Mind the Gap!

An entrance to one of the gardens originally used by the monks of Westminster Abbey centuries ago

                October was busier with school and a couple of colds, but I decided to not let that stop me from exploring outside the Riviera a little. Conveniently, Europe has three or four budget airlines that provide cheap flights to places as long as you book them a couple of weeks ahead of time. So, in a rather spur-of-the-moment decision I booked a flight to one of the places I've always dreamed of visiting—London.

                Now, one of the disadvantages of a budget airline is that, well, they try to make up for the fact that they’re a budget airline by charging for everything extra they can, including checked luggage, which costs about €24 (about $30) per bag. So I just packed everything I thought I would need in my backpack, and, believe me, it was so full that I could hardly close all of the zippers.

                My flight was a night flight on a Thursday, but thankfully it only lasted about two hours. I flew into London Luton Airport north of the main city with no problem and took a bus from the airport to Central London to Baker Street Station. (Yes, that is THE Baker Street.) I had found a convenient hostel in Central London right across the street from the Great Portland Street Tube station, so I walked about twenty minutes from Baker Street to Great Portland Street in the much colder and wetter London weather. It didn’t take long to notice everyone driving on the wrong side of the road, but the Brits have been kind enough to mark on the streets at every crosswalk, “LOOK RIGHT” or “LOOK LEFT” as needed.

I guess they figured they should help people out when people kept on almost getting run over because they looked the wrong way before crossing the street.

The Tube goes down what appear to be tubes, hence the name.

                So, anyway, about the hostel: It was definitely a unique experience. The security was really good and the staff were very nice. I had a bunk in a 10-bed male dorm with a community room with showers and toilets. Granted, it was definitely not as clean or as nice as a hotel, but then it was only £24 a night. I’m just glad that I was provided with a throw-away mat for my feet! Also, there was only one rather sleazy guy in the room (a Spanish dude with a drinking problem), but he was summarily kicked out the next day for repeatedly bringing alcohol into the hostel. Most of the others that I heard talking were Eastern Europeans who kept to themselves. They didn’t look like the cleanest people in the world (one of them had a ponytail that looked to not have been washed for a VERY long time), but they didn’t bother me, and I didn’t bother them.

                One of the mistakes I made before I came was not planning out my tours very well. I had just thought, “I’m going to go sightseeing in London” and didn’t think that it might be wise to figure out what sights to see beforehand since I only had two days (Friday and Saturday). But anyway, I decided to go see the Tower of London on Friday afternoon and went over to the Tube station since the London Tube (i.e., the subway) is the quickest and cheapest way to get around if you don’t mind going up and down stairways and escalators all the time.

Looks rather grim even today, doesn't it?

The memorial on the Tower Green for the ones who were beheaded there. Only 20 people or so were executed here, since it was considered a privilege to be executed on the Tower Green. Most people were beheaded outside the Tower on Tower Hill. Around the edge of the light blue glass is written, "Gentle visitor pause awhile : where you stand death cut away the light of many days : here jewelled names were broken from the vivid thread of life : may they rest in peace while we walk the generations around their strife and courage : under these restless skies." The names of those executed here are written along the bottom.

                So, the Tower of London: it’s bigger than I thought it would be. When you hear the word tower, you usually think of ONE tower, right? Not here. No, there are actually over twenty towers contained in the “Tower of London” built over hundreds of years since the time of William the Conqueror. I saw such sights as Traitors’ Gate, a water gate from which such notables as Anne Boleyn, Lady Jane Grey, and Elizabeth I (when imprisoned by her sister Queen Mary) were led up into the Tower to be imprisoned. One of the Yeoman Warders took us to the Chapel Royal of St. Peter Ad Vincula, where some of the same notable prisoners went before being executed on Tower Hill or just outside on the Tower Green. In fact, Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey are buried around the chapel’s altar, and restorers in the 19^th century found the headless bodies of no fewer than 1500 people buried underneath the chapel floor. (One thing I learned from my trip to London is that you cannot escape hearing about some death or deaths.)

Since I didn’t have time to tour all the towers, I decided to do the essentials. First stop: the Jewel House. I was excited to see that a regiment of the world famous Scots Guards protects the Crown Jewels in the Jewel House and eagerly pictures of the ones I saw. Unfortunately, I was told after snapping one picture inside that pictures are not allowed. Thus I cannot show pictures of St. Edward’s Crown and all the Coronation spoons, the Orb, scepters, swords, and maces that I saw all glittering with gold and jewels worth more than I will probably make in my entire life. The British have done a fantastic job of arranging the Jewel House. One begins by seeing on the wall some explanation of the history of the Crown Jewels and a video about the English Civil War, when many of the Crown Jewels were destroyed or sold off by the Roundheads. Then there is a video of part of the coronation of Elizabeth II while the coronation anthem “Zadok the Priest” by Handel plays over a surround sound system. As you view each item in the coronation, there is written on the wall the part of the coronation script where that piece is given to the new monarch. Then in a veritable climax you see St. Edward’s Crown, the actual crown placed on the monarch’s head at the climax of the coronation. I had goosebumps you wouldn’t believe the entire time I was there!

