Musée D'Histoire Naturelle

 

On Sunday I went to the Museum of Natural History. Every day I walk through the small park in front of this building on my way to IES. It's easy to just pass by something every day and forget about its existence. But I decided that wasn't what I wanted to do. I wanted to see what was in here. So I did.

 There was a really expansive and really interesting precious rock collection. The friend that went with me and I spent a long time in this room. All of the rocks were extremely different and some were down right unusual. But everything had a beauty in its own right. I felt that the rocks in their original form are more beautiful than the cutting and carving that we do to them in order to make them 'beautiful.' Although I marvel at the accomplishments of human consciousness I am always in a state of disparity between loving what we have created, and wishing that we had left the earth in its original gorgeous glory. But like the immortalized Calvin and Hobbes once said "If people could put rainbows in zoos they'd do it."

 But that doesn't stop me from being impressed with what we have accomplished. The bust above is of Frédéric Cailliaud, a French naturalist, mineralogist and conchologist (shell scientist). He was the curator of the Nantes natural history Museum form 1836 to 1869. He traveled all over the place, sometimes with the French military, and collected rocks and stuff from all over. It was because of him that the museum is so awesome.

After the rocks there was an exhibit about the wetlands that once were Nantes. The French have drained and industrialized the area for as long as there have been people living here, starting with the Romans. But there are still some places where wild life can still survive. There was a bunch of taxidermy at the museum. Unfortunately there were badgers and no gophers. But that just goes to show that badgers are simply unAmerican.

There was also a live snake exhibit. This was the only active snake. I assume it's a girl snake, but I have no idea. Anyway she went from her sleeping state up on a little balcony to slithering down a tree. When I took this picture she looked up at me, and decided that she wanted more privacy  so she turned around, which is rather impressive for a snake on a tree to turn around, and went to a different branch. 

The last room was full of skeleton and shells and taxidermy  There was the skeleton of a baby elephant and the body of what I think was a humpback whale spanning the entire length of the room. It was two levels, and to get to the second level of the room, there were spiral staircases. I'm rather pleased when ever I see a spiral staircase.

I really liked the taxidermy of the birds. I took forever looking at them, and my companion was less enthusiastic. But I really enjoyed seeing the owls and the other carnivorous birds, and, as any good American, the Bald Eagle. 

Église Protestante Unie de Nantes

This last Sunday I accompanied a few friends to the Protestant church in Nantes. It was a very good experience and I think that I will go back next week. Although I highly enjoy the Catholic mass that I attended with friends in other countries, I have a special connection with protestant churches. The order really isn't all that different as far as liturgy goes, but the tenants are different, and those are the things that matter most to me.

One of those tenants can be seen on the left. The empty cross. The crucifix has Jesus still upon it, while the cross of the protestants is vacant. To me that shows the emphasis shift in the two churches. Most of the Catholic churches I have been to have emphasized the fact that Jesus died for our sins. Although that is a really important part of my faith, I feel that the protestant cross greater represents how I feel. To me the empty cross doesn't simply emphasis the death of our Lord, but rather the Resurrection, the defeat of death. The fact that through Jesus we can attain heaven, that he gave himself for us so that we could live forever. 

The other is Communion, or Eucharist. I don't believe in transubstantiation. And, as I am not Catholic, during the Eucharist, I know that I am not welcome at the table because I don't share that belief. I believe that the bread and the wine are symbols of my faith and of the sacrifice that my Lord made for me. I do not however believe that they literally turn into the blood and body of Christ. I'm not saying that God doesn't have that power. But I don't think the actual consumption of body and blood is the point. The point is to do it in remembrance of Christ. To keep Christ in your life, and heart. To know what He did for us and to praise Him for that. That's just what I believe.

 I think it's important to know what you believe. I always ask my friends what they believe, what their spiritual backgrounds are. Even though most of my friends do not have the same faith as me, I am glad that they do have some sort of faith. Whether that is Catholicism, Protestantism, Judaism, Islam, Hindu, I'm just curious in other's faith. Once when I was asking a friend about his faith, another asked why I asked. I said because I was curious, and he accused me of not knowing my faith. But I know exactly what I believe. I know exactly what I have faith in. But that does not mean I completely shut down those who believe differently. The one thing I believe above all is that we are all children of God, whether or not we are sure of our faith.

