of the castle was simply a visionary delight to behold and when we rested up on a cafe set on a palace balcony, Kevin and I sat gazing where we were and had one of those surreal moments where we couldn’t quite believe we were actually there at that moment (we were also in agreement that the hike up to the palace was most definitely worth it). 

All in all, I loved the time I spent in Portugal and it definitely became on became one of my favourite places that I’ve visited thus far in Europe. The colourful vibrance of everything from its buildings to general atmosphere gave each and every place visited a great asserted personality and it was great to be able to appreciate all of it. In short: Portugal, you’re fabulous and I’m ever so glad I got to visit you.

[meanderandmuse]

Pootling Down in Portugal (1)

For my spring break in April (gotta love France and its two week-long breaks within the semester), I booked tickets to spend the entire week in the country of Portugal, which I had never visited before and had heard rave reviews about regarding its vibrance, atmosphere, and cheapness. Funnily enough, my dad of all people has been someone actively suggesting for me to visit Portugal ever since I got to Europe; he has a few Portuguese co-workers so he’s heard a fair bit about the country and thinks it sounds like a great place. Well, Dad, I can verify that it most definitely is. 

My journey getting to Portugal was a bit of a long one, though; I’ve mentioned before that flying out of Lyon to places is pretty pricey and not normally the cheapest route -- other alternatives like trains and buses are usually much cheaper and easier. For this time around, the cheapest flight I could find was from Paris -- so I journeyed up there. On Friday night, I took a night bus run by IDBus from Lyon Perrache and arrived at Paris Bercy at about 5:30am, where I then caught the first Paris metro car onto L1 and got off at Porte Maillot for the Paris Beauvais airport shuttle. The not-so-aptly-named Paris Beauvais Tille airport is where most of Ryanair’s cheap Paris flights depart from, but it’s not actually anywhere in the city of Paris or remotely near it; it’s actually about an hour and half drive from Paris and can even be shuttled to from Amiens as well. It’s also one of the smallest and least comfortable airports I’ve ever seen, but if it’s carrying such cheap low-budget airline flights (my flights to Porto was a mere 40€), then I can deal with it. Two hours later, I landed in Porto, where I realized that I had to set my clock back an hour and that there was an abundance of sunshine that was present the moment I stepped off the plane. I was feeling pretty exhausted and icky from my long route from Lyon to Paris Beauvais, but the warmth of the sun of my face instantly cheered me up. A half-hour Metro ride later, I easily located my hostel, changed clothes, and then set out to explore Porto. 

PORTO

Porto was undoubtedly a beautiful city and the lovely sunny skies made our time there even better. The colourful tiled buildings were such a contrast to the normally grey buildings I’ve seen back home in Canada and even to the ornate French architecture I’m so used to seeing in Lyon. It was a wonderful sight to see. It also marked the beginnings of eating numerous pastel de nata, the egg tart pastry that is the ultimate Portuguese pastry (I also came to the realization that the egg tarts I’ve eaten since I was a kid from Asian bakeries are essentially the same thing because the Portuguese brought the recipe over to Asia when it colonized Macau). 

I met up with my good exchange friends Rosie and Maggie (the only person to this day I’ve ever met who shares my name!), who had arrived there the day before and were travelling with Maggie’s family, who were visiting from Australia and doing a big cycling adventure around Portugal (read more about the Greenhams and their amazing cycle touring ventures for Médecins Sans Frontières with their blog at this link). I essentially tagged along with the whole group during my time in Porto, where we wandered around the riverfront and its market stalls, took in the sights and various shops, and even went to a wine tasting at a cave. Porto is known for its signature port wine, so Rosie, Maggie, her father Michael, her brother Jordy, and I put the “port” in Portugal by learning about the wine-making process, taking a look at the cellars housing the wines, and tried a couple glasses of white and red port wines. Their taste was very sweet and unlike any other wine I’ve had, and I thoroughly enjoyed them (Rosie, Maggie, and I knicked a few other untouched glasses to not let them go to waste). 