After that, I decided to go tour the White Tower, which is the original Tower of London built by William the Conqueror near London just after his conquest in 1066. Today it houses displays from the Royal Armoury, including armor of almost every king from the reign of Henry VIII to George VI, the father of Elizabeth II, ceremonial swords, and gifts sent from foreign rulers to the king. Unfortunately, I did not have a lot of time to see much more of the Tower of London, but what I did see was enough to make me say to myself, “Next time years from now when I’m in London again…”

It was getting to be about 7:30 by the time I got back to the hostel. Unfortunately, I missed supper, BUT I remembered seeing the night before on Baker Street a Pizza Hut (!!). Now, you have to realize that Pizza Hut is practically nonexistent in France, so I couldn’t resist. I went there and had a nice ham pizza that didn’t really taste a lot like actual American Pizza Hut, but it was a good English approximation. I just had to take a picture of it!

Ah, Pizza Hut! It's been too long! Having coucous from the buffet was unique, but hey! It was good anyway!

After having wasted a few hours planning what to do on Friday, I decided that night on a rough itinerary for Saturday since I had a lot of places still that I wanted to see. I had already booked a guided tour of the Houses of Parliament and so decided to fit in Westminster Abbey right across the street and Buckingham Palace.

First, before going to the Houses of Parliament, I visited St. Margaret’s Church next door to Westminster Abbey. Though definitely smaller than its neighbor, it has a lot of history contained in it as well, as evidenced by the large amounts of plaques on the wall in memory of various people, and hidden among all these plaques are some more famous ones such as Milton, who went to church here, and Olaudah Equiano, the former slave who helped William Wilberforce in his fight against slavery in Great Britain. In addition, Sir Walter Raleigh himself is buried by the altar.

"When you hear the tone, the time will be..."

The Houses of Parliament were amazing to say the least. They don’t resemble much the original houses from medieval times, since the only original building is Westminster Hall built by King William II in 1097, and you can tell its age by the Romanesque style with massive wooden beams holding up a towering ceiling. I could only take pictures of this room, but I took plenty! Westminster Hall is also where Charles I and William Wallace were tried and where famous British dignitaries such as Winston Churchill and the Queen Mother have lain in state.

Leaving the stone and wood Westminster Hall, one enters into a world of gilt, crystal, and magnificent artistry from the time of Queen Victoria. Paintings from important moment s of British history like the Battles of Waterloo and Trafalgar and the English Civil War adorn the walls, while busts of important people are found all over. Our tour walked through these rooms while the tour guide pointed out various points along the route Queen Elizabeth walks when she opens Parliament each year. Eventually we ended up in the House of Lords, with red and gold seen everywhere. At one end of the room is an enormous golden throne where the queen sits to open Parliament. We were not allowed to sit on the benches because they are strictly reserved for members.

After the House of Lords, we made our way to the House of Commons, which has themes of green and gold. Before going into the actual House, the tour guide pointed out the unique way that the House of Commons uses for voting. There are two rooms next to the House: the Yea Room and the Nay Room. Whenever there is a vote, a bell is rung for eight minutes, making some members have to literally run back to the House of Commons. (Parts from the movie Amazing Grace come to mind.) The members gather themselves into the two rooms depending on whether they are for or against the bill in question, and each side is counted as the members walk into the House.

The House itself is comparatively new, having been destroyed by a German bomb during the Battle of Britain in World War II and rebuilt under the direction of Churchill. All of the reminders of the terrible bombing have been erased—except one. The old damaged entryway into the House was kept intact by Churchill’s decision as a reminder to the members of the horrors of war.

In the antechamber are statues of important prime ministers, including Churchill and Margaret Thatcher. Apparently some people have objected to the statue of Margaret Thatcher because she is not carrying her usual purse on her arm while she points at someone with her finger.

The House of Commons was rebuilt exactly like it was before, except with some more advanced technology, green cushions, etc. People had considered having it “modernized” to accommodate all the members (some members have to sit up in the balcony because there is not enough space). However, Churchill objected because he said it would not be the same without being able to stare down your opponents on the other side. For those of you curious why it was set up that way in the first place, I learned an interesting fact: Before the king gave Parliament a place for the House of Commons several hundred years ago, it was actually a chapel. And now you know the rest of the story…

You can definitely see some of the same stuff you see in cathedrals in France.

Next, Westminster Abbey: Where to begin! Well, I couldn’t take pictures in the actual cathedral, just in the cloisters and gardens. Let me tell you, though, that it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life! The towering Gothic ceiling is unlike anything I have ever seen, and the stained glass is also astounding! I was not able to go up to the high altar though because the floor is an intricate tiled floor from the 1200s.

Over the main door of the abbey. I can't imagine how much time it took to put in such intricate sculpture work!

