BYU Duck Pond

Maybe you've lived your entire life in the Provo, Utah area. Or perhaps you're a BYU graduate with plenty of fond memories of BYU life: the clean campus, sunny summer days spent licking Creamery ice-creams, bustling Wilkinson Student Center, and juicy J Dawgs. Either way, if you live in the Provo area or you're just passing through, you really should visit the BYU duck pond. There aren't very many more relaxing and pleasurable places to pass a Sunday afternoon than in this quaint, newly-renovated area.

Over the last year, the entire hillside South-West of campus has been completely transformed. It began with the cobblestone path zigzagging the overgrown woods of the South-campus hill. The deep, muddy ravine that claimed dozens of tennis balls, flip-flops, and tennis-shoes weekly became a stone-lined stream with crystal water tumbling over sand-colored rocks and spilling out of boulders in artificial waterfalls. The overgrown underbrush was cleared and pruned. Stone tablets now mark the freshly-planted foliage. Iris cascade from the hillside, nodding their fragrant heads to passerby.

And finally, the duck pond. The dirt paths leading to the banks of the pond have been paved with dusty, burnt red cobblestones. Fresh, dark woodchips blanket tree beds, kissing the green grass in crisp, curved lines. And a new wooden dock frames the once unkempt dirt pond banks.

This Sunday afternoon, I watched as young families gathered on the wooden benches eating sandwiches or fried chicken. A larger group sang happy birthday to an elated young boy, then passed out ice creams to the energetic children. One boy pushed a stroller with a watermelon almost as large as he. The children knelt near the dock edge, gripping the wooden rim and leaning eagerly over as they pointed enthusiastically at the young ducklings swimming in that adorable quick-bobbing fashion.

A handsome mallard perched on a large rock in the water, lazily pruning his feathers. The rest of the ducks horded near the bank where three young boys were tossing bread crumbs. Two females, however, broke from the group when they eyed me sitting on the far bench. One cautiously hopped up on the dock. When my attention remained focused on my notebook, the duck began quacking insistently, waddling in my direction and eyeing me pointedly. Smiling, I promised her I’d bring bread crumbs next time I visited. So the young brown duck waddled to the grass to nibble clover heads, clearly disappointed.

This duck pond and the cobblestone path above it are by far my favorite places on BYU campus. Here are some great ways to spend time in this pleasant little area:

·         Play Sequence® – my favorite card/board game – at one of the metal tables next to the stream and the hillside path.

·         Picnic under a large tree in the green grass next to the pond.

·         Read a novel in the summer shade.

·         And of course, feed the ducks!

Le Marché aux Puces

A treasure trove of the bizarre and the brilliant, the Marché aux Puces is a nonpareil of Parisian flea markets. Home to thousands of unique stalls, it is a shopping experience unlike any other. It is a stop not to be missed, even if you have just a short week in Paris. 

To reach the Marché aux Puces, take the metro to Porte de Clignancourt. When you exit you will find yourself in a teeming common-place market of cheap clothing and accessories. Press on till you find Rue des Rosiers, where you will find the Marché’s truly enchanting discoveries. Trinkets and baubles spill out of wooden crates that line the narrow streets. Cozy covered market rooms open to the paved roads, enticing bystanders with charming displays that press passerby to peruse their products. Old-fashioned cashiers and large leather books lay on wooden tables. Antique women's fashion ads and gold-framed mirrors hang from the walls. School desks with wrought iron framework house ivory quills and silver ink bottles. Ebony brooches and Victorian silhouette pendants poke out of drawers. Eery porcelain dolls and faded teddy bears cuddle on velvet couches. From over-priced rubbish to priceless finds, anything and everything can be found at the Marché aux Puces.

 

My friend Betty and I spent a wonderful Saturday afternoon browsing the stalls at the Marché. For photographing and antiquing enthusiasts like me, the Marché was my own Eden. Each stall had a unique personality, from the charming to the curious. Some were Victorian Versaillaise, others Thomas Edison Steampunk. One stall looked like a toy maker's workshop from an old Christmas storybook, another looked like a mad scientist's laboratory. Exploring the Marché was one of my most memorable experiences in Paris.