We also made a trip to the Pálacio da Bolsa aka the Stock Exchange Palace. It was Portugal’s former stock exchange until it was moved to Lisbon, and the building is still in use today as the Porto’s Chamber of Commerce. It was a stunning palatial building and there were numerous intricate wood carvings, works of art, and mosaic-ed floor designs. One of the carved wooden tables shown in the rooms was done by hand by one man and a knife for three whole years. The Moorish-designed Arab Revival Room was absolutely gorgeous and overall, it was a great place to visit. Another cool place visited was Livraria Lello, an absolutely stunning bookshop with a gorgeous staircase leading up to the second floor and a lovely stain glass ceiling. It had a very Flourish and Blotts vibe to it and I later found out that JK Rowling had actually once lived in Porto and that the bookshop inspired the one in Diagon Alley. I’m always one for Harry Potter facts and trivia tidbits, so that was definitely interesting to learn (there’s a few more Portuguese connections to Harry Potter, listed in this short blog post here).

(1) San Ildefonso Church with a pretty blue-tiled façade (2) Ponte Luiz I down by the river  (3) Caffeine break with pastel de nata (4) The gorgeous interior of the Arab Revival Room at the Pálacio da Bolsa (5) Selfie with my lovelies Rosie and Maggie (6) The stunning staircase at the Lello bookshop

PINHÃO

From Porto, I tagged along with the Greenhams and Rosie for a day trip out to Pinhão, a small town about two hours away. We sat in relative comfort on the CP train and the scenery of rolling green hills, adorable little houses atop them, and a winding river was a great accompaniment to some Hisaishi music on playing on shuffle on my phone. The Alijó region was gorgeous and we took the time wandering in the summery heat and then saw the vineyards on the hill that we had seen in pictures in the wine cellars where we had just taken a wine tasting. We did some more at another place in Pinhão, crossing the river to do so (in an event that reiterates my clumsiness, I misstepped and fell onto road while walking across said bridge), and it was a pleasant little day trip. When we got back to Porto, we enjoyed a great cozy meal at a little family-owned establishment and for 5€ we got soup, wine, and a hefty and delicious main course. I was definitely loving Portugal in its cheapness!

(7) Just around the river in the heart of the Douro Valley

COIMBRA

Following a great first weekend in Portugal, I bade goodbye to Rosie and the Greenhams, who were continuing north for their cycling venture, and met up with Kevin, a fellow Canadian exchange student. Kevin speaks Portuguese, so travelling with him for the latter part of the week made language barriers a lot less obstructing and it was pretty helpful and useful in many instances, from inquiring about directions to buying things at stands. He was also in Porto during the first weekend; he met up with Maggie, Rosie, and I on Saturday night and we went for some delicious cheap grub and went out for a night on the town a little bit. 

Anyhow, we left Porto and were going to head to Lisbon to spend the other half of our week. However, we did make a stop along the way to the old university town of Coimbra, which is about an hour and a half away from Porto. The University of Coimbra has been around since about 1290 but the big thing that was really directing my attention towards it was its old Joanine Library; similar to Cinque Terre, it was a place that I had always seen whilst scrolling on my Tumblr feed and also, because I’m a bibliophile, it’s always been on those “libraries you should see in your lifetime” lists that the people of the Internet decide to compile sometimes (like this one). 

And thus, that’s just what we did; we walked from the town’s train station and newer parts of town up a hill that would take us the historic centre where the university is located atop a hill that overlooks it all. The university campus itself sprawled over much of the hill top, and students went to and from in black school robes; we learned from the cash desk receptionist explained that no, they weren’t Hogwarts students (not that we were thinking that, but it sure reminded us of it), but that the Portuguese academic dress consisting of the black robes links itself to praxe, which are university student traditions usually for meant for freshmen initiation (a more descriptive explanation can be found in this blog post here). The library itself was, unsurprisingly, stunning and absolutely gorgeous and I spent a good amount of time sort of gaping at the decorative ornateness of the whole place. God, I love old European libraries in all their opulent beauty and for housing centuries old manuscripts and book editions; I’ll never get over my awe in seeing them in the flesh rather than in a picture on the Internet that just doesn’t quite do it justice.