Part of the Great Cloister just outside the main cathedral.  Each one of those black slabs is someone's grave. Note all of the memorials on the wall.

The Choir of Westminster Abbey being dismissed from rehearsal

Now, one thing to know about the English, as evidenced by the chapel in the Tower of London, is that they love burying people in churches. They went all out here. You cannot walk five steps before walking over large slabs with inscriptions, sometimes in Latin and sometimes in older English. Numerous little chapels branch off the main church. Some of these chapels are dedicated to saints, and some to kings. Henry VII’s chapel contains the tombs of Henry VII and his wife as well as some other royals, and next to the chapel, on the left, is the tomb of Queen Elizabeth I with her sister Queen Mary I buried underneath her. On the top o f the tomb is a statue of Queen Elizabeth lying in repose. On the other side, built by James I to rival Queen Elizabeth’s chapel, is the tomb of his mother, Mary, Queen of Scots, who was beheaded by Queen Elizabeth. I was also able to visit the Poets’ Corner, where such notables as Geoffrey Chaucer, George Frederick Handel, Robert Browning, and Charles Dickens are buried. On the wall in front of Handel’s grave is a statue of him holding part of the score of his Messiah: the beginning of “I know that my Redeemer liveth.” I also saw the bust of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the only American poet to be honored with a bust in the Poets’ Corner. It was interesting trying to find it. You have to realize that there are busts and statues EVERYWHERE, so it’s hard to locate one statue. I asked one of the people working there, but he did not seem to even know who Longfellow was. However, after asking several other people, he finally found the bust. Toward the end of my tour I heard the magnificent organ playing for the famous Choir of Westminster Abbey, who were warming up for rehearsal. Now THAT was amazing. Here I had just walked down the aisle to the altar, and then the choir that sang at the wedding of William and Kate was rehearsing! Wow…

Anyway, the cloisters were very beautiful, one of the oldest parts of the abbey as evidenced by the more Romanesque architecture. I saw the oldest door in merrie olde Englande, a door built during the reign of Edward the Confessor around 1050. (I was actually able to touch it!!!)

Looks pretty good for being almost one thousand years old!

You can probably tell that I spent quite a lot of time, actually four or five hours, in the abbey. I thought about taking the Tube to Buckingham Palace, but I thought I should walk a little at least, since the palace isn’t too terribly far from the abbey. So I walked down a tree-lined street next to St. James’s Park and walked up to the Palace with the magnificent Victoria Memorial in front. The gates to the palace were closed, but I did take pictures in front of the gates. 

Anybody home?

Victoria is found everywhere in London, and for good reason too!

Trafalgar Square with Nelson's Column in the middle

I then decided to walk down the Mall through the Admiralty Arch to Trafalgar Square. While taking pictures in front of the National Portrait Gallery, I noticed Big Ben lit up in the distance, it being about five or six o’clock by now. I thought to myself, “I really wish I could get some good pictures of London at night,” and then thought, “Well, why not? I can just go back out after I eat supper!” It was so much fun, even though it started raining again! I first ate a quick supper back at my hostel and then took the Tube all over Central London, first to 221B Baker Street, which was absolutely awesome; Tower Bridge, which I walked across of course; then to St. Paul’s Cathedral, although I didn’t see the Bird Lady there; then to London Bridge, which is still here but not all it’s cracked up to be; then to Westminster again to take pictures of Big Ben and Westminster Abbey and walk across Westminster Bridge. I also managed to take a video of Big Ben chiming eleven o’clock!

I was sad to leave London on Sunday, but I must say I smirked when the captain on the airplane told us that it was a balmy 70 degrees in Nice (whereas it was 50 degrees in London and beginning to rain yet again). I heard almost everyone on the aircraft breathe a sigh of relief. On the way back, I wrote in my journal while gazing out the window at Paris and the beautiful fields of central France.

You could definitely tell I had been somewhere north of Nice because I was lugging two jackets and a sweater in 80-degree weather in Nice. I felt like I was home, though, when I heard everyone speaking French again. I thought to myself, “That’s rather ironic to feel comforted to hear a foreign language after being in an English-speaking country.”

Overall, I am so glad I was able to have the opportunity to see one of the places I had read and seen so much about! It is one of my fondest memories of my study abroad experience.

The Sherlock Holmes Museum, located at--you guessed it--221B Baker Street.

Tower Bridge. I never knew you could string so many lights on one bridge!

"Early each day to the steps of St. Paul's..."

The London Eye. Wasn't able to go up it this time. Maybe next time....

What's London without a little rain and a lot of street lamps?

I took pictures of Big Ben from every aspect I could easily take a  picture from. It was an interesting task balancing an umbrella and a camera and periodically wiping the camera lens clean of raindrops with my scarf.

Probably one of my faves from London.

Black and white is awesome.

Maybe someday I'll be able to go to all the places pointed out.

