Italia: Pisa e Firenze

I had a break in my exam timetable last week, and seeing as the remaining exams are the "easier" ones (and I can play the ERASMUS card) I decided to go on another little trip. My girlfriends from last semester in Lyon are now in Pisa, and Mum and David are on a little trip in Italy at the moment so I booked some trains and made my way to Pisa and Florence to meet up with them.

Pisa was incredible. It's a nice city, and the Italian way of life is really nice (especially when you're ERASMUS and living there.) Of course, the highlight was the decent cappuccino which doesn't exist in France (I'm only joking Nic and Ruth - it was obviously you girls.)

My train arrived about 8pm after a 12 hour journey. Nicola was there waiting open arms and we had a little Love Actually style reunion before heading to her flat where she'd prepared an al fresco dinner with some of her friends on her balcony.

LOOK at her view:

We noshed on chicken and sipped homemade vino courtesy of Luccia's family, and when the girls left, Nic and I had a girly sleepover, chatting till the early hours catching up on the previous months which was lovely.

Day 2 was culinary filled and heavenly. We started off in a quaint street-side cafe sipping cappuccinos, eating parmigana mellazana (best I ever had) and then fulfilled our shopping needs in Zara. It's safe to say we are not the best influence on one another in terms of financial circumstances but the same cannot be said for our wardrobes. It had been far too long since we shopped together and someone said the Italian economy is struggling? - we needed to.





Then came only the most incredible thing. Ever. A nice glass of white wine and the pièce de la resistance: Crostata. (OK so the two don't really go together but we were celebrating...)


Then it was tower time.




It had to be done!









And then we settled down for the night.....with Prosecco.

And saw the Italian version of the Von Trap family.

Prosecco finished, we made way to this incredible spaghetti place the girls frequent on a regular basis where we had get the best Spaghetti Bolognese I ever tasted, which was washed down with some nice Tuscan red wine. The night continued much to the same effect (and may have included karaoke to Frank Sinatra,) needless to say that the next day left us feeling a little bit fragile. There was only one thing to do: have Carambars for breakfast and head into the centre to make the most of the amazing pasta before I dealt with a train to Florence to meet Mum and David.

Italian humour at it's best.

Hangovers apparently tap into my sense of direction and my ability to cope with alien situations. To cut a long story short, I ended up giving myself a little tour of Florence on the bus to my hostel for a good half hour (a journey which was only supposed to take me 20 minutes on foot.) Hostel eventually found (making a few friends along the way) and having sorted my life out, I headed to meet Mum. Another fiasco later (which involved not reading a map properly - again I'll blame the hangover) I was sat down eating osso bucco with Mum and David recounting my little reunion with the girls.

The following day we did the touristy stuff:

The Duomo

The fake David statue

Ponto Vecchio

Climbed 476(approx) steps up the Duomo to see this incredible view.

That evening we went to a restaurant recommended to us which was ran by a family and had been for over 90 years. The old Nonna (Grandmother) kept coming over to us to talk to us - our amazing Italian was in full flow. At one point she grabbed by shoulders and kissed my forehead, in a way only grandparents know how to do, and looked at my mother congratulating her on having me - highly embarrassing. It's safe to say I was very pleased we'd just finished deserts and would be leaving at any moment.

The next day we went to Fiesole, a town on the outskirts of Florence which has some beautiful scenery and nice walks. We grabbed a tourist info map and went on a little walk, following one of the routes which took us to some beautiful viewpoints:

We did not plan to coordinate outfits - honestly.

We then stumbled into a lovely restaurant for some rustic Tuscan food before heading down into Florence again for a final wander around the city.

It's a beautiful city with some gorgeous Italian architecture and definitely worth the visit. It was made better by the incredible cappuccinos and good company in both locations! I'm now cooped up in my Lyonnais bedroom revising and daydreaming about the amazing Nutella Crostata I was tucking into this time last week, wishing I could have some more (this time with a cuppa) instead of learning vocab for a horrible translation test.

Thankfully the exams are done as of Wednesday leaving me with a month to play with and enjoy!

