I'm currently curled up in bed, cherishing the last moments of April break. As soon as I got out of the car, I slipped into bed and pulled my book (currently The Women in the Castle, a WWII historical fiction novel that my mom brought me back in December) off of its coveted place on my windowsill. A German chocolate is melting on my tongue, the candy a gift from my sweet friend Sofia who recently got back from a week-long exchange in Germany. The tendons on the left side of my neck are not behaving like model citizens after hours in the car on the way back from Toulon, but I am feeling like the happiest and calmest version of myself. To start, let's quickly recap everything that has happened in the approximately three months since my last post.
On the weekend of January 26-28, I slept over at a Rotary friend's house before waking up at an ungodly hour to drive to Saint-Sorlin d'Arves, a commune located about two hours from my town. Alexandria, my Austrian amie, later told me that the drive was lovely; I wouldn't know—I slept through the whole thing. The weekend was a delightful mix of rolling around in the snow (many of the Rotary kids had never seen snow before coming to France, so their wonder never gets old), sitting around and chit chatting with my gaggle of girls, and socializing with everyone at group meals and our soirée dansante. We participated in comically non-competitive sled races and snowshoed through the woods with a very talkative and forgetful guide, who told us about squirrel species approximately seven times over the two and a half hours. By the end of our trek, everyone was content to be back together with a nice and warm raclette and a shower. Rotary weekends are always a wonderful way to catch up with other exchange students, and I was taken aback by how much many of us have improved in our spoken French; certain kids who barely knew their bonjours from their au revoirs had begun working on the subjunctif and were starting to really understand their classes au lycée. In a very clichéd "all for one and one for all" kind of way, we find comfort in one another's triumphs, so seeing everyone was a wonderful way to recharge my batteries.
Fast forward a few weeks (through a trip to Le Musée Miniature et Cinéma in Lyon, many more French essays, and an afternoon watching sled dogs in les Contamines) and I was off to Sicily. (Or Sicile. Or Sicilia. Depends on who you ask.) My Italian? Apparently not so great. But I did pick up a hot travelling tip: when you speak two languages, always start with the one that is not English. For me, that means French. I would always begin by asking if the Italians spoke French: if they did, awesome, and if they did not, you can now switch to English, and they can't grumble about you being a typical monolingual Anglophone! You lose approximately thirty seconds, but you gain about thirty brownie points with almost any European. We, approximately fifty students and four chaperones, piled onto the bus on February 15th, driving through the Tunnel du Mont Blanc and across Italy to Genova. In Genova, we boarded a massive ship that would take us to Sicily. During the twenty hour passage, we slept, read, played games, talked, and acted out the parts of Titanic where no one is dying. Finally, on the 16th, the green cliffs of Sicily, speckled with picturesque towns nestled into hills, came into view, and everyone prepared to disembark.
On the 17th, we started the morning bright and early at the Monreale Cathedral (Duomo di Monreale), a stunning melting pot of Arab, Normand, and Byzantine art and architecture. The Duomo was originally constructed between 1172 and 1176 but was added to and modified until long after the 12th century. Later that day, we visited the Temple and the Greek Theater of Segesta, extremely well-preserved ancient Greek sites located about an hour away from Monreale.
We spent the morning of the 18th in Agrigento's Valle dei Templi (Valley of the Temples), which is actually a ridge and not, as the name would suggest, a valley. The Temple of Olympian Zeus is almost completely in ruins, but one can still stand next to the colossal atlases that supported the temple. The Temple of Hera Lacinia, although smaller, is much better preserved. If one looks closely, one can note the signs of the fire that followed the Siege of Akragas in 406 BC. Later that day, after a quick nap on the bus, we arrived at the Villa Romana del Casale, a sprawling Roman villa that houses one of the largest collections of and most diverse collections of Roman mosaics in the world. The villa, with art that dates back to the 4th century AD, is classified as a UNESCO World Heritage Site—after seeing the dozens of rooms carpeted by elaborate depictions of hunting parties, savage animals, and deities, I understand why.