This is a photo of Betty and I at the "Toy Maker's Workshop," as I call it.

Check out these reviews from The New York Times and Frommer's to learn more about the Marché aux Puces!

The Pope's Party at Notre Dame

Life is teasing, frustrating, breathtaking, and glorious. But for the most part, life is just full of surprises. That is the beauty of life: as you travel through it, you never know what you will come across, what surprise will be hidden at the next turn of the road.

Last night, I stumbled upon a delightful surprise: a stunning artistic presentation of the Catholic faith in front of Notre Dame.

My friend Betty and I were just returning from a Single's activity, where we'd baked American-style chocolate chip cookies to give away to friends who needed a visit or would simply enjoy the oozing warm cookies. So after the baking activity, instead of going straight to the metro station, we took a detour to deliver our freshly baked goodies to Betty's friend. On our way back from her friend's apartment we happened to pass by Notre Dame. It was nearly ten o'clock already, but a large crowd was gathered in front of the cathedral and the main square was roped off.  A dulcet yet compelling woman's voice echoed in the warm late-March evening in enunciated French. We reached the rope, and a young man in a white T-shirt greeted us, asking if we would care for a bottled water. Thinking that he was just another teenager slinking around Paris, hoping to make easy money off of foreign tourists, Betty quickly declined.

"Sorry, I don't have anything on me," Betty apologized.

"No problem," the young man said with a smile, "It is a gift from the Pope."

Curious and pleasantly surprised, we accepted the water bottles, thanked him, and began looking for the entrance to the square. While we meandered through the crowds, I listened as the voice spoke of Adam and Eve, the Garden of Eden, and the Fall of Man. When we found the entrance to the temporary barrier, we stepped through and caught our first glimpse of Notre Dame. She was breathtaking. Spectacular. Glorious. A projection decorated the cathedral in moving digital art that complimented and revered the ancient French Gothic architecture of the church.

We pressed on till we found a small gap in the gathering.

I watched as a tree grew on the cathedral walls, glistening pearl white against a navy blue background. Branches curled elegantly, intricately weaving across the facade. Then scarlet apples blossomed on the ends: the Tree of Life.

We stared, completely enraptured, as the Tree of Life faded and the door to Hell was carved out of the cathedral's great wooden doors. A burning red outlined slowly bled its way around the framework, then the door opened and flames poured onto Notre Dame, until the church was completely engulfed in flames. Then the embers calmed, a peaceful blue returned to the cathedral walls, and light spilled from the doors. The door to Paradise opened, and misty angels floated in graceful circles. The voice spoke of judgement, of the choices we make in this life, and how our actions will be weighed and judged. An old-fashioned balance scale glowed on the cathedral wall. But, the voice added, if we accept Christ in our hearts and make correct choices, we need not worry about the after-life. Notre Dame instantly burst into colors, the columns turned mustard yellow and ruby red banners waved triumphantly. The colorful projections brought to life the row of usually somber Saint-statues, garbing them in gay attire and bringing smiles to their faces while they did a little standing jive.

 

When the voice finally faded into soft background music, it took a few moments before the awe-struck crowd could break away from its trance. Men and woman continued to snap photos with their iPhones. Huddled groups animatedly chattered. Finally blinking away our astonishment, Betty and I made our way to the exit, where another young man in a white T-shirt passed out plastic packets of treats. We split the last packet together, enjoying the baguette bread, French cheese, and chocolates on the metro commute home. We couldn't stop talking about our discovery.

Undeniably, the Pope knows how to organize an incredible, unforgettable evening.

Montpellier-le-Vieux

Situated on top of the Causse Noir plateau, just a half an hour North East of Millau, is Mother Nature's majestic creation: Montpellier-le-Vieux. During the warm summer season, both locals and tourists come to admire Montpellier-le-Vieux's grand landscape. Strange rocks burst from the earth: archways and columns topped with bulbous heads that seem to smile down in caricature humor. There are several color coded trailways, with paths for both novice and seasoned hikers.  Most of the trails are paved, making Montpellier-le-Vieux a perfect outing for families of all ages. However, for the more adventurous hiker, there are several smaller and more savage trails breaking off from the main paths. There is also a quaint little train that runs through the mountains offering tours for a small fee.