(8) Entrance to the Old Joanine Library at the University of Coimbra (9)(10) University of Coimbra campus and me being really excited over the fact that I’m there

All in all, with all that I’d seen so far in the beginning part of my week, I was already loving Portugal, and the fact that there was sunshine everywhere I went made me love it even more so. Next up: Lisbon and Sintra! 

[meanderandmuse]

Mont Saint Michel: A Marvel

After a week of visiting various historic sites and memorials, it still wasn’t quite the end of the adventure yet for Hannah and I. However, it was the end of trying to make endless trains and buses to get to rather obscure locations, so we could now relax a little bit. After a quick visit to the Abbey of St. Étienne in Caen to see the tomb of William the Conqueror, Hannah and I bade goodbye to Éle and her lovely apartment and hopped on a train towards Rennes in the French region of Brittany. I remember learning about the Breton culture a little bit in my History of the French Language class, in which the Celtic language was discussed; in Rennes, all the signage was in both French and Breton. It was a nice city to wander around in and this time, we stayed in a cheap hotel rather than an AirBNB (it was like a sudden upgrade); Hannah and I casually admired little bookshops within side streets and half-timbered houses and also enjoyed the regional specialty of galettes bretonnes (savoury crepes). There wasn’t anything in particular we were looking to see in Rennes; we were simply there due to the fact that there was a cheap Keolis bus line we could take from the city’s bus station to the famed island commune Mont Saint Michel (which I’m just gonna call MSM from here on out in the post), which was our last big destination for our trip.

Adding MSM to our adventure was an idea I came up with in the midst of trip planning, which Hannah had left me in charge of; it was a place that I’d always heard of in terms of famous French places outside of Paris (plus I once watched an anime that had an episode there ... but that’s another story). The fact that we were going to be going there on Easter weekend was a pretty exciting prospect, even though we did brace ourselves, knowing that there would most likely be swarms of tourists. We weren’t wrong; the morning bus we took on Easter Sunday was essentially full and when we got to the information centre, the shuttles that carry visitors to and from the mount were jam-packed with people. That didn’t deter us though; when we caught a glimpse of the abbey looming on the skyline during the hour-long bus ride, we became amped with excitement. When we got off the shuttle and came face-to-face with it, it was a whole other sensation: one of the astonishment, awe, and incredulity. Seeing the tidal island and the colossal abbey atop its mount up close was absolutely incredible, and when we entered its fortifications, our awe heightened about a thousand times more.

(1) The famed island commune of Mont St Michel from a distance (2)(3) Getting closer to the island, with a shot of the abbey (it kinda looks like Hogwarts) and a nice shot of both Hannah and I in front of it (it was a really sunny and windy day when we went)

The medieval-looking route throughout the island went in one direction, surrounded by countless shops and restaurants. Although a number of these were souvenir shops and the narrow cobblestone path was crammed with tourists, for some reason it added to the atmosphere and didn’t tarnish anything of it for us. We found some stairways and climbed atop them to ascend ourselves to a greater height to see the land surrounding us and people down below where we were just moments before. Lots of pictures were snapped and Hannah and I were essentially freaking out at how pretty everything was (Hannah then got even more excited seeing Celtic and medieval memorabilia in numerous souvenir shops). 

We hiked our way up to the top of the mount to visit the abbey, which we got to enter for free thanks to the magic of European discounts for youth under 26 and the fact that we’re both technically European residents (merci, mon carte de séjour!). The abbey was also impressive, especially its cloister, and to me it kind of reminds me what Hogwarts would’ve been like (I mean, in the movies they make the castle on a random island anyhow). Hannah mentioned how it reminded her of Minas Tirith from Lord of the Rings; we later verified on the Interwebs that MSM was indeed used as architectural inspiration for Minas Tirith. We even caught an Easter service being given in the abbey’s chapel, filled with people holding candled tulips and listened to the abbey choir for a few moments before moving on in the sprawling building. 

