Who has more taste: me or Jacques Chirac?

The starchy, pristine clean lab coat I bought from the stockroom my first day is finally accumulating the battle scars of chemistry. When I picked it up from the rack today I noticed several new chemical stains. Suppose this means I’m finally getting into the fun stuff…

The Winstub I had intended to go to last night was closed because the family was on vacation. Instead, I “settled” for a place just down the road called “Chez Yvonne” because it looked authentic and had reasonably priced menus considering it was for a nice dinner. I ordered an Alsatian wine, stuffed piglet and garnish with seared potatoes and salad. The meal was nice and formal, but honestly doesn’t compare to the local Salon de Thé I stumbled upon in Colmar on Saturday.

At work today Pauline raised an eyebrow and told me that the restaurant is famous because former French president Jacques Chirac’s favorite in Strasbourg.

Jacques Chirac’s favorite; my second choice. I’m either a tasteless American or discerningly honest. I’ll be taking votes.
http://www.chez-yvonne.net/francais/accueil.php


Reminiscing on the weekend

Finally, I know. These blogs take forever to piece together, which is why I love comments because it tells me someone other than my parents, aunts, and Adamo read it. Thanks to everyone who leaves a comment, they keep me motivated to keep putting in time writing.

On Saturday I went Matt to Colmar, a smaller town south of Strasbourg. Colmar is famous for being the home of Frédéric Bartholdi – sculptor of the statue of liberty. I’m sure that Colmar has other attributes, but I’m American so this is clearly all that mattered.

We arrived and with the help of my trusty guidebook, we followed the recommendation for a local Salon de Thé (Teahouse)

I ordered the Munster cheese quiche, and it was the best quiche I’ve ever had in my life. Anytime the famous cheese is made in the town just south of where you’re eating it, I’m sure the food just naturally tastes fabulous. Everything in the place just looked adorable, from the cookies they served with the coffee to the flowers on the table.

After lunch we popped into one of the cathedrals to explore and avoid a bit of the rain. The towering ceilings were dark and only partially illuminated by the stained glass. We took two steps inside. Like the voice of God and tone of Dracula, a pipe organ started to blare above us. It amazes me how organists make such “heavy” instruments flirt with complex melodies. The concert lasted only as long as long as we wandered the church, so another perfect hit.

The rain was beginning to pick up so both of us went to the Unterlinden Museum. The old convent was full of famous art. I enjoyed the upstairs which contained French furniture from the early 1800’s. This would be the era when Jane Austen’s brothers fought in the Napoleonic War…so through my eyes it was like looking into the parlor room of the enemy.

http://www.musee-unterlinden.com/anglais/HOME.html

We went and found one of Voltaire’s temporary residences (French Enlightenment writer) and did the tourist thing to say we’d been there.

Overall: good day. On the train back to Strasbourg, a group of bachelors boarded the train. Apparently it’s a big thing in Europe to make the bride or groom to be play embarrassing pranks, so they made this guy come around and “check tickets’ and try to sell condoms and candy for money. I’m not sure which they were more of: drunk, or loud.

Well I just skimmed this entry and I’m going to go ahead and post it as is. Germany bike ride to come when I get back this weekend after sipping champagne, and feeling no pain.

Elaine

PS: If anyone ruins the ending to this movie for me I'll stop the blog. This is me not kidding.

Caterpillars and more

“Just when the caterpillar thought its life was over, it became a butterfly.” –Anonymous

Three years ago today, lying on the median of I-10, I didn’t think I’d live long enough to see the helicopters I heard in the distance, let alone the unexplainable beauty of the years to follow. It’s no longer hard for me to believe so much time has passed. Though my memories remain vivid down to the finest detail, it doesn’t feel like yesterday. My family and I have come so far; from the neurosurgeon who indifferently told my dad they were monitoring my brain injury following the initial conference about my extensive injuries to me summering in the northeast of France on a chemistry internship.

It took years to rebuild- from speech to cognitive behavioral therapy. Externally all that remains are a handful of scars on the right side of my body and a pupil that’s slightly bigger than the other one.

Car accidents as severe as mine was tend to end in one of two ways: everyone walks away or people die. We flipped into the grey area.

