The Summer Recap, i.e the Summer Reading List

Posted on August 12, 2011 by Hannah

I realize that teachers are notoriously a complaining bunch. Yes we have to put up with the world’s offspring, but honestly, it is a wonderful job. When I was reading about all of the teachers rioting because their pensions were being cut, a part of me wanted to laugh because private school teachers don’t even get one and I still feel that the job is amazing. Why? Because after 9 months of people being forced to listen to what you love, you get three months of freedom. What other job (outside of Europe) gives you this much vacation?  I was recently reflecting on my summer and I feel slightly guilty that I had as joyous and free a summer as most kids where I pretty much did what I wanted. Other than my month of perfection in Paris, I spent lots of time at the pool, lots of mornings sleeping in, and a whole lot of time reading. What more could you want out of summer? Here are the books that enriched my summer, in the order in which they were read.

To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee. The whole time I was reading this book I kept on thinking “HOW HAVE I LIVED THIS LONG WITHOUT READING IT????” Not only is Atticus Finch the best example of a modern hero (Note from Amanda: “It goes without saying that you should try to work Atticus Finch into all conversations), but the book had me both laughing and crying within a matter of chapters.

Rapture of Canaan, Sheri Reynolds. A more than slightly disturbing fictional account of a extremist Christian cult which made me thankful that the mean nut cases are wrong about Jesus and how he wants us to live.

Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, Amy Chua. Strangely warm and funny for a book about ridiculously strict Chinese parenting, this book brought me to two conclusions: I will not be raising my children the Chinese way, and therefore my children will not be playing in Carnegie hall by middle school. I can accept that.

The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels, Ree Drummond. Don’t judge. I know the name sounds corny, but the Pioneer Woman tells her true story of falling in love with a cowboy and giving up all she thought she wanted to become a rancher’s wife. And I, being a girl, found it endearing.

The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath. Most of the books I read this summer were decided upon this way: Amanda to Hannah: “ Have you read ___________?” Hannah: “No . . .” Amanda begins to yank her hair and make really exasperated and distraught noises and then book soon appears for me to read with the explanation “You can’t understand me as a person until you read this book.” And because she is an English teacher and has good taste, I usually end up loving them. This was the case with The Bell Jar, which I have always viewed with a certain amount of apprehension. But though a little traumatic, it was still really good.

The Book Theif, Markus Zusak. Sometimes you read a book so good that you want to stop everyone who passes and yell at them “PUT EVERYTHING DOWN AND READ THIS BOOK NOW BECAUSE IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!!!!” That is how I felt as I read this book. It is about a little German girl during WWII, and though it is a story of war, the Holocaust, and I cried a LOT during the ending, I also finished it with the overwhelming conviction that humans are beautiful.

4 Quartets, T.S. Eliot.  I meant to read these during college but got sidetracked by lots of French books were everyone dies. James gave me a copy this past spring and I started reading them on the plan only to quickly decide that they deserved a ceremonial reading in a special place. I selected the very end of the Île de la Cité in Paris and read them cover to cover letting the beautiful poetry mix with the perfect summer afternoon.

The Help, Kathryn Stockett. Yes, I like everyone else decided to read it before the movie came out. Might as well.

I just started John Irving’s A Prayer for Owen Meany (“WHAT?? [pulling of hair] You have to read this to understand me as a person!!!”) But it will not be finished in time to be classified as summer reading. Also, true to my promises at the beginning of the summer, this was a Summer of Art. Other than my sketches in Paris, I also completed this painting earlier this week, alongside some of my former students as I was crashing the summer art class. (Based off a photo I took in Venice a while ago, but with some artistic liberties because as the art teacher at the school I taught at puts it “Why would we want it to look just like a picture . . . then there would be no point to having made it into a painting)