Snow Day Nantes

One morning I woke up to the screaming of my little French sister. I was well into my second week living with my French family so I was getting rather used to the sounds children make. Feet thumping around the house, making them sound much bigger than they actually are, and screams of capricious wants or desires being thwarted by the logic of an adult. But this utterance of untimely noise, it was seven in the morning you see, was not one of arbitrary desires being foiled but something different. This was a noise of joy.

I roll out of my bed, with my airplane blanket clinging to me with all the static power it could muster. It was probably the best decison I've made so far to relieve the airport of one of their towel sized blankets. It has served me well up until I was given another larger blanket by my host mother. They probably weren't expecting someone my height. The wonderfully orange quilt that they so graciously let me use, is not quite long enough to cover me. So the airplane blanket helped to keep the chill at rest. 

After preparing myself for the day ahead, I mount the stairs to the kitchen. There, in the living room, the little girl is jumping every-so gleefully on the sofa. And, after viewing my quizzical look she screamed "Neige!" Snow. 

Apparently they only get snow one day a year in Nantes and this was it. Everyone was excited for the maybe inch of snow that they received in the night. I looked out the window, the world looked like home. Snow is something I understand. Something I've always had, and loved. The way it can take anything, a dirty city, a spooky graveyard, a boring box like car, go from its original state of dirty, spooky or boring and transform them into something magical. Snow has the way of bring the best out of things. But as I felt the window, I knew that the snow would not last the day.

But that didn't stop me from enjoying it. As I set out on my mile long trek to the IES center, I silently laughed at the cars on the street. Not a single one could figure out how to drive in the snow, the inch of snow that dusted their roads like powdered sugar on a pancake. There were cars trying to move with their front wheels spinning, and their back wheels doing nothing. They even cancelled the buses here because no one knew what to do. And I remembered the story of one time when I was in Queens, New York with my family visiting my grandparents there.

 It had snowed some, more than I suppose they're used to in New York. And we watched outside our window as people struggled to get by. There on the opposite side of the street was a young woman, trying, desperately, to get her car out of a snowed in parking lot. We were laughing at her of course. But my father, being the gentleman that he sometimes is, decided he should help. So he left the apartment and went down into the street. He said something to the women, and she protested, shaking her head. Then, after he spoke again, she gave up and handed him the keys. He got in the car, and in two swift movements, got it out of its snowed in parking spot. The woman was grateful to my father when he gave her back her keys. As he came back inside she drove away. We asked him what he told her and he said "Ma'am, I'm from Minnesota."

Since it was such a lovely day I decided to treat myself to lunch. Above is half a sandwich that I shared with a friend. It had ham and cheese but also lettuce and some other sort of green thing that I still don't completely understand. Then, since all I had was water, I mixed some hot chocolate mix into it. It wasn't terrible, and the more chocolate I added the better it tasted, as is the rule of life. The pear was good though, neither too soft, nor too hard, and just with the right amount of juicy goodness.

But the real treat came with desert. I bought myself a chocolate eclair with chocolate cream filling. And that tiny thing next to it is fudge. Both were so decadent I had to stop halfway into them to enjoy, to savor the entire experience. Chocolate is best when it's snowing.

Crêperie: La Cantine du Curé

One night last week I went to a crêperie for diner. If you're ever in Nantes go to a crêperie. It was possibly the best time ever. And if you want to go to the place I went there is the name and stuff. The food was amazing, although noisy the atmosphere was nice, and, even though one of the waiters was a tad creepy, the other server attempted to speak English, which is always hilarious. The French have such interesting accents, as I supposed I do as well.

 It was another outing with for I think the conversation club of IES. Because every table was supposed to save a seat for a French student, so that we could talk with them. And you know what they say: If you save it they will come. A couple French students came in and sat with our group. With my friends sat a very nice French gentleman who probably regretted his seat choice within seconds of sitting down. By the way 'House Punch' is not like Kool Aid. It's booze. I really have a hankering for some Kool Aid, and peanut butter. But that's to be expected. For the Kool Aid thing, J'ai pas.

I realized that American's smile a lot more than the French. Can you spot the French person? Anyway he was really nice, and is on the Quidditch team in Nantes. But he was overwhelmed with our lack of vocabulary, and utterly futile attempts at small talk.