It was the most perfect Strasbourg morning I’ve seen yet on the trip. I only needed a light sweater to bike to work and the sun’s been out. I stopped in the Orangerie this morning to admire the swans floating in the pond and observe all the French children enjoying their half-school-day mornings. When I got into work I checked the protection reaction I’d left to run overnight. Dinesh came to look at my TLC plate and I started talking about what was wrong first and he said smiled and said, “so what you’re saying is it worked.”

My love-hate relationship with the Dean-Stark apparatus was mostly love today.

As far as I’m concerned, today is a day of celebration. Tonight, I’m going to a Winstub (traditional Alsatian “wine room”) in downtown Strasbourg for regional and classic French cuisine.

No quality celebration is complete without champagne. Therefore, I’m going to the Champagne region of France this weekend where the Benedictine monk, Dom Pierre Pérignon, put a sparkle in his wine. ‘Duh’ statement of the day: I’m rather excited.

Had my life ended that day, I never would have:
- Had an audience with the President and various senators of note
- Spoken at graduation
- Started to bleed burnt orange
- Heard the magic that is Kanye West “Gold Digger” and “Stronger”
- Spent last summer listening to Mozart and walking in the footsteps of Jane Austen
- Gazed at shooting stars in West Texas with the Dean’s Scholars
- Become obsessed with Sex and the City
- Seen two Christmases or two birthdays
- Fallen dangerously in love
- Jim Halpert would cease to exist in my mind
- Discovered that organic chemistry wasn’t so scary
- So much more…

All things I take for granted as a part of my life that never would have been had it ended in 2005.

It’s been a good day. Today kind of felt like a “secret” birthday.

Elaine

PS: This was my dinner last night.... crepes are the best.

The moon coming up on my way home from dinner...which was excellent by the way.

Podcasting Around the World

Yesterday I discovered something amazing. No it wasn’t in some hidden romantic alley near the cathedral (though I did spy a crêpe place, une crêperie, which I intend to frequent) but this momentous discovery occurred iTunes. Thanks to the unearthing of Oprah & Friends XM series, I’ve been christened into the world of podcasts.

Podcasts are largely free on iTunes and come in either video or audio format. Think of it as either mini radio segments, lectures, or TV segments. I can watch/listen either on my iPod or laptop, and discovered Oprah’s new “soul searching” series, French lessons, and cooking shows.

Note: As a chemist able to synthesize and purify complex molecules, I’m ready to experiment in the edible variety. This will be my primary goal upon returning to the states.

The loss of television went largely unnoticed since I rarely watch it in the US. The loss of my Sex and the City DVDs and ‘Whose Wedding is it Anyway’ on Style= devastating. Podcasts will now fill my void while I eat dinner.

Furthermore I’ve been out of the US too long -- apparently Oprah’s gone granola. Now a vegan and highly interested in mediation, this is going to make an interesting summer study. Deep inside I always knew I’d eventually internally revolt and become a hippy: looks like Oprah just paved the way.


Last night I stopped at the local market to do my weekly grocery shopping. As I walked around examining gastronomical delights, a simple epiphany crossed my mind.

I realized that for one of the first times in my life, I am exactly where I am – standing in a supermarche in Strasbourg, France – because of me. Neither luck or wealth brought me here. My funded summer of traveling came from hard work and relentless pursuit of opportunity alone.

Then when I was watching the first of Oprah’s Soul Searching Series, she talked about how people were watching from all over the world. After a moment of hesitation it dawned on me… “oh, she’s talking about me!”

Moral of the Story: yesterday was self-gratifying. Hard work pays off, and it feels good to appear to have moderate control over your opportunities. It feels like I’m a participant in the universe, not a spectator.


Ketchup Time
[Translation: Catch Up Time]

Friday May 23

After work there was another Chemistry Department BBQ. I showed up with some of the other American students and started talking with French chemistry students. The BBQs take place in one of the student “cafeterias,” that basically only serve barrels of beer and two sandwiches a day.

One of the French guys (actually the son of the PhD who coordinates our living arrangements in Strasbourg) offered to go get us a beer.