Montpellier-le-Vieux is always open for visitors. However, the small train, the restrooms, and the tourism office are only open from March 26th to November 6th. For ticket prices during the tourist season, visit this site. However, I visited the area at the beginning of March. With the ticket booth closed, we were able to enjoy nature's wonder for free! The early March visit was wonderful; the weather was beautiful and we missed the large tourist crowds.

Montpellier-le-Vieux is an incredible place to pass a few hours or an entire day exploring and picnicking. Whether you are passing through the area or staying a few days, try to stop by this impressive landmark.

Hang-Gliding in Millau

My grandmother and the Toulouse clan drove up today. They arrived in time for a large family lunch, finished Southern-French-style with strong Roquefort cheese on baguette bread and pistachio flavored pot de crème for dessert. Afterward everyone gathered in the living room for a few rounds of karaoke on the wii. There was enough ABBA, Queen, and Highschool Musical to keep everyone singing for hours, but the blue skies and French canyons were beckoning to us, and even Freddie Mercury couldn't keep us inside during such beautiful weather.

Today we planned to visit Montpellier-le-vieux, a mini Arches National Park tucked away in Aveyron, with impressive rock structures clustered in ruinesque groupings. However, when we saw the colorful crescents dotting the sky, we had to make one quick visit to the parapenting take off point on the plateaus overlooking Millau.

As we zig-zagged through the dark evergreen forests that blanketed the plateau, dozens of brightly colored paragliders peeked in and out behind the trees. The fleeting preview heightened everyone's  excitement and anticipation, until finally we reached the take off point! A large crowd was already gathered in the clearing, watching the paragliders lazily circling overhead and hoping to witness a take-off or two. Several paragliders and a lone hangglider waited near the cliff edge, listening in their radio instruments for a signal that the winds were favorable for take-off.

The view from the top of the plateau was breathtaking. Distant plateaus framed the horizon, with Millau nestled picturesquely at the bottom of the french canyons. The river Trone meandered through the town, down the green forge and disappearing behind the farmed valleys.

Because of Millau's stunning scenery and favorable wind-currents, it has gained international recognition as an ideal destination for all aviation sport lovers. In fact, some even refer to it as the paragliding capitol of Europe. With its plunging cliffs, pine covered plateaus, and clear azure skies, Aveyron's landscape is the perfect backdrop for an incredible flying experience. Regular fliers return each summer to relive the Aveyron adventure, the rush of the skies and the thrill of flying alongside vultures. Millau also provides professional assistance for beginning fliers, like tandem flights or short courses. For all aviation enthusiasts, this is an experience not to be missed.

Here is a short video featuring a hang-glider taking off from the cliffs overlooking Millau. I apologize in advance for the shaking; film-making is obviously not my forte!

Balade en Aveyron

 

Brantôme

Shakespeare & Co.

 
On the corner of Rue Bucherie, right across the street from Notre Dame, lies a small, modest bookshop called Shakespeare and Company. A faded yellow sign bears the shop's name and a black and white sketch of the bookshop's namesake.

Though the facade may appear simple and unassuming, Shakespeare & Co. is well-known throughout the book-loving community. It is the largest English bookshop in Paris. Events are hosted throughout the year, from poetry readings, singing performances, and readings from Pulitzer-prize winning authors. Visit their site to find Shakespeare & Co.'s current and future planned events.

