Praha

Prague is amazing. I love it.

Only in France

I was very concerned about waking up on time for class this morning, so I set my cellphone alarm for 7:50am and set it on my desk chair - far enough out of my reach so I couldn't subconsciously fling it against the wall in a rage-filled sleep stupor, but close enough to sufficiently irritate me into sitting up in my amazingly-comfortable-when-you're-dead-tired bed, casting off my warm and cozy polar blankets and telling myself, "Don't you dare reset the alarm for 5 minutes later, don't you dare." I dared. Four times. Fortunately, I'd set my computer to start playing Green Day and Nirvana songs at 5 minute intervals around the same time, so I had to repeatedly stumble over to shut off that ruckus. After several trips, I was still groggy but somehow found my way to the bathroom and splashed cold - and I mean COLD, it's straight from the Alps, which have had snow for the past couple weeks - water on my face.

I quickly dressed, said silent thanks that I'd showered before going to bed and rushed to school... sort of. I waited in vain by the bus stop for 6 minutes and then headed to the tram stop (no need to rush; trams come every two to four minutes from 8am to 4pm). Arrived slightly late for my Version class (translating English press into French) but luckily teacher primarily is concerned about attendance, not punctuality. It passed uneventfully, as did the Theme class (translating French press into English) afterwards.

However, I knew I was in for some excitement when I saw about 150 students and professors gathered in front of the more often closed than open library. There was some sort of unenthusiastic speech going on - there was only sporadic clapping and most people appeared more interested in huddling together to stay warm. I continued walking to the political science building, only to be greeted by a few students standing around a table with juice and leaflets. They were guarding the entrance to the building -- which had a construction fence and a large log crudely barricading the doors. I smiled and took a leaflet, "The Closed University." The students are protesting against moves toward university privatization and believe that the best way to bring the government and administration officials to the negotiating table is by blocking access to university facilities. Riiiiiight. Only in France. Back home, that would be met with SWAT teams and tear gas... and black helicopters.

Where else?

After basketball practice this evening, I walked to the tram stop with two Chinese guys, Lee and Bo. I took the tram for two stops, and then disembarked at my dorm. I walked in, sweaty and tired and lugging my backpack -- and was somehow persuaded to go out on the town. I went with two Swedish girls (Leena and Isabelle), an English girl (Rachel) and her Scottish boyfriend (Cameron, and a South African girl (Alexia). We started off at the Bukana Pub with a couple of pints -- I must've impressed the owner with my French, because he offered me a job and asked me to work next Monday, Halloween. I declined -- because I want to go to Germany/Prague -- but told Alexia, and we talked with the barman and he happily enlisted her. As we were getting ready to leave, I took our empty glasses up to the bar and all six of us received a free round! We strolled over to the Couche-Tard (The "Sleep Late") and enjoyed a couple more pints and another round of free drinks as Cameron treated everyone in an attempt to get rid of his euros. We all bonded quite nicely and met some interesting Brits and an Italian along the way. The Couche-Tard closed at 2am, so we poured outside and debated whether to head to a nightclub or call it a night. The fresh air helped us come to our senses and we remembered it was a Monday evening, so we walked to the FNAC (like Best Buy) / McDonalds area near the Victor Hugo tram stop and caught a taxi. We combined all our charm and won the cabbie over -- he pulled out a bag of marshmallows and gave us his last four marshmallows, didn't charge us the "4th person fee" that taxis usually charge and gave us a discount on the final fare (around 3 euros ($3.60 USD) apiece. Amazing.

Where else could I enjoy a night out with such a diverse crowd? Where else could I plan a trip to Prague with Swedes? Where else could I get offered a job in a foreign bar? Where else... but Grenoble. The city is slowly starting to redeem itself...

No flash, please

Here was another interesting... "piece." Unfortunately a videocamera in the room was supervising and thus deterred us from playing tag on top of the stumps.


Here are the aromatic glass balls at the wine-tasting event we went to downtown (read my post for a bit more of an explanation).


Me lurking in the fog at the Bastille, the old fort at the north end of the city. We took the cable-car up Wednesday night and went to a not too shabby pop/punk music concert inside the fortifications.


