Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to you all! I hope the day is treating you well, and that you all have the opportunity to spend time with your families (and eat enormous amounts of food and special treats). I wish you the utmost peace and happiness through the coming year!

Airports, countryside, and so on.

I could write about the countryside of Northwest France, the green fields and expansive oceans of Normandy, the charming small town of Honfleur in Calvados, the small restaurants and hotels run by friendly, talkative people.

I could, and I will.

But first let me tell you about Charles de Gaulle airport. You will think that I am exaggerating, but I tell you that this is all absolute truth. Do not doubt my word. Here’s the thing: finding Charles de Gaulle airport is only mildly less difficult than locating the lost city of Atlantis. The only thing that prevents it reaching that calibre is the fact that, being on land, one does not need diving equipment. That’s it. It exists in a sub-universe that is absolutely, categorically, impossible to reach from outside of Paris. Or inside of Paris. It simply cannot be done. The A4? Nope. The A1? Nope. Maybe the A3? No. None of these go to the airport. None of them. Despite what the maps may tell you.

Now, some of you who are reading this have been to France. You have flown into and out of Charles de Gaulle, and you are convinced that it is not actually that difficult. I’ll tell you why you had this different experience: It’s because you departed for the airport from a hotel, am I right? Yes, you see, that’s the magic of Charles de Gaulle airport. It supports France’s economy by becoming unreachable from anywhere but a hotel—and, specifically, a hotel that you have spent the night in.

Aye, there’s the rub! My father and I erroneously believed that we could get to the airport from anywhere. After all, we had a rented car. Surely some highway would take us there! We searched the Paris area desperately for several hours on Saturday night, consulting our map regularly, pulling over to ask directions several times, and getting stuck in a good amount of Saturday-night-in-Paris traffic. It would not be hyperbolic to say that we spent about three and a half hours in search of an airport that was likely never more than 45 minutes away. I, of course, found this hilarious. I played music on my laptop (until the battery died) and then flipped through radio stations. I marvelled at the uselessness of our reasonably detailed map. I was impressed at how lost we really were. That’s me. My dad was significantly less amused, having the responsibility of actually making the decisions (considering he was driving). I tried to help, I did! But when it got to the point where it was clear we were not getting anywhere with the map, I surrendered my post. And then I just laughed. Alone.

That night we stayed in a hotel, a Holiday Inn Express that we nearly killed ourselves and the rental car getting to (crossing four lanes of busy Paris traffic? Well done, dear Father!). When we departed in the morning, it took us twenty-five minutes to get to the airport. That was it.

As I’m sure you’re all tired of hearing about the airport, I will spare you the details of what it is actually like to get around within Charles de Gaulle. Suffice to say that it took us, again, multiple hours to figure out where to go. Our passports suggest that we have entered and exited this country several times. And that is all I will say.

Ok, so after we left Paris on Tuesday, we drove through the northwest part of France, primarily exploring Normandy. Our route was primarily determined by an intense, heart-stopping fear of the péage. If you have not met this particular horror, let me explain. A péage is a tollbooth found the French freeway. They are frequent, and largely inescapable. We tried, though—oh man, we tried. We went over the same kilometre-long bridge three times in a row, hoping there was a way around the péage. There wasn’t. You probably think I’m being overly dramatic, and muttering to yourself about the value of a theatre education, but these little buggers were expensive! Going through a péage could set you back up to €5, but always cost at least €2.30. And one could go through two or three in an hour. They were not to be trifled with. So we left the freeways, and wound through small villages for the rest of our travels. It was a far preferable way to travel, not least of all because I was tempted to sing songs from Beauty and the Beast every time we stopped. (Don’t worry, I refrained.)

So, now that I have set the scene—

Day One—The Drive:

We were enroute to the part of Normandy famous for D-Day. It was a long, beautiful drive. My favourite place that we stopped was Honfleur, a small town that was just exceedingly… cute. It had narrow streets with narrow houses cuddled up together. The shops were petite and were perfectly situated for some quality window shopping. There was a small harbour that was full of brightly coloured sailboats. I tell you, this place was charming. Dad and I considered buying property there, but decided it against it. Now that I think about it, I don’t know why!