-Quick update: the flat are making chocolate cake. Prayers have been answered!

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Family

I have just seen one of the most adorable scenes: sat on the train taking me back to my beloved Lyon from Milan, I heard a little girl, no older than two years old, stuttering the words "Nonna" in a distraught fashion. Being the nosy parker that I am, I had a butchers. Two rows in front stood a little girl at the window, hand on the pane with her grandparents stood on the opposite side, waving.

As our train pulled away from the station and the little girl's chin wobbled and eyes started streaming, her Grandpa pulled out his handkerchief and started to wave it in a very Railway Way Children manner, before pretending to weep with his wife so as to ease the situation for his grandchild. In a nostalgic and sentimental way, this (and having just said goodbye to Mum and David in Florence) got me thinking about family.

This may be a huge over exaggeration and not the general rule, but I've noticed that France and other European countries tend to do "the family thing" so much better. They take there time to do things together, especially at meal times. Go into any restaurant or cafe in Lyon and there will be a family, particularly at the weekend. This weekend when I was in Pisa, all the eateries I was taken to were filled with tables of grandparents, parents and children who go regularly and know the staff well, and Florence wasn't much different. I don't know whether it's because, in England, dining out is so much less affordable meaning you can't do it often, or whether we've just lost whatever it is that makes us spend time as a family, but you just don't tend to see it as much nowadays.

This scene with a Grandpa and a little girl made me think of me and my family. It is just the sort of thing either of my Grandpa's would have done. I've made my Gramps pretend to be a horse on all fours going around the living room for hours on end, whilst my Nana dotingly made me pancakes for pudding; and Grandpa has been the evil crocodile at the park bridge more times than I can remember, whilst Gran read Paddington Bear to me and Big Ted every sleepover, without fail. Just as Mum fondly recounts how her and my Dad used to have fish 'n' chips on a Friday night with her Nana, Dad tells us how he used to try and get Gran to tell him (and his three brothers) he is her "number one boy."

I think its something to do with growing up and moving out that makes the faly get togethers so much harder. Moving to Lancaster, and then Lyon, means I see my grandparents and parents much less that I'd like to, but I still frequently get snailmail and texts from my Nana, and talk to Gran and Grandpa on Skype as often as we can which makes it easier. In countries like Italy and France, it is so much less common for someone to go away for university: they stay local.

I literally could not wait to get back to Lyon after my Italian trip, which is a feeling which has only ever been the contrary when I was sorting out moving here, and I was filled with fear and dread for leaving my friends, family and home. Since then, whenever going anywhere whether that be Geneva for the day, a weeklong trip to Belgium and Germany, or even back to both home and Lancaster, I have always been excited to get back to Lyon.

People keep asking me if I'm ready to get back to "normality" (by which they mean return to England and start my internship before going back to the hard slog of final year which quite frankly sounds just horrific.) No, I'm not. In fact, the less I think about it the better. But saying "no" in the desperate way I do so as to confirm how incredible this year has been often makes me feel a bit bad. I know going home will be lovely - I can spend time with my parents, family and boyfriend as much as I want, but I won't be in Lyon. I'll be in Leicester. Grey, dull, Kaffee Berlin-less Leicester. I don't want people to think that my dread to returning to England is because I'm going back home, because it's not (who can complain about David's homemade bread, Morris' bacon, and Mum's carrot cake, Nana's jam etc etc etc?) I'm just saying 'bye to A LOT of good people, places, food and memories in getting back to all the good stuff in Blighty.

Soppy post over, I'll tell you about about prosecco, karaoke, a leaning tower and lunch with a view in my next one.

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Printemps de Bourges

Last week we had holidays before the forthcoming exam period. 

When Tonio visited at the beginning of February, he mentioned an annual music festival held in the small provincial town, Bourges, where he's doing his art diploma, called the Printemps de Bourges. Being keen to travel and see as much of France as possible this year, I was up for a trip to visit my favourite Colombian, so you can imagine how set I was on going when I learnt that Jamie Cullum would be performing at the Printemps de Bourges too....I just needed to convince someone to come with me. Thankfully, Lou was keen, and the girls of Rue Cuvier had themselves a little adventure planned.

