Lyon, Luberon, Avignon, Andorra and more!

Alors, here’s the latest installment of my European adventures. The weekend after Clara visited was busy, as per usual. The afternoon of March 21, I went to an IAU wine tasting that was focused on Bordeaux wines. The next day, I got up early, took the train to Lyon and met up with my friend Mélanie. During April of my junior year of high school, a group of students from St. Étienne, France, a town near Lyon, came to Chicago and stayed for a week in Lee’s Summit (it actually ended up being more like two weeks because they were stranded after the Icelandic volcano Eyjafjallajökull erupted, effectively grounding all trans-atlantic flights for about a week). Anyway, Mélanie stayed with my family during her time in Lee’s Summit, and then that June a group of us from Lee’s Summit went to France, did touristy things in Paris and the Loire Valley and then stayed with our French friends in St. Étienne for a week. 

Mélanie and I in Lawrence

A group of the French kids and their American hosts before they left- the first time, I believe.

So, with me being about an hour and a half from Lyon by TGV, we decided to meet up there so we could see one another again. The first thing we did was take the funicular up to see the Basilica Notre Dame de Fourvière, a large, colorful church that sits on a hill that overlooks Lyon. After that, we wandered around a bit trying to find one of the many traboules in the Vieux Lyon area. A traboule is essentially a covered passageway or hallway that go in between streets, through buildings, etc. I believe, if I correctly understood my host mom, they were created initially because of the silk industry in Lyon. The traboules were used to transport the silk across the city. I also believe they were used by the Resistance during WWII. Anyway, after walking all over and asking several people for directions, we finally found one small traboule that led to a courtyard. The building off of the courtyard looked like it was now an art studio or gallery. 

Mélanie and I by Notre Dame de Fourvière with the Saône river in the background. 

We ate lunch at a good bouchon Lyonnais and then went to some other parts of the city. We were both wanting to go to the Musée Lumière, about the Lumière brothers who were the creators of modern cinema, however we didn’t think we would have enough time before the museum closed and before we had to head back to the train station to catch our trains. So instead we decided to go to the Parc Tête D’or, which my host mom had told me was a nice park. After we got off the tram, we still had to walk quite a ways to get to the park entrance. Before we got there, it started pouring. We both had umbrellas, but we were still drenched within seconds. I was having flashbacks to Venice night one and could feel my boots filling with water. Mélanie and I both looked at each other, and we decided it was better to turn back, catch the tram back to the train station, get a warm drink and wait indoors for our trains. So, that’s what we did.
My poor boots were soaked for at least a solid two days after I got back, and as a result smell pretty funky now. They sure have served me well this semester, but I can’t wait to be able to throw them away. After I got back from Italy and England, I had to glue the sole of one of the heels and a bit of one of the toes back on. Needless to say, they’re pretty beat. I would buy new ones here, but on the few occasions that I’ve mustered up the courage to ask shop owners if they have any size 42 shoes (a US size 11) they all have the same reaction: they gasp and look down at my feet like I’m some sort of physical anomaly or that they’re certain I’m saying the wrong number and then solemnly shake their heads no. Right. But anyway, since my parents are coming to visit SOON during my spring break, my mom is bringing me new, non-smelly, completely intact boots and I couldn’t be more excited — both to see them and to pitch my old shoes. 

Anyway, sorry for the boot tangent. At Gare Part Dieu we got Starbucks — the first and only time I’ve had it in France — and tried to dry off and warm up. We left saying à plus tard (see you later) because who knows when I’ll be back in France or she’ll be back in the States. It was so nice to see her after four years and talk to her about my experiences in France, and how things here compare to things in the US. Overall, despite the sudden torrential downpour, I had a lovely day seeing Lyon and catching up with an old friend. 

The following day there was an IAU-wide trip  to the Luberon Valley. The Luberon is just north of Aix and is an absolutely beautiful area of Provence. We started the day by going to the Abbey of Silvacane, one of three Cistercian Abbeys in Provence that was built during the 12th century. 