The Turning of a Month in France

Let me say to begin with that, despite the fact that I was warned that time would fly here in France, the turning of the month still astounds me in its swiftness. I feel as if I’ve only been here a week, yet here I am in my SIXTH week! But, on the other hand, I have learned so much already and know that I still have much to learn.

First of all, my studies here are rather unusual. I am only taking twelve hours, including only one course that is remotely related to engineering (the rest satisfy core curriculum requirements), which means that I actually have what people call “free time,” so much that this semester is practically a three-month vacation for me. Since my four classes only meet once a week for three hours, my schedule has ended up with my only having to go on the twenty-minute bus ride to school in Sophia Antipolis Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays, leaving me with a four-day weekend EVERY WEEK. (Oh, yeah!) So, I have the flexibility to be leisurely walking down next to the water, hearing the waves lap on the shore, and suddenly tell myself, “I’m going to take the train to Monaco tomorrow,” without having to be too concerned about homework due. Granted, I do have homework that I have to do sometimes in the evenings, but it is not near as intense as every other semester has been. However, this study abroad experience is a little different from what I had supposed it would be. You see, I had thought that I would come over here, study some, learn a lot of French, meet a lot of new friends, and see new places. I have been doing all of those things, it is true, yet the thing that surprises me is how God is using this experience to draw me closer to Him. I have been going to a Baptist church in Nice, where the people are very welcoming and the preaching is (thankfully) not as Arminian as I had feared, but I had never known until now what a blessing it is to be able to go to a Primitive Baptist church. Benjamin Franklin once said that the value of water is not known until the well is dry. That is definitely the case here. This region once contained some of the first churches, and, as late as the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, there were groups of believers such as the Waldensians who believed what we as Primitive Baptists believe. However, they were persecuted by the Catholics to near extinction, and their remnants were absorbed into other denominations. Sometimes I walk up to see the vistas at the Chapelle de la Garoupe and pray outside the chapel over the city because I believe there may still be people here whose hearts are being opened to the doctrines of the Primitive Baptists. I just pray that someday I’ll be able to meet them. Sure, it is a little ironic to be praying about that outside a Catholic chapel, but, hey, God has a sense of humor.

As far as my other day trips go, I am forced by limited time to briefly summarize the ones I have had since Nice, Èze, and Monaco (see my previous post).

The next excursion occurred on September 8, my birthday in the States but not in France because of the time difference (that was a really odd fact to find out). While our previous trip had been by land, admiring the views of the sea, the mountains, the beautiful villages, this trip was mostly by water, namely a two-hour ferry ride from the suburb of Antibes called Juan Les Pins to what I like to call the Ritziest Resort of the Ritzy Riviera: Saint-Tropez. One can compare it to the famous beaches of Los Angeles made quainter by the age and small size of the actual town, even more elite by the crowd of famous people—Hollywood stars, international sports stars, music stars, etc., and even richer by the fantastic villas that are found in the beautiful hills surrounding the harbor.

On September 22, our resident director, Kristin, took us on another day-trip, this time a quick look at Cannes. I felt as if I were following in Mr. Bean’s steps—for those of you who have seen the movie “Mr. Bean’s Holiday” when I stood there taking pictures of the steps up to the building where the Cannes Film Festival is held every May.

I was so excited to see this, not because of all the famous Hollywood stars that have stood on this stairway, but because of Mr. Bean's Holiday. I'm weird. I admit it.

Next, we took a boat out of the harbor of Cannes a little way to the island of Saint-Marguerite, the location of a prison where the famous Man in the Iron Mask (his mask was actually velvet, but iron sounds more dramatic) was held for ten years before being taken to the Bastille.

The entrance into the fort containing the prison where the famed masked man (not Zorro, the other one) was kept

Being the bookworm that I am, I got goosebumps when I walked into his cell and looked out the double-barred window to the sea—the same window where I could almost see the mysterious man whose identity is still unknown today looking out, perhaps in contemplation. The other side of the prison from where the prison cells are used to be a series of Roman cisterns. The tiny island has no fresh water on its own, and so the Romans built these cisterns to contain fresh water for their baths. Today, there are displays containing remains of a Roman wreck from a few years before Christ that was discovered near the island, including large amphorae that used to contain wine and oil. I also saw on display remains of walnuts that were on the ship. Yes, my friends, I have officially seen 2000-year-old walnuts. They looked rather black, I’m afraid. Two thousand years is a long time for nuts. After our tour, we walked across the island to some fantastic beaches looking toward the neighboring island of Saint-Honorat, the location of a monastery from the tenth century, still inhabited by Cisterian monks. I’m not able to swim at all, but a couple of the other study abroad students gave me a few pointers for dog-paddling. (Yes, The Princess Bride does come to mind: “I only dog-paddle.”) Unfortunately, we ran out of time since we needed to catch the ferry back to Cannes. But, overall, it was an awesome day!

The beach where we spent the afternoon. Across the harbor is the island of Saint-Honorat, and the mountains to the right are the mainland Esterel Mountains.