The highlight of the 19th was, without a doubt, the Orecchio di Dionisio (the Ear of Dionysus), a magnificent limestone cave. According to legend, the tyrant Dionysus I of Syracuse used the acoustic properties of the cave to spy on his prisoners, whom he enclosed in the cavern. While there are no longer any trapped political dissidents in the cave, visitors are still welcome to test out the cave's famous echo for themselves; the Classics teacher who organized the whole trip took advantage of the opportunity to sing a very loose interpretation of Ave Maria (largely on the syllable "do" when he forgot the verses) and an Italian man was moved to perform a haunting French hymn. After visiting the nearby enormous Greek theater, we were left to wander the streets of Ortigia, the historical center of Syracuse, for our first true quartier libre (free time). Ortigia is absolutely stunning, and we had the good luck to be there on one of the most beautiful days of my sixteen years on this Earth. My friends and I poked around in ceramics shops, ate gelato by the Duomo di Siracusa (Cathedral of Syracuse), and snapped photos of the picturesque doors and little ruelles (alleyways). After dinner at our hotel, I went down to the beach to have a late-night dance party on the beach. Barefoot and chilly, we lasted less than half an hour... but what a fabulous half hour! It was a truly dreamy day.
On the morning of the 20th, we woke up bright and early and drove to the Teatro antico di Taormina (Ancient theater of Taormina), an ancient Greek theater that was rebuilt by the Romans. The theater displays a stunning view of the surrounding ocean and towns, a testimony to the Greek fascination with juxtaposing the human beauty of theater with the natural majesty of nature's panoramas. Despite being harassed by a too-friendly pigeon, this morning was one of the peaks of a globally memorable trip. The afternoon was another quartier libre, this time in the town of Taormina. Much quainter than Ortigia, Taormina offered a perfect opportunity to check out smaller, but no less ornate, churches and monuments. After one more gelato and an arancino (stuffed fried rice ball, a traditional Sicilian snack) for the road, I was ready to head to Palermo.
The 21st marked our last day in Sicily. We commenced our final morning with a tour of the Capella Palatina (Palatine Chapel), the royal place of worship of the Norman kings of Sicily. Commissioned in 1132 by Roger II of Sicily, the chapel is located on the first floor of the Palazzo dei Normanni (Palace of the Normans). The building is the oldest royal residence in all of Europe and currently houses the Sicilian Regional Assembly. The Chapel is known for its stunning mosaics, covering much of the large room, as well as for its seamless union of architectural and artistic styles from multiple cultures (much like the Monreale Cathedral!). The combination of the Norman architecture, Arabic arches, and Byzantine mosaics harmoniously weave together to form one of the most breathtaking buildings that I have ever had the pleasure of seeing—and this comes from a girl who's been living in France for eight months. I was quickly moved to tears by the cross-cultural peace and understanding that the construction represents, and I found myself darting behind arches to press the heels of my palm against my eyes more than once.
After stopping by the Palermo Cathedral (also very stunning and impressive), we finished up the day with a quartier libre in Palermo. One last gelato, some aimless wandering, and lots more pictures of charming ruelles and doors rounded out our final hours in Sicily.
Since coming back from Sicily, I have continued to enjoy my classes, made the most of my ski pass, and made leaps and bounds with my level of French written expression. I recently compared one of my first essays in France to one that I just wrote, and I was taken aback by à quel point I have progressed. I cannot wait to see what these last weeks will bring, both in terms of linguistic development and of pure, old-fashioned fun!
I just returned from one week in the South of France and another in Corsica, and I will get to work on that post as soon as I finish—and start—my essay on Boule de Suif (cc, Mme. Pillet!).
Thank you for your patience. I find that my thoughts are best organised after a fair amount of time for reflection, but I am aware that three months between posts is a LONG TIME. Grazie mille for bearing with me.
Bisous,
Julia