Day One was really just a lot of driving, but the scenery must be commented on. We drove through beautiful farmlands that were lush and green from all of these winter rains. It seems every building we came across was either thick stone (which I have decided is the most attractive building material) or wood beam (you know, like the house Shakespeare was born in). People pedalled bicycles along at a leisurely pace, or strolled with their small dogs dressed in smart coats. I was overwhelmed with a sudden desire to be French.

Day Two—Normandy Beaches, WWII, and the American Cemetery:

Still wanted to be French, but now for an additional reason: Everyone is so friendly! My father, who speaks French much better than he lead me to believe, has been having long and boisterous conversations with almost everyone we meet. People smile and talk quickly, completely willing to be spending these moments of their lives giving us directions, explaining their town, sharing stories of their lives. As we drive away, my dad translates bits and pieces, “He used to be an accountant, but now he owns this restaurant… Oh, she says it’s very simple, we just turn left…He wants to live in an English speaking country someday…” I am, of course, left out of these conversations, because my French vocabulary is limited to an extreme degree—hello, goodbye, thank you, left, right, dog, wine, bread, and—weirdly—gift and bicycle. Oh, and “tollbooth.” Of course.

Anyway, this was the day when we visited the part of Normandy now famous for the D-Day invasion. It was a powerful experience. I’ve studied WWII, of course, and read about D-Day, but seeing the thousands of graves in the American cemetery, reading letters soldiers sent home, hearing stories of individual braveries, and realising what people sacrificed for something they believed in. It was not like the war we are in now, where the moral lines are blurred and what, exactly, we are fighting for is a question. These young people were fighting to protect those they loved and support what they believed. That, to me, is an incredible, moving commitment. It was a surreal experience to see the coastline of Omaha Beach and visualise the thousands of American GIs splashing ashore into enemy fire, bent on a purpose. The 9,000 white marble crosses and Stars of David in the graveyard are only a small percentage of the people who died in that war, but they still seem to stretch forever.

That afternoon we drove through Saint Mere Eglise, and saw the church where a man had been caught when he parachuted into the town. He had to just hang there and play dead for the duration of the battle below him. What a terrifying, bizarre experience that must have been. Today they have a sort of memorial to him—a soldier mannequin suspended from a parachute caught on the church’s roof. I think that’s vaguely peculiar, but it was still interesting to see.

Day Three—Mont Saint-Michel:

This was the day for Mont Saint-Michel. This is an ancient abbey built on a piece of land that is sometimes an island, depending on the tides. It is compact and steep, and I do have a picture of it, but I’m having difficulty uploading pictures these days, so we’ll see if I can make it work. It’s all made out of the same brownish stone, and looks like a fairytale castle, to some degree—the exact kind of castle that a fairy would wish to live in. We went on a wander through it, and it was truly incredible. The cloister was particularly beautiful—a small grassy area enclosed by a walkway lined with pillars, and a view out to the sea. I can see how monks would meditate there. There was also, on the top level, an enormous wheel. This was used to raise supplies that prisoners would need for work: that was all well and good and reasonable, but the most remarkable part about it? You walk in it to operate it. It’s like a hamster wheel, for people. I was incredibly amused, and kind of wanted to try. Not an opportunity open to tourists, though.

The whole village surrounding the abbey was also delightful. There were steep, narrow walkways up to the abbey, and these trails were lined with shops and cafés. I found one shop that sold an array of swords, shields, maces, battle-axes and so on. I thought of the five-year-old I nanny for as soon as I saw it! I took a picture, but decided that his parents may, you know, hate and fire me if I supplied him with anything from that particular shop. (Reasonably, I might add.)