A couple of weeks later, a few of us went hill-walking with Kristin in the majestic Esterel Mountains. Compared to the busy cities of Antibes and Nice, the hills were very isolated and verdant. The vistas of the sea were incomparable, and the walk delightful! 

Looking toward the southwest

However, the best was yet to come, for Kristin told us on the way down that we would be able to have a unique opportunity because there were only seven of us—there was room in her and her husband’s two cars to take us to one of the beaches where the Allies landed on August 15, 1944, to liberate southern France from the Nazis. 

Le Dramont, near the towns of Saint-Raphaël and Fréjus

When I saw the beach, called Le Dramont, I could hardly believe that I was standing where the Allies had landed in a hail of bullets to finish the French liberation. The beach itself holds an even older unique history: The beach, as shown in the picture, is covered in stones, but these stones are in fact not natural. The Romans carried down rocks from their nearby quarry, which we also saw, and carved them on the beach before carrying them off to their building projects, leaving the remains to the sea. Over two thousand years, the sea has washed the stones smooth and round. I couldn’t resist picking up a few small rocks because of both histories—the ancient and the new. But, the day quickly came to an end, and we had to return to Antibes.

Between all of these trips, I explored the region on my own. It felt as if my comfort zone was expanding little by little. When I first arrived in France, I hardly wanted to walk down the street for fear of getting lost. The bus routes seemed daunting and confusing to say the least, and getting on a train by myself was out of the question. I felt really self-conscious speaking French because I could see myself making all sorts of mistakes. Yet slowly I started growing more confident. I learned to laugh at the mistakes I made, some of which were really hilarious looking back on them now, and I learned to enjoy going out of my comfort zone a little.

Two weeks after arriving in France, I decided to go on a little adventure: The French Riviera is not far from the Italian border, and I knew of a market in the city of San Remo a little way over the border that has a Saturday market. I decided to take the train to the border town of Ventimiglia (Vintimille in French) and then catch a bus to San Remo. However, my directions were a little off. I was under the impression that the bus stop was just outside the train station, but I quickly figured out that the bus stop was definitely NOT anywhere near there. “Good grief!,” I thought, “Why in the world did I have to get this idea into my head?” After wandering around for about twenty minutes, I tried to ask someone in French where the bus stop was and where I could buy a ticket. After waiting in a long line for twenty minutes or more in front of the train ticket counter, I found out that the bus tickets were sold in the train station café. I then discovered that the directions given to me by more than one person were somehow being lost in translation. However, I finally figured out where the bus stop was (indicated by an itty-bitty blue sign beside the road) and made my way on a rather grimy bus to San Remo, but ended up getting off a stop down from the market. After so much frustration, I finally arrived at the market! Unlike most of the French markets I have been to so far which are held in a square in the old part of the city, this market was on a long promenade next to the sea. This market made me glad, once again, that I was a guy, because most of the stands contained items such as dresses, scarves, necklaces, earrings, rings, etc. and I’m sure the temptation to spend a bundle would be too hard for anyone of that gender. Now, the idea had come in my head that I could not quit Italy without having an Italian pizza, and I duly set out to find a reasonably priced establishment of that genre. Eventually, I found a ristorante where I had a pizza with tomato sauce, mozzarella, pesto, and a melt-in-your-mouth crust. I feel bad, but Pizza Hut will never taste the same anymore. After that life-changing experience in Italian gastronomy, I returned to Ventimiglia and proceeded to buy some Italian gelato, which makes American ice cream taste stale. (I will say it, though it may cause gasps and agony among some of my friends: Italian gelato—even French gelato—puts Blue Bell to shame. There, I said it; I have that off my chest.)

The promenade in San Remo where the Saturday market takes place. Notice the rather interesting tiling on the promenade.

My heavenly Italian pizza.

If I remember correctly, I had  limone, cioccolato, and fragola gelato (lemon, chocolate, and strawberry).

I later visited Biot, a nearby hillside village famous for its glass-making factory. I was actually able to watch someone making blown glass, with a red-hot shape being slowly formed into beautifully colored glassware by multiple times in ovens and having someone blow into it through a pipe. Unfortunately, most of the things for sale—including a gigantic glass menorah—were much more expensive and much heavier than I could afford, but I did hap upon a tiny glass cat that happened to be just a few euros. I had to buy that!

I believe this table set was a few hundred euros. Maybe later...

I really wished I could buy this ball, but it was  thirty-five euros. :( I like the bubbles.

The city of Antibes is not itself void of interesting places to visit. Of course, it has three or four large beaches and is well-known for its yacht port. However, I find that these things interest me less than the old places less visited by tourists. One of these places I “discovered” shortly after arriving here is known in French as Le Chemin du Calvaire, “The Way of Calvary.” 