(4)(5)(6) Pictures can’t quite do anything justice for MSM, but here’s some  attempts with a shot of me in the cloister, the cloister’s arches, and a side shot of an abbey tower

After touring the abbey, we decided to treat ourselves to a nice Easter luncheon, given that we had already saved money by not having to pay to enter the abbey and because we’d been pretty frugal the entire week during our travels. So then we went and treated ourselves to a lovely lunch menu with some local rosé cider. A wonderful Easter weekend well-spent, if you ask me!

(7) A fancy Easter luncheon with one good egg of a friend (see what I did there? PUNNY, right?) (8)(9) Mmm salmon tagliatelle and meringue ... just a few of the wonderful things we had to eat on that Easter Sunday

Hannah then came back with me to Lyon for a couple of days to visit the city before heading back to Heidelberg, ending her little tour of France. We both agreed that MSM was the biggest highlight of our trip, being aesthetically one of the prettiest places we’d ever seen and been to, and in my mind, it’s one of the most stunning sites I’ve visited out of the places I’ve been to in France thus far. Even the crowds of tourists couldn’t make any of it feel tacky or overrated; MSM is just a marvel to behold for the eye and it’s just stunning beyond belief. I’m also really glad I had such a good friend like Hannah to accompany me during the whole Remembrance Trail trip and to MSM; we most definitely had a blast being the nerdy and analytical Type As that we are. All in all, twas a successful venture (that I finally blogged about). Next up for the blog: my spring break in Portugal! I’ll be posting about that soon so that I’ll be all caught up in posts at last now that I’ve got a bit of a break between exams at the moment. Until then ... à plus!

[meanderandmuse]

The Remembrance Trail (2)

In my last post about my history-centred adventure with my fellow Type A and good friend Hannah, we covered WWI-related sites such as Passchendaele, Ypres, and Tyne Cot. Coincidentally (or maybe not), the latter part of our week consisted of WWII-related sites as we journeyed from Nord Pas-de-Calais to the Normandy region, home of camembert (which is the most eaten cheese in France, by the way, as a useless fun fact that I learned in French Culture class), William the Conqueror, and of course, the D-Day landing beaches. We bade goodbye to our wonderful eleventh-floor view of Lille with our wonderful AirBNB there and boarded an early morning train to Caen with a roughly 50-minute stopover at Paris St. Lazare (I joked to Hannah, who has not yet been to Paris, that being on the Parisian metro and RER was essentially a correct atmospheric depiction of Paris during morning rush hour ... that was hectic). 

When we arrived in Caen, it was a bit overcast and rainy, but thankfully our AirBNB was, again, conveniently located with a two-minute walk from the train station. Our AirBNB this time was a room within an apartment owned by our lovely host, Éle, who graciously accommodated us during our stay. After a quick and cheap lunch of seafood ramen at the apartment, Hannah and I headed to the bus station which was next to the train station and boarded a Bus Vert to Courselles-sur-Mer (the regional bus system is extremely extensive and pretty much hits all the small D-Day towns and related sites; the only issue is the timing and scheduling of the buses as well as vague drop-off points). The ride took about roughly an hour and when we finally got off at Place du 6 Juin in Courselles, we had about a blustery and windy 20-minute walk to get to our destination: Juno Beach.

