The elevator in my building is broken

Well, it's not really broken, per se. It was very old and tempermental, so it's being replaced. So for the next two months, I have to walk to my fourth-floor apartment.

The thing about French buildings is that the French don't really consider the ground floor an actual "floor." When you walk in, you're not on the first floor: the second floor is the first floor, then the third is the second, the fourth is the third, etc., etc. Got that? Good. There will be a quiz at the end of this post.

(This is an aside. There is a really fabulous pianist on the second floor of the building, and my bedroom is directly above him so I can hear him perfectly when he practices. He's amazing. Some day I'm going to go down there and just stick a note under his door that says "I love you. Please practice more because it makes my day.")

(Another aside. UVA just had the first snow day since 2003, and I wasn't there for it. Argh.)

It's not such a bad thing to have a broken elevator, actually- as my host mother pointed out, we see our neighbors more now than we would otherwise since we're all having to trek up and down the stairs. But the downside is that if I forget something on my way out, I can't really run back up and get it and still be on time to wherever I'm going. And therein lies the reason for this little story- because the other day I forgot my camera. I was running out to meet some friends at the opera house (which is rather far from me) and I left it in my room. So I have pictures of the city, yes, but not of the really amazing basilica that we went to or the Roman ruins we climbed around. I'll go there again and get pictures then, but for now, I'll just have to tell you.

Here's a picture of the basilica. It sits on the hill over the city, northwest of where I live, past Old Lyon in a small town (I think it's a town, anyway) called Fourviere.



You can take a metro to get to it, but it's more fun to walk if the weather's nice. And while y'all have been cold and snowbound, we've been going around without jackets. It's 55 and sunny right now, and we have the windows open.

Revenons a nos moutons. (In French that means "let's get back to our sheep." But they don't really have sheep anymore, so what they really mean is "back to the subject." That will also be on the quiz.) On Fridays the opera house has free concerts, so some of the students decided to go and check it out. We got there a bit too late, though, and the concert was full, so we walked across the river into Old Lyon. Old Lyon is just what it sounds- the older part of the city. The streets are narrow and paved with stone, and there are little shops and cafes everywhere. We walked through it until we found the way into Fourviere-it's a road that slopes upward, and you just keep going up and up and up until you get to the Roman ruins, and then you're almost there.
Speaking of which, the ruins are amazing. I really, really, really wish I had a picture to put up. There's a huge amphitheater that dates from 7 or 8 A.D. and used to house 11,000 people. Now the uppermost seats have collapsed, but most of the amphitheater is still intact and it can now hold about 2,000 people. It's fantastic.

Once you get past the ruins, you're in Fourviere. The basilica, massive and imposing, dominates everything- but the inside is the really spectacular part. It is completely, utterly, and totally, floor-to-ceiling covered in mosaics. The coloring is unbelievably gorgeous- bright colors everywhere, always accented with gold. Gold on gold on gold. It's indescribable. And so silent. They have soft chanting music (is it still Gregorian if it's French monks?) playing constantly, but that's the only sound. Nobody speaks loudly or walks loudly or even really breathes loudly. After that cool and quiet, coming out into the bright sunlight was a little jarring. We stood around for a little bit afterwards- there is a place where you can look out over the city, and on clear days you can see the Alps and Mont Blanc really clearly. On Friday it was a bit too hazy, though, so we could just barely make out the Alps. At the viewing place there were some young girls going around with what looked like petitions, and they asked us to sign them. They said something about orphans, so we signed the thing and expected them to go away. But then they tried to make us give them money. "10 Euros, see, you have to give 10 Euros," they told us. At that point we realized that they weren't legit at all, and had probably just pegged us as rich tourists. When we told them we didn't have 10 Euros, they said "Give us what you have." Then I said "No, I don't have any money at all," but one of them said, "No, look in your purse. You have money." I kept telling her I had none, and she kept saying I should look in my purse. Finally I just gave her the contents of my pocket- one Euro, three quarters, a nickel and some pennies. She looked at it and mumbled merci and walked away. So much for the "orphans."

To get down from Fourviere, there is first a winding garden right below the church, and then a long, long stairway that goes straight down into Old Lyon (You could go up that way, I suppose, but it's literally straight up the mountain and I don't think you'd want to.). It took us a good 20 minutes to get back on our side of the peninsula and then 20 more to get back to our building. I think we walked a total of three and a half hours that day. It was a glorious afternoon.