The bottom of the Way of Calvary

This rocky, uneven pilgrimage trail from the 1600s climbs up a hill for about half a mile to the tenth-century Chapelle de la Garoupe, dedicated to Sainte-Hélène, whom Catholics believe to be the patron saint of sailors. Shrines line the left side of the path, depicting various stages (in Catholic theology) of Christ’s path from his trial to the Hill of Calvary. On the left are walls of villas, alternating with modern roadways, and on the right is the Wood of Notre-Dame. Yet this trail, so close to a rich city and a busy beach, is strangely quiet and solemn. Even though I am not in any way Catholic, I could not help but feel a little in awe at the thought that, four hundred years ago, pilgrims made their way, probably barefoot, up a pathway that is a workout to walk up even with shoes on. The chapel on top and the neighboring lighthouse command a vista not to be rivaled by any other place in Antibes, and I have taken many pictures from on top of it. Yet the most interesting part of this spot is found in the Wood of Notre-Dame. This wood has three entrances from the Chemin du Calvaire, one from the top, the middle, and the bottom. Numerous trails wind through the wood, the one spot of untamed wildness in Antibes. Yet the wood gives off an air of mystery that even the 400-year-old path could not match, for in it can be found ruins—Roman, medieval, or otherwise. Even the trails are old, with old stone stairways that must be a few hundred years old at least. But the mystery of it all is that there are no signs on the ruins or stairways, either to explain their existence or to keep tourists away. For tourists do not come here. Some of the people who live here do, but it still remains undiscovered to the world outside Antibes. Personally, I wonder if the ruins were once a medieval or even Roman fort. I found what appear to be six walls in succession with a path intersecting them in the middle and what might be a guard house a little further down the path. 

The first ruin I found in the wood

The six walls, or at least that's what they appear to be.

One of the stairways from the wood back into the Way of Calvary

What was also baffling is that the few people who do come here do not seem to be astounded by these ruins at all. No, they just nonchalantly walk their dogs and chat with each other while walking past the ruins of one or two thousand years ago. Every time I enter the woods, I feel a little chilled, even in the warm sunlight of the Riviera, at the thought of the secrets the wood contains, some perhaps not even yet discovered. I think of the woods and the chapel as my hideaway, where I can go when I want to think, but it is sometimes hard to recover from the mysterious yet sad air of all three places: the pilgrimage path, the chapel, and the wood.

On another subject, I am happy to say that my spoken French is already improving. My Advanced French class is completely in French, and we discuss all sorts of random subjects for three hours, including, of course, mistakes that American students often make when speaking French. My host mom, Madame Françoise, only knows individual words of English, so I have to be able to converse somewhat intelligibly in French whenever I talk to her. Needless to say, I am a constant source of amusement for her.

So, there’s the past month and a half here in France in a nutshell. I already know that I will miss many places and people terribly when I leave in December, most especially my beautiful Mediterranean and my beautiful Antibes. As I told someone in French at the Baptist church a couple of Sundays ago, “Je suis déjà assez Antibois” (“I am already rather Antibois”).  

P.S. Okay, for those wondering why my birthday is not September 8 in France, here's an explanation:
I was born on the evening of September 8, 1992, in Georgia (which happened to be a Tuesday, so I'm "full of grace"). Now, France is six hours ahead of Eastern Time. SO, I was born in the early morning of September 9 in French time. And there you have it.

Top Five Photos of the Week

Not having time at present to write a really long post, I thought I would close the week out with my five favorite photos from this week. I took about three hundred this week, a typical number for me, but I was finally able to figure out how to do some special effects on my camera (!!). I also took the bus on Friday to Nice on a beautifully clear day and discovered some sites (actually in a park built around the ruins of a medieval château) that offered panoramic views! So, here it goes!


5. Sun over the Sea

This picture was taken on top of what is now my favorite walking spot in Antibes,  the Chemin du Calvaire and the Bois de Notre-Dame (more on that later). Panoramic views abound!

4. White Niçois Flower

I discovered a patch of these flowers near a square in Nice. It's hard for me to pass up taking nature close-ups!

3. Vividly Colorful Windows

I love the variety of architecture and windows in the Riviera! But I confess: I did have my camera set on super-vivid.

2. Lighthouse Miniature

This was right after I discovered a Pandora's box of special effects on my camera. Needless to say, I was having a ball with all of them, including the miniature effect which fades the top and bottom of the picture to make the object in focus look, well, miniature.

And, finally, the picture of the week (drum roll please)......

Wait for it..........

1. The Heavens Declare the Glory of God

I snapped a bunch of pictures of this scene from La Colline du Château (the Hill of the Castle) in Nice looking out over the Mediterranean Sea, but this one was the best of all of them. It gives me goosebumps, not because of my photography abilities at all (which aren't as good as many people I know), but because of the sheer wonder of the beauty of God's creation!

Of Plazas, Perfumes, and Principalities

I left off last time with a teaser for my next post. Hopefully, I left my readers with breathless anticipation! It's only been a few weeks, but I already have a LOT of catching up to do.

My last blog post left off with me settling into life in the Riviera among the French. So, let's begin on Tuesday, September 4, after I arrived here in France.

