After class today Molly and Lena and I decided to go on an expedition to the Marais to find the Bibliothèque Forney, which apparently has a large collection of art-history related stuff that may prove useful to us when final project time rolls around. After a brief confusion at a wonky little intersection off Rue de Rivoli we stumbled across this building:
"This structure looks significant," I mused, gazing up at the turrets.
"I'm sure Paul would have something to say about it," Molly agreed. Then we rounded the corner and saw the "Bibliothèque Forney" sign.
"Oh. We're here."
I had to lie on the ground to get all of the tower in this shot, which Molly apparently thought was hilarious because she took an undoubtedly embarrassing picture of me doing so. I have yet to see it but I'll post it for your MDRing pleasure at a later date. When I got home I Googled the building and found out that it was commissioned by a French archbishop and dates back to 1475.
If you thought I was kidding about having a love affair with staircases, I wasn't. This one goes up one of the towers inside the library. There was some sort of intriguing fenced-off area at the top but, alas, it was locked.
This is the room we studied in. As we entered I made a joke about the reptile door handles ("Hey look guys, it's the Slytherin common room") only to discover in my later Googling that the guy who commissioned the building was named Salazar! There be magic in the Marais.
News on the Switzerland front: we have Couchsurfers in Geneva AND Bern! The woman in Bern emailed me back last night and said she and her fourteen-year-old son are happy to have us. They're even going to be home all day Friday when we get in and she said we can come over and drop off our bags before seeing the city. I love the correspondences we've been having because she's delightfully ESL ("I guess, you'd like to put your luggage here, before you discover the city, isn't it? And maybe fresh up a bit from the long trip, I guess. Normally I don't sleep that late in the morning, so I guess, i'll be up, when you arrive. Maybe not very awake yet... ;-) Please don't hurry too much to take the train in Geneva... I am not sad if you arrive after 9. One thing you should know: the shops in the city are closed on Friday, so this day is more for walking around in the nature or so.")
I am glad she is not sad! And I love walking around in the nature!
I totally can't make fun though because I had another really Frenglish conversation with my host dad tonight at dinner. I asked him if there was a traditional Easter dish in France, and he told me that they eat a cut of lamb that was symbolic of something-- I didn't entirely catch that part but I figured it probably had the same connotations of Christ-as-shepherd/Lamb of God/Spring-Babies-New Life that Easter lamb imagery does in the States. He asked if we eat a certain meal in America, and I said that my family usually has ham. Then for some reason I also tried to explain the tradition in some households of eating cold meats and eggs because cooking on the day of Easter is forbidden. It came out something like, "Also, there is a tradition of some, where one eats the cold sausages prepared in advanced because to do the cooking on Easter is banned." Nice. Then, to my delight, he mentioned the "the giant bell that sprinkles the eggs" for French children on Easter day (for a full appreciation of this subject, see Dave Sedaris's Me Talk Pretty One Day).
"In the United States we have a rabbit who brings the chocolate to the children," I said, "and puts it in a..." I realized I didn't know the word for basket, but there was one on the table. "This!"
"A bread basket?" said Christophe.
"No...without the bread."
Apparently the bell thing originated because the church bells don't chime from Good Friday to Easter Sunday, and then they ring out again for the first time at noon while mom and dad hide the eggs. Then as the kids frolic gaily through the yard the parents feign surprise and say, "Oh, it must've been the bell!" It sounded a little ridiculous, but Christophe was probably thinking the same thing about giant rabbits breaking into people's homes and leaving Cadbury cream eggs in the bread basket.
The awkwardness continued after I noticed a container of French-fried onions on the table (the crunchy kind that I eat as chips back home... so bad, but sooo good) and sprinkled some on my green beans. It was the only logical pairing based on the food we were eating, but Christophe gave me a quizzical look and I felt obliged to defend myself by explaining the Thanksgiving tradition of the green-bean casserole.
"It is a traditional dish for the Day of Grace. One makes it with green beans, with the onions on top, and a sauce of soup."
"A sauce of soup?"
"Yes. It has cream and mushrooms. It is named Campbell's."
"Campbell's sauce of soup."
"One buys it in a can. It is not a very good soup."
Now I'm kind of craving green bean casserole. Mmm.
Tilo may look adorable, but he is, as Tennyson would say, "red in tooth and claw." Look it up.
2 comments:
Tilo looks like he has no arms & legs.
"He nice, the Jesus. He wear of himself the long hair. He die one day, and come back for to say hello to the peoples."
I'm so sad you'll miss David Sedaris in June. We'll have to see him when he comes back in October.
I studied abroad in Spain last spring, and I had basically the exact same conversation with my host parents! I also did not know how to say "basket" in Spanish.
Your host family encounters remind me so much of my own--that awkward feeling where you just don't know how things work around the house, and the simplest matters turn so confusing. It's hard to describe and even harder to to live!
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