A kind fellow volunteered to take our picture at the Bastille. The well-lit road on the right side of the picture is Boulevard Gambetta... or Boulevard Jean Jaures. Probably the latter, which is the longest straight road in Europe - eight kilometers, I think.


On Friday we had lunch with Loic and Megan at the Buffalo Grill. I wanted to saddle up on the mighty plastic bison, but it was raining and I was concerned about goring myself on his rather pointy horns.


My awesome friends: Loic, who has single-handedly helped redeem an entire nation, and Megan, who makes me miss all Midwesterners and will someday be besting Emeril on the Food Network.

An early Halloween

Sarah carving a pumpkin that Mom sent... this would be a three-day affair and her fingers were bruised afterwards. Styrofoam pumpkins are much less reluctant to be carved than real pumpkins.


Wow, she looks French! In fact, everyone assumed she was until she told them differently. I thought it might help us get better service in restaurants, but they seem to treat everyone with equal disinterest.


We visited the Grenoble Museum - it had an incredible assortment of classical and contemporary art. I was utterly fascinated by this huge sphere made of thin metal rods. Its diameter is at least 10 feet.


The libertarian in me perked up at this piece, "Surveillance is Your Reason to Be."

The not so world wide web

Wow, the things I'll go through for internet access... right now I'm sitting in the dark, on a park bench on campus, connected to a random wireless access point ("U2-ESA"; I think it's a university network) and shivering in the cold while squinting at my dim screen (if I don't set it to 'Etch-a-Sketch' brightness levels, the battery drains in about an hour) and staying on guard against potential assailants. I have my headphones on, but there's no music playing; clever trickery designed to lure my attackers into thinking they have an advantage, but really serving to alert me of their approach sooner. Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not really out to get me.

All of this would be much simpler, of course, if the university could simply install internet access in the residences. However, that is too great of a demand to make and, considering my school's track record with maintaining simple mechanical things like refrigerators and stoves, perhaps it is better that they steer clear of electronics. I'm not sure how to describe it - but outside my building there is a curb ramp that I honestly believe would have been better designed and constructed by the Romans. I'll take a picture of it tomorrow. It's sad how much of the university is in disrepair. I tried to go to the library today and it was closed, with only a sign in the window, "Library will be closed 10/22, 10/29, 10/31, and 11/1," and no other explanation. I yearn for ASU's 24/7 Hayden Library.

It's not all gloom, though. Yesterday Sarah and I went to the "Millelisme," a wine-tasting event in downtown Grenoble, at Place Victor Hugo. For 12 euros, we both received a nice wine glass emblazoned with the event's logo (I'll try to bring them home for Christmas!) and access to around 30 different vendor booths. Most were winemakers, but there were also foie gras and cookie tents, a live jazz band and a tent with fourteen glass balls containing different scents and aromas, and information on how they factored into winemaking. We were really unsure of the protocol at first, being such wine debutants, but eventually mustered the courage to approach random strangers with glass outstretched and request "un peu de la rouge, s'il vous plait." To look more authentic, we performed the hold-the-glass-up-to-the-light-and-nod-thoughtfully-while-really-wondering-where-you-could-find-a-Sprite ritual, follwed by the swirl-it-gently-don't-splash!-they'll-think-you're-drunk exercise and topped off with the plunge-your-nose-in-the-glass-and-pray-no-boogers-fall-in-then-INHALE-like-you-just-escaped-drowning routine. Usually by the end of that delicate dance we were sufficiently far enough away from the booth to try the sample, grimace in disgust and pour the remainder out as quickly as possible.