I had class on Friday night until 8 pm, which kind of stinks, but it's a cool class so I didn't mind that much. There are some other American students in it, too. After class Anne, the girl who lives in my building (but on the second floor. lucky.) and I went to the Croix Russe, a part of the city that's on the peninsula. One of the other students lives there. We had dinner with Belinda (the student who lives there) and Benjamin (another student) at a pretty nice Chinese restaurant, because that was pretty much the only place we could find that wasn't completely full at 9:30 on a Friday. After dinner we went up to Belinda's apartment building and found the way to the roof. That, I do have pictures of.



This is the Rhone, one of the two rivers in Lyon.


This is the Croix Russe, and beyond that, Old Lyon and the Basilica in the distance, up on the hill on the right.

I have other pictures, too. Here we go:

This is the Rhone and Bellecour (the building). On the other side is the Rue de la Republique, which is essentially a pedestrian mall.



There is a football "court" (I guess that's what you'd call it) by the Rhone...


...and a skate park.



The Rhone at twilight. Near where I live there are little wading pools/canals/whatever you want to call them that run parallel to the river. That's what's in the foreground, and past that is the river itself.

A lot of people walk/run/bike/skateboard/rollerblade on the paths along the river. I saw a lot of couples and families there the last time I walked along the river. There are (awesome) playgrounds for children and skate parks for older kids. Farther down the river is the huge and spectacular Parc de la Tete d'Or (Park of the Golden Head). I don't have pictures of that, either, but it was a cloudy day, anyway. I'll tell you about that some other time when I have pictures.

And at last, as promised, a quiz.

1. Sarah lives on the
a. fourth floor, but it's really the fifth.
b. fourth floor, but it's really the basement.
q. fourth floor, but it feels like the seventeenth when you have to walk up there.
x. roof.

2. Revenons a nos moutons means:
a. "Let's return to our sheep"
b. "I don't like to eat lamb."
y. "I'd like some mittens, please."
u. "But make sure they're the mittens with fingers."
v. There isn't really a choice v. But I thought you'd like to know that the French (of course) have words for gloves and mittens, but they also have a word for mittens with fingers. Isn't that cool?

Happy Sunday,

Sarah

This is the airport in Lyon, just as we were leaving.
This is the train station, which is right next to the the airport.
The view from my window, part one.
The view from my window, part two. As you can see, the road is sideways to the right of my window. I'm not quite sure how the cars stay on the road.
Mocha, the little crazy cat. He looks sweet, but he will try to eat you AND your socks.

Bonjour de France!

I'm finally here! There's so much to say, but I'll try not to ramble too much.

It's been a crazy first day or so. I left D.C. at about 5:30 in the afternoon on Friday and flew all night to Munich. There were two other girls from UVA on the flight with me, which made things a bit less scary, though none of us have ever traveled outside the US before. I had a window seat on the left side of the plane, so as we headed north I could see the last little bit of sunlight disappearing on the horizon. While we were over the Atlantic it was unbelievably dark outside, but as we got into Europe, I could see city lights. A small glow would appear outside, focus into streets and buildings as we passed over it, and then disappear behind us. It was beautiful every time, but once, the light was so bright I wondered if it was dawn (it was about 5:30 a.m. at that point). It wasn't dawn, not yet- it was just a huge, sprawling city, lit up even in the dead of night. I checked the map, and yes, it was Paris. Of course. : )

We got into Munich early- about 7 a.m. their time. Our flight to Lyon was at eleven and was only an hour, so that was fine, but of course by that time our bodies thought it was five in the morning and none of us had slept well on the plane. It was a bizarre feeling, looking out of the window and seeing daylight but feeling like I should be asleep.

I finally reached my host family's apartment at about two in the afternoon on Saturday. They have five children, but only one still lives at home- the youngest, Marjolaine, who just turned 18. They were throwing a surprise birthday party for her the day I got there, so I only had time for a nap and a shower before I met pretty much their entire family and all of Marjolaine's friends. One of their friends has a daughter my age, and after watching me struggle to explain who I was to several people, she leaned over to me and said, "Just tell them you're the American- they'll understand." So for the rest of the night, when someone asked who I was, I said "I'm Sarah, the American," and (without fail) they'd say "oh! yes. I know who you are." I thought it was hilarious. Everyone greets everyone with a kiss on both cheeks here, and it caught me a little bit by surprise at first, but I got used to it. Not everyone starts with the same side, though, so there were some funny moments when I would go right and the other person would go the same way and we'd almost bump heads. The party was exhausting- speaking French, hearing French, thinking French. But it was exhilarating.

I have some pictures to post of my room and the insane six-month-old cat the Moreaus own, but I'll post them later. A bientot!