Abbey of Silvacane

Next, we went to the town of Lourmarin. There is a large chateau that is up on a hill and we ate our picnic lunch in a field below it. It was such a cute, small village. Exactly what I picture when I think of Provencal France. It was the first day of France’s mayoral elections, so we stopped by the city hall to see France’s voting process. They have two rounds of elections and the second round was the following Sunday. This year’s was interesting because by and large across France towns voted for Front National mayors, which is on the extreme right side of France’s political spectrum. I listened to the news on the radio with my host mom and she was telling me they were saying that towns that had had liberal mayors for over 50 years had voted in a Front National mayor this time. From what I’ve gathered, I believe this wide spread shift to the right is due to the French’s dissatisfaction with the President, François Hollande. I think for the French, electing these reactionary mayors is a way of demonstrating to Hollande their discontent. Although, please note I know basically nothing about French politics. This is only speculation from what I’ve heard my host mom say. Regardless of the reason, it’s definitely an interesting change.  

The château in Lourmarin 

After we ate lunch and explored the village, we went to the cemetery in Lourmarin and saw Albert Camus’ grave. We drove through more charming, scenic villages before arriving in Roussillon. Evidently, Roussillon was home/ hideout to writer Samuel Beckett during the German occupation during WWII. The town used to (maybe still does?) mine ochre. We got to explore on old ochre quary/park. It was really pretty with the large, redish-orange sandy-rock formations. 

Albert Camus' grave

Hanging in an ochre quarry. 

The following weekend, I had more day trips in store. Friday the 28th, my France during the Occupation class took a trip to Les Milles and Marseille. Les Milles is just outside of Aix and was a French-run internment camp during WWII. During the phony war, before the German occupation and the division of France into the occupied and unoccupied zones, it held enemies of the state. That is, mainly those of German nationality because they were citizens of a belligerent country. After the German occupation in 1940, the camp was used by Vichy to hold “undesirables” — namely, Jewish people. Most were transported from Les Milles to Drancy, a camp near Paris, before being deported to Auschwitz. Needless to say, this was a pretty heavy place to visit. 

Les Milles

Some of the sleeping quarters in Les Milles

Souvenir (Remember) written on the wall by a person interred at Les Milles

Chacun peut réagir, chacun peut résister, chacun à sa manière.
Each can react, each can resiste, each in his own way.

Boxcar to remember the deportation

After that, we went to Marseille and saw various sites associated with the occupation and the resistance, including the different offices of Varrian Fry. Fry was an American who went to Marseille to help evacuate Jewish and anti-Nazi refugees from France. 

Cute giraffe statue in Marseille that has nothing to do with the occupation or resistance

The following day, I had another class trip with my Provencal History class and Mediterranean Civilization class to Avignon. First, we visited the Palais des Papes (Papal Palace), which was where the various Popes lived, beginning with Clement V, from 1309-1409. After touring that, we quickly went to an archaeological museum and then had lunch. After that, we went to the Musée du Petit Palais, an art museum that features Provencial and Italian pre-renaissance and renaissance paintings. To end our visit to Avignon, we walked on the Pont d’Avignon, which partially spans the Rhone River. Yes, partially. Part of it was destroyed at some point in time, and they didn’t see any point in rebuilding it. 

Palais des Papes

Palais des Papes

Guerrier de Vachères statue

This angel looks like she got caught stuffing her face.

Virgin Mary giving everyone the stink eye. 

Pont d'Avignon

That Sunday, two of my friends and I went with my host mom to Cassis, a nearby town that is right on the Mediterranean. It was a little cooler than expected and quite windy, but it was still very pretty to walk around. I can’t wait to go back when it’s warmer! 