Sarah shopped more on Thursday, mostly at the Swedish clothing store H&M... and I got my haircut! That was a terrifying experience. I walked in, was greeted by "Marc" and told him that I would like a haircut, in a sort of French style, but not too bizarre. He said, "Alors, vous voulez... (So, you want...) chic, elegant, cool, sexy... class, oui?" I grinned and nodded and thought it would all go well and nodded off to the lulling sound of snipping scissors. I looked up and said, "Whoa, c'est court!" - that's short! - and then stayed awake out of fright for the rest of the experience... and now I'm wearing a hat. Grr. It might not actually be that bad, but now it's more crew cut with peculiar French spin, and less sexy spiky American. At least I got a 20% student discount - students get discounts on almost everything here. It's baffling. Even the McDonald's clone 'Quick' gives students a 5 or 10% discount on food. Speaking of Quick, that's where we ran to after the wine tasting, in urgent search of bathrooms. We raced to the second floor and were stymied by a stern looking door equipped with an unfortunately very functioning keycode system. It only took a little bit of deduction to figure out that a purchase was necessary to obtain a keycode... and then right after we'd bought the cheapest little cheesy bacon fried nuggets available and used the restrooms, someone simply asked us for our code. We gave it to them and tried to post our receipt with the code outside the entrance but gave up after the horrible rain THAT HAS PLAGUED GRENOBLE SINCE I ARRIVED beat us back.

Sarah and I took a painfully early 5am bus to Lyon's St Exupery airport this morning. We said goodbye around 7:45am and I took an 8:30am bus back to Grenoble, where I then slept, played online until my battery was exhausted and read the Economist until I fell asleep again. I'm trying to plan a trip next week to Strasbourg, Munich, Berlin and Prague. I'm not sure if I can fit them all in in just eight days, but I'll give it a shot. November 3rd I'm off to Cambridge for the 400th anniversary of Guy Fawke's Day and to observe first-hand the swirling intrigue around Rachel's remarkable romantic entanglements.

I just got a call from Eli, another American guy from ASU, letting me know of his intention to go downtown to "an Irish bar by the river." There are lots of Irish bars downtown and there are two rivers, but I'll be hitching along - that's typically how a night goes here. Once one person finds something to do, he/she texts/calls as many other people as quickly as possible, so we all converge on one establishment in a large horde, like roaming barbarians. I would try to hang out with French students, but it's the weekend and they always retreat to their family homes far, far away from Grenoble.

It's raining, it's pouring

The past week has been relatively uneventful. As long as I avoid financial institutions, grocery stores, housing assistance offices, police officers and educational facilities everything goes well. I went to Lyon on Sunday morning to meet Sarah - 7:13am trains are brutal, FYI. However, she got the really rotten deal... Air France lost her luggage! (They tried to console her with a little toiletry bag with a razor (no shaving cream), a toothbrush and toothpaste, and a men's XXL white t-shirt.) While she filled out endless paperwork in Paris I wandered Lyon and was sitting in a random church's Mass when my phone vibrated - "I'm here!" I rushed back to the station and we collided in an embrace that would've dazed Ray Lewis. The train back to Grenoble was punctuated by total silence and sound sleep. Sarah napped a little more back at campus, and then we had a delicious dinner of "raclette" (sp?) at Loic and Megan's. There was a central pot on the table that heated little pie plates with handles - you dropped thick slices of cheese in the pie-plate, waited for them to sizzle and then poured out the gooey cheese on potatoes, various meats and broccoli. Yum.

Air France graciously gave Sarah a 100 euro allowance for "essential" clothing... I'm not sure how classically European black knee-high boots qualify as an essential item, but luckily they only say "shoes" on the receipt. We contemplated hopping over to Italy for a couple days but I think lounging in Grenoble will be a bit more relaxing. On verra.

I received my first grade yesterday - a 10 (out of 20) on homework. Ouch. I think I lost points because I turned it in on yellow legal paper, not the crisp graph/notebook paper the French adore. Grr. A '10' is a 'B' back at ASU - I need to get a 13 or higher for an A. Off to the store to search for les papiers corrects...

Greetings from Geneva

This is me before finding out about all the wicked things my bank and International Relations office did to me.


I went to a modern art museu and was really stymied by some of the pieces. Like these... rolls of tape... symbolizing... the need... to buy... more tape.


One of my favorite attractions - enormous chess pieces in the park! I wanted to play, but all the old men were busy arguing back and forth about who could lift a pawn with the fewest amount of bones cracking.


Nestled in the Old Town is this gorgeous church - I took an archeological tour of the original church, underneath this one, built in ~200 A.D. Quite amazing, really, and superb excavation work. I saw monks' little work areas, the bottom of a bell casting, and all sorts of preserved artificats. I must've been speaking excellent French that day because the museum fellow was astonished to find out I was an Anglophone and offered to take me on some "special tour" of Geneva. He batted his eyes a few too many times, though...


