Oh man, grab a snack and put up your feet, because this entry is going to be a long one! I haven't posted in a while because I just got back from a week-long trip through the south of France. Yes, a week; is this for real? Do I actually live a life now where I can take a week-long vacation in the middle of school? Yes. The answer is yes. I am so lucky.

Here, in convenient city-by-city form, is what we did.

BORDEAUX was the first stop on our glorious trip, though it must be said, our arrival in the city was kind of an anti-climax. We had come, of course, for the wine; the city is the center of the Bordeaux-producing region. But the city itself doesn't have much to offer. Supposedly it has a lovely old town, but all we saw were sleepy, tattered neighborhoods, and a fairly dull downtown. It looked like the training-wheels version of Paris -- similar nineteenth century feel, but much smaller and much less interesting. Whatever, no big deal, except that when we got to the city's Office de Tourisme we discovered that we had missed the day's wine tour... by ten minutes. All wine activity is far away from the city itself, scattered over the surrounding countryside, so it's not like we could just hop over to a vineyard or something. The people there were not too helpful, but told us to come back at 2:30, when the "wine expert" would be around. We sat outside, staring at the dull city around us, thinking this was a pretty unfortunate start to our trip.

But then our luck changed. The wine expert turned out to be extremely nice and unbelievably helpful. In five minutes on the phone, she arranged a personal (yes!) tour and tasting for us, at some château reachable by bus. It cost barely a fraction of what the official tour would have been and sounded amazing. We couldn't thank her enough. And indeed, the tour was amazing. The owner of the château (a beautiful mansion on a rolling pastoral estate, although she called it a "small" château -- ha!) took us around the cave and wine cellars, and at the end let us pick a bottle to try. It was very informal, and was just the four of us -- this really was looking into some family's home and business! So cool. The owner let us wander around the grounds afterward and it was exactly my image of rural France: vineyards, green fields, an abandoned barn covered in overgrowth, little outbuildings, lush and verdant. We had a great time.

So Bordeaux, in the end, was pretty cool. We had a hurried dinner in town and then got on our overnight train to...

MARSEILLE. I loved Marseille. But I don't get to talk about that yet, because after arriving in Marseille at 5:30 in the morning we left immediately for...

AVIGNON. What a lovely little city! I have compulsively read Peter Mayle's travel books about Provence, and Avignon brought them to life for me. It had everything I was expecting... colorful little houses, crumbling medieval walls, rolling countryside, lush vegetation, canals, generally overwhelming picturesqueness. It was lovely to look at, but that's really all you can do in a place like that, so we left after a few hours for...

ARLES. Somehow I found Arles less charming than Avignon. It had the same Provençal character, plus a handful of Roman ruins thrown in, but it seemed kind of dusty and forgotten to me. The big draw here is Van Gogh's legacy; it was in this town that he painted "Night Café" and "Starry Night," among many other works. It's also where the famous and unfortunate ear incident happened; lucky visitors go to see the insane asylum where he was subdued. Alas, time was short for us, so we contented ourselves with the original Night Café and a garden mimicking another painting of his (although this garden's fountain was clogged, digustingly, with dozens of dead snails).

We returned to MARSEILLE and immediately got a hotel. Remember, we had been on the go by this point for a long time (two days, with a night on the train), so having a hotel room seemed impossibly luxurious. We had a delicious dinner that night, but slept a lot, too... we had earned it after the train! The next day was our chance to explore Marseille. It's kind of a grimy city, with graffiti and litter everywhere, plus messy construction sites on every corner, but it's completely beguiling anyhow. The whole place is a bright Mediterranean port city, with narrow little streets, pastel houses, white shutters, the works. It's also cosmopolitan and cheap compared to Paris -- finding a place to eat was never a problem.

Our big adventure in Marseille was supposed to be a visit to the island Château d'Îf, a grim fortress drifting offshore from the port, and the prison in Dumas's The Count of Monte Cristo, but the Island was somehow closed, so we were denied that pleasure. I wasn't sad about that, though, because it gave us plenty of time to poke around Marseille's charismatic streets. We also climbed to Notre-Dame-de-la-Garde, a zebra-striped church on top of Marseille's tallest hill... we almost died on our climb, especially because it was quite windy, but the views were worth it.

No matter where we were, the city felt so alive... the pretty little towns we'd been to previously (and the Riviera we'd visit in the next couple of days) sometimes seemed like living, overpriced postcards... flat and substanceless. Marseille had heft. It felt real and alive, which I appreciated. It was definitely my favorite stop on our trip.

