Crazy Adventures in the Life of a Redhead

Before leaving the U.S. there was one place I wanted to make sure I visited, and that place was Strasbourg. One of the girls who had participated in this program before me had informed me that the largest Christmas market in France was located in Strasbourg and was supposed to be fabulous, which definitely perked my interest. I decided that no matter what I did, I was going to go to Strasbourg. Originally I had planned to find someone on the internet through couchsurfing.com where I could sleep for the night, so as to not pay anything for my lodging, but it just so happened that one of my French friends who I met at North Central College moved to Strasbourg for his studies, so I really lucked out with a great place to stay. He and his girlfriend were so great to let me stay with them. I mean, they were amazing, paying for tram tickets and food, etc. Really unnecessary, but wow, really wonderful. I am just so fortunate to have friends like him who want to welcome me into their lives wi

It is quite busy here in France right now, with exams and getting ready to go home, which means goodbyes and farewell parties. I, however, found enough time to make it to Paris the past two weekends. I mean, I know that I should have studied more, but experiencing the cultural and social heritage of France is just as important for my French studies as maybe spend ing a few more hours on the French Constitution. I mean, which one will likely make more impact on my future. I can give you a hint…not the Constitution! The first weekend, I met my German friends, who I had met in Washington DC. It was so great to see them again and a little surreal, I must say. I mean, how wonderful that people who I met in DC, I saw in Germany and then again in Paris. The world is small and people can get around so quickly; sometimes it blows my mind. One of my friends, who later came back to Angers with me, had never been to Paris beforehand, so we had a lot of fun showing her around the city. I must say,

Out of the country again, out of France, off to discover another corner of Eur ope. I took a flight from Nantes, after taking a bus to the airport. The only reason I add this small detail is that I had to run after the bus because I took the wrong bus only to have a great driver who, upon seeing the other bus that I needed, stopped for me and let me out to run after it. What an ordeal. Then I found out they did not take credit cards like the man at the train station told me (I had only four euros to my name) so I got the ride for free; I had no other option, not even a cash machine would take my card. I however do feel bad about the situation. I do not like to disrupt the order of things like that, but whatever. From the small Nantes Atlantic airport, I was off to London, to another small and obscure airport into which I think all the small budget planes fly. The price of getting into London by the Stanstead Express was as expensive as my round trip ticket to York (two hours plus by tr

In early October, I went to visit a good friend of mine in Germany, and on my way to Germany, I met a guy with whom I spoke during the flight. He told me that he is a student in Toulouse and that if I were interested in visiting the city that he would be happy to welcome me. Knowing me, I immediately took up the offer and searched on-line for a way to get to Toulouse. I know it is a little crazy that I meet someone on a plane, have no idea what he is all about and decide to spend a weekend at his apartment, but hey, I am young and adventurous…throwing caution to the wind. That kind of makes it sound as if I am preparing you for an awful account of a trip where everything that could go wrong did in fact go wrong, but it was quite the contrary. I could not have hoped for a better weekend than the one I just experienced. I am writing this account on my seven hour journey by night train from Toulouse to Paris (which I must say are very interesting…me typing on my computer, the girl in fron

Part One : Normandie and Bretagne, getting our feet wet The whole adventure started as I picked up my mother from the airport. From the very instant that we picked up the car, we knew this was going to be quite some ride. My mom reserved a stick shift car for the week because it was significantly cheaper (there are only a handful of automatic cars in France). This meant that I could not drive it and that she had not driven one in about 15 years. She looked at the car, and when I said, I will just wait for you to back up, so I can get in, she told me that it would take a little configuring to get the thing out of its tiny slot and that I should just get in the car. Well, with a few jolts and a few stalls, and figuring out that “off roads” on the GPS literally means, “Here is the distance you have to go and the direction in which you will find your town, so just point your car in that direction, do not pay attention to whether there is a road or not, which matters very little, but in 11