To Iberia And Beyond

Cream Cheese and Nutella: I Don't Get French Culture

There are many differences between American and French culture, the most shocking of which is the use of cream cheese and Nutella. In the United States, cream cheese is part of breakfast or brunch. If cream cheese is to be used later on in the day, it is to be mixed with something else to make a sauce. Nutella on the other hand, is a very sweet chocolate hazelnut cream that is heavy and fattening. It looks like it is a chocolate cream. Its sweetness, its chocolaty-ness, and its bad-for-your-healthness obviously makes it part of a dessert.

The French (aka Melanie and her friends) have a different view. Cream cheese, like all other cheeses can be part of breakfast, lunch, dinner or dessert.  I can understand that, there is nothing inherently breakfasty about cream cheese (unlike cereal which is only for breakfast for normal people and at any time for college students).

Nutella, meanwhile, is for breakfast, a 4pm snack, and midnight. Melanie said that Nutella is too sweet to be a dessert, which I just do not understand. She explains that Nutella provides such a shock of energy from the sugar that it is “degueulasse” to eat it as part of dessert, and that I am “an ogre” for doing so.

How can something be too sweet to be a dessert? Until I understand that concept, I will not understand French culture.

From Alsace To Aubervilliers: My Atypical French Adventure

Hello all! Sorry for the hiatus but due to computer issues, camera issues and being in a constant state of flux I have not had the capacity/motivation to update for a bit. I am writing from one of the most popular, and most renowned spots of all of France: Aubervilliers which is famous for many things, the least of which being that some small little village is to its south.

I, like many American tourists, am spending half of my time in the great Parisian metropolitan area visiting the outsides of many famous buildings like the Louvre, Notre Dame Cathedral, The Eiffel Tower, The Pantheon etc and spending the other half cleaning an apartment that has not been lived in since the fall of the Berlin Wall. The biggest difference between these two experiences is that while cleaning I am actually supposed to touch the old stuff where as in the museums the old stuff is behind glass.

I have actually yet to enter any historic Parisian buildings besides some cathedral that is probably historically highly significant and demonstrates the changing of architectural styles from one period to another or is the best example of the ____ style of architecture. I'm not sure, I just stepped in to get out of the rain for a little bit. It was pretty, but after the Cathedrals of Granada, Sevilla, Cordoba, Salamanca, Barcelona, Oviedo, Frieburg and Strausburg I am kind of done with cathedrals. In French there is a word for when you eat so much of some rich food like chocolate and your taste buds become wacked out and loose sensitivity- I now feel that about cathedrals.

But here I am, helping Melanie move into her new apartment and trying to figure out how you clean the ceiling and not just mark it with dirty water. It is helping me ease back into my normal life in the States-which starts again on August 17th, because now I am involved more in normal day to day life and less traveling and sight seeing. It is a welcomed break.

I saw a great deal of Alsace and I enjoyed it, but I would have appreciated it and my time in France more if I had 1) come here well rested and not semi-tired of traveling, 2) known more French and 3) studied French history and culture more in depth. But I did not and so to try to make more lasting impressions on myself I am clinging towards small factoids that I can string together to get a complete picture -- however small. Yes, I am doing a lot of connecting the dots between French things and the USA which makes me seem a little American-obsessed, but it is the easiest way for me to contextualize what I am seeing and for me to bring it home. I got very excited when I saw an Ohio state flag in Colmar (which is also home of the first model of the Statue of Liberty- now unceremoniously put in the center of a roundabout.) And I have been snapping pictures of Wilson, Kennedy, FDR Blvds. So yes, I'm Amero-centric, but it's interesting that France is too to some extent.

Now I'm starting to digest my time in France that has going by so fast, so get ready for more posts.

oh and did you know that the Eiffel Tower is right next to a street named New York?

France is Tres Mignon

I have almost spent a week in France. Before coming here, I felt woefully unprepared and anxious. I thought that my lack of basic conversational French coupled with my lack of knowledge of French culture, history and political situation would mean that I would be unable to enjoy myself here. That has not been the case. It does mean I’m not getting as full of an experience out of France as I got out of Spain, but I’m still having a blast.

My first night here was the Fires of Saint Jean. I think he is John is English; I know he’s Juan in Spanish, oh well. So Mélanie, her mother and myself went to a clearing between the vineyards and the mountain to watch eight foot high stack of pallets get burned. They said that it’s usually three times as high and that it’s such a shame I couldn’t see that. I was very impressed at any rate, it was the biggest fire I ever saw in my life. I know the pagan tradition deals with the idea of marking the first day of summer and lighting up the shortest night which probably dispels demons and such. But now it’s a Catholic holiday, but I have no idea what the Church says is the reason for the celebration.