COURSELLES-SUR-MER / JUNO BEACH

As our prime focus on sites were Canadian-related (as seen with our stopovers to Tyne Cot and visits to Vimy Ridge and Beaumont-Hamel), it was obvious that Juno Beach would be on our list. That’s another one of those things that all Canadian students learn about in history class in terms of Canadian contributions to WWII; there are others, such as Dieppe, but in the grand scale of talking about the D-Day landings and June 6, the Canadians are always credited with Juno Beach. Thus, as Canadians, we felt that we obviously had to go. The site of Juno Beach today has the beach front as a park with some leftover bunkers and remnants of the Atlantic Wall; a Canadian-run centre is also built on site, but unlike Vimy and Beaumont-Hamel, the site is not operated by Veteran Affairs Canada, but a separate Canadian organization that runs a student guide program similar to the two other sites, and it is the only centre that relates to Canadian efforts in WWII and Normandy. Our guide was fantastic (again, we just loved hearing Canadian English and talking with someone about Canada so amicably and understandably), with great anecdotes to share while we were down in the German bunkers about what was going on at the time, and when she brought us to the final leg of the tour by having us stand on the shores of Juno Beach itself, she left us to our devices to reflect.

Standing on the Canadian bridgehead was a bit emotionally overwhelming. The tide was low, so Hannah and I meandered a bit further to kind of see how far it would go to and then turned our backs to see the position of the German bunkers we had just been in from where we were standing on the beach. Given that we had seen footage of the soldiers charging on the beachhead, it seemed unimaginable to do even though we knew they had done just that and had sustained much loss in the struggle of doing so. We took a moment thinking of those who had once stepped on that beach (which was the overriding theme of the centre’s short film, called “They Walk with Us”) and spent a bit more time pacing back and forth, as though retracing the steps they once took. At that point, our visit to Juno Beach marked the last of the Canadian-related sites we would visit on our trip, and we were truly grateful for what those who lost their lives and sacrificed for us had done in such circumstances for the freedom that we enjoy today. 

(1) Looking up to a vault that would’ve opened up to a peep hole for a gunner in one of the bunkers (2) Remembering D-Day on the Canadian bridgehead: “When you walk the sands of Juno, they walk with you”

BAYEUX / POINTE DU HOC 

The next day, our trip took a more of an American turn as we focused on American-related WWII sites. Instead of taking a Bus Vert to hit the sites though, we instead took a day trip to from Caen to Bayeux, spent the morning exploring the town, and then took an afternoon tour with a company recommended by a friend who had done the same thing before; it was simply a lot easier to do it than way than to stressfully abide by all the ambiguous bus schedules in the obscure locations we wanted to go to. The reason why we decided to visit the American beaches was because it was something that was of interest to us as well since it’s been depicted many times in many war-related media (I’m thinking Band of Brothers and Saving Private Ryan) and since we were in the Normandy area, it seemed logical to just go to all the sites that held such interest to us in regards to that because who knew when we were ever going to have the time or chance to go back?

It was a pretty wet and rainy day in Bayeux the day we did this; our morning was spent mostly indoors, although we did have to walk a bit from the train station to the Bayeux Tapisserie Museum in order to the see the famed Bayeux Tapestry (which was incredibly and amazingly cool). Afterwards, Hannah bought an umbrella which made it easier for us to wander around the town for a little bit (which included seeing its cathedral and complimenting the town’s overall quaintness) before meeting our tour guide back at the train station after lunch. Our guide was a jolly French man named Jean François whose English was quite good (it had a bit of a quasi-British accent to it, which kind of amused Hannah) and we were joined by two other Canadians on our tour. Jean François spent most of the half-hour drive from Bayeux to our first tour stop, the Pointe du Hoc, rehashing and retelling how WWII came to be and the background story on what was happening in Normandy leading up to D-Day. Although I remember most of the details from my immense interest in the subject during history class in high school, it was a nice refresher to have and very appropriate to have leading up to where we were going.

The Pointe du Hoc itself is a large cliff overlooking the English Channel that was the highest point between the D-Day beaches of Utah and Omaha. A huge commemorative battlefield park occupies the rest of the land on the cliff that is on American soil that was given to the States by France (similar to what France to did for Canada with Vimy and Beaumont-Hamel). The entire site is covered in huge bomb craters, whose sizes were incredibly immense, and some German bunkers and observation posts. On the edge of the cliff, a large erected monument honours the US Rangers who assaulted and eventually captured the cliffs. The story behind their efforts was extremely valiant; looking down into the waters from the cliff’s barbed wire rails, it seems incredible that the men were able to scale those 100-foot cliffs and contributed so much to the American war effort on the D-Day landings.