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A Hair Affair

Posted on August 7, 2011 by Hannah

Let’s talk about hair. Sometimes I think that my life can be best understood by examining the evolution of my hairstyles. The first ten years of my life were defined by that friend of all little girls with big hair, the pony tale. There was that ill-fated evening that I tried to curl my hair with a comb, resulting in my father cutting it out and the next two years were spent growing out the subsequent emergency bangs. Then there was the self-inflicted semi-mullet, the experimentation with lemon juice to get highlights (epic fail, and it attracts bees), the big blow dry, and finally, the period of the crunchy gel scrunch.  During college I allowed myself to spend 4 glorious self-indulging years where I did the wash and toss method that college students like to pretend is socially acceptable. This meant that my hair froze as I walked to class through Michigan winter, and the result was mangy, but acceptable in a world where you stay up to ungodly hours and live off of Fritos, stolen cafeteria cookies, and caffeinated beverages.  And then came the infamous Senior Year Shear, where you have a minor freak out about entering the world of adulthood and thus you cut off all of your hair.  I spent my year in France with a Molly Ringwald-esque shaggy bob, which worked in Paris where people just throw around their messy hair and let the metro draft style it as the walk up stairs.

But then I returned to the Kentucky, to the blessed south, to my hair roots where the key is one word: big. Despite those many years of flirting around with the idea of Hair Free Will, in the south it is all Hair Predestination. Due to my upbringing, I was fated to return to The Curlers. My mother has had the same hairstyle for my entire life, and earlier photos hint that it began long before. She puts the curlers in, finishes getting ready, and then removes them to finish her Do with the most important beauty item ever, hairspray. Beauty commandment #1, “Though shalt not be stingy with thine hairspray.”  Thus, when I moved back to Lexington this past year, I dusted off my set of curlers and entered that sacred society of Women With Big Hair. I have never looked back.

However, with passion for southern hair comes the great dilemma: what do you do when you can’t plug in the curlers? How do you have Big Southern Hair when you are camping??? (I stress about this more than is necessary, considering the last time I camped was in 7th grade.) How do you have BSH when you are in France and haven’t a European voltage appropriate set of curlers? These are the burdens pressing upon my soul.

But alas, I have a solution. I found this video via pinterest and it instructs on how to get amazing big southern curls without heat. In fact, you use nothing more than an elastic rubber brand and any products you want. It has become my new thing. I used it frequently while in France and I can now camp in southern style.  In fact, I actually put my hair up in the headband in the Chicago airport, flew with it up to France, and pulled off the headband while in the customs line to have perfect curls upon arrival. Yes I was silently judged by others in the plane for my Heidi look. But while they had bed head going through customs, I had Taylor Swift curls.

Last week I spent the night with friends and we all put our hair up. My hair is fairly curly and thick, Rachel’s is straight and very thick, and Megan’s is fine and short, but it worked for all three of us.  Here you see our ridiculous looking hair up before going to bed.Here is how it looked after sleeping on it and taking off the headband. If you try this, make sure your hair is totally dry when you start or it will not set. I also sprayed mine generously with gel before wrapping it around the head band, again once it was set, and then with hairspray after I took off the headband. I also recommend vigorously shaking your head when you take it down to loosen the curls a little. I never brush mine out like the girl in the video recommends.

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Confessions

Posted on August 3, 2011 by Hannah

TWO WEEKS FROM TODAY I WILL BE MOVING.  Sometimes life necessitates the caps lock key.  This means that two weeks from today I will have packed everything that is currently scattered around my parents house, in the basement, and across one corner of the garage into a ambitiously small u-haul and two vehicles. Even though I know that space will be tight, I just can’t stop acquiring things, which tends to happen when you move.  In fact, looking back on my summer, I feel the need to unburden my soul.

Confession #1: I have an obsession with adopting the clothes that other people throw out. Hand me downs somehow have developed a bad reputation over the years, but whoever started this idea did not have the right friends. If I had to bet, at least 1/3 of my wardrobe belonged to Susannah or Rachel at one point, and I have at least one shirt that made the cycle between all of my closest friends here.

Confession #2: I changed one of my radio presets to country music. Now then, an explanation. Summer begs to be accompanied by songs about cut off jeans, pickup trucks, and summer nights. During the year, I obligingly listen to a blend of NPR or whatever music is in, but during the summer, I return to redneck KY roots and revel in patriotism and angsty break up songs where the evil woman took both your dignity and your tractor. Plus, unless you live in a parallel universe of sunshine and bubbles, you have probably spent the last several weeks feeling like our country is falling apart and will never recover. Cue country music. When every 4th song is a tearjerker about standing up for America you start to think that maybe there is a silent majority of farmers, rednecks, and recovering alcoholics who still believe in the nation.