The longest wooden bench in the world - 413 feet!


Here's the exterior of the Musee d'Art et d'Histoire. It was, believe it or not, rather difficult to find.


I loved the Musee d'Histoire et d'Art. It was enormous, interesting and FREE! They had an incredible section on weapons and armor - all sorts of knight's outfits, huge pikes and deadly crossbows. I think there are enough pistols in here to arm half the country.


In the basement of the museum was the Egyptian section. Here are some fragments from the Book of the Dead. Oooh...


I'd never heard of it before, but this is Geneva's "Jet d'Eau," an enormous jet of water (132 gallons per second) that shoots 459 feet high. It's visible from most places in the city and is an excellent landmark. You can actually walk up really close to it; I went within 50 feet and had to turn back because there was so much spray and mist.


I'll conclude with this picturesque, quintessential Geneva photo. The water is so amazingly clear; you can see straight to the bottom even at night.

The Grass is Greener in Geneva

The grass was extraordinarily green and I saw several outdoor photo exhibitions. This one was sponsored by the UN and had pictures of families from all over the world and quotes from them about their lives. The gardeners were getting ready to plant new flowers... probably some super-hybrid strain that can survive the bitter lake effect.


Trees grow funny in Geneva.


Geneva had lots of interesting public art, including this peculiar spinning fountain center-piece near the youth hostel (which, incidentally, was not bad. quite sterile and lacking in personality, but relatively clean and affordable).


The European streets are really starting to look alike... this was just a little south of Lake Geneva, near the Old Town, and home to lots of pricey shops -- well, pricier shops. Everything in Geneva was pricey.


There were numerous churches throughout the city and almost all had lovely clock-faces.


Inter-fowl conflict... call the UN!


Speaking of the UN, I took a tour of the Geneva complex -- zzzz. Security there was utterly inept, so I wasn't scared at all and stuck my hand through a thick gate to take this picture. I'm not sure if that's a sniper on the roof?


However, this building was a little more intimidating... the "Permanent Mission of the Russian Federation." Yikes. This is directly across the street from the UN complex (i.e., where I was standing when I took the picture!) and appears to have brought excellent financial success to barbed wire contractors.


This was a beautiful... building on the Rhone River, just before it meets Lake Geneva. I wish I knew if this was a museum -- it was right next to a dodgy area of Geneva that we dubbed the "warehouse district" - and stayed out in until 5:30am. There was a huge discotheque in one of the warehouses; we chose the more contemporary music area... but the drum+bass section sounded INSANE. Apparently a popular DJ from Brazil was in town for the weekend and he had a huge following.

Rotten Luck

The temptation to return home at the end of the semester has returned. My bank here, Societe Generale, "couldn't find" my 300 euro ($360 USD) deposit; supposedly they're "looking into it." The International Relations office changed the amount of credits one of my classes was worth, and absolutely refused to budge, so now I have to find another class to take - in the fourth week of the semester! - or receive a failing grade back at ASU for the difference between the number of credits I take and the number required. I need a stress ball that has "French Bureaucracy" written on it.

Other than being cold, dark and small, the dorms here aren't bad at all. When I walked in the building last night, some kids from Thailand invited me to eat dinner with them. Afterwards, I walked with Indian and Mexican guys to a French/English/American apartment party. Last week there was an enormous party on the floor above me; I met an incredible amount of French students, Morrocans and Algerians. Everyone is stunningly friendly; yesterday afternoon I played American football with some French guys on a grassy hill near our dorm.

I had a nice time in Geneva (had the fortune to meet two great Australian guys and we all hung out together, every night until 6am), but the city was definitely not worth spending four days in - two would have sufficed nicely. I took a plethora of pictures and will start posting those soon.

A la poubelle

More details are forthcoming, but... this afternoon I was grabbed, shoved and manhandled by a store security agent after I took a picture of him harassing an older man - at the time I took the picture, I didn't know he was store security; I thought it was a repeat of the event on the tram I recounted here two or three weeks ago, when I described a younger guy yelling at an older man and eventually kicking him in the head until he was restrained. I called the police as I followed the security agent into the store - I snatched my camera back and then the security guy pushed me, grabbed my arms and shoulders and lunged at me, trying to get the camera back. Another security agent came and they pushed me against a clothes rack, and restrained me from moving.