It was such a lovely day that day! (Not that there are many here that are that bad.) All of us in the same study abroad group met at a bus stop next to the Port Vauban, which is one of the more common places to find yachts, as one can see in the background of this picture.

The sign at the bottom says "EAU NON POTABLE" (NON-DRINKABLE WATER)  for those who might try to drink from an obviously decorative fountain.

We had a bus just for us that started driving toward Nice. Needless to say, I was snapping pictures every few seconds.

Cruise ships: They're everywhere during September.

Eventually, we arrived in Nice and were joined by a French girl in her 20s from the nearby village Villefranche who acted as our tour guide. We drove on the beautiful Promenade des Anglais, one of the longest seaside boulevards in the world. Unfortunately, I didn't get a good picture of the street itself, but the view beside it looked like this:

I can't take enough pictures of the sea. :)

As we wound through the narrow streets of the fifth largest city in France, there were all kinds of random things to see since the city has been an attraction for foreigners for a couple hundred years now. For instance, the picture below is of everyone's favorite queen, Queen Victoria of England.

Queen Victoria being offered a specialty of four cities of the Riviera --Nice, Antibes, Cannes, and Grasse

Queen Victoria actually stayed in Nice for a while and rented out half of this building, which is now called the Regina Hotel in her honor (not that great a picture, I know, but the best I could do from a moving bus):

Imagine being able to say that you slept down the hall from Queen Victoria's room!

There is so much to see in this city that one could live here for a year without seeing all of it! The most unusual thing in Nice is a Russian Orthodox cathedral à la Moscow.

Looks like something out of a fairy tale, doesn't it?

"What in the world is a Russian Orthodox cathedral doing in the middle of a French city?," you might be asking yourself. Well, in fact, Nice was a favorite vacation spot for the Tsar and his family during the late 1800s (Nicholas II's father, I think, but I'm not sure). Since the Tsar and his family were living in Nice for a while, a lot of the Russian court would come too and enjoy the sun with them. However, there was no Russian Orthodox church here, so they eventually decided to build one of their own here in the Riviera. This part of the Riviera is still popular with Russians today.

Anyway, back to our bus ride. The bus climbed up a hill next to the city to a spot where there was a fantastic view of the Mediterranean and the city below.

I'd never seen water so blue!

Afterwards, we were taken back down into Nice and dropped off for our walk into the old city of Nice with its famous flower market. However, before we stopped, I saw a statue that reflected the Italian roots of the city: a statue of Giuseppe Garibaldi, who was responsible for uniting Italy into one nation.

Europeans love naming streets after all sorts of people and having statues of them everywhere too.

Nice, or Nizza in Italian, and all of the region around until Antibes were actually Italian until 1860, being under the protection of the Counts of Savoy. However, the people of Nice decided by referendum in 1860 to become French rather than be part of Garibaldi's united Italy.

The market in Nice is absolutely amazing! On one side, one finds bread, meat, cheese, and all sorts of trinkets and household items, but on the other side is one of the beauties of the city: the Marché aux Fleurs.

Flower prices are a lot cheaper here, too!

Stands filled with thousands of flowers line the sidewalks near a large square in Nice. I've never seen so many colorful flowers in one spot before!

Our resident director told us that it might be wise to buy a snack in the market since we were going to have a late lunch in Monaco, so this is what I bought:

The little ones still look rather large...

One of the "little" ones only cost 95 cents! I could hardly believe it! It tasted really good though, albeit it took me a while to eat all of it.

On the way out of Nice, we stopped to have a look from afar at the most expensive villa in the world. From what I remember, it was built by one of the kings of Belgium and subsequently bought by the owner of the Ferrari company. Since he has died, his widow is selling it for a few hundred million dollars. Should any of you have that lying around, you can put it to good use here!

No, I haven't filled out a change of address form yet.

Eventually, we made our way back to the beautiful old hilltop village of Èze, which boasts one of the two perfume factories of the Fragonard company, which is based out of Grasse, the perfume capital of France. I didn't know nose-candy existed until I went there! This is some of the expensive perfume (and cologne) that people buy in New York City, but here it's only 20 EUR or so for a bottle. Axe? *contemptuous sniff* Please.

Needless to say, some of the girls in our group were excited to  tour this place.

The town is from the 1200s, built on top of a hill overlooking the sea. The town seemed to be filled with a feeling of nostalgia for medieval times and a tinge of sadness for how time had changed. The town used to have a fortress, but that was torn down by Louis XIV when he invaded the territories of Savoy. (Keep in mind that this town was Italian until just 150 years ago.)

Château of the lord of the city

The stone streets and arches of the village were very picturesque.