(3) Standing at the Ranger monument at the Pointe du Hoc (4) Remembering D-Day on the American beaches whilst standing upon the highest point between the Utah and Omaha sectors (5)(6) Evidence of the numerous remnants of bomb craters all over the site

OMAHA BEACH / AMERICAN NORMANDY CEMETERY

After Pointe du Hoc, Jean François drove us down to a section of Omaha Beach that boards a seaside French town. The small town stands today clearly as a coastal resort town, with the stretch of beach accompanied by many restaurants and establishments; we were shown pictures verifying this from the time period before the war to present day. As we stepped on the sands of the beach though, we turned again to see what the American soldier’s perspective would’ve been; Jean François pointed out hidden German bunkers atop cliffs that would’ve immediately started attacking them as soon as the Americans were spotted. I was reminded of the graphic opening scene of Saving Private Ryan and realized how unlike Juno Beach, Omaha Beach was even moreso difficult to charge upon due to its topography, as it was the only beach that had high ground just beyond that would’ve had blockage from German defenders at all possible exits. While standing on the shores of the beach, similar to what we had done at Juno, Hannah and I took some time to come to terms with the sacrifice and courage it must’ve taken to be able to charge the beach head-on while fully knowing that the risks were literally looming in front of them. It’s incredible how such a feat was accomplished.

(7) A sign marking the events of June 6, 1944 on the beach  (8)(9) Shots of the shores of Omaha Beach; it’s hard to believe that these long stretches of coastal tides that have always been used in recreation in these seaside towns were once the site of so much loss and sacrifice in the fight for freedom

Our last stop on our tour was a short drive away to the small town of Coleville-sur-Mer, where the Normandy American Cemetery is located. The cemetery and park is humongous, with beautiful floral gardens surrounding the path leading up to the memorial, a semicircular colonnade that has both sides mapping out the details of the D-Day landings and a large bronze statue called The Spirit of American Youth Rising from the Waves. Jean François gave us a map of the cemetery with notable internments marked; Hannah and I took some time to look between the crosses and sought out the small number of Canadian graves present amongst them, as well as the Niland brothers (whose story was a bit of inspiration for Spielberg and Saving Private Ryan) and the Roosevelts, Quentin and Theodore Jr. The chapel on site featured a beautiful mosaic that had the allegorical figures of America and France represented; in it, America is depicted blessing her sons in the fight for freedom and France is bestowing laurel wreaths upon the fallen. Similar to Tyne Cot, there were numerous people there laying down wreaths and mini poppied crosses there. To me, I think it’s such a good thing that sites such as these are getting visitors so that the resonating message of what these men sacrificed are further pressed into our minds and reminds of the loss that comes from such conflict. 

As a whole, I’m incredibly glad that I was able to make this Remembrance Trail trip happen. It’s one thing to learn and study about such history in textbooks or in class, but it’s another thing entirely to actually see things such as bomb craters, bunkers, trenches, dugouts, and memorial sites that really bring everything into a sort of crashing reality, confirming that it really did all happen. For me especially, having grown up in Canada my whole life, the stories of WWI and WWII always seemed to something that happened far, far away, although I always respected those who had served and sacrificed; when I finally came to France this year and realized how these sites are still here to this day and remain commemorative sites, it was only through visiting them that I realized the difficulties these soldiers faced and the sacrifices they made for the freedom we have today. Both Hannah and I were filled more gratitude and respect than ever to those who served and sacrificed and to those who continue to do so today for us. So, to those people ... thank you.

That marks the end of the Remembrance Trail. Following this, Hannah and I were effectively done the history part of our trip and journeyed over to Mont Saint Michel for Easter and then Hannah followed me back to Lyon to visit my city for a few days. I’ll write about that in another post soon ... until then, à plus!

