European Food Culture

I’ll never forget the way my 8^th grade French teacher described the relationship the French have with food. She explained the shopping experience as a list of errands, stopping from shop to shop for one special item. Every time she spoke of how everyone would zip around with a baguette in their hands, everyone looked at that woman like she was a nut. However, after my first European adventure, I have to apologize to Madame Koehler, because everyone really does have a baguette in their hands! After learning more about the French food culture in writing my feature story, I learned that the French admire the ideal of “farm to fork," as one vendor at the market described to me. I pondered what happened to the United States when we decided to pump everything with genetically modified organisms. Sure, we can’t find anything wrong with it…yet. I’ll never forget when the press officer at the US Embassy in France described the lack of Genetically Modified Organisms as a fear of “Frankenfood” in European society. After learning more about food regulations, and their lack of fake products, I became increasingly jealous of the difference in quality of food here in the US to that of Europe, and dream of a day were Americans can appreciate real food again and leave the “Frankenfood” behind us.

aww the end has arrive

When we arrived back in the United States after our long 9 hour flight I couldn't think about anything but relaxation from the past couple weeks constantly traveling, not to mention finally getting over this illness I acquired over the trip. Boy, was I wrong about the relaxation and the sickness (which I still have as I write this final blog). I spent the past 3 days scrambling over all of my footage and notes trying to come up with something to turn in for our final projects. Granted what I turned in wasn't my greatest achievement but what I found on my camera hard drive was all worth it. At the time I didn't think so, but I took some awesome footage of the Pere-Lachaise Cemetery and the Catacombs. I didn't turn it in as a project, but I managed to put together two 2-minutes segments of the two. I know for certain that my two favorite things in Paris were in fact these places, morbid much? I find it all too interesting. The Cemetery, for instance, was one of the most beautiful places I've been to in years. When you think of cemetery's you don't think of beautiful but this particular cemetery was magnificent in every angle. As for the Catacombs, creepy and scary are the two descriptions that come to mind. If I were down there alone, I'd freak... The footage I got is in all filmed in night vision which adds to the essence of the atmosphere. Enough describing, check out the videos below!!

(Teachers, these really are my vidoes.. I filmed them and edited them together, I just put them up on youtube to make it easier to upload onto the blog. Enjo

y!)

PS. To all of you that were so worried about my lost shoes, Wyatt made it up to me this afternoon by taking me to SteveMadden to buy me a new pair. Wyatt... you're the best!

Not as cute as the ones I bought in Paris, obvi, but it's the thought that counts.

My Parisian Day Trip

Unfortunately, having missed group departure, I found myself thrilled at the thought of adventuring in Paris with my roommate. We began our day at the Parisian Flee markets. Walking up and down the bustling roads, the masses bartered for their steals. The street smelled of éclairs and other delectable French pastries, and I quickly made my way to the first bakery on the strip. You see, my grandmother and I share a passionate love for French pastries, and I had to experience it for the both of us. Much like my day already, the éclair was a sweet hazy dream. As I continued on, excitement overran me at the thought of successfully purchasing my long overdue Christmas presents in one swoop.

As I left the market I crossed the street, as the gaudy Cathedral beckoned me over to its park area. The park was filled with green lazy trees and sculptures, furnished quite similarly to many of the other parks in Paris. As I sat on the bench watching the children run around, I found myself pleased to find the sun had come up, a first in a grey rainy week. Despite Paris’ colossal beauty, I found the weather to be bleak and a guaranteed burden to anyone with seasonal depression.

As I sat on the park bench I noticed a women in a full Burka, with only her face exposed. In a time when France is declaring this to be against the law, this moment was moving to me.Witnessing a women in Paris who shared a mutual relationship with her French citizenship, and her religious roots and the outcome of her public battle I found deeply moving. What a privilege to experience a moment of such liberation and controversy.

As I hopped on the metro I thought of the angry letter I would write to the Chicago Transit Authority outlining changes that should be made in order to be as sufficient as the metro in Paris, and cringed at the idea of waiting 20 minutes in the damp underground blue line station when I return home.

On my way home down the cobblestone street, I finally tried the creperie across from Hotel Leveque. It was as if I had died and gone to cheese heaven. One of the many things I could get used to in Paris is the heavy consumption of cheese.

After my daily Parisian cheese fix Jen, Elizabeth and I rented bikes and took Paris by storm as the three of us attempted to learn the efficient and intricate bike routes of the city. Riding along the Seine River, I found myself nearly on the verge of tears that such a place even exists. As a child, you dream of the city of lights, and as an adult I can rightfully say that Paris lived up to my dreams and beyond.