Giant waves breaking against the lighthouse

Me and my host mom

Genna, me and Abby

The first weekend in April, I left France and visited my friend Clara in Andorra. Thursday afternoon, I took the train to Toulouse, where I then caught the bus to Andorra. On the way there, there were only six of us on the bus, including the driver. It’s about a three and a half hour bus ride through the Pyrenees, however it was dark for the majority of the ride. It was raining most of the way there, and at one point it started snowing like crazy! I was mildly concerned riding on the dark, twisty, switchback-y, snow-packed road, especially after we passed a car that was pulled over with its emergency flashers on, but our bus driver was a pro, and got us to the bus station in Andorra la Vella right on schedule. 

My first full day in Andorra, Clara and I hung out. She took me to a grocery store where I could see the rows and rows of cheap chocolate. And obviously I had to buy a giant Toblerone. That evening we took a walk on a trail that began behind Clara’s apartment and then we went out and had tapas, including patatas bravas, which I was stoked about. 

Cute bridge we crossed on our walk

Clara and I on our walk

Tapas! Yum!

Saturday morning, we got up early and took a bus up to Naturlandia, an outdoor park area. They have lots of different activities, but we just did the tobotronc, which is a really long (I think like 5 km?) alpine slide. It was really fun, and then after that, we hung out in the lodge area until it was time to catch the bus back down the mountain. 

Clara and I on the tobotronc

Going up the tobotronc

Next, we went and rented harnesses and helmets and embarked to do a via ferrata route, which is Italian for iron road. It’s like rock climbing, but there is a steel cable you clip into, and at certain points there are iron staples in the rocks to climb. After finally finding where the via ferrata began — the man at the store where we rented our equipment told us it was an easy route — we were off. It didn’t seem too bad at first. Part of it was just walking on mostly flat ground on the edge of a cliff/hill. Then, we got to a part where we were standing right next to a rushing creek. There was a sign marking that the path continued upward. There was a cable to clip into and staples, but they were up pretty high. After we both tried and failed to figure out how to get up and clip in,  we looked around to see if there was another way to go. We knew it couldn’t go directly into the cascading creek/ waterfall, but then, we saw on the other side of the creek where another cable began. We tried to go that way, but after getting completely drenched by the waterfall-creek, we decided we were too wet and our shoes were too slippery to continue, so we turned back around and descended to flat, solid ground. Despite underestimating the difficulty of the via ferrata, it was a lot of fun. As we were leaving, we finally found a sign with a map of the route, that also had warnings not to do it if you had not had previous mountain experience… whoops. 

View from where we started the Via Ferrata

Clara and I with our gear on. (Note: I'm embarrassed by how crooked my helmet is…)

So far, so good!

Casually climbing a mountain.

This is where we got stuck. Note the creek that cascades down on the left.

Sunday morning before I had to leave, Clara, her roommate Annie and I went for a hike up to a small church, which also has a via ferrata route that leads to it. After huffing and puffing our way to the top (I would like to blame the elevation for that…) we sat out on a rock that overlooked Andorra.

I'm discovering Europe has a thing for churches perched up on mountains. 

Me and Clara at the top.

Beautiful view

Me, Annie and Clara

That afternoon, I caught the bus back to Toulouse which ended up running behind schedule. I was sweating it the entire way there because my train was scheduled to leave at 6:51, 21 minutes after the bus was scheduled to arrive. The bus pulled into the station at 6:51 and I was on the verge of tears. I hurried into the train station, looked up at the departures board and saw that my train was running 30 minutes BEHIND schedule. I breathed the biggest sigh of relief because I was about 98% positive that I was on the last train to Aix that evening. So, not only was I not stranded in Toulouse, but I also had enough time to get a slice of pizza and an escargot aux raisins (aka pain aux raisins, aka bread, not actual snails) for dinner. I finally made it back to Aix late Sunday night. 

Escargot aux rasins, named so because of its shape, not because it contains snails. Which it doesn't.

This coming weekend is the first weekend I’ve had here where I don’t have any real, concrete plans. I’ll probably just hang around Aix and enjoy the lovely spring weather that is finally settling in. On verra. The following week is my spring break and my parents are coming to France to visit, which I am so excited for! Anyway, that is all for now… 

Bisous!