Confession #3: My resolution to go to the farmer’s market more has been eclipsed by my resolution to sleep in. As has much else.

Confession #4: The Bachelorette. In admitting to having watched this show, I wash my hands of my greatest guilt.  In admitting to believing that Ashley has actually found true love I resume it.

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In a Sunset

Posted on July 30, 2011 by Hannah

There is no other way to end a series of Paris posts than with another sunset. And in this sunset there are twilights that lasted for hours, picnics along the Seine, and dinners where no one wanted to ever leave the table. There are afternoons of sun and puffy clouds, rainstorms that drove us inside, and winds that swept through the parks whispering of coming fall. There are brightly colored macarons, delicate pastries, and all the smells of the cornucopia of Paris culinary offerings. There are the strains of Vivaldi echoing through the Louvre corridors, Notre Dame held in a suspended crystal ball, and daredevils dancing with fire. There are tears, laughter, and smiles. There are views that overwhelm and details that enthrall. Behind this sunset is a multitude of memories and moments from a perfect month in Paris.

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A Few Final Things

Posted on July 27, 2011 by Hannah

Even magical vacations in Paris have to come to an end.  I can’t really fathom every being happy or really ready to leave Paris, but I did feel that I was somewhat freer to leave for the following reasons.

  1. Mouffetarte (home of The Quiche Lady) has closed up until September for vacation. Let us once again pause to appreciate that you can shut down your restaurant for 6 weeks every summer to relax. Vive la France.
  2. I was finally able to see Sainte Chapelle without the scaffolding and renovation that has been there every other time I have tried. It is one of the few times when I feel it is really worth it to spend money just to see one room. Because that room looks like this:
  3. I saw one lap of the final portion of the Tour de France, which feels like an impressive way to end. (Ok, confession: The only real reason I saw it was because we were on a several hour search to find a grocery store that was open on a Sunday, finally ending up on the Champs Elysées where Monoprix was open. So we celebrated shopping success by catching the end of the biggest bike race on earth.)
  4. In 2007 when I studied abroad, I started a sketchbook. It came back with me in 2009-10, and has also been dragged to art museums all across the world in the meantime. I wanted to finish it in Paris, where it all began. This meant lots of museum time in my last couple of days, but I finished it, mostly by embracing fast sketches done with a stick of charcoal. These are a couple of the results. 
  5. Late the night before I left I still had some Euros to spend. Not enough to make it worth exchanging and so I decided to fulfill a Very Superficial Life Goal (everyone should have those on hand): buy Ladurée macarons that come in one of the swanky fancy boxes. Accomplished. And devoured. 
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À la plage

Posted on July 25, 2011 by Hannah

Because vacationing is a practically a fundamental right of every human in the French psyche, Paris proudly expands the role of the French government to include offering vacation environments for those who are not fortunate to actually leave the city. By this I mean, Paris Plage. I had heard about how the city covers the banks of the Seine in sand so that those not able to travel to a real beach can still benefit from the ambience, but this was my first time seeing it. It was decidedly less impressive than I might have imagined, as you can see by these pictures.

But what is impressive is that it is done at all, that leisure, vacationing, and la joie de vivre are taken seriously in France. By brother was recently passing a couple days with me in Paris. At one point we were sitting in the sunny Luxembourg gardens and Zach was marveling at the French ingenuity that insisted on filling all the public gardens with metal chairs that are in a permanent reclining position. We were discussing why Paris is better than London, and had come to the conclusion that it was a emotional rather than a logical argument. Zach summed it up by declaring that Paris is better because in Paris the chairs in public spaces recline, and if you need an explanation for why this makes it better you don’t deserve to be here.