Day Four—Chartres:

This day was spent in Chartres, a small town a couple of hours from Paris. It’s famous for it’s gothic cathedral, one of the oldest and best preserved in the world. It has two different spires from different centuries, both of them beautiful. I must admit I’m partial to the later one, which is more ornate. Inside are 176 stained class windows depicting 12,000 different scenes, most of them from the Bible. The colours and detail are phenomenal. I have always loved stained class, but these past almost-four months in Europe have really increased that love. I’m still not particularly discriminating (pretty much, if it’s coloured glass I like it), but I enjoy it all more than ever. These particular windows were largely from the 12th-13th centuries. Isn’t that unbelievable? (If there’s one thing I’m more impressed by than stained glass, it’s Really Old Stuff. Clearly, Europe has been good for me.)

Day Five—Chateau at Fontainebleau
This was our last adventure of our road trip in the northern part of France. We stopped by a beautiful Chateau at Fontainebleau, which was, in my humble opinion, even lovelier than Versailles. This was probably helped by the lack of inflatable lobsters. The rooms were beautifully preserved, and there was an audioguide that told us all sorts of interesting information relating to each room. Did you know that there was a time when French monarchs had to give birth with an audience, in order to prove the legitimacy of the child? I feel like that would have been a somewhat uncomfortable experience.

And then, last night (Sunday) we arrived in Denmark, which is where we are now! This post has gotten ridiculously long, so I'm going to call it good for now. Take care, and please have a very wonderful holiday season!

J'aime Paris

I think every city has a strong first impression. In Istanbul it was the colour, Edinburgh was the sudden leap from new to old, London is the pandemonium. My first impression of Paris was of the language. Not completely incomprehensible, but certainly foreign, the words roll in the mouth like hard candy. Street signs take on an air of poetry that they certainly lack in English speaking countries. The whole city gets in on the act. Somehow, even the rain seems artistic. I’m not sure how the city does it, but it sure pulls it off.

And you know how everyone says the French are cold, unfriendly, unhelpful? We have found it to be exactly the opposite. When my dad uses his somewhat rusty French (he hasn’t spoken it in over 20 years), people are appreciative. (Mind you, you don’t get the completely unwarranted flattery you get in Taiwan—“Your Chinese is so good!”—but hey. You can’t win them all.) Most people speak English, and are willing to use it. Luckily for me. Thanks, Paris, for proving your stereotype wrong.

Ellyn and I arrived in Paris on Saturday night, after the world’s most intense school week ever. She had come to London to meet me, and we took the Eurostar together. We met my dad at the hotel, and after dinner around the corner, we headed off to explore. We ended up walking basically the length of the Champs d’Elysées, up to the Arc de Triomph. I don’t know why I imagined it would be smaller than it was, but it was certainly enormous, and the first of the many Absolutely Beautiful buildings we saw in Paris.

The next day was one of the busiest I have personally experienced (and that’s saying something!). We started off with the Louvre, heading there shortly after it opened. We went to see the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa right away. I have a hard time believing that I actually saw such famous works of art. Each was set apart from everything else, carefully sectioned off and guarded from too many adoring fans. But can I just re-state this? I saw the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo. Me personally. What a surreal experience.

From there, we explored some more sections of the Louvre. I could spend weeks wandering through there, marvelling at the art at my fingertips. We saw classical Greek statuary, and paintings by Vermeer, Rubens, Monet, Degas, Van Dyke, Renoir, Rembrandt, Picasso, and, of course, Da Vinci. I’m probably forgetting someone major, because there were just so many. I have never had much of a celebrity obsession, but I was starting to feel it in the halls of the Louvre.