There comes a point, in each day, where I hit a wall. I'm not perfect before it, but I'm terrible afterwards. It's like a sudden realization that I'm speaking French, and then just as sudden, that I don't know French. I know I know more than the average American. (I know that France is a country so I definitely know more than some southern Americans). I come back from my day and when asked how it went words just fall randomly out of my mouth. When I sit and think. C’était une bonne journée. J'ai suivi le cours d'histoire de l'art aujourd’hui, et la maîtresse parlent trop vitement pour moi. Mais l'histoire, c'est ma forte, et je pense il sera un bon cours. But I don't have that luxury in real time. In order for it to come out smoothly I have to prepare and think, it's not automatic. And sometimes I forget the stupidest, easiest things, and just, as my friends had the joy of witnessing, crash and burn as I forget how to say the things I wish to say. But hopefully this will get better. Hopefully I'll learn the things I wish to know.

On a brighter note, this is a galette (and no not a galette des rois that's different, though I probably should have been more descriptive with that sorry.) Anyway this galette is made with buckwheat instead of being a normal crêpe, savory rather than sweet, this one, which I shared with my friend, was cheese, bacon and an egg. Notice will you, that the bacon is more like Canadian bacon than American bacon. This is because for the rest of the world Canadian bacon is bacon, while our bacon is called streaky, breakfast, fatty or American bacon. However I have yet to see any American bacon in France. Also there was one egg, just chilling out in the center of the galette, perfectly sunny-side up, just waiting to be devoured. It was a really good galette.

And this is a crêpe. On top of this beautiful French pancake was caramel and nutella. Probably one of the most delicious things I've ever had the pleasure of consuming. The caramel sauce was delectable and so warm it was causing the nutella to melt slowly. And the nutella, so creamy and just with the right amount of chocolaty flavor was so flavorful I could barely contain my utter joy as I feasted upon it.

And then there was this desert. Chocolate, bananas, and rum. As you can see in the video the rum was lit on fire before cascading over the delectable creation. Sorry for the noise pollution, and the English. There a no words to describe this fragrant piece of culinary art. The chocolate, so rich and heavenly permeated through the crêpe. The bananas were so fresh with a subtle flavor as the rum, which was the prevailing flavor, crept into every inch of the desert. And I, once again, received that thrilling sensation of pure chocolate love. I highly recommend this desert.

Un Croque Monsieur and University

We visited the University in Nantes last week, and, as is my proclivity, I only took pictures of my food.  Above is what is known as a Croque Monsieur. That is ham, with cheese on bread with another piece of cheese on top, cooked so the cheese in the center is nice and gooey and the cheese on the top is melted and oh so yummy. Next to it was a nice salad, with a vinaigrette that wasn't bad. And carrots. I like carrots, but they were rather tasteless, as carrots have the tendency to be.

Hot chocolate. Is amazing here, like molten chocolate with fresh cream. Yum.

The French system is different then the American one in a lot of ways. Some that I like and some that I think don;t prepare the French as well for the global world, in my opinion. The thing I like the most is that it costs, on average, with fees and things about 300 euros a year, that's roughly 400 american dollars. The University of St. Thomas is roughly 33,000 a year, according to its website, while the University of Minnesota is 24,000 a year, according to their site. The French, tax their rich at a much more extreme rate than the US, as high as 75% for those who make over seven figures. (Personally I still think what they end up with is a lot.) While the highest income tax for the US is 35%. But what do I know about money? Other than that American education is eatting most of mine.

This is a Bounty Bar, it's like a Mound Bar, but with Milk chocolate. I dunked it in my hot chocolate.

I however, do not like the specialization that happens in French education. Although most the people I know complain about taking 'Liberal Education Requirements' but in France you can't take something other than your major. As a double major, I would not be able to do that. I would have to choose history or French not both. All of my classes would either have to be History or French. And, the worst part, I wouldn't be able to be in band. That would be the worst thing in the world.So there are somethings that I like about the French system and somethings that I don't care for at all.

This is a galette des roi, a cake of the kings. The French use it to celebrate epiphany. (This wasn't the same day but I got a picture that corresponds with the story, so just bare with me). Anyway, the group had to do a meet and great with the French/English Alliance of Nantes. (Since IES is pretty much a nonprofit, it makes sense that we are obliged to meet some probably old French People) All of the people were really nice, and listened to us even though our French wasn't that awesome. But the main even was the eatting of man galettes. In the middle of the galette there is a thing, a favor, that if found makes you the queen or the king of the night. It is customary for the person who finds the favor to find a king or queen besides them.