It was interesting seeing such a large fire though. A fire that large moves and burns in a different way than a small fire: the flames look different. It’s as if all my life I’ve only seen drops or glasses of water and then I saw my first small lake. I gained a new appreciation of the beauty of fire that night which eventually became a new appreciation of the danger of fire as I had to stand about 30 feet away from it when it was at its peak.

Mainly I have been relaxing with Mélanie around the house, picking fruit from the garden, learning to distinguish cheeses (I’m much better at that than distinguishing wines) and seeing Alsace. We took a little hike at the top of some mountain and we bumped into a shepherd walking his hundred or so sheep. I got really excited since I’ve never seen so many sheep outside of a petting zoo before. I’m not sure if that is because I’m a city-slicker (or at least suburb-slicker) or because I’m an American. I think it’s the city-slicker thing.

I’ve also been shown around the village a bit. It’s so cute I just want to pinch its cheeks. I realize I’m such a tourist stereotype when I say this but I don’t care: it looks just like the German part of Busch Gardens. So many small Tudor styled buildings it is ridiculous. Also, nearly everyone here has a garden. It’s idyllic and very tranquil. Of course, I couldn’t live here since eventually tranquility would become boredom, but it’s nice now.

Mélanie and I went to Mulhouse the other day and crashed at a friend’s house after a dinner with some of her group of college friends. A lot of French was spoken. It was ok since one of her friends is nearly fluent in English so she’d help me follow along when I got too lost and another one of her friends is extremely expressive. So while I had no idea what the second friend was saying, I still was able to laugh a lot with everyone else due to her wild gesticulations and faces.

One of the most impressive things about Mélanie’s house is the view. While eating dinner on the back porch you can easily see a 12^th century castle resting atop a mountain with the sun setting behind it. Oh, and they have a butter churn which they have used to make butter, and I’m sleeping on a bed from the 19^th century, and they make they own liquor and jam, and there are dried flowers from the garden hanging everywhere, and ever meal has at least four cheeses, and there are tons of fresh cherries and raspberries, and I’m helping Mélanie read “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” in English*.

I am a very happy camper.

Hasta Luego Spain, Bonjur France!

Greetings from Scherweller* in Alsace, France! I got in yesterday after a 24 hour bus ride from Salamanca which was a very very long time to be on a bus. We left at 7pm so I slept for some of the trip, but it still dragged on a lot. The last 5 hours were the hardest part and driving through the “Massive Center” of France was very beautiful. Lots of hills, lots of early morning fog, lots of greenery and cows, I amused myself to no end by saying to Melanie “oh la vache!” which is (I’m told) a common exclamation in France which literally means “oh, the cow!” 

My last day in Salamanca was a little stressful for Melanie, not so much for me. The big difference is that I was already nearly completely packed while she was only mostly packed and she had to help a friend with a phone call in French. I woke up, passed a relaxed hour and a half writing about Andalusia, then I went to pick up a gift for Arnika from Melanie and myself. We went to Arnika’s house for lunch with her, Karl, and Issa. More or less my gang here which in total represents USA, Mexico, France, Spain, Flemish Belgium (the part of Belgium that wants to become Flanders), and Bavarian Germany (but the part of Bavaria that’s “German” not the un-German part, I don’t get it either). We speak Spanish, French, German, Dutch, English, and only Karl can speak all of them passively. 

We also had lunch with some of Karl’s friends from Flanders and the main topic of conversation, besides Melanie and me leaving, was the mystery of the broken computers. The night before someone had destroyed Arnika’s and Karl’s computers by pouring water over them. They were inside and in separate parts of the apartment. Foul play is suspected by either the house mate who has disappeared with all of his things or the neighbor who may or may not be responsible for slashing the tires of Arnika’s bike. Oh Salamanca.

We had lunch, said our goodbyes and then we went home to get our stuff for a cab to the station.

I don’t know how I feel about having left Salamanca. I haven’t thought about it much since I’ve been busy seeing Melanie’s home region, working on my French, picking cherries and raspberries from the garden and being tired. It still hasn’t really sunk in yet that I’m not going back anytime soon. But I said in an earlier post that Salamanca felt like a home to me, and I’ve come to realize that while my Spanish and understanding of Spanish culture isn’t perfect, it’s good enough for me to be able to make a home for myself in any part of Spain.

But “Salamanca que enhechiza la voluntad de volver a ella a todos los que la apacilibildad de su vivienda han gustado”- Cervantes

 

 

*it is pronounced very similarly to Shelbyville, a fact that makes me giggle a little.