Eventually we extricated ourselves from the grip of the paintings, and headed over to Notre Dame. Talk about starstruck! I had come from the Louvre, and was now inside Notre Dame. I wouldn’t say I’m a small town girl, exactly, or unexposed to culture… but these were places I had heard about my whole life. It was like walking into a storybook, or becoming part of a famous painting. The inside of Notre Dame was, of course, gorgeous. Nothing short of that. The two rose windows deserve their acclaim, and the Gothic architecture was worth the almost 200 years it took to construct the cathedral. Ellyn and I then climbed to the top of the cathedral, up a spiralling staircase of 387 narrow, stone stairs. When we were finally thrust onto the balcony, we were agape. Paris stretched before us, and gargoyles stared us down. We stared them down, and took more than enough photographs of them. I’m not going to make things up, I was deathly afraid to be up that high… but it was totally worth it. The gargoyles and I became fast friends.

Following lunch, we headed over to the Eiffel Tower. Talk about a day of celebrity architecture! We decided to go all the way up to the very top, an endeavour that had me shakin’ in my boots before we even stepped onto the elevator. I was quivering by the time we got to the first level. By the second level I was quaking, and by the time we reached the third… well, I was fine. I think my brain went into self-preservation mode, but I was absolutely able to appreciate the beauty of the view. The Arc de Triomph was lit up as usual, and especially stood out to us.

When we got down again, we found that the tower was glowing blue against the sky. It certainly was a sight! Then, weirdly, amazingly, peculiarly… it began to sparkle. Really. The whole tower was covered in various flashing lights, that made it look like it was glittering.

That night Ellyn and I headed out for a bit and discovered Pink Ladies in a nice bar with live music.

The next day was also an experience. We climbed the hill up to Sacre Coeur, a cathedral made out of white stone. The view from the steps of the cathedral was absolutely lovely. I have seen Paris from above many times now, and each time it just seems prettier than it did the time before. Unbelievable.

The following day we went on an excursion to Versailles. My head was really with random “Treaty of Versailles” facts I learned in IGCSE. I felt like making some comment about how much the Germans had to pay in reparations, what their army was limited to, and so on. I opted out of it, and instead had a mini-heart attack in the Hall of Mirrors, where it was signed.

It hadn’t even occurred to me that Versailles might be anything but a place where a famous treaty was signed. Turned out it was a royal residence for a couple of centuries too. Who know? The whole palace is white and gold, and beautiful. It is also, for reasons never satisfactorily explained to me, full to brimming with Jeff Koons’ art. Why? I don’t know. But it includes things like a MASSIVE statue of a balloon dog. I’m not kidding. And these type of objects are found in every room—a large balloon dog, a pool toy lobster suspended from the ceiling by a chain, a statue made of porcelain of Michael Jackson and a chimpanzee. Nothing could have been more out of place. The rooms themselves were lovely, though, and managed to handle the invasion with great grace.

Thus concluded our time in the cold, rainy, and absolutely breathtaking city. We headed out the next day to drive through more rural parts of France—stories to follow!

Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana

Well, well, well. How time flies! I can hardly believe that this is the last week of the semester. Does anyone else feel like these last few months have gone incredibly quickly? If the rest of my life goes as quickly as this, I'd better get on making plans for retirement. Yikes.

These past few weeks have been very busy, but lots of fun (and stress, etc). My mom came to visit last weekend, which was absolutely wonderful. We had tea, explored the Victoria & Albert Museum, went to Harrods, adventured along Portobello Road, had sleepovers in her hotel, and just played a lot. It was so good to see her (thanks for coming, ML!), and it would have been terrible if I hadn't gotten to see her until March.

This coming week we have a showcase on Monday (movement, historical dance--eek, and stage combat). I love all of these classes, but will be SO glad to get these presentations over with. For my movement piece, I am a giraffe, human, part of a snail, a nervous lion, and a bird (not to mention a fire and a couple of narrators). Gracious me. (Then, on Monday night, I have dinner with Luanna! Hurray!) On Tuesday we get to listen to each individual instructor tell us what they think of us (gulp), on Wednesday I have my character object exercise (which is tedious to explain, but trust me-- it's stressful), on Thursday... what happens on Thursday? Hmm. Maybe Thursday won't be so bad. And then on Friday, we have our Shakespeare presentations. Oh yes. This week will be wild.