[meanderandmuse]

The Remembrance Trail (1)

(I know I’m a little behind on posts ... oops.)

Back in late February, I got a message from my good friend Hannah [link is to her own travel blog] (whom you may remember from my post here about visiting her in Heidelberg way back in December) asking for suggestions on places to stay in northern France. She said she was interested in seeing some WWI and WWII sites and other things related to them in the area. Seeing as I hadn’t yet done such a trip and had been meaning to, I immediately responded with enthusiasm as we then began to make plans to pull the trip off together for the last week of March; because we’re both pretty Type A people, everything was organized pretty much perfectly to a tee and everything went off without a hitch, which we were both pretty pleased about. As Hannah doesn’t speak French, I took charge in doing most of the planning around train schedules, getting to our sites, communicating with locals, and finding accommodations, but I didn’t mind; after all, Hannah had done the exact same thing for me but in German when I visited her (I don’t quite have any German language skills to speak of and every time I attempt to pronounce something in German, Hannah just laughs at me and then corrects me). I was extremely excited to be embarking on the trip with someone who was equally interested in history and wouldn’t mind going to trenches and cemeteries concerning that. Plus we essentially spent every night watching a Harry Potter movie and gushing about it since Hannah’s in the midst of reading the series for the first time right now. Huzzah for Hannah!

(1) My travel buddy for the week: Hannah! Here, we’re “living on the edge” on the quay of a river bend in Ypres

Our itinerary just so happened to go in a chronological order: we started off with WWI-related sites in the beginning of the week and towards the end of the week we were on the landing beaches of Normandy of WWII. Hannah and I trained up individually to the city of Lille, one of the biggest cities in Northern France, where we made day trips from the city’s two train stations (which were conveniently located two minutes away from our AirBNB). We did this later on in the week from our AirBNB in Caen as well once we got into the Normandy region. 

YPRES / PASSCHENDAELE / TYNE COT

From Lille, we firstly journeyed over the French-Belgian border to the city of Ypres, Belgium, where we took a city bus to Zonnebeke to visit the Passchendaele Museum. The museum was fantastic, with a great descriptive exhibit, short film, and interactive activities (featuring the immense heaviness of a 70-pound pack that a soldier would typically carry). as well as reconstructions of WWI dugouts and trenches. It was unbelievably scary to go so deep underground or to be surrounded by nothing but wood planks and barbed wire in a scenario that was so real for so many young men who served in such conditions during the Great War. After the museum, we boarded the city bus again for another stop: Tyne Cot, the world’s largest Commonwealth cemetery. It was unbelievable to see such a grand space filled with so many headstones, listing the various Commonwealth nationalities of men as young as 16 and 17 who had been killed in battle. A plaque in the cemetery stated that 11 596 soldiers are laid to rest in the cemetery, and I almost couldn’t believe that these were all marked from losses sustained during WWI alone. Hannah and I took our time pacing between the rows, glancing at makeshift poppy wreaths laid on the graves by visiting school groups and paying our respects, thanking them for their sacrifice. 

(2)(3) Reconstructions of a WWI underground dugout and trench at the fantastic Passchendaele Memorial Museum in Zonnebeke (4) There were a lot of these makeshift poppy crosses on various graves at Tyne Cot, left behind by school groups we saw that were there; it was heartwarming to know that even today’s youth are learning about the loss and sacrifice that took place and keeping the history alive (5) A side shot of Tyne Cot, the world’s largest Commonwealth cemetery

VIMY RIDGE / BEAUMONT-HAMEL

Our next day trip journey from Lille was divided into two parts, and we visited two sites that are operated by Veteran Affairs Canada and we were technically on Canadian soil that was given to Canada by France; to hear Canadian English again and to hear someone actively talk about Canadian things that didn’t puzzle anyone around us gave a feeling of reassurance, as though we were on a small slice of home (which, technically, we were). Since we were headed to relatively more obscure locations on this day, taxis were taken from train stations to arrive to our destinations. 