I forcefully refused, again and again, their demands to "come to the back with us." I waited and waited for the police - and when three plainclothes cops came, they grilled me, even though I said, "c'est moi qui a vous appele" - I'm the one who called you! They took my camera and deleted the picture in question. This was poorly explained to me, but the store manager said that something called "liberte individuel" prohibited me from taking pictures of the store security... even outside the store... even when they were possibly committing a crime.

I would've been in huge trouble if I hadn't been able to convince the policemen that my driver's license was my national identity card - I showed them a photocopy of my passport and birth certificate, and one cop said, "a la poubelle" - "to the trash." I whipped out my license and showed it to him, explaining that it was an identity card. He seemed to be placated, and recorded my name, DOB, and address in France. Oh no, I'm in the (thankfully, horribly organized) system! The police accused me of helping a thief get away and I bit my tongue (I found out later, according to Loic, that 'aiding and abetting' offenses really don't exist in French law). They repeated it, and I had to speak - "Pourquoi nous etions plus importants que le voleur?" - Why were we more important than the thief? (I was with a friend, Santiago.) That seemed to especially aggravate them and as they moved in on me the situation detiorated from "uncomfortably surrounded" to "nauseatingly encircled." As the three policemen, two store security agents and two store managers chattered away in rapid-fire French... I said I didn't understand. They slowed down, and I said nothing, assumed a blank stare and waited until they all left, one by one, until I was standing alone, trembling inside, astonished at the events of the past hour.

Loic helped me recover the picture that started the whole fiasco, along with Santiago's movies - unfortunately they're rather shaky and unclear; you can see me calling the police and walking after the security agent who had just stolen my camera in the first video, and hear Santiago swearing in Spanish under his breath in the second, as the camera pans past me edged up against the clothes rack, confined by the security agents and police.

I should've... been farther away when I took the initial picture, had the camera strap around my wrist, grabbed the camera back in the street and ran, or escaped once I had my camera in the Monoprix. I don't know how I could've presented my case any differently to the police that would have made them more receptive or sympathetic. Understandably, they were on edge because of the strike, but -- a picture taken of a store security agent? In the street? I didn't know that ranked so high on the priority list - or the "awful crimes against society" list.

A rousing game of korfball afterwards helped ease some of the remaining tensions, but my adrenaline is still going at 2:40am. I suppose, on the bright side: I wasn't arrested and I have my camera intact...

I think sources close to my administration will, um, soon leak those movies and the picture.

A bank account!

Poor ASU. I demand a government inquiry into how the game deteriorated so rapidly after our 21-3 half-time lead. Blame MUST be delivered!

The past week has been relatively uneventful. I opened a bank account - a momentous feat - at Societe Generale, not out of any particular alluring features that they offered, but because they had the least stringent paperwork requirements. I only had to show... my passport, my student card and the "attestation" that allows me to move into the university residence. Other banks demanded the "carte du sejour," basically a French green card and harder to obtain than Fazio's resignation, or additional proof of lodging, like a gas or electric bill. Those are hard to produce when you live in a dorm... I was pleasantly surprised to find out that Societe Generale had a relatively low monthly fee, only 90 euro cents. Other banks range from 1.50 to 5 euros. The paperwork that I received is absolutely astounding - fifty pages of general banking regulations, fifteen pages of legalese related to their internet banking access (as a student, I benefit from free internet banking - until I'm 25, whereupon I have to pay 50 cents per login!) and thirty more pages of miscellaneous rules. Grr. I have to wait seven days before I receive a letter with a secret code. Then, I take that secret code into my branch and they give me a bank card and a Visa debit card. If I want to login to my account online, I take that secret code, add 8 more secret digits to the end and fill out a complicated, asinine form online. Then, their system automatically snail mails me a letter that I have to print out, sign and mail back -- then I'm allowed to use the online banking 'feature.'