We rode to the park in the middle of the city where from one end you can see the giant white Ferris wheel, and if you look to the other end of the park the famous pyramid sits in front of the Louvre. I quickly recognized this spot from the black and whites of the picnic tables and umbrellas that I drooled over as child. As we walked more into the park I was thrilled to see that adorable French children really do race wooden boats, and determined at that moment that I would only raise adorable French children.

As the sun set on what will always be one of the best days of my life, I ended it the only way possible: a nighttime boat ride down the Seine. Somebody pinch me, please.

Brussels you’re like an ex boyfriend.

Hey Brussels, what's up?

I hope you’re doing well because I want to have a few words with you. Not to upset you, Brussels but you really need to up your game. Don’t get me wrong the hotel we stayed at was a million times better than the one we survived in Paris but still. So you have a peeing kid, so what? Let me take you to the daycare that was downstairs from my old apartment, there are like 5 kids peeing there right now!

The reason I say you’re like an ex-boyfriend though is because, in my journey with you, we had many ups and downs. One up I already mentioned, the hotel. That was my first exposure to you, when I entered the room I think I might have literally said, “oh my gosh! No way!” just like I might say meeting a cute guy for the first time who makes a Lost reference. In other words we were on good terms. Then later that night we all had dinner as a group together and the beer was good but I’m not gonna lie the food wasn’t all that great, sorry. Here’s the thing though, I know it’s not fair to compare you to Paris, my love before you, but I’m gonna do it anyway and I’m just saying Paris knocked you out of the park as far as food is concerned. (Although it’s not your fault that I chose to have Quick while I was there but I did and it didn’t help your case.) But the people were very friendly which I was oh so thankful for. I was beginning to worry about the human race while in France but you made me feel good, Belgium. People smile in your country!!! At this point you were like a boyfriend who apologized after a fight by buying me Manchester Orchestra tickets or taking me to see a Robert Downey Jr. movie, we were cool for the moment but still a bit shaky.

The next day though, I went to do a little shopping, it was raining so that was an unfortunate strike against you but I tried to make the best of it. Long story short though I walked away after 2 1/2 hours of shopping with nothing in hand and I really wanted to buy something BRUSSELS! (yes capital letters, I am yelling at you.) I was very disappointed at this point, no cute British actor in the lobby of our hotel could make up for it either. (Shout out to Tia) So I went back to my room and sulked by my lonesome. Were you really going to do this to me Brussels? After everything? But wait! There was hope. Just then Emma knocked on my door, she said we should go out that night. Fast forward to hours later and to the thing that bailed you out of the dog house – Delirium Café. A bar in Brussels with over 2000 beers and that’s not a typo either. When we walked in we all had smiles on our faces, this place had 3 floors and tons of people. It was exactly what I needed, Brussels…why were you trying to hide it from me? We went to all the floors and got drinks and we were all such happy campers. But you know what happens at Delirium stays at Delirium so all I’m gonna say is it was definitely a highlight of the trip for me and yes I owe it all to you Brussels. So here’s the thing, our time together ended up on a positive note so where does that put us my dear? Just like my real life relationships, I have no idea. But stay safe Brussels I have a feeling we’re gonna keep in touch.

Ps. Your Metro sucks, step up the game on that too.

Thanks for listening,
Lisa

French Ideals

Written January 20, 2011

When I first came back from Europe, I felt like I didn’t have enough time to absorb my surroundings and experiences. But after writing my stories and reviewing my thoughts and feelings I recorded while abroad, I realized that sometimes you do have to step back to appreciate a masterpiece.
Writing my stories has shown me not only all that I have been fortunate to experience abroad but I also now feel that I did it the right way and that I took full advantage of the resources offered to me.
Studying abroad and learning about global topics gave me a different view of journalism and the world at that. In America, it feels like we are focused so much on our own issues and don’t have the time or necessarily the interest to focus on other global issues, but being able to understand global issues can change opinions in national ones as I have learned
For instance, my story on France’s policy of separation of church and state. In America we feel that we have a distinct separation of the two, so people are free to practice their religion in the public eye and are not allowed to be discriminated against. However in France, it is just the opposite. Everybody is allowed to practice their religion but only in the home because to the outside world they must be French and not associated by their religion. Americans may feel that is socialist where as French feel it is equality.
On a cultural level, while in France many of us felt slightly discriminated against as Americans due to comments made from by passers. Perhaps this was due to the same French ideals that the social structure is built off of.

