Instead of studying

I've already had four finals: I discover the outcome of Grammaire Francaise tomorrow, it seemed wickedly easy but I've been deceived before. Luckily the professor institutes a very generous curve so the lowest grade I can get is a B. Whew. I had two translation finals today, one was English to French and the other vice versa. For the English to French final, we had to translate an International Herald Tribune article about the recent riots. We couldn't use dictionaries and I fear my French was woefully ugly and clumsy. Hopefully the other translation final, involving a French magazine interview with Daniel Radcliffe (the Harry Potter actor!), will outweigh it, since I think I only missed a few words. My fourth final was in the afternoon: Techniques d'expression francaise has been the most challenging - but also the best - course of the semester and I think I nailed the final. We had to analyze an interview with a young French boxer, then write a movie review using certain stylistic techniques we learned in the class. I chose Le Fableux Destin d'Amelie Poulain and am crossing my fingers that the few details (actors' names, specific plot twists) I forged will escape unnoticed.

[In light of "Confucius'" comment, and recent highly publicized news stories about people getting in trouble after negative remarks they made online were linked to them in real-life, I'll withhold judgment on my political science courses until a later point in time.]

The next couple days will thus be quite interesting. I have three more posts I want to make, but I doubt I'll have time right away. One will just discuss the fun events of the past week (French-English student dinner, tartiflette with French people, korfball and basketball victories, fun and mildly outrageous nights spent with friends) and include pictures, one will describe my friends, associates and the various people I encounter on a daily basis and the last will discuss how I currently feel about my life abroad - brimming with joy, essentially.

That's too much Heineken to look at, let alone contemplate drinking.

Back in our hostel, Brandi suffering from a laughing fit. No idea why she was looking in a mirror.

Fabulous authentic Dutch food. From left: appleflapp, miniature pancakes and gooey delicious fruit cake. Best of all... they gave me real Canadian maple syrup with the pancakes. Mmm. We came back to the same little pastry shop half a dozen times.

The foyer in the Rembrandt House. At first, I was thrilled and then realized these weren't all Rembrandts; most are from his peers or pupils. Still, it was a great experience and I attended two brief workshops with interesting demonstrations of how Rembrandt made his paint and engravings.

The exterior of the Rembrandt House.

The Dutch made remarkably hosts, but they lag behind their fellow Europeans in labeling random statues. I wish I knew who this was.

The perfect Amsterdam street. I want to live there!

The guest bed. Yes, the bed is in a box. I can't imagine how claustrophobic sleeping in there would have been.

This the "Waag," (the Dutch are exceptionally fond of the letter A.) an old city fort. Now, instead of serving up flaming arrows it offers delicious turkey and bacon club sandwiches.

I Heart Amsterdam

I'll post a write-up of my time in Amsterdam soon. In short, I LOVED IT. For now, here are some of the 163 pictures I took, along with brief captions.

This picture encapsulates Amsterdam. You have quaint, diverse, narrow buildings built with only the faintest hint of order. You have lots of bicycles. You can also see the edge of a canal - still an important part of the city's identity.


An Amsterdam canal shot. It's even more peaceful and pleasant than it appears! The weather was crisp, but not freezing.


One end of a four-block long flower market. Yes, tulips were the most popular item and yes, they were dirt cheap (10 for 3 euros).


There was definitely some peculiar architecture...


...and even more peculiar tourists. I don't think it's possible to look goofier.


We went to the "Heineken Experience" at the Heineken Brewery. At 10 euros, it seemed a bit steep at first, but we enjoyed it. There were several interactive features, a few tastings and we each received a collector's glass at the end.


Part of the "Experience" included walking under a ceiling of glass with a few inches of water above it. There was a steady drip of water coming from the top of the container; it was a neat effect to stand under.


Afterwards, we were in desperate need for something more cultural. This is the backside of the famous Rijksmuseum, unfortunately undergoing major renovation under 2008. It looked fascinating and it had some interesting, well-kept gardens, too.


Looking the opposite direction, I believe this is the Vondelpark.


I loved the Van Gogh museum and his pointillist "Trees and Undergrowth" in particular.


This picture encapsulates the other side of Amsterdam. I took this picture at noon on a Thursday. I wish I knew where these guys were going. I definitely don't want to know what's in the box they dropped.


We went to the Anne Frank House, a moving and reflective experience.


More cool Dutch architecture.