The next morning, we said farewell to Marseille and hopped on a train to CANNES, of film festival fame. By the time we got there it was sunny and warm -- perfect weather for the French Riviera! Because, everything else aside, Cannes is still a seaside town, and it's quite nice on a summery day. We actually didn't spend much time in Cannes, leaving the city itself for a nearby island which my guidebook recommended, the Isle St.-Marguerite, ten minutes away by ferry. We bought sandwiches on the island and had a picnic on the beach, overlooking the Mediterranean. Beach is not quite the right word... we actually ate on a rocky promontory, overlooking the sea, with forests behind us (the Island is miraculously undeveloped). It was fine for picnicking, but when we tried to go swimming we found out this wasn't the best place. Below the water were algae-covered rocks, sharp and slippery; Silvia, Vicky and I foolishly tried to press in, and Vicky and I actually made it out to the deep water. Swimming was fun, and lovely; I couldn't believe I was in the Mediterranean! But then when we got out we began to feel... not quite right. It turns out we'd all gotten various wounds from the rocks, and painful ones at that! It was almost comical. Silvia was leaving footprints of blood on the rocks, Vicky had what looked like black seedpods in her foot, and I had a cut on my big toe which was giving me -- I kid you not -- the most excruciating pain of my entire life. It was almost unbearable. Mostly because of my complaining, we bundled ourselves together and got the hell off the Island... I honestly thought I might need an emergency room or something! But the pain subsided by the time we got to the mainland. Turns out Cannes itself has a normal beach, sandy and soft, where we collapsed for some rest after that ordeal. I'm still glad we went to the Island, though... after all, how often will I be able to say I picnicked on an island in the Mediterranean?

After rehabilitating on the beach in Cannes we hopped on a train to NICE. Based on my guidebook's recommendation, we had called a hotel and booked a room for four, and so we set out from the train station expecting a nice little place like our lovely one in Marseille. Well. Let me tell you, this is why guidebooks can't be trusted. Our "hotel" was actually a hostel, and a dingy one at that; we had a room, yes, but with iron bunk beds and barren pink mattresses, and a shower and a sink behind a curtain (not a door!) but no toilet. We looked at each other and knew we had to get the hell out. The owner was not pleased, but thankfully our credit card hadn't gone through (not that the owner should have rung it up before we got there anyhow!), so it didn't matter, and we just kind of left. There were tons of hotels around that area, so we found a four-person room in a two-star hotel with real beds, a real bathroom, towels, and everything else for the SAME PRICE as the hostel. I was so relieved we got to change! What a nightmare that would have been....

Anyhow, we didn't actually spend much time in Nice. The next day, Monday, was a big exploration day for us... our first stop was MONACO, famed mini-country and playground of the rich. It was honestly the most horrible place I have ever been in my life. Hot, crowded, and unpleasant, I can think of nothing I liked about it. Sure, it has a nice setting, but it's built-up like a shopping mall... ugly and characterless. Sure, it's on the Riviera. But there's no beach! Just vacant streets and yachts. The main feature of public life is apparently parking garages; one has to pass through them to get anywhere. And getting anywhere, incidentally, is challenging; crossing the Porsche-clogged streets is a chore, especially for us, because we were there as they were setting up for the Monaco Grand Prix. And the rich... my God, the rich... let me summarize my irritation by pointing out that all day I was looking for an ATM, and couldn't find my bank, and finally did toward the end of the day... but instead of a normal branch it was a "private banking" site for the rich with nothing to offer me! I was disgusted. Monaco has no charming streets, no restaurant districts, no beautiful architecture; everything seems artificial and tacky, despite the vast embarrassment of wealth that underpins it all. I have never been happier to leave a place.

The Italian town of VENTIMIGLIA would be lovely anywhere, but arriving there after a day in terrible Monaco made it even better. Yes, I said Italy; it's the first town over the border, and French trains go there, so we thought, why not go to Italy for dinner? The town is small and charming, everything I hoped the French riviera would be... a quiet (though rocky) beach, a dense clutter of honey-colored buildings, palm trees, a promenade, etc. The quiet was the best part... although it was obviously a tourist town, there weren't many tourists. It was also a novelty because the tourist parts of town all catered to French-speakers instead of English-speakers (it's an exotic little day trip for people from the South of France), so we felt more French than American, at least in the eyes of the Italians. Anyhow, all we wanted to do was eat, though we did spend some happy time staring at the beach; but we had gelato (delicious!) and a long, lingering dinner right on the beach, overlooking the sunset. It was one of the most magical meals of my life. It totally erased the dirty feeling of Monaco from my mind.

