Posts Tagged ‘Travel’

So, in case you forgot, winter break here at Sciences Po starts Friday.

And boy, is it starting for some of my friends and classmates.

Here’s a sampling of some itieraries I am aware of:

1. Friday train to London for a Saturday Lady Gaga Concert followed by a Sunday plane to Prague, with a Tuesday train to Vienna and a later Thursday train to Budapest, finishing up with a Sunday plane back to Paris.

2. Friday train to London followed by a Monday plane to Dublin, followed by a Wednesday plane to Amsterdam and some sort of weekend train to Brussels and later Paris.

3. Friday plane to Munich, with assorted multiple weekday train trips around the Deutschland.

My personal itinerary? Well, unless I hear back from my friends in Berlin or London, it’ll probably be something like this:

Friday-Sunday: Paris.

And you know what? I’m not bothered by that. It’ll be a hell of a lot cheaper than all these crazy cross continent trips that my various friends and acquaintances are undertaking. Plus, there are plenty of spots in Paris I don’t know yet, and I’d love to have the chance to have a mildly warm week — which next week might promise to be, if it is nice  — to wander around the city and see the things I haven’t yet seen.

Even more, I don’t think I could travel like that. Granted, I like to travel. I like exploring new places and learning new things and experiencing life in different locales — all that jazz. But I don’t like the frantic, fast paced, crazy travel that everyone seems to feel is necessary when one is studying abroad or traveling in Europe. Even on my own personal post-high school summer Eurotrip, we spaced out our destinations enough that I never felt tired or stretched too thin.

I will probably plan a trip to Berlin during the spring break to see some of my German friends from Cranbrook, and maybe even head down to southern France or Spain on a weekend when I feel like being reckless and feckless and young, but right now, I’ve got Paris to figure out.

And that suits me just fine.

Classes are going swell, and I have homework and papers enough to keep me relatively occupied and happy next week — maybe a trip to café in my neighborhood to do some reading? — and I had several friends over for various dinners on Monday and Tuesday.

Once again, a disgruntled neighbor — polite and male this time — arrived at my door to complain — in French, this time — about my cooking. He was really a jolly little old man, and he asked if maybe I could keep the window open when I cook.

This is something I already do, and I told him this. He didn’t seem to care. He then suggested that maybe I only cook once or twice a week, a thing which I told him was probably impossible.

I don’t think this man and I really understood each other — or rather, he didn’t understand why I couldn’t not cook. I am going to lay off on the garlic for a while, and maybe cook simple things most days — gonna have to try some new egg recipes, methinks — but I’m not stop cooking, unless this whole building wants to chip in and start buying me prepared foods or restaurant meals on a regular basis.

The building is small. The building is old. The building has lousy ventilation. Garlic smells. I know all of these things.

Apparently no one here does, however. I might be the only one who cooks regularly in our building.

Building dinner party, anyone? I’d be down.

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