"I'm French. Why do you think I have this outrageous accent?"

Ah, France. The country Americans love to hate. Despite the fact that it's home to such novel inventions as the croissant, the beret, and a variety of tasty wines and cheeses, it's hard to deny that its reputation among my countrymen isn't so hot. I must admit that, after spending my formative years in a francophobic society, I let all the anti-hype get to me. Indeed, at one point I was considering avoiding France altogether on my European trip. When I mentioned this to my friend Stu, he offered this sobering reminder: "Nate, if you don't go to France, then all those right-wing crazies (who created 'freedom fries' and dumped French wine down the gutter) will have won."

Well, I cerntainly can't have that, so I penciled in a token visit to Paris. And you know what? I liked it quite a bit! I can't say it's my favorite city in the world, but it certainly has its charms and a huge amount of history.

I gave myself three nights in the city, which really is only enough time to see the big-name touristy things. You know, the usual suspects: The Louvre, Musee d'Orsay, Centre Pompidou, Eiffel Tower, Champs d'Elysees, Notre Dame, and so on. I won't go into details on all of them, with a few exceptions:

The Cathedral of Notre Dame: I was genuinely moved by this place. Sure, it's uber-touristy: there was basically a river of people continuously flowing through it. But as I sat down among the pews and gazed up at the stained glass and graceful arches, I couldn't help but think of the incredible sacrifices that must have been made to make it a reality. Back when it was built, survival was still a constant struggle and the spectres of sickness, hunger, and death were never far off. But despite the practical difficulties of simply staying alive, these people built this monument out of faith and reverence. I think that really says something. Maybe I am overly romanticizing things here, but at the very least, I felt connected to the past and recognized the cathedral as a triumph of the human spirit.

The Musee d'Orsay: Of all the big sights in Paris, I was most excited to see this one, mainly because of its extensive collection of impressionist paintings. I'm not exactly sure why, but impressionism has always been, by far, my favorite style. I think it's because the lack of definition, combined with the expressive use of color, allows me to re-create the scene in my imagination in ways that are probably much more beatiful than anything one could find in reality. Anyways, as soon as I got there I made a bee line for the Monet gallery, and I wasn't disappointed. Although all the works on display were great (including the famous "Water Lillies" that everyone knows), I felt most strongly about a lesser-known painting called "Le Givre" ("White Frost"):

To be perfectly honest, the digitized image just doesn't do it justice. You have to see it for yourself. To me, it evokes a sense of peace and tranquility, which is something I generally value very highly in a painting.

I also met some cool people. For my third night, I moved to a hostel in the Montmarte neighborhood, which was really great. Montmarte is the "bohemian" area of town where all the artists and musicians have lived since the mid-1800's, and it just seemed to have a more refined air than central Paris. Anyways, while I was there I hung out with a Canadian named Cleo and an American named Mike. Cleo was basically an itinerant vagabonder, and Mike was a student who, coincidentally, had been to Wash U several times while "on-tour" with his a capella group. We spent the night drinking 3-euro wine (4 bottles...whoops), exchanging "your mom" jokes and listening to music. At one point we were amusing ourselves by "shotgunning" (or, as they say in Canada, according to Cleo, "supering") cigarettes. Don't know what we were thinking there. I was thankful for the hostel's late checkout the next morning.

For my last day in Paris, I left my pack in a locker at the Paris-Austerlitz train station and took a day trip into Versailles. There isn't much I can say about the Versailles palace except this: it's big. I mean really, really big. I guess Louis XIV was looking to create a palace that would symbolize his might and wealth, and he certainly hit a home run in that department. I was especially impressed by the royal gardens. They are frickin' GINORMOUS.

After returning to Paris, I took my first trip on a night train, which I guess is part of the quintessential European travel experience. Oh, I suppose I should mention where the train was going: Madrid. When it wasn't dark outside, the scenery was beautiful. At first I figured I lucked out, because I was in a 4-bed sleeper compartment that was only half full. There were only two unfortunate things about the situation: a) the other guy in the compartment couldn't speak English, and I can't speak French or Spanish, which made for lots of silence, and b) he snored like a chainsaw...no, actually it was more like a jackhammer...well, really it was more like a legion of constipated grizzly bears engaging in paw-to-paw combat, weilding chainsaws and jackhammers. I think he actually takes the snoring trophy from my dad.

So I rolled into Madrid at around 10 this morning, checked into the hostel, and now I'm just going to browse the city a bit. I'll write more when I get the chance. Adios!