After dinner, we made our way to the train station to catch our train back to Nice. When we got there there was an Italian word none of us recognized on the train schedule, something like "soppresso," which didn't sound good. We approached the guard and had a conversation in French with him in which he explained that the word meant the train wasn't running. "Comment?" we gasped, and he explained that the French trains were having a strike. Well, as you can imagine, this was slightly stressful to us, as we weren't even in the same country as our hotel. In the end we had to take a 100-euro cab ride back to Nice. Although crossing the border in a taxi was a novel experience, and made me feel rich and famous for some reason, paying was not so fun. But, what can you do? We assumed the strikes were because of the elections that had happened the night before (we saw burning dumpsters on our way to our hotel, so apparently not everyone was excited by Sarkozy's election!), so chalked it up to experience and left it at that.

And finally, NICE, and the end of our trip. I didn't really have high hopes for Nice. In fact, I expected it to be a sightly poorer version of Monaco -- a shopping mall by the sea. But in the end, Nice had a lot to offer. The town is charming, and we had delicious ice cream and sandwiches in the course of the day, all among the colorful buildings and narrow streets. The big draw is, of course, the beach. It is neither sand nor slabs of rocks, but pebbles, which are actually more comfortable than they sound. We spent almost the whole day at the beach, swimming and sun-bathing. This was the first time I've ever had a really nice day at the beach, and I loved it! The water was an impossible turquoise color, and warmer than I expected, and the rocks were better for lying than I could have hoped. It was a great way to end our trip, and the appropriate mental preparation for the sometimes-trying experience of the overnight train back to Paris.

Yes; the end. Have you made it this far? I have a couple more comments before signing off.

:: One of the biggest treats of the trip was having a TV in Marseille and watching European music videos at night before we went to sleep! We found some treasures, including the remix of "Beautiful Liar" and a French R&B song called "Ma Soeur." The TV also planted that one Gwen Stefani song and the Nelly Furtado / Timbaland / Justin Timberlake star vehicle "Give It to Me" in our heads for the rest of the trip.

:: Four is so the perfect number for traveling. From train seats facing each other to hotel rooms to more subtle group dynamics, I highly recommend.

:: I can't decide whether the trains of France are wonderful or awful. The service is frequent and relatively cheap, and got us where we wanted to go (expect for the notable exception of the strike!). But there were some exceptions, especially with the overnight trains. For instance, the bathrooms were somewhat primitive... we were lucky if they even had running water, and soap? Don't even think about it! We also had a crazy man on the train with us for the eleven grueling hours from Nice to Paris. He kept lurching through the aisle, an awful trail of BO drifting behind him, and approached us at least twice to mumble something about gâteau -- cake. That was kind of a long night, I must admit, especially because I had a full day of class starting an hour after our early morning arrival back in Paris!

:: Speaking of Paris, being away made us realize two things: how expensive Paris is, and how unfriendly its people really are. I say that with love, of course. But it's true... everywhere else, people would be nice to us in a way that they aren't in Paris, waiters and tourist office people and our hotel clerks and stuff like that, but others as well. People on the street would offer to help us find things, for instance, or the people next to us in the restaurant would laugh at our gaffes in a nice way, asking where we were from. None of us even remembered how to be nice, so we just stalked past the people who tried to be friendly, realizing later that they were probably actually nice and not creepy. Oh dear... Paris has worked its mean little self into our veins....

:: Also along those lines, people were willing to speak French to us, which was a refreshing change from the impatient Parisians, who switch to English often (just to spite us, we feel)....

:: We had vowed to try local delicacies in every place we visited (cheese or wine or pastries or whatever), but kept being thwarted by closed shops or other obstacles so that we only did so (beside the Bordeaux in Bordeaux) in Marseille, and hated the candy we tried (it's lavender flavored chocolate, which is as ghastly as it sounds).

:: I do have to indulge in some verbal food pornography for the better meals we had. Among its many charms, Marseille was great for eating. The meal we had our first night there was one of the best I've had in France, and the waitress was very nice, explaining what dishes were (in French!). That whole region has a strong Italian influence on its food, so there was delicious pasta, creamy sauce with mushrooms in my case. I also had an onion tart with that meal which was definitely the best appetizer I've had here. Oh, we also tried pear liqueur, which was unbelievably strong! Order aperitifs with caution.... Oh, we also had Lebanese cuisine in Marseille, also delicious. And I must single out the ice cream from Nice that I already mentioned, which was so great because of the odd variety of flavors... I had spice cake, chocolate gingerbread, and honey pine nut. The first two were wonderful, though the third was a little weird. Still. Parisian ice cream would never come in whimsical flavors like that, so it was a big treat.

I guess that's it. If you read this far, you are my hero, and I thank you for being patient and interested. Already adventures in Paris are piling up, so look forward to another entry soon! And before I close, I do have to say thanks to Nafis, Vicky, and Silvia, who were absolutely wonderful traveling companions. I can't believe how compatible we were, and how much fun I had, and how we managed to laugh and enjoy ourselves, even after, for instance, cumulative days of train travel. En fait, you guys are splendid.

With that, I will say au revoir and à bientôt!