Transatlantic Testimonies

When you’re in your native country, there are always familiar faces surrounding you. You have, in a cliché way, your friends, your family, the lady you avoid from your hometown that loves to gossip, your former principal, family doctor, etc…

There are some more familiar faces, however, that represent another side of American culture unknown to those who have never traveled stateside and that we as Americans take for granted. I saw some of these familiar faces when I ventured into the Anglo-Saxon grocery store “Little Britain” in Lyon, where I was able to reunite with the smiling visages of Aunt Jemima and Sam Adams and bask in the glory of Jack Daniel’s BBQ Sauce, beef jerky, cheddar cheese and Jelly Belly. It’s funny how such little capitalistic pleasures can ease the pain of homesickness away, even if it is only for the all-too-brief moment of consuming a Reese’s (which, by the way, there really is no wrong way to eat).

I’m sure that once I return to America, there will be plenty of things I miss from France (and Germany). I know one of those things will be the wonderful wine and cheese selection, which I was able to experience (not for the first time, mind you) this past Thursday during the celebration of the Beaujolais nouveau in Lyon. Beaujolais nouveau is a young wine released for the first time on the third Thursday of November of each year. At midnight on that Thursday there are always fireworks, marking the end of a countdown to the appearance of Beaujolais nouveau on store shelves and restaurant menus. The wine itself is only six weeks old, made in the Beaujolais region (south of Burgundy) in France. The French government has put regulations on when the wine can be released, which is why the countdown means so much to the Lyonnais and any wine connoisseur.

At the so-called Beaujolympiades, I and my friends Jake and Tom were able to taste wine from about a dozen wineries that came from the Beaujolais region. The wines were not exclusively the Beaujolais nouveau, although that was typically what was offered at first. I’ve often heard that the Lyonnais are considered cold and distant, which I was able to first really appreciate after talking with these farmers from a different region not all that far away from the city. They were all eager to tell you all about their wine and the region they come from, and even go into detail about the wine harvesting process.

Another typical “Lyonnais” thing I did this past week was go to a soccer game between Lyon and Reims at the Stade de Gerland this Sunday. Lyon won, and we had very good seats considering we only paid 10 euro each. I must say that I was disappointed to be sitting on the opposite side of all of the cheering, since my last European soccer experience involved a lot of yelling and a very distinct sort of cultural immersion.

I had another noteworthy experience this past week very unrelated to soccer or wine and cheese consumption but still very “French” in my mind. I somehow got “roped into” modeling beauty products for a sister company of my friend Isabelle’s company USANA. I got a free 40 minute facial, which was very nice, but not as relaxing considering I was on display for a lot of people that I couldn’t see. Maybe it was good that I had to keep my eyes closed. Not like I’m complaining or anything.

Lyon at night

Where I run everyday -- Parc de la Tête d'Or, where there's also a zoo including zebras, flamingos, crocodiles, etc...

You can call me pumpkin.

Can anyone tell me what this is? I've been seeing these almost-grapefruit-sized tennis-ball-looking things everyday for the past few months and I have no idea what they are!

Entrance to the park

Blue sky in Lyon--we're not in Germany anymore!

A few prizes from my trip to "Little Britain"-- Thanksgiving's on the horizon!

Old train station in Lyon-- Chemin de Fer literally means "Path of Iron"

Jake and Tom at the Beaujolympiades

Jake, me, and Tom at the Beaujolympiades

One vendor was very excited to learn from Jake that I live in Germany, since he had spent three years selling wine in Düsseldorf. He got a kick out of practicing his German. Jake also informed him that I speak Russian, and later he tried to get me to translate for some customers. Let's just say that I don't think these particular individuals were very happy about having a young American girl as a translator...

Stade de Gerland for the soccer game against Reims

Vive la France, vive l'Olympique Lyonnais!

Peace, love, and t'es trop ricaine,

Amanda

We’ve all seen the Grey Poupon commercials with pompous old men speaking to each other from their old-fashioned automobiles driven by mute chauffeurs. It’s not “bologna” (ba-loh-ni) to which one applies “one of life’s finer pleasures”, but “ba-lon-i-a”. It’s not a wiener, but a “Frank-fur-tah”. And not everyone has heard of Grey Poupon honey mustard—so you can’t blame one of the pompous old men for insisting that “there’s no such thing.”

This past week, I found a far better advertisement for mustard than Grey Poupon could ever cut down into a 30-second commercial. I’m talking about dozens and dozens of kinds of mustard, in different colors, in jars of all shapes and sizes, lining the walls of stores in Dijon, France. Dijon is not only well known for its mustard, however. Dijon, the capital of Burgundy, offers a wide selection of pinot noirs and chardonnays sporting the Burgundy title. And, because Dijon’s Notre Dame church has an owl engraved on the side of it that is meant to grant wishes if one but touches it, there are also a lot of owls for sale. No Hedwigs or anything like that, but stuffed animals, jewelry, figurines, etc. But, to educate outsiders on the whole owl thing (I’m betting most of you knew mustard and wine, and had no idea there was a lucky owl in Dijon), it wouldn’t be a bad idea to consider the Harry Potter approach.