We went from Tuesday to Saturday, allowing us to spend time with Tonio, see the town and visit the surrounding area a little. What made it even better? The sun was shining . On arriving, Tonio took us on a wee tour of the town whilst stopping off at odd bars and cafes to catch up.

Widest cathedral in Europe

Tonio and Lou

On our wander the music festival kicked off. The idea of this festival, unlike those in England, is that it's for everyone all over the shot. There were sets and stages here, there and everywhere, open to the public and then a few select stages required tickets (the bigger artists such as Jamie Cullum, Patti Smith, Mika, and The Vaccines.) The town is about the size of Market Harborough or Lancaster, and there are beer tents and stages trough the centre and towards the outskirts are larger collections of stalls, stages, and bars.

We ate dinner at one of the locations where smaller free sets were hosted which meant we had free entertainment for the night.

View from dinner. 

The following day, Tonio cracked on with his final diploma pieces while Lou and I went to Tours for the day, a town about 2 hours away from Bourges.

We weren't there for long; just enough time to wander round, soak up the sun and get an ice cream as there wasn't a great deal to do or see after visiting the Cathedral and the Place de Plum.

The heat got the better of us......

That evening we wandered round the town with Tonio, enjoying the atmosphere. We managed to watch a reggae and African music concert, which was amazing, before going to a "Beaux Arts" party - essentially a party hosted by the Art School students. It was held at "Le Manoir." No, not the posh image that just conjured up in your head, but a vacant house in the middle of the town which stunk of stale cigarettes and alcohol, looked like somewhere you'd expect to find squatters and was filled with very unique people. It was a great experience, though definitely not my scene.

The beautiful weather prevailed until Thursday, so we rallied up some troops, hit the local Carrefour and made way to the "countryside in the city" for a picnic. Baguette - check, Comté and Goats cheese - check, Beer - check, Strawberries and Cream - check. We were off.

That evening we went to watch Jamie Cullum. With our ticket we could watch other artists including Mika, Benjamin Biolay (a French artist who wasn't really my cup of tea) and Melissa Laxeaux (a cool Canadian singer.) We didn't stay for all of Benjamin's performance, and didn't bother waiting for Mika as neither Lou nor I are a big fan (years of listening to my little sister sing along to his album on repeat, every other weekend whilst on the way to Norfolk destroyed all hope of my relationship with Mika being a fruitful one.)

In all honesty, I was only there to see Jamie.

He was amazing; brilliant performer, great vocalist and incredible pianist (not the mention the fact we totally have the same piano.) His French though, was almost as good as Dad's. Instead of mixing the simple Hello's and Goodbye's of everyday life, Jamie decided to tell everyone he was sexy rather than hot.....slight error.

That said it was the best concert I have been to in a very long time (even beats Adele.) Guy's got talent.

Friday didn't see the same beautiful weather as Thursday unfortunately, it was much much colder, and did not stop raining. Once. Lou went to visit a Chateau whilst Tonio and I set up camp in a cafe before he went to work. I spent the day trying to revise longing for the sunshine to return so I could work on my tan (by which I mean splash of freckles.)

On Lou's return and Tonio finishing work, we went out for dinner on our last evening all together before heading to the festival area to catch some more free music.

We then treated ourselves to a crepe. Tonio opted for the "crepe au metre" whereas us girls went for a more modest 50cm.

Nutella, banana and almonds....nomnom.

 They were yummy!

Our train was the next morning, we left a cold and wet Bourges for an even wetter Lyon, and for me, the prospect of 3 exams this week (2 of which done today.)

We had a lovely trip, it was nice for me to be able spend a week completely in French mode, and is was brilliant for Lou and I to see Tonio again. I'm now coming close to my final six weeks here in France and in all honesty I have never wanted time to go more slowly - it's going far too fast for my liking!