We dined at "Japanese Pancake World" after reading a highly positive review of it in our easyJet in-flight magazine. I don't know exactly what was served to me, but it was certainly not a pancake and it was certainly not highly positive. I took a video of the fluttering fish flakes on Laura's... trust me, you don't want to see it.


A beautiful church near our hostel - well, everything in Amsterdam is "near" everything else. The city was remarkably small and easy to traverse. I read that it takes only 40 minutes to walk from one end to another.


An opening in the canals - the whole city is like this!


A picture of the old man himself.


Another wall packed with Rembrandt's contemporaries. It was interesting to read how he also made quite a bit of money as an art dealer... but even that little side business wasn't enough to pay for his 28,000 guilder house, repossessed only 10 years after he bought it.


The master bedroom... also in a box! The only difference is that Mr. Rembrandt had purple curtains and a few more pillows. I have to admit, I definitely do not see the allure of SLEEPING IN A BOX.


I loved wandering the tiny side streets and discovering creative apartment buildings.


You probably find all these photos dreadfully boring, but they continue to make me smile and appreciate the ecclectic and cozy Dutch streets.


The National War Monument in Dam Square, "erected in memory of Dutch soldiers and members of the resistance who died in World War 2. Unveiled in 1956, the monument stores soil from all of Holland's provinces as well as from the Dutch East Indies and if you go to the back of the obelisk tower, you'll find the provinces' crests." If only they'd chosen a different shape.

Green Eyes Fix You

The Coldplay concert was "Serious Awesomeness" incarnated. I'd already seen them once over the summer and that excellent performance made me want to attend another. I wandered around Lyon for a while but unfortunately didn't have enough time to hit any of the major sights. Still, it's one of my favorite French cities. I met up with some English and Colombian friends before the concert began. Goldfrapp, another British band, opened. They were abstract but energetic - I enjoyed it, and the lead singer's extensive French vocabulary - "Merci" - made me feel better about my paltry skills.


The concert took place in Tony Garnier Hall. I think the same architect designed Grace Community Church because, aside from the lighting differences (and Coldplay instead of Michelle Branch - seriously, who plays Michelle Branch in church?) it felt very similar to GCC. We were able to thread our way near the stage by recognizing various friends from Grenoble and leapfrogging from group to group. Honestly, there was an entire British contingent; I'm surprised they didn't hoist the Union Jack and start claiming territory for the Queen.


The concert opened just like the one in Indy; with a spectacular crescendo and a giant three minute countdown timer. The special effects weren't as elaborate as they were back at Verizon, nor were there any TV screens projecting the concert to the unfortunate souls stuck at the back of the giant hall. Thousands of French girls screaming "Coldplay" were cute... for perhaps the first three minutes. Unfortunately, the wailing continued unabated for the following eighty-seven.


I started recording video at the beginning of "Yellow" and managed to capture the whole song, along with the giant yellow glitter-filled balloons dropped from the catwalks. Like in Indy, Chris Martin tried to keep singing until the balloons were all popped, but the audience didn't understand and he had to stop before his vocal chords shriveled up. This is just a picture of the last song from the set (before the encore), where he ran on the catwalk to the very back of the hall and shook the hand of the guy seated in the very last row, apologizing for the 'bloody long distance."


A few lines from Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" were part of the encore, but it absolutely baffled the mostly British and French crowd. I was one of perhaps 15 Americans singing along; it was hilarious because we could all hear each other over everyone else's confused murmurings.


A couple other notes: Chris Martin's French accent made me feel great about mine and also briefly put me en colère. The crowd understood (and loved) every word he said, while I've had French people stare blankly at me after I speak better than Jacques Chirac ordering something perfectly simple like "une bouteille d'eau, svp." Thus, either the French really do UNDERSTAND EVERY WORD THAT COMES OUT OF MY MOUTH and relish frustrating foreigners (no one ever automatically assumes I'm American; they always guess German or Spanish), or, more sinisterly, cool suave British rockers get more leeway than common folk. Gasp. That can't be true.

I spent the night in Lyon in the Hotel Dauphine near Gare Perrache train station. I had to leave my massive backpack there; catching the last train back to Grenoble wasn't an option (nor did I want to pay for a taxi since I would have arrived after the last tram back to campus) since it left from another station, Gare Part Dieu. Instead, I got a few hours of sleep and took a 5:36am train back to Grenoble. I did some homework, slept, dropped a few things off at my dorm and went to my 8:30 class "absolutely knackered."

I had little time to recuperate because the following day I flew to... Amsterdam.