I did not find a favor in my piece. However, I was standing next a friend who did. He got his crown, and then came back to the corner in which we had been hiding. In the previous three times I had consumed a galette I had found the favor. I told this to my friends, and probably in wrong words, sad I was slightly sad that I didn't find one this time. So my friend, nice as he is let me be his queen. So I got a crown headband. Très chouette.

That night I come home to find this in my room. Ma Mère d’accueil (host mother) had done the laundry and set my socks out to dry on the heater. It was a lovely thing to do. And for some reason just made me extremely happy.

 

The Nid

Why yes that is a roof with an egg broken on it. Why is it like that? And how come I am so far above it? The answer to both of those questions can be found at the Nid.

The Nid (the nest) is a bar perched on top of the 34th floor of the Tour Bretagne. In the summer of 2012, an art festival called "A Journey to Nantes" commissioned this bar as a piece of art. The Nantais who designed it thought that it should captivate what Nantes is. I don't know if he hit his mark but I though it was cool.

All of the chairs and tables in the place are shaped like eggs. And the center piece, which had people all over it, is a big long bird's neck and head that acts as a couch. You enter into the nest of a large duck when you go to this bar, and I thought it was really cool.

The other cool thing, and the main reason I went it for the view. The Tour Bretagne is one of the tallest buildings in Nantes, and thus one can see all of Nantes from the Nid.

And, as is the point of a bar, it had drinks. This is the Nid, a combination of secret drinks that pretty much resembles a mimosa.

Complètement Perdu

Today doesn't get any pictures. I didn't take any on this adventure, but it was still and adventure non-the-less.

At 15h30 I was supposed to have a meeting with the principal of the school in which I will be teaching English. I got accepted (they accept everyone, but it sounds more official when I write 'accepted') into a teaching internship within my program here in Nantes. I really think it will be a good opportunity for me to be in a classroom with French students. The end goal in my education is to become a teacher, so this is a logical step. Also, French children are adorable.  I got placed in an elementary school, so they will be just the most adorable children ever.

Anyway, I was supposed to have a meeting at 15h30 with the principal to discuss what times I could teach which classes. So I looked up the school on Google maps, and it was easy to find from my host house here in Nantes. I, however forgot to look it up on my physical map that I always keep in my coat pocket. So I as I was walking along I realized that I had not marked the destination on my map and didn't remember which street it was on. Like and good American, I didn't stop for directions.

I figured that, with my American logic, the school, which was named after a church, would be somewhere near the church. By somewhere near, I thought it would be next door, or on the next street, or maybe on the same block. Nope. Not in France. That's not how they work here.

So I circled the church. Then, not finding the school, circled the block. So, still not finding the school, I circled the church again, in case I missed it, which I am prone to do. Still not finding it, I widened my circle. Then, as it was about 5 minutes until my appointment, and I seriously had no idea where the school was, it started to pour.

Then, and only then did I decide to ask for directions.

Unfortunately, no one knew where the school was. I asked an old man, and he pointed me in a direction. Then still not finding it, I asked a young women who was smoking under an overhang, and she said she had no idea. Then, finding her oh so useful, I asked a couple more people, who were just as helpful. Then I asked a women, who, although she knew not where it was, told me to follow her, so, I figured I was lost and late, I might as well.

So I followed her into a doctors office. We walked up to the front desk, and she asked the sort of annoyed looking clerk where the school was. Not wanting to be stupid, cause I forget which French word is right (droite) and which French word is left (gauche), I put my map on the desk so she can mark the directions I can take. But I also confuse my rights and my lefts in English, so it's not surprising that I do it in a language that I have yet to completely understand. So she marked it on my map, but like everyone else, she wasn't sure.

So I thank the nice women who helped me, and set out again on my quest. I go to the coordinates that the desk lady told me, and there isn't a school there.

Being rather disheartened by this event, I wander further down the street, towards a green area, that I can only assume is a park. A long the way, a man comes out of a building, and readies his motorcycle to leave. Demoralized as I was, I asked him where the school was. He looked at me, and then said "You speak English?" I responded with a quick "Oui," and he gave me directions in English. I thanked him, in French, and set out in the way he pointed.

I round a corner, and there in big blue letters is the name of the school. So it turns out Google is completely wrong. And the church is a half mile away from the school. Thanks Google.

In the end everything worked out. The principal was nice. And the teachers I met were nice too. And I didn't cry nor did I give up. It was overall an adventure.