OH! And whilst I have your attention, my friend Charlotte and I are running this year's Race for Life in Leicester. We'd be so happy if you would donate to the cause which is so vital to helping to find a cure for the disease touched by far too many people. Dig as deep as you'd like, we'll be very grateful for whatever the donation.

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Paris

This weekend I took a little trip. I'll let you guess where to.... It's an iconic city in France with an enormous metal construction.


Yes, you guessed it. I went to Paris.

Sarah and I met on Saturday morning at our hostel which was not far from the Latin Quarter ready for a few days away before the oncoming revision onslaught.

Following the recommendations of Nicola, we made way for Hotel de Ville to grab lunch and have a good catch up on previous months happenings before turning into tourists.

We started off at the Notre Dame, Sarah's favourite place before crossing the river to my favourite place.


Long-term followers of the blog, you may remember when Brianna and I visited Paris on the last leg of our inter-railing trip that I fell in love with a book shop.
This is the very corker:

I finally bought a copy of Les Miserables, which I've been hunting for since the start of my inter-railing trip. I wanted a copy which found to be special, and I finally found one.

We then went off to the Pantheon to see some of France's most famous authors, politicians, etc have been buried.



Thanks to the beautiful weather, we walked to the Jardin des Luxembourg to natter some more, and catch some rays before going to the Musee des Jacobins to see where Napoleon is buried.

In the evening, we crashed at the hostel after a long day to get a good night's sleep in preparation for Versailles the following day. It was waiting to go out for dinner that we encountered the first of two examples a tourists finest stereotype (both unfortunately America:)  "Do you know somewhere good, cheap and traditionally French to eat at the Eiffel Tower?" Both Sarah and I, and the hostel receptionist were as stunted as the other. "No sorry" was the quick response of the receptionist (customer service at it's best.)

7.30 rang the next day, and we were greeted by a beautifully sunny Paris, and a freezing cold shower. We took advantage of the free breakfast and hit the metro-lines and RER to visit Versailles. I have never been before, but Sarah has and loves it. As a History student/nerd and Frenchie lover, it was an essential thing to do whilst living in France. The Palace is just something else, it's enormous and so ornately designed - no wonder the French had a good old revolt about overspending back in the day.

Hall of Mirrors

Marie Antoinette's room

Versailles' gardens

After a good few hours following a ridiculously French "queue" system and visiting the house and gardens, we decided to take a relaxing mini tour of the best sites of Paris.

Waiting for the RER back to the city, we heard the following in a strong yank accent  "Does anybody on here speak English?" I don't know what possessed me, and as soon as I highlighted my Englishness I regretted it. "Does this go to Paris?" (yes - yes I'm assuming it does seeing as the sign outside says "Paris.") "Does it stop at the Orrrrsay?" (obviously because I am an English speaker, I earn money on the side being an Parisian English speaking tour guide/know the Parisian transport system intricately.) The other more sensible English speakers sharing the carriage whispered amongst themselves "look at a map," "poor girl," "why don't they ask at the tourist information desk?"

Ignorant tourist Americans out the way, we headed for our first port of call:


Sat on the opposite river bank of the Eiffel Tour, we sat for a few hours napping, reading and sunbathing. I think I found utopia - waking up with that in view was one of the most surreal moments you can imagine or experience.

Next on the list was the best view of the city (in my view.)

While this is my favourite view and surrounded by a cool area, it's also surrounded by the seediest part of Paris. In the space of two hours, we were semi-harassed by men on the metro, approached by street vendors who "complimented" one of us by trying to give us a bracelet and calling us Lady Gaga, and being nearly rugby tackled by one of his colleagues who was also trying to give us a bracelet. Nightmare. However this view (almost) totally made it worth it:

It was a lovely weekend, and as always, it was nice to be back in Paris. It's one of Sarah's favourite's cities and so she couldn't refuse a few days, I however, found that it just reinforced my love for Lyon (and reluctance to leave it.)

P.s Mum, I stumbled across this. See; I'm not the only one who thinks it.

"I'm not a shopaholic, I'm helping the Economy"

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