This is Richael Best, your Study Abroad Blogger living in Aix-en-Provence for the semester. I just got home from my painting class, and the sun is setting.
Last week we had a week without class to correspond with the vacation of every other school in the area (and, I believe, in France: the academic system is very synchronized), and most of the students in my program took the opportunity to discover newly accessible places all over Europe and beyond. I was no exception. My mother came to town for a whirlwind tour of Aix, Marrakech, and Paris that was luxurious, eye-opening, and humbling.
Vacation really started the day before classes ended with a big dinner at my host family’s house. In some ways it was dinner as usual, with delicious food (duck confit), interesting French banter, and a convivial atmosphere. But the added guest in the form of my mother added an element of anticipation, brought up new topics of conversation, and added tarte tatin for dessert to the menu. I am so thankful to have such a lively, caring host family, and it was wonderful to have my mother here to meet them.
After a little time in Aix while I played the tour guide and took my mother to archaeological sites and famous fountains and little patisseries, we flew to Marrakech through Casablanca. It was wild to be on another continent in less than three hours, and the change was remarkable. Stray cats roamed the waiting areas, the pillars were covered in colorful mosaic tile typical of Moroccan décor, and all of the signs were written in Arabic script as well as in French.
Fortunately, we found the driver from our hotel immediately, and he swiftly escorted us through the dark desert night to the gates of La Mamounia. We were greeted with dates and a glass of almond milk flavored with orange flower water, and we slowly adjusted to our new surroundings of rich furniture, intricately carved woodwork, lightly perfumed air, and the sound of tinkling fountains.
The next morning we awoke to palm trees, red earth, a wide, bright blue sky, and the calls of the muezzin from the nearby Koutoubia Mosque. While in Marrakech, we visited the Majorelle Gardens, which are now also a monument to Yves Saint-Laurent and a haven of exotic plants and birds. We also rode camels through the palm groves with a guide who performs as a horseback acrobat when he isn’t leading camel trips. One night we ate a fabulous traditional Moroccan meal of couscous and lamb tagine while wrapped in warm cloaks against the chill from the open central courtyard where lute players wandered around the gurgling fountain. We toured the new Royal Mansour Hotel, which boasts an extravagant collection of private riads and lavish interiors that took 2500 local artisans four years to complete. While there, we went to their expansive marble hammam, where we received the traditional exfoliating bathing ritual. Another day, a guide took us through the markets in the médina to Ben Youssef Madrasa, a former Islamic school that is now a museum and a great example of local architecture.
Overall Marrakech was wonderful. The people were genuine, friendly, and helpful, and everyone spoke French so we didn’t have many communication challenges. Everywhere were the iconic archways, mosaics, fountains, carvings, and intricate lanterns with tiny holes that threw dappled light over entire rooms. This juxtaposed with the dusty green of the ancient olive trees and burnt red of the earth made for a scenic journey, as well as a cultural one.
Getting off the plane in Paris felt almost like coming home, as the smells transitioned from cumin and roasting lamb to fresh baguettes and the beautiful Arabic script returned to the Latin alphabet. I reacquainted myself with the RER and the Metro, and returned to favorite museums like the Musée d’Orsay and the Musée d’Art Moderne.
But for the first time I realized how big Paris actually is. After walking for an entire afternoon with my mother and an old friend: from Saint Sulpice through the Louvre to the Centre Pompidou and the adjoining Atelier Brancusi and around past various art galleries and boutiques with stops for macarons and crêpes: we were struck by how little of the city we had actually covered. This, of course, is why people take the metro, but I still found myself glad to have chosen elsewhere for my semester abroad. As wonderful as Paris is, it would have been a little overwhelming as a foreign student living alone.
After a lively and delicious final French dinner with relatives of a dear friend, it was time to return to reality. I took the TGV back to Aix-en-Provence as my mother flew home to San Francisco, and we have both resumed our everyday routines. It was a needed break for both of us, a chance for me to relieve my homesickness a little and see my dear maman, set foot on a new continent, and forget about work for a few days. Quelles bonnes vacances!
After such a tour, it was surprisingly comforting to come back to Aix, where I don’t need a map to get around, where I can walk across town in less than twenty minutes, and where I know enough people that I run into them at cafés. Sometimes I miss home and Whitman desperately, but I couldn’t have asked for a better situation as I study abroad. As I readjust to a regular schedule after this luxurious cultural vacation, I am also rediscovering my concerned and affectionate host family, exciting new friends, interesting and practical classes where I no longer have trouble understanding the rapid French of my professors, and, of course, lots and lots of pastries: is this la vie en rose?