Next Friday is the last day of school, and then Ellyn is coming to London for the night before we head off to PARIS on Saturday, to meet my dad. Then, Dad and I are spending a month travelling through France, Denmark, Italy, and then France again. I then take a train back to London on the 15th of January and fly out the next morning. Gasp. Exhausting.

Yesterday, Kari, Dana and I went on the London Eye. What a beautiful city! It was fun to see London from above, and find all the places we know and love. (The rhyme there was not intentional, but wasn't it fun?) After floating around in our "capsule" for a while (with me feeling the entire time like I was going to fall out and land in the river), we went off and got delicious Thai food for lunch. It certainly felt like a special day.

When we got home, we settled ourselves in Flat 4 (Kari's flat), and made beeswax candles with a kit that Dana's mom had sent her. We ate sugar cookies fresh from the oven and felt at peace with the world. (Notice how we carefully ignored all of the work that was ahead of us for the next week.) Every time someone new walked into the flat (and this happened a lot), they would sigh, and smile at us. "Aww..." they would say, "This is so nice..."

After that we all went in our separate directions, and I headed home to work on my Character Object Exercise. I have decided that Hilary (my character) is independant, capable, and loving (among other things), and I have to show these to an audience on Wednesday. So, for props, I need a number of things. I have to make her home, and then show her in her home. Ok. So I went to Primark today (Sunday) and spent over £20 on clothes that would fit my character's son, Heathcliffe. (Yes, she named her son "Heathcliffe." Yes, it was after the Kate Bush song.) I now have 1 pair of jeans, 2 t-shirts, 1 sweatshirt, 6 pairs of socks (that's how they came-- not my fault I have that many), and 2 undershirts that would fit a child I don't have.

Interesting. So that was fun.

And now I am going to head to listen to a choir sing at St. Paul's before working on stage combat and then movement stuff.

Wish me luck for this week!

And now, Luna...

I went with Mrs. Johnson and Litza to have tea. It was so much fun! We got delicious tea, scones, finger sandwiches, and little cakes. It was cold and rainy outside, but inside we had hot tea. What more could I want?

Have you ever heard of Harrods? It's an enormous department store in London. I went with Mrs. Johnson and Litza to explore it. It was pretty busy, and I was afraid I'd get lost-- but I stuck tight to my friends, and I was ok. In the toy section, we found this. It's a model of the Globe Theatre! Remember when I showed you pictures from the Globe earlier? This was a little version, and had a cast of different stuffed animals. Of course, I joined right in. Can you see me in the picture?

Here I am on Drury Lane. Have you ever heard of that before? I bet you have! "Do you know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man? Do you know the muffin man, who lives on Drury Lane?"

This is me with one of the lion statues in Trafalgar Square. My friend Dana and I climbed up to hang out with them for a little while. It's a pretty big lion, huh?Have you ever seen people play instruments on the side walk to earn money? This is my friend Anna, playing her fiddle. It was fun to see someone I know performing! I put 50p in her violin case, and she let me sit there for a while and listen. It was pretty nice, but I bet her fingers were cold!
I know I put a picture of me in a double decker bus up here earlier, but I thought I would also show you a picture of me on the top of a double decker bus, LOOKING at another double decker bus. I felt very tall!
The Eye of London is not an eye at all, but is rather a giant ferris wheel. I went on it yesterday (Saturday) with Litza, Kari, and Dana. It was kind of scary being up so high, but I could see the entire city! Here I am with Big Ben. You can also just see the top of Westminster Abbey. It was fun to get a good view of what I'd seen before from the ground.
After going on the London Eye, we all came back and made candles. It was fun to roll up the beeswax with the wick inside. Litza and I made a couple together, nad were very proud of our work. I like candle making!

Well, I think this will be the last batch of pictures you'll get for now. But I'll be sure to show you more in the future!

Love, Luna