I'm now allowed to play basketball in France. I successfully had a doctor examination (free for students!), which consisted solely of the doctor taking my blood pressure and pulse and asking me if I smoked. I took that approval form to the "bureau des sports," filled out another form and paid 25 euros for a license. The paperwork has to be sent to Paris, and I'm supposed to go back to the bureau des sports in 15 days to retreive the official license, but I'm cleared in the meantime. Tuesday night, Loic, my French friend, invited me to play "korfball," a Dutch hybrid of basketball and handball - involving lots of passing, no running and eight people per team, four male and four female. Rather bizarre at first, but fun once I started to finally make baskets (more difficult than basketball since it involves no backboard and an actual wicker basket suspended on a 12-foot high pole).

The rendezvous with my ex-roommate went calmly, if icily. She showed up with a massive fellow who looked like he was a mercenary. I said thanks under my breath for the remaining daylight, grabbed my massive box of Frosties and bade au revoir for good, I hope.

There's a massive country-wide strike planned from 8pm Monday to 8am Wednesday, as workers protest the "economic policies of the center-right government." Luckily I'm moving into the university residence Monday and won't have to worry about taking the tram or bus for classes on Tuesday. It'll be interesting if we even have class... which won't be a problem, since they're so easy. Confusingly, homework appears to be voluntary. I completed requisite translation assignments, and worksheets for a grammar class -- and none of it was checked, collected or even acknowledged. Slightly peculiar.

I went to a chocolate museum with a group of American girls (whose personalities are vastly superior to those of their French counterparts) last weekend. The museum was called "Le Paradis du Chocolat" and was in La Cote Saint Andre, birthplace of famed composer Hector Berlioz:


Like usual, the country scenery along the highway was magnificent:


Some sections of the museum were, um, a bit ethnically anachronistic:


I successfully completed a chocolate trivia scavenger hunt, but then fell asleep during FOUR consecutive 'history of chocolate' videos. Outside, the fresh air woke me up, and I contemplated the deep, dark mysteries of chocolate:


The "Palais" was set high on a hill and featured a gorgeous view of the valley's farmlands:


On our way down, we spotted the Chateau of Louis XI, constructed between 1274 and 1281, and then rebuilt in the 16th century after being destroyed (by fire?). I went to investigate, even though the front door didn't look very inviting:


After eight flights of stairs, I made it to the top and tried to go out onto the roof -- but as soon as I tried to jiggle open a little locked door, I was almost deafened by a massive buzzing sound produced by a fleet of crazed hornets, thirsty for my ripe American flesh. I beat a hasty retreat, and then bravely went back to document the rather eerie spiral staircase:


The rest of the afternoon passed relatively calmly, as afternoons tend to pass when you're not being pursued by predatory parasites armed with mutant stingers.

Last night I went to the first event of the week-long Grenoble Arts Festival. For seven euros, I watched an awesome performance by two bands - "Poum Tchack" from Marseille and "No Mad?" - and I have no idea how to describe their music. It was like a "fusion" of... French, Italian, Greek, Yugoslavian and gypsy music. Both bands had six members - Poum Tchack had drums, an accordion, a violin, bass, saxophone/trumpet and guitar, No Mad? had drums, accordion, violin, bass and two guitars. The music had a frenetic pace, incredible energy and infectious tempo. I loved it! (And regretted not bringing my camera with me; I need to get a shoulder holster for it.)

It's overcast and raining here (surprise!), but I'm going to escape to a movie theatre soon. I've spent the afternoon planning excursions - my calendar is filling up! I'm going to Geneva and possibly Zurich from Oct. 6th to 10th, Eastern Europe (vague, I know) at the end of October/early November, Florence and Rome in mid-November, London ~ when my friend has successfully completed her courtship of Jude Law, and Lyon on November 28... for a Coldplay concert. Hopefully I can sneak in trips to Madrid (siesta, fiesta!), Amsterdam (Van Gogh, Anne Frank museums) and Munich (BMW museum, WW2 museums).

That's not narcolepsy

I had guitar lessons this afternoon. I can now play the opening riff from Deep Purple's "Smoke on the Water." However, I was a bit tired after that strenuous activity and soon fell asleep... and my camera was commandeered!