Despite the fact that he’s foreign, his personality was apparent from his shirt which read in English “I (heart) You” but the heart contained the words “just want to have sex with.”

This was not a hard judgment call, despite the man purse all the French cool guys wear. [Just guess what Adamo’s getting as a souvenir…]

I had just made the comment that I have 15 days back in the US before I can legally buy alcohol again, so he joked and said we were going to observe “international rules” and I didn’t get a beer.

Me: “Oh, see I thought the rule in Europe was you had to see over the counter”

Cool Guy: “psh, non. We have rules”

Me: “That’s right, because Europeans are all short so that wouldn’t work”

Cool Guy [shocked but smiling]: “Stand up!”

And I stood up and was taller then him. He bought me a beer.

Later he told me he thought I was cocky, and I told him I was an American so I didn’t care. He laughed and said that’s why he likes Americans.

The night progressed with a few more attempts to get me to consume more beer, which proved unsuccessful. Overall I had a really good time mingling with everything, including some of the people from my lab.

Saturday May 24:: Day trip to Colmar

Honestly, I’ve worked on this entry on and off all day. I’m tired and want to go to sleep. Expect another entry tomorrow.

Elaine

Nom c'est bizarre :: A collection of short stories

Writers block never seems to be my problem when I finally manage the time to sit in front of Word and compose a blog. My problem is that there’s so much to recall, recount, remember that the task of taking this “memory vomit” and carving it down to something concise feels impossible.

This is usually when I pop a bottle of wine and get on Facebook.

I’m beginning to become a bit more independent in the lab. I know where the chemicals are, their French common name equivalents (ex: Acide comes first) and my days are becoming more routine. I go from being constantly busy running reactions, setting up and running columns, working up calculations to sitting at my computer with nothing to do but read papers.


MissElaineous Short Stories

Strasbourg has been dreary and rainy the past few weeks. Sometimes I feel like the gray skies make it feel like what one pictures when they imagine a cozy street side café on an early spring morning.
This image sucks when one:

1) has to ride their bike to/from work

2) is usually cold all the time & all central heating has been turned off.

I’ve been walking around the lab in several layers and exchange my jacket for a labcoat. Well one of the thermometers monitoring the reaction temperature was reading room temp at something an unusually high. This was troubling since it meant it was giving false readings for the reaction temperature. Jean, the PhD head of the lab, announced that we would know that the room temperature had reached 24 degrees Celsius and was working when “Elaine the Texan takes off her sweater!”

___________________________________________

I went down to the stockroom to pick up my own set of glassware to use for reactions and I had to give the lady my name. I was proud that I was able to spell it in French. French Women #2 (sitting next to the one typing) quickly mumbled something and grabbed a sticky note off her computer and scribbled down my name. French Women #1 laughed and said “You would!” causing French Women #2, smiling, to explain to me “Nom c’est bizarre!”

Translation: apparently as a daily amusement, French Women #2 keeps a list of unusual names and mine made the cut. I laughed all the way back to the lab.

___________________________________________

I forgot to mention that the Belgiums prefer wardrobes that include, and are strictly limited to; beige, black, grey, white, off-white, and when feeling quite bold – chocolate brown.

Accustomed to French fou (crazy) fashion, I managed to bring my most brightly colored EVERYTHING on my trip. Kelly green sweater, pink polo, sky blue jacket, azure blue polo, etc. For church on Sunday, I also managed to bring a “loud” patterned skirt.

Talk about a traveling faux pas. Surprisingly, Chris never lost track of me in the crowds of Belgium introverts.

___________________________________________

Jean’s wife, Jenny, a former American and fellow chemist, taught a class this semester in Scientific English. Students would attend a seminar about a scientific paper and hear a talk in English about it before their test. Since the talk was in English, one of the other Americans and I went to go sit in on the class.

The shaming I’ve received all my life as an American student about our lack of discipline and disrespect I know understand the truth to: it’s complete crap.

Despite the fact that this was a small class, and college students, they were some of the most impolite and insincere group of students I’ve ever seen. UT students may not be angels, but I’ve never seen students have to be asked to separate or leave the room since middle school. They talked, they left early, they didn’t take notes…..