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The Salon de Thé List (Revisited)

Posted on July 21, 2011 by Hannah

When I lived here before, my friend Emma and I were in the process of visiting and rating as many Parisian salons de thé (tea rooms) as possible. During this visit, we expanded our list to add several Emma has discovered in the interim. Though we have sadly arrived at the point wherein many of the salons we discover do not have scones, we nevertheless added 5 good salons de thé to our list. I have also been on a chocolat à l’ancienne kick (old fashioned hot chocolate, where you get a pitcher of super rich thick hot chocolate and you mix it with whipped cream), so that was taken into account at each location.

Les Deux Abeilles (189 Rue Université, 75007): Not only do they have scones and other wonderful desserts, but also the salon itself is adorable, with an interior room that has a tree and sky light ceiling. While we were innocently sipping tea, a German tourist got himself locked in the bathroom and then proceeded to mess up the lock so it couldn’t be opened. After a good half an hour of fiddling with it, the manager proceeded to kick in the door. This really has nothing to do with the tea service, but it did provide for entertainment.

Bonpoint (Rue de Tournon, 75006): Technically an upscale children’s clothing boutique, Bonpoint also has a magically hidden inner courtyard that serves delicious scones, desserts, and an array of beverages. Because we committed the sin of arriving after 3:30, they were naturally out of about half of the menu, but the remaining half was quite good.  (Now is the moment where you pause an appreciate that this boutique is for the type of people who get hungry buying obscenely overpriced clothes that will be grown out of in several months so they go and buy overpriced snacks to rejuvenate them for more shopping).

Le Loir Dans le Théière (3 Rue des Rosiers, 75004): Less garden party atmosphere and more cozy/quirky, le Loir dans le Théière boasts an impressive selection of massive desserts, though no scones.  The walls are covered with old photos, playbills, etc, giving it a trendy and yet quaint atmosphere.

Carette* (25 Place des Vosges, 75003): Located the colonnade of the Place des Vosges, Carette is the perfect place to pass an afternoon. There were no scones, but the selection of pastries and macarons rivaled that of Ladurée (the macarons might have been better) while the environment was decidedly less crowded and friendlier. Oh, and wickedly good hot chocolate accompanied by whipped cream so delicious that I finally resorted to scraping the bowl with my spoon.   

Les Trois Cerises (47 Avenue Suffren, 75007): Perhaps the most delightful new find, Les Trois Cerises is the perfect place for a ladies tea party. Instead of chairs many tables have ornate low couches with pillows, and you can eat in a little courtyard under wide umbrellas. Once again, no scones, but tiramisu that is supposedly exquisite, and the café (or hot chocolate) gourmand came with three little portions of cake that were surprisingly good. On the menu you can read how this tearoom is the incarnation of a dream, as it’s founder has wanted to have a tearoom since she was a little girl.

If you are reading this and are aware of other good salons de thé in Paris, please post them! I will need to start making a list for next time.

*All of the pictures on this post were taken at Carette, except for the one of the green awning, which is at les Deux Abeilles.

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Genève

Posted on July 20, 2011 by Hannah

One of my very favorite Parisians moved to Geneva this past year and I decided there was no way I could pass through Paris without taking the extra trek to see her. Plus, ever since seeing The Sound of Music as a child, I have wanted to see Switzerland. True, Geneva is almost in France. And even truer, The Sound of Music took place in Austria. But almost France is still technically in Switzerland, and for whatever reason, that movie made me want to go to Switzerland. Maybe it was because they fled there to be safe and there is that final scene where they go over those beautiful mountains. Or maybe it was just that my sense of geography was equally as bad as a child as it is as an adult. Either way, Switzerland has always beckoned as a country of sweeping mountain vistas, puffy clouds, and deep blue lakes.

I am pleased to say that at least the little corner where Geneva lies is indeed all of those things.  Even though it rained most of the two days I was there, we still managed to walk around the center of old Geneva and along the banks of Lac Léman. We also seized a moment of sun to drive to the little medieval town of Yvoire (technically back in France, but no need for truth to impede my impression of Switzerland) where we walked along tiny streets bursting with bright flowers.