First, from Lille, we took a train to Arras in the morning and from Arras, we took a taxi to arrive to the Vimy Ridge memorial. Our Arras taxi driver, Bruno, was pretty fantastic; I had actually found several recommendations about him on TripAdvisor when planning our trip, so I decided to contact him to see if he could meet us at the station and take us to Vimy. He did indeed, waiting for us just outside the station and was extremely friendly as we chatted amicably during the 20-minute ride there and back from the site (I felt pretty pleased at how fluent my French was coming out while conversing with him at a rather rapid speed); he even pointed out other WWI-related sites along the way, marking a German war cemetery and was overall a fascinating and kind person. Moral of the story: if you ever decide to take a taxi from Arras to Vimy, you know the guy to call.

When we got to the welcome centre at Vimy Ridge, we had a small group tour (given by the student guides that are hired there) looking at trenches, going through underground bunkers, and learning about the tunnel war that had been going on at the time prior to the battle. Vimy Ridge is one of things that every Canadian student learns about in history class, and to actually be there was surreal in itself. The wooded forest area was decked in danger signs indicating undetonated explosives and the small size of the bunkers was enough to make anyone claustrophobic; it was hard to imagine how it must’ve been like to be down there for 12, 48, or maybe even 36 hours. The Vimy memorial itself was ... wow. I almost couldn’t believe the size of it when we walked up the path towards it. It’s an absolutely beautiful memorial, massively looming over the important ridge that was so crucial for the war and marks the site of a battle that defined Canada. It’s a must-see for sure.

(6) A maple leaf marking Canadian territory on the grounds of Vimy as we headed towards the memorial (7)(8) The battlefield park area marked with danger signs (9)(10) The immensely impressive Vimy Ridge Memorial, with an inscription that says the following: “To the valour of their countrymen in the Great War and in memory of their sixty thousand dead this monument is raised by the people of Canada”

Bruno picked us back up when we were done at Vimy and drove us back to the Arras train station. From there, we took a regional bus to the small town of Albert, where we called for another taxi (the driver was nowhere near as nice as Bruno, though -- rather stoic and silent) -- this time, we were headed to the Beaumont-Hamel Newfoundland Memorial in the Somme. The memorial site is the largest battalion memorial on the Western Front, and the largest area of the Somme battlefield that has been preserved. We ended up getting a private tour by one of the student guides here, and again, it was great to hear Canadian English and to talk about Canadian things with a fellow Canadian while being so far from our home country; at the beginning of our tour, our guide said, “I’m so glad you guys are from Canada too, because then I don’t have to explain to you where Newfoundland [linked for all my non-Canadian readers] is ... or what a caribou is.” 

The Beaumont-Hamel site visit was more of a sombre one than Vimy. Whereas Vimy is heralded as a major WWI battle whose victory defined Canada, the Somme and Beaumont-Hamel marks tragic loss concerning the Royal Newfoundland Regiment. On July 1, 1916, on the opening day of the Battle of the Somme, the regiment was virtually wiped out within half an hour of the battle with most men unable to make it farther than a spot on No Man’s Land marked now as the Danger Tree; out of the 800 men who advanced, only about 110 survived (more historical detail here). Many men were never found or never had identifiable remains and were buried along with any other fellow comrades they were found with, with some lying about their age and determined to serve nonetheless. It was extremely moving and we spent quite some time pacing through the backroads of the site to view the extent of the cratered damage and reflected further on the loss that took place there.

(11) Walking up the road towards the site after our taxi dropped us off (12) The bronze caribou that was the emblem of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment; our tour guide explained that the caribou was chosen over the moose because caribou are known to travel in herds whereas moose are moreso solitary creatures (13)(14) Parts of the preserved battlefield park, including the “Danger Tree” that was originally meant to be a landmark for the regiment to get to; however, most of the soldiers did not manage to get that far

I’ll end this post with our WWI ventures. I’ll write another post detailing the second part of our Remembrance Trail trip, which includes the Normandy region and WWII-related sites. Until then ... à plus!