Through a series of unfortunate events, this Sunday I lost my phone on a train to the middle of nowhere. Sunday was a free day, one of the few we have here in Lille, and a couple of friends and I got tickets to see Ben l’Oncle Soul in concert at Arras, a town not too far from Lille. Oh it was going to be glorious. The plans were made well before leaving the United States, and our excitement had only been building since. So many things went wrong that Sunday that I don’t think I have the mental capacity or the heart to recount what happened. But what I will say is this: the very bad icing on that very bad cake was losing my phone on a train that took us to the middle of nowhere. And so my pictures for the past few days are lost, as I did not have the chance to download them onto my laptop before that unfortunate day. But I will recount the memorable happenings since my last post.
Last Friday, my museums class took us to La Piscine, which was quite a long metro ride away from Le Catho, in a town called Roubaix. The building was built in 1932 by architect Albert Baert, whose goal was to create “the finest swimming pool in France”. And so this art deco masterpiece became a place where the working class relaxed and shed the dirt and grime of their industrial jobs. In 2001 the former Roubaix Municipal Swimming Pool was turned into the André Diligent Art and Industry Museum. And the transformation is breathtaking… The main room is large with high ceilings, and the shallow pool commands the center of the room, small lights lining the perimeter. Surrounding the pool are sculptures on individual wood-block stands. On one end of the room, where the wall meets the arched ceiling, is a stained glass window featuring an art deco interpretation of a rising sun, while on the other wall rests it’s setting counterpart. Little cubicles of shower stalls line the perimeter of the large room. Some have been revamped into walkways that lead to the pool, while others house collections of fashion, textiles, and ceramics.
On this trip I have seen the Louvre, the Orsay Museum, the Palais de Beaux-Arts, among other museums, and I have to say that I was most impressed by La Piscine. Its use of space is brilliant, in my opinion. Creating an exhibition around a swimming pool from the 1930s is interesting and unconventional. Creating walkways and hallways out of well-preserved shower stalls is an excellent use of space, and creates a magnificent effect.
Last Friday, my museums class took us to La Piscine, which was quite a long metro ride away from Le Catho, in a town called Roubaix. The building was built in 1932 by architect Albert Baert, whose goal was to create “the finest swimming pool in France”. And so this art deco masterpiece became a place where the working class relaxed and shed the dirt and grime of their industrial jobs. In 2001 the former Roubaix Municipal Swimming Pool was turned into the André Diligent Art and Industry Museum. And the transformation is breathtaking… The main room is large with high ceilings, and the shallow pool commands the center of the room, small lights lining the perimeter. Surrounding the pool are sculptures on individual wood-block stands. On one end of the room, where the wall meets the arched ceiling, is a stained glass window featuring an art deco interpretation of a rising sun, while on the other wall rests it’s setting counterpart. Little cubicles of shower stalls line the perimeter of the large room. Some have been revamped into walkways that lead to the pool, while others house collections of fashion, textiles, and ceramics.
On this trip I have seen the Louvre, the Orsay Museum, the Palais de Beaux-Arts, among other museums, and I have to say that I was most impressed by La Piscine. Its use of space is brilliant, in my opinion. Creating an exhibition around a swimming pool from the 1930s is interesting and unconventional. Creating walkways and hallways out of well-preserved shower stalls is an excellent use of space, and creates a magnificent effect.
On Saturday we went to Brussels, the capitol of Belgium. Like everywhere else I’ve been in Europe, it was beautiful. Gorgeous buildings, some with gold trim, delicious waffles, hidden courtyards that take some discovering to find. Yes, I loved Brussels, even though I didn’t have time to see the European Union building. We saw an outdoor market where musicians serenaded the shoppers, and entire floods of women dressed in purple and red sporting the colors of the Red Hat Society. It was an adorable sight. They peppered the crowds like brilliant pieces of costume jewelry, contrasting comically with the elegant history of their surroundings. The picture is one borrowed from a wonderful friend. While in Brussels I also went on a comic book tour, where we found various pieces of beautifully painted graffiti art around the city, each of different comic book characters. Here is where my collection of pictures would have been wonderful, but alas none of my Brussels pictures made it off of my phone before it went missing. I suppose I mustn’t morn what is lost forever.
I have become somewhat of a regular at Le Caf&, the friendly café at the end of the block. Last week, I walked in to get some work done. I can’t tell you how long I’d been waiting to have the time to just sit in a café and do some homework and people-watch. I love quiet, uncrowned places where I can hear my own thoughts and just be for a couple of hours. Oh it was glorious. Almost every single person who walked through that door knew practically everyone in the café, and it became a procession of smiles, happy exclamations, and the traditional French two-kisses-on-the-cheeks greeting. It was a sight that was a lovely sight to see. And that day, I met a young doctor and his friend, a graphic designer. They sat down close to where I was working, and we struck up a conversation. They addressed me at first in rapid-fire French, and when I paused for a moment and asked them to repeat what was said, they were stunned to discover that I wasn’t French. I didn’t mind the confusion.