Inside the village's cathedral

After a whirlwind visit of the village, we all piled into the bus again for the trip to the climax of the trip: a trip to the Principality of Monaco. The tiny country is actually made up of two cities: Monaco City, the capital, and Monte Carlo, the location of the world-famous annual Grand Prix. The two cities are squeezed into a country less than a square mile in size with 35,000 people. To make room for this many people, the country has built up with tall buildings on the hillside and built down with extensive construction underground. In fact, there's even a promenade underground where people go to walk without having to worry about all of the Rolls-Royces, Ferraris, etc., around. The principality still contains many vestiges of its beloved American princess, Grace Kelly, who was killed in 1982 in a car crash at this spot:

Grace Kelly's fatal car wreck occurred at the curve just ahead, which was also the scene for the picnic that she had with Cary Grant in the movie "To Catch a Thief," the movie she was filming in Monaco when she met her future husband, the prince.

The picture displayed of Grace Kelly was taken near this sign. There are other signs around Monaco that depict different scenes from her life as a princess.

After a little wait at the border, we drove through into Monaco and parked in an underground garage. The prince's palace was not that far of a walk (of course, a "far" walk isn't really that possible in Monaco), and I was really eager to see my first honest-to-goodness palace!

The Royal Palace of the Prince of Monaco

On top of the door is the coat of arms of the Grimaldi family, which has ruled Monaco since the 13th century. The depiction of two monks with raised swords deserves an explanation. In 1297, the founder of the Grimaldi rule of Monaco, François Grimaldi (or Francesco Grimaldi, depending on what language you're speaking), could not openly take the virtually impregnable fortress of Monaco with his followers. So, he, his cousin Rainier I and his soldiers disguised themselves as friars and were greeted as such at the gate of the castle. However, as our tour guide told us in her delightful French accent, "instead of pulling out prayer books, they pulled out swords." Thus the two "monks" are François and Rainier I. As Paul Harvey would say, "now you know...the rest of the story."

The tour guide didn't mention what the Catholic Church thought about people impersonating monks to take over a castle. I guess it depended on which side was in good with the Pope...

And here's a statue near the palace of François Grimaldi himself, the cousin of the present prince's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather. Yeah, this royal house has been around awhile.

Wow, I wish I could sculpt that well.

At this point, our resident director sent us out on our own for an hour and it began to rain lightly over the square. So, I went on a short quest to seek out souvenirs and, more importantly at the moment, lunch. In the area of lunch, I was able to find a little something in a café:

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a croque-monsieur. As I have described it before, think of the best ham-and-cheese sandwich you've ever had and multiply that by ten. There is also such a thing as a croque-madame, which is basically the same thing with an egg added. You may now proceed to salivate.

As far as souvenirs go, well, I guess you'll find out after I get back to the States. :) I will say that I found some post cards for a nice collage I'm planning to make after I get back.

By the way, here's what the streets near the palace look like:

Elbow room doesn't really exist here unless you live in the palace--or a boat. Monaco is not for people with claustrophobia.

After returning to our resident director and our tour guide like ducklings to the mother duck (the analogy kept presenting itself to me), we walked down a street to one of the other most famous buildings in Monaco: Saint Nicholas Cathedral, otherwise simply known as Monaco Cathedral. This cathedral is where Grace Kelly married Prince Rainier II and where she, her husband, and many of the other princes and wives of princes are buried.

The outside of the cathedral

The ornate altar

The grave of Princess Grace behind the altar

All of the names on the graves behind the altar are in Latin. So, her name is engraved as Gratia Patricia.

I didn't really want to leave that cathedral, BUT we only had limited time to see the rest. We drove down to Monte Carlo and saw some of the roads where the Grand Prix takes place every year. It takes the country weeks to prepare for a race that lasts for only an hour and a half.

The slowest part of the race. Hard to see why, isn't it?

By this time, we were all feeling rather worn out, but there was one more place we had to go: the Casino Monte-Carlo.

Monaco also doubles as the Las Vegas of Europe.

Cameras are not allowed inside, probably because celebrities don't want compromising pictures taken of them and sold to paparazzi. Suffice it to say that the inside is EXTREMELY ornate with sparkling chandeliers, expensive carpet, and beautiful ceilings. However, in case you're wondering, I did not see anyone famous, and I did not gamble.

A few of us thought we'd go look inside a neighboring casino called the Hôtel de Paris. We were able to get inside but were summarily dismissed by the guy who was supposed to be at the door but wasn't.

A view of the casino from the garden across the street from it

Here I am at the fountain in front of the casino:

Wouldn't you know it, the fountains all started up right after I came down from  taking my pictures of the casino. :/ Oh well!

And here's one of my favorite pictures from the day:

At first glance it almost looks like the bust is in the fountain. At least, that's what I thought when I was reviewing the picture.

By this time, we were all worn out from walking all day long. After a bus ride of an hour or so we finally found ourselves back again in our "hometown" of Antibes. The nice thing is that I found out that I can get a round-trip ticket to Monaco for five euros, so I am definitely going back on my own before I leave!

In the next few days, I continued my explorations in Antibes and discovered some of the most beautiful nature scenery I've seen so far! But that will have to come later. 'Til next time, then!