In addition to travelling to Dijon for the day during my vacation this past week, I also ventured over to Perouges, a medieval walled-in town about 30 minutes away from Lyon. The town was restored in 1911 to attract tourists, mostly tourists from Lyon. Among other films, part of The Three Musketeers (1961) directed by Bernard Borderie was filmed in Perouges. It’s believed that Perouges was founded by a Gallic colony (remember Lyon was the capital of Gaul) from Perugia, hence Perouges (think New London, New Hampshire, New York, and countless other names that have been taken over and made “new” by colonizers that came to the U.S. Human beings aren’t always the most creative people. Or maybe the Perugians were just homesick.)

The only truly anachronistic feature about Perouges was that several cars were scattered throughout the walled-in village, mostly from workers in the various gift shops and bakeries. Otherwise, the village was set apart on top of a hill, surrounded by a sheep farm and far away from any modern houses.

I did, however, experience a more striking anachronism in my trip to the opera with Laura a few weeks back. We had decided to see Macbeth, which, since the opera was written by Italian composer Giuseppe Verdi, was performed in Italian but dubbed in French subtitles by an almost too inconspicuous screen above the stage. Nevertheless, if I hadn’t bought the tickets myself, I wouldn’t have believed that I was watching Macbeth. It was a rather (and by “rather” I mean incredibly) modern interpretation where, instead of seeking the power of a king, Macbeth seeks corporate power within a company, and commits murder to get that power. At the end, instead of the Great Birnam Wood coming to Dunsinane Hill in the form of camouflaged soldiers under the leadership of Macduff, Macbeth is faced with the Occupy Wall Street movement (under the leadership of a hippy Macduff), which apparently is a very, very scary matter for him indeed. At the end, a large tent monster was constructed to convey the power of the Great Birnam Wood (i.e. the people that are probably still camped outside the major banks in Frankfurt [I can’t speak for Wall Street]). To make a long story short, it was not quite what I was expecting. Interestingly enough, the tent monster resembled something like an owl. Maybe the director is from Dijon.

Another exciting thing that happened this past week was that the American ambassador to France Charles Rivkin paid a visit to not only Lyon, but my school, Sciences Po. He talked about the influence of social media on diplomacy, giving various examples of how the blogosophere has affected his political reputation and thus his career, but also the decisions and the strategies diplomats take in addressing certain political issues. I found it to be even more interesting that he shared stories from his career in entertainment, where he worked closely with Jim Henson. Rivkin argued that well before the time of social media, Henson used entertainment as an instrument of diplomacy. For example, Henson launched the equivalent of a muppets TV show in South Africa where one of the muppets had HIV/AIDS. His objective was to educate children on the disease and de-stigmatize children born with the disease in South Africa. This might not be the “typical” diplomacy that comes to mind, but it just goes to show you that you don’t have to be sitting in an embassy or in the UN to be a diplomat.

Moutarde Maille -- one of the most renowned mustard names in France!

Dijon

Palais des Ducs et des Etats de Bourgogne -- Palace of the Dukes of Burgundy. There's a museum inside that is only closed on Tuesdays. Of course I decided to go to Dijon on a Tuesday! My Irish luck has run out.

St. Michel in Dijon

St. Michel

La Nef

Palace of the Dukes of Burgundy

Inside St. Michel

The cathedral in Dijon: St. Benigne

So much mustard!

A store called "Pleasures of France"-- chocolates, wines, mustards, decorative placemats...

View of Notre Dame church

Cathédrale St. Benigne

More mustard!

Astronomical clock at Notre Dame

Notre Dame

"Rue de la Chouette" -- "chouette" means owl!

Inside Notre Dame

Follow the owls!

And there it is, the owl carved into the side of Notre Dame (15th century). Touch it with your left hand and make a wish!

Notre Dame

A crème brûlée and a Kir, an aperatif that is a mix of cassis (a black currant liqueur) and white wine (Aligoté). A very typical Dijon treat! You can even upscale and get the "Kir Royale" with champagne!

Inside the Palace of the Dukes of Burgundy

Jardin Darcy

Couvent des Bernardines

Jardin Darcy

Looks like France did get some foliage!

On the way up to Perouges

Meximieux, the town below Perouges

The main road encircling the entire village

The salt granary, or le grenier à sel. For several centuries, salt could only be bought from the king or the lord of the city, which led to salt smuggling. Tax on salt was abolished after the French Revolution.