The desks in the lecture hall were covered in layers graffiti (some were written in very poor English and were hilarious) which helped me realize the problem. The government pays for almost all of their school, meaning the university doesn’t have very much money to spend on their campus and that kids take little ownership of their education. Tuition and fees here cost about 400 euros per semester.

Yet they complain…

___________________________________________

Travel Tip: for extended stays always take a small sewing kit. Last summer I had to fix a hole in my jeans and a tear in my purse, and this summer I’ve already had to re-sew on the strap to my backpack. In must be a European thing because I never sew in Texas.

___________________________________________

Chris said that after leaving Texas for a year it was obvious: my accent. This is not ok. I need to get out of Texas more often.

___________________________________________

The French have an obsession with putting ID photos on every single ID.

For your picture:
Step 1: Put yourself in a box
Step 2: Make sure your face fits in the oval circle of the box
Step 3: Get of the box with a horrid image of yourself – 5 euros later.

I had to go get liability insurance incase I blow up the lab or hit a slow pedestrian on my bicycle. Imagine my confusion when my insurance came with:
1) Discounts to the local pool
2) Movie ticket reductions
3) Random, worthless discounts labeled “le pack”
4) A set of McDou passes (another alleged cool name for…McDonalds) for a free hamburger or milkshake.

I know = satan. But my first thought was, maybe now I can get my money’s worth! Guess what…they want a PICTURE on your coupon pass.

In my American opinion, this is an odd fetish.

___________________________________________

Early this week I went and grabbed Thai take out to eat for lunch. It came in a plastic bag.

My reaction:: awesome, free bag!

This is both sad and very European.

Plastic bags are rare, and cost 3 cents at the grocery store.

___________________________________________

I realized the sad truth that my room felt much homier when I bought paper towels. Since that purchase, my quality of life improved greatly.

___________________________________________

Today, 25/05/2008 (written as the Europeans do, date first) is Fête des Mères.

Literal Translation = party of the mothers
American Translation = Mother’s Day

That being said, Happy French Mother’s Day Mommy!

You can see me waving in the reflection.

Queer observation: Mother’s Day apparently markets “making your mother sexy” in a way only the French can get away with and avoid Freudian suspicion.





I’m getting up early tomorrow to call a certain Fly Boy in Corpus Christi.

The next entry will include but is not limited to:
- Short French guys, beers, and baguettes (sounds like another chemistry BBQ!)
- Day trip to Colmar yesterday
- An epic recount of my day today when I decided to ride my bike into Germany

Elaine

Quintessential Belgium

Life comes at you fast.

That’s been my motto all semester, and it appears to have carried over to France. At least for these first couple weeks I really haven’t stopped, and this week my lab work really started to pick up.

My weeks consist of: running reactions, running hundreds of TLCs, doing more TLCs, making dilutions for the TLCs, talking about chemistry, working up reactions, rotovaping, re-rotovaping, purifying, and NMR analysis. Whew! I’m learning so much…

….I know, all rationalizations for why my Belgium blog from last weekend (May 16-18) has remained trapped within my messy train-ride penmanship on the legal pad to my right. Let the unleashing begin.


Quintessential Belgium

This is the only phrase that adequately summed up my weekend experience in Belgique. It was the perfect jaunt into a foreign country filled with signature cuisine, ornate architecture, hilarious cultural observations, and even “quintessential” Belgium rain and drear.

My familiar blog readers know that I tend to be a rather harsh travel critic, so my following statement maintains its clout: Chris’ tour guide abilities receive all four MissElaineous stars and the quaintness of Belgium continually impressed me. He ensured that I experienced essential Belgium in one weekend, so book your tours now before he heads home! This past weekend’s adventure reminded me why I fell in love with traveling in the first place. Addiction refueled.

Journey

I left work at about 4:30 and headed straight to the train station. I grabbed a pastry for dinner (pain au chocolate) and boarded my train. I was feeling rather pensive the whole train ride, and made a lot of observations. These observations will follow in a later blog entry.