My absolutely dream job is to open a clinic in the south of France. And so, as an aspiring doctor, I jumped at the chance to learn what it’s like to practice medicine in this country. As it turns out the doctor loves his job, although he works at a university clinic, and as he put it, “les étudiants ne paient rien.” I understand completely where he's coming from. Pitty us poor students. We talked about intentional versus unintentional influences of the West on France, and the differences between Europe as a whole and the U.S. as a whole. In that moment I felt like one of them. Like Lille was my true home, like that night was no different than any other night having pleasant conversation in charming cafés. And when I returned recently for another night of homework, I was greeted by my name, a smile, and the traditional two-kisses-on-the-cheeks. That means I’m officially French now, right?
My absolutely dream job is to open a clinic in the south of France. And so, as an aspiring doctor, I jumped at the chance to learn what it’s like to practice medicine in this country. As it turns out the doctor loves his job, although he works at a university clinic, and as he put it, “les étudiants ne paient rien.” I understand completely where he's coming from. Pitty us poor students. We talked about intentional versus unintentional influences of the West on France, and the differences between Europe as a whole and the U.S. as a whole. In that moment I felt like one of them. Like Lille was my true home, like that night was no different than any other night having pleasant conversation in charming cafés. And when I returned recently for another night of homework, I was greeted by my name, a smile, and the traditional two-kisses-on-the-cheeks. That means I’m officially French now, right?
I have written about this before, but every morning I have three hours of French. My professor, Dominique, is an older French man with a thick mustache, white hair balding towards the center, and kind eyes peering out behind bushy eyebrows. I observed him one day with his hands behind his back, pacing slowly from one end of the room to the other during our mid-morning break. The way that he was pacing, slightly stooped, entirely lost in thought, reminded me of Dumbledore. And the best moments are when he pauses in the middle of a French literature lesson to recount stories from great works, his voice rising and falling at every twist of the plot. He could easily take over the audio book industry if he so chose, and the world would be a better place because of it.
We turned in class evaluations recently, and he informed us that someone had suggested the use of a PowerPoint. He was flabbergasted by the idea, and with an apologetic face, explained that he doesn’t believe in them. I don’t blame him one bit – they kind of take the art out of teaching. But this morning he walked into class beaming from ear to ear as he announced that for the first time in his career, and near the end of it at that, he had created a powerpoint! Just to make sure that we were happy and learning well. And ever so subtly, he advanced each slide with a flourish that was as comical as it was endearing. He is a character larger than life, one of the best teachers I have ever had, and someone I will never forget. Some people just stick with you.
We turned in class evaluations recently, and he informed us that someone had suggested the use of a PowerPoint. He was flabbergasted by the idea, and with an apologetic face, explained that he doesn’t believe in them. I don’t blame him one bit – they kind of take the art out of teaching. But this morning he walked into class beaming from ear to ear as he announced that for the first time in his career, and near the end of it at that, he had created a powerpoint! Just to make sure that we were happy and learning well. And ever so subtly, he advanced each slide with a flourish that was as comical as it was endearing. He is a character larger than life, one of the best teachers I have ever had, and someone I will never forget. Some people just stick with you.
I got lost in Vieux (Old) Lille today. Oh how I’ve been looking forward to wandering aimlessly through those shopping neighborhoods, black lanterns strung high across the narrow cobble stone streets. I’ve been so looking forward to gazing up at the old, magnificent homes, and wandering into little corner Boulangeries and tiny boutiques. Well I finally got my chance, and I brought along a friend's camera. I didn’t do as much damage as I thought I would – just a brownie and a souvenir mug – but I drank in my surroundings like a large rich serving of hot chocolate. Oh I loved it. All of it. And I made my way back without asking for directions, which I considered to be a feat in that beautiful maze.
Madame Beckman, our trip director, took us at last to the crêperie off of La Grand Place that I’ve heard so much about from previous students who have taken this trip. If I had to choose one place to eat all meals for the rest of my life, I’d pick that crêperie – no questions asked, no hesitations. It was literal perfection. I had a potato and goat cheese crepe that I nearly finished even though I wasn’t terribly hungry, and a caramel, vanilla ice-cream desert crêpe that I nearly finished even though I was practically stuffed by that point. It didn’t matter. Sitting in front of those gorgeous meals, it would have been a disservice to this world not to savor every bite. In all honesty, it was one of the best meals of my life. And I’m not even a crêpe fanatic. That night, sitting there among the people who have become my family, I was saddened by the thought that this experience is ending in a little over a week. It doesn’t seem possible. It must have been yesterday that we were driven to our hotel in Paris in the 10th Arrondissement, the possibility for adventure stretching boundlessly before each of us. But I suppose the sun keeps dipping and rising and dipping and rising, and time beats on to keep up the chase.