As I stepped through the door, I felt like Belle when the Beast removed his paws and she first glimpsed his vast and magnificent library. Though Shakespeare & Co. is far less grand than the Beast's castle library, I was no less enchanted with its antiquity charm. Books lay in uneven stacks near the corners, piled on tables  in the middle of the floor, and spilling out of shelves that lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Quaint wooden ladders leaned against the bookshelves. Painted wooden signs marked different sections of the book shop: one for History, another for Fiction, another for Shakespeare himself, et cetera. Narrow, book-cluttered stairs lead to the Children's section of the bookshop, where books could be read on burgundy velvet cushions and plush couches, but could not be removed from the shop. Around the corner from the draped, cushioned reading corner is a small music room with a piano and sheet music. Tourist plunked away at the keys, trying to recreate a tune from memory. I soon recognized the garbled tune as Fur Elise, and eagerly asked if I could play it for them. They were delighted, and I enjoyed sharing my talents with the small audience in the bookshop.

Whether you come to browse the books, purchase a long-desired classic, listen to music, or escape for an afternoon in a childhood favorite, Shakespeare & Co. has something to offer everyone. It is a beautiful, charming little shop, and a must-see for every bookworm traveling through Paris.

Roquefort

Humid summer air

With a hay bale aftertaste

Gulp! And it is gone.

A New Year's Eve Party in Paris

JA: Jeunes Adultes, aka Young Adults (or Single Adults, as we are called in the US). In France, since there are so few young members of the Church, they throw quite a few parties, and the New Year's Eve party is one of the largest. Believe me, I was thrilled! (Utah is known for many great things, but fabulous parties is not one of them.)

"Party," however, is probably not the best word for it. It seemed to float somewhere between a party and a conference. Too long and too spiritual to truly be a party, but way too much fun to be a conference! I missed the first day of the conference because 1) my plane was late and 2) I was vegetized from jet lag. But I made up for it on Friday. The morning of the conference/party began with a light breakfast and spiritual talks. Then there was a break for lunch (sandwiches, fruit, yogurt drinks, and chocolate bars) and then games filled up most of the afternoon.

 

My favorite was the treasure hunt around Nogent (a suburb of Paris, where the conference was held). Walking through the streets of Nogent was like stepping into a fairytale postcard. Each house had its own individual character and personality, each as unique and cherished as a childhood friend. Some carried a Swiss flair, others spoke of German ancestry. Some had ivy caressing the stones, others were clean with red and white patterned brick.

Nogent, 12/31/10

After the afternoon's activities we had a break to get ready for the conference's highlight: the Dance! The theme was "Hollywood," so everyone was invited to dress as their favorite celebrity. Even though she's not a movie star, I chose Katy Perry. I attempted to mimic her costume from the music video "Waking Up in Vegas." My new friend, a student from Arizona spending the year being an Aupair in Paris, was Audrey Hepburn.

Some went in costume, others just wore party gowns -- or suits. Some even sewed their own dresses, because modest gowns are hard to come by in France. There was a legit Princess Leia, some suave Men in Black, and my favorites: Les Dupondt.

Seafood spread, pasta, deviled eggs, and salmon and cheap caviar on toast made up the dinner, along with the largest round of Brie cheese imaginable and slices of baguette bread. Of course, I had to try the caviar! It was slightly bitter (or perhaps just bland... most of the seafood had a bitter aftertaste, and I couldn't quite get rid of the flavor). It was also simultaneously crunch and slimy: a very strange combination to chew through. The salmon on toast was by far my favorite. I had one piece of a flan tart before Sylvain stopped me, claiming that all the seemingly delicious pastries were made from a box, and therefore had no right wandering through my digestive tract. I quickly finished off my flan when he wasn't looking and returned to the dance floor. Box or no box, it didn't taste anything like Betty's Brownie mix.

Me and Teina, the captain of our team, "Les Samouraï"

And then, before I knew it, we were counting down to midnight! The crowd was thick with excitment.

Cinq!

Quartre!

Trois!

Deux!

Un!

BONNE ANNEE!!!

 

Sparklers flew everywhere, sparkling cider bottles popped and fizzed, everyone screamed, and then the entire gym resembled an ant hill for the next five minutes as bodies squeezed and parted and pushed, while everyone gave each other congratulatory "bises," aka kisses. Aka, a very memorable night.

PS, the party went on till six or seven in the morning, but I gave up at three. I'm obviously going to have to work my way up to full French partying potential.