It was about a 5.5 hour train ride through the north of France, Luxembourg, and finally the Belgium countryside. The train-track scenery was second only to the ride I took last summer through the Austrian alps. I had planned to read “Feminine Mystique” but spent 5 hours looking out the windows instead.

I arrived into Brussels at about 10, and was really glad Chris had come to meet me there because on the last stretch this incredibly drunk man with a really sweet dog got on the train and successfully creeped me out. Chris and I then hopped onto a 20 minute train into Leuven. From the station we walked to the seminary where he’s been living, and the town was simply gorgeous at night. I can already tell I’m going to run out of pleasant adjectives to describe the trip, so bear with me.

Leuven at night.

Since it was so late we went into the silent seminary and headed straight to my floor. Aside from one nun I was the only one on the floor that night since the seminarians and priests all slept upstairs. My room was very cozy with characteristic, tall European ceilings complete with a large window that looked out over the garden. The interior of the building felt a lot like many of the older Catholic churches in the US – similar smells and wall decor. On my way to use the bathroom that night I went to go glance out the window onto the street when a room of shadowed stained glass caught my eye. I turned around and discovered the balcony to the seminary’s chapel. When I wandered in the chapel was completely silent and was illuminated by a dim glow traced from the stained glass and faintly spelled of incense. This simple moment of calm and solitude epitomized peace.

___________________________________________________________

Q: Who is this Chris guy anyway? Why is he in Europe?
A: This is a long time friend of mine I’ve known since Jr. Historian days at Deerpark Middle School and became good friends with in high school. He spent the year studying abroad at the American College in Leuven and will be going home in a few weeks. He attends Notre Dame and will be entering the Catholic seminary in about a year. [Chris feel free to correct any of this if I messed something up, :) ]

___________________________________________________________


That night I slept with the window cracked open and listened to the rain. I really should do this more often. The town was devoid of obnoxious noise pollution – at least in the rain.

The seminary from the garden

Saturday

Chris and I met up at 8:30 and went downstairs for breakfast. Breakfast consisted of American cereal the seminarians pick up from the military bases (where they conduct ministry) and Belgium milk that apparently does not need to be refrigerated however the Americans do anyway. I got to meet several of the priests there on sabbatical from Australia, New Zealand, and the UK. I’ve learned that a key part of memorable travel experiences occurs when you meet fascinating people or hear their stories, so this definitely qualified.

After breakfast Chris and I set off in the dreary Belgium weather. I chose to think of it as “authentic” rather than just wet & cold. We walked to the Leuven library that was burned to the ground during each world war. Consequently when it was rebuilt following WWII they took books donated from libraries across the world, mostly from clearly selfish Americans. Any library that donated has a plaque on the inside or outside.

Guess what Chris showed me? (Yes, that weird letter is a ‘T’.) Hook ‘em horns.


Oh, and just a small side note for those who care… Notre Dame could not be troubled to contribute.

For such a classy city, the Belgiums have odd taste in art. This was right in front of the grand library. That would be biologist's needle with a bug on it. wtf Belgium.


Afterwards caught a train to Brugge, the “Venice of the North” with cobble stone streets and winding canals. When we were standing on the platform waiting, there was a large “scout” group of elementary age kids all grouped together. Chris explained that this co-ed version of Boy/Girl Scouts includes just about every child in the country, and it was quite noticeable that the group of about 35 was monitored by one adult and two immature looking teenagers.

As we stood on the platform, we gathered that the group was apparently set off for the coast despite the unfavorable weather. Their train came on the opposite track, so as soon as the group vacated that end of the platform Chris and I took part in an anthropologic study of introverted, polite Belgiums.

Not to make it painfully obvious that they were all avoiding the “Scouts,” the natives started to literally drift in our direction. They avoided contact, acted like they were looking at signs, or turned back momentarily, but by the time the train arrived we were evenly distributed once again.

It was hilarious.

The Belgiums reminded me of cats. They can be aloof, private, sometimes shy and proud, but when you talk directly to them they were very friendly.

Brugge

We arrived in the canal city and expert tourguide Chris invented our plan of action. We walked past some enormous swan nests and the town was adorable. There were linen shops and chocolate shops at every corner. After some initial exploring we stopped at a roadside vendor and picked up my first Belgium Waffle.