Greater Than the Barrier Reef-The French Language Barrier

Laïcité is the French word for the notion of separation of church and state.

And when these people say “separation,” they aren’t kidding around.

Americans, too, fight about this concept-prayer in public schools, teachers who must be careful to say Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas-but let’s face it, at the end of the day it says “In God We Trust” all over those good old American greenbacks.

In that case, I imagine the French saying,

“Give me Euros or give me death.”

When writing my laïcité article, I encountered roadblocks both mental and physical. My American mentality made it difficult for me not to immediately equate this French notion of absolute separation of church and state with a (not very) disguised form of racism or prejudice against the Muslims who this legislation seems to most target.

Other than these cultural challenges, I discovered that it is also difficult to work on a story that deals with international affairs when you are looking at your laptop in Chicago, Illinois.

For instance, I found a reference to a group of young French Muslim women who have a more relaxed stance about wearing the headscarf, but when I tried to look at their website it was (of course) in French. I used Google’s Translator tool, but at times the translation seemed inconsistent and I found this frustrating because I have no real way of knowing how accurate the information is.

Getting in touch with sources was another issue along these lines. Here in the states, it is actually relatively easy (with a combination of perseverance and luck) to get a hold of aldermen, CEOs, and even senators. However, contacting someone in France is difficult twofold: there is both a potential language barrier and the problem of time-3pm in the States becomes 10pm in Paris.

I sent out two emails: One to Khiari Bariza, one of the only Muslim French senators, and one to the group I mentioned previously.

So far, I have not heard back from either.

But there is still time. Maybe these French will ultimately understand my transatlantic attempt to reach out to them.

Or, like our countries’ different attitudes towards religion, maybe the cultural gap is too wide to effectively cross.

Like Apples and Oranges.

French fries and Freedom fries.

Heading Out

January 18, 2011

While flying over Greenland it was clear to me why I felt the way I did about America when I looked at the small Starbucks cup sitting on my tray. We loved to make a name for ourselves. Something that everyone wanted. Only it came tasting more terrible then any coffee you could get around the world and it costed twice the price.

The quality of life at home is grand. But when you got down to the brass tacks you could see that it was made fast and not to last. Empires where built in days. But a legacy was hard to come by anymore.

When I was walking around the gardens of Versailles I saw just how much detail and passion was put in to every stone, picture, and flower. They build a legacy for a reason. To honor what was in the past and make sure that the future understood that an empire could take hundreds of years to make perfect.

We are a young nation. And if I’ve learned anything over the past few years is that when your young you think you know everything. When people that have been around much longer then you say, “this sounds fun now but in a few years you might regret it,” I didn’t want to listen. Just like many parts of the world have told my home to take it slow.

Watching the news in Brussels made me see our country changing. There’s tugging from all corners. Little tares and snags here and there, 9/11, Iraq War, healthcare, The Dream Act, immigration, Tea Party’s, global warming, gangs, poverty, and a high unemployment rate. The thing is little tares and snags slowly wither away the fabric that held us all together in the first place.

I think we need to slow down. Sit down, hell breath. We might have a lot of money to help people all over the world but right on our own soil, people need something to once again make sure that the life they are living can one day be seen as a legacy, not just a number 2 on a quick menu.

I enjoyed going down a street and seeing different kinds of business run by all kinds of people. Seeing and shopping for different things around every comer. Not just a Target, Kmart, Wal-Mart, or Whole Foods. I liked knowing the man who made my crepe and where he got his mushrooms and why he opened his shop. It was more like a home then walking into a Starbucks that are on almost every street corner in Chicago. With the same pictures, hung in the same spots, and a credit card from the corporation to top it.

In a few hundred years maybe we’ll learn. Learn that we have all the time in the world, and if that we personally don’t then the people around us will. I’m not naïve, I know that we need money to make the world go round, but we can at least spend it wisely. Some how we keep running out of it in the U.S. only to all the sudden find more. Like the White House has this giant couch, that they keep finding change under the cushions, every time they turned the channel and people where unhappy with the way things where going.

It’s not left or right, white or black that should guide us, but it ultimately our passion to make a place we can call home.

The more I see the more I think that America is not quit ripe enough for me. We have not been thru our mid-life crises or down on our luck yet. And it’s not up to one person to decide when that is to happen or why.

I learned something….you just gotta let happen……