It was the colors I loved most, and they stand out startlingly against a backdrop of Swiss cleanliness.   Brightly painted boats in clear blue green waters, or richly painted shutters on the houses that sit against lush green hills.  Though I slept most of the train ride there, I rode back gaping out the window at the steep hills covered in brilliant sunflowers or fresh green vineyards.  There is a lushness in this region, a saturated quality, and I tried to pick out some of the pictures that give a coloristic view of what I saw. 

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« Allons voir un coucher du soleil »

Posted on July 16, 2011 by Hannah

The joyous thing about teaching is that you get to inflict on your students all the things you love most. For me, that meant lots of French literature and poetry. Some appreciated it, some did not, all endured it. With the third year students we read Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s Le Petit Prince.  I read it in school but it had been years since I had re-read it and the change in both my understanding of the world and of French meant that this time it was even better.  The story is melancholy, yes, but also witty and sarcastic, things I missed the first time around. (Confession: I also really like melancholy things. Nothing makes me happier than a good cry at the end of a book or movie. Hence, a decision to study French Literature. Spoiler alert – they die every time. No matter the story, it ends beautifully badly for everyone involved if the author is French.)

I am pretty sure at least half of my juniors thought the story was stupid. By pretty sure, I mean they told me so.  But in the other half, at least several of them genuinely liked it and that is enough. One of the central themes in the story is the conflict between adult and child views of importance, the quantitative vs. the qualitative, the concrete vs. the abstract. The little prince spends the book struggling his way towards understanding of what it means to live, to grow up, and to love. His view of the world is childlike, beautiful, and pure. In the beginning of the book the little prince talks about how he likes to watch sunsets to cheer him up when he is sad. Because his planet is tiny, this means just moving his chair to see a sunset when one ends. One day, he explains, he watched 43 sunsets because “when you are very sad you like to watch the sun set.”

Since rereading Le Petit Prince, I think of this every time I see a sunset, although I have decided that they aren’t just something we love when we are sad, but also when we are happy, hopeful, uncertain, in love, or upset.  There is something eternally comforting in watching the day surrender into color and knowing that it will begin again in just a few hours.

And so, as the little prince urges the pilot, let’s go watch a sunset.

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Pleasant Company

Posted on July 14, 2011 by Hannah

I don’t know how Paris can not rub off and make someone artsy. Everything about the city screams artistic inspiration. As you walk through the streets you walk among art, among buildings that testify to centuries of changing artistic styles and cafés who housed artistic discussions of the great masters. To be a lover of art in Paris you have but to open your eyes. This might not actually make you a connoisseur, but it will at least teach you to love beauty. Plus, there are all number of ways to get entrance fees to museums, concerts, etc, for free or discounted, so everyone has the opportunity to appreciate the artistic heritage of the city they are in.

When I first came to Paris to study at La Sorbonne in 2007, I became close friends with a student pursuing a masters in Art History. We would spend hours wandering museums or sketching flowers or talking about art. I think it was then that I really started to enjoy drawing outside of the classroom, to realize that it opens up a door to participate in this city of art in a whole new way.  For the first week of my stay this summer I stayed with her and one night we bought some flowers and stayed in for a night of sketching.And here are the results, although the shot is a little blurry.

Last week I went to the Louvre to sketch. I love sketching master copies because in a way it doesn’t matter if you are good. You can never be as good as the original, and knowing that you have already fallen short is actually comforting to me because it takes the pressure off. But as I stood there sketching, I couldn’t help but notice the people passing. Endless streams of tourists passing, taking photos without even stopping, listening to a constant ramble of an audio-guide. This is certainly the way that you have to tackle the Louvre if you want to get through it one day, but it is a sad way to go about it. The magic behind all of these painting is in their creation, and to have a sense of it that you have to sit still and just look at them for a while, or even moreover, try to sketch one. Here is my sketch from earlier this week, though it in no way does any justice to its subject.

But at heart, being in love with analyzing and trying to represent the world around you means that you will always take with you the gift of loving where you are.  I love the quotes by Winston Churchill to this effect: “Armed with a paint-box, one cannot be bored, one cannot be left at a loose end, one cannot ‘have several days on one’s hands. . . . Happy are the painters, for they shall not be lonely. Light and color, peace and hope, will keep them company to the end, or almost the end, of the day.”

And what a pleasant company it is.

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