Little known fact, there are TWO types of Belgium waffles. The Liège waffle, which is what we picked up, that is thicker and made from dough and contains caramelized sugar cube clumps. We ate them, fresh and hot, under our umbrellas in the Belgium rain. Honestly I felt like I was having a Travel Channel Samantha Brown moment – it might be one of the best cultural foods I’ve ever had in my life. Part of me wanted to turn to a camera like she does and just make a lot of “ooohhhs and ahhhs” because it was that fabulous.


Shortly after my waffle encounter, it began to POUR down rain. Chris brilliantly thought of a local bar he discovered on a back street that specialized in serving over 100 types of beers. By the time we arrived our jeans were soaking up to our knees.

As we sat to wait out the aggressive rain, the character of this local place began to soak in. They played American music (very randomly, including old, inappropriate R&B because nobody comprehends the words) and had an out of place, dusty disco ball anchored to the ceiling. We were the only tourists in the small place.

Chris recommended a Belgium Trappist beer (made in a Trappist monastery) called Chimay. This is appropriate because of our mutual good friend, Chinmay.

If you’ve ever been fortunate to have true friends – where it takes no more than 5 minutes to feel like you haven’t actually been apart for the elapsed year – I have no need to elaborate further. We sat engrossed in conversation until the rain subsided.

Afterwards we headed to the Basilica of the Holy Blood, a religious relic that dates back to 1149. I’ll admit, my vision and memory may have strangely become muddled at this point. However, Chris expertly explained that the relic is attributed to contain a fragment of coagulated blood collected from Christ after the crucifixion by Joseph of Arimathea. The cloth was brought to Brugge from Jerusalem during the crusades. The relic is processed annually through the streets by the Bishop, and has been ever since its arrival in 1149. Chris got to see this earlier this spring.

(not my picture, from the web)

Well he timed our visit to the Basilica perfectly, because we came in right as they brought the relic down for the once a day adoration. We got to go right up to it’s glass case and touch it while saying a prayer. Again, could not have been better.

We did more exploring, and I got to go to a chocolate shop. Until now, I’ve never had the chocolate wisdom to know that Belgium chocolate really is superior. Now I know. Now I will gain weight. C’est la vie.

We went back to Leuven in search of warm food. Chris listed three choices of “Belgium” food, and I could tell by his tone intonations that Domus was our best choice.

http://www.domusleuven.be/

It was. We both ended up with a warm stew like dinner that came with Belgium frites. Apparently Americans have it wrong: they are Belgium fries, not French. This classy Belgium cuisine comes with any tasteful meal and is consumed by fork with mayonnaise.

That night we did more walking, people watched on the “longest bar in Europe” [imagine a quiet European 6th Street] while eating ice cream in the cold, and walked around a former women’s colony from the time of the crusades. Belgium may be cold, but they have the coziest, most inviting interiors I’ve ever seen. Restaurants have the most inviting window seats, and Chris says he sums up Belgium as a place where you want to curl up in front of a fire with hot chocolate. I concur.

Sunday

I woke up Sunday and went down for mass. It was nice to hear English again. Afterwards everyone gathered for coffee and tea and I got to talk to more interested people.

Chris and I then scampered off and completed my tour of Leuven. We walked around the botanical gardens, and stopped off for lunch at Timory. A really formal looking but laid back local stop. Here Chris and I ate very contrasting Belgium meals. I had coffee and a Brussels Waffle (made from batter, light and crisp, topped with powdered sugar and fresh fruit) and he had some type of Croque Monsieur, frites, and a beer. This made us laugh.

http://www.timory.be/

From there we toured the beautiful Gothic church, St. Peter's, that had a very nice museum. We spent the remainder of the time at Fr. Damien’s grave. Fr. Damien will probably become a saint in the future because of his brave work with leper colonies.

In Summary

I’ve worked on this off and one for the past week, and I’m exhausted! Now I’m left with an addiction to Belgium chocolate, a constant craving for waffles, and the desire to read a Hercule Poirot novel.

What's with all the bikes Europe?