"Spring" "Break"
Abroad in Nantes/Paris/Scotland, Days 46 to 59
It’s been two weeks! It was my program’s end of February/“Spring” break, and then I got the gnarliest sinus infection of my life. OOPS!
February 21: Packed for a trip to Paris with a couple other students in the program. Sat at a cafe located near the Jardin des Plantes with Tristan while I waited for my travel buddies to get to the station. Ran into even more program students who were on their way to Nantes’s version of the Mall of America. And then a bird shit on my bag. I chose to interpret it as a token of good luck.
Got on the train and arrived in Paris after a couple hours. Figured out how to get to our hostel, which was… fine. No bed bugs, but I should have brought shower shoes. Got an extremely overpriced dinner nearby and the waiter was incredibly stereotypically Parisian, to the point that he made one of my travel companions so embarrassed about asking if the lunch menu was still on that she teared up.
February 22: Woke up before everyone else and got a cappuccino at a cafe in the neighborhood. Two older Vietnamese men were running the bar, and when I said I was staying in Nantes the younger one scoffed. “In Paris, you can have as many jobs as you want. In Nantes, you can only have one, maybe two.” I could not decide if I agreed with him or not, and if being unable to have unlimited jobs is a bad thing.
Went to the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur in Montmartre. We got there early enough in the day that there was only a ton of tourists, rather than the usual torrent. The church was gorgeous, but it definitely amused me to see a gift shop next to the confession booth.
Visited the Musée de Montmartre (really just the garden) and had the worst slice of lemon poppyseed loaf I’ve ever eaten in my entire life. Then we waited in line for a half an hour at Relais de l’Entrecôte before eating the best steak frites I’ve ever had in my entire life. Worth the wait!
Had some much-needed Alone Time wherein I walked around and called all of my speed-dial contacts. Struck gold with my dad, and I half-scolded, half-thanked him for passing down some of his introverted genes. And for raising me in a family that values alone time all the time, even during travel.
Then I went to see No Other Choice by Park Chan-wook at Le Luxor. Had a glass of wine beforehand and tried to not feel like an insufferable microinfluencer while journaling. I wish I could exist in third spaces from behind a mirror.
Ended the day with a plate of fries and a HUGE bottle of Coca-Cola with two travel mates. Saw a huge bag of discarded baguettes on the street. I would’ve considered taking one if there wasn’t also a plate of shit smeared on top.
February 23: Got up early-ish and had another cappuccino and some toast with jam for breakfast. Then I went with my friend Hudson, who chose to wear the brightest, thinnest pair of white pants I’ve ever seen in my life, to Notre Dame. It was as beautiful as I figured it would be. I especially enjoyed how every fifteen-to-twenty minutes there was a recording of a woman saying: “SHH! SILENCE, PLEASE.” But nobody seemed to listen. I even caught a glimpse of one man eating a sandwich. I’m not very religious, but JESUS CHRIST!
Sat and prayed in the central alcove for a bit. Again, I’m still figuring out my relationship to religion, but it felt good to sit in a silent place meant for sitting and silence.
Then we got Japanese curry for lunch with another classmate and her parents who had just flown in from New Jersey. Then another coffee and some people watching — there was an older man at a table next to us using some of the tiniest watercolors I’ve ever seen. And then Le Louvre!
I remembered the first time I visited the Louvre, when I was eleven or twelve and with my family, and how disappointed we all were by how small the Mona Lisa really is, and how awesome yet unappreciated we thought the painting facing her, The Wedding at Cana by Paolo Veronese, was. So I chose to go to another wing this time, where I got to see the portrait of Anne of Cleves by Hans Holbein the Younger. We also bounced around the sculpture courtyard and Napoleon’s apartment.
Had a very strong Sex on the Beach cocktail (I know) with my travel mates and tipsily bought bags of loose leaf tea for Jocelyne and Tristan, before remembering I didn’t know if either of them had apparatuses to brew loose leaf tea. Called my dad and had a cathartic cry while watching grown men play soccer in the dark.
February 24: Made it back to Nantes in one piece and was greeted by some unseasonably warm and sunny weather. Tristan met me at the station and we took the ferry to Trentemoult after dropping off my bags. Sat next to the swollen Loire and had a coffee before walking to La Maison Radieuse, an apartment building that was designed to be a self-contained community (there’s still a school on its top level, but nobody gets milk delivered to their doors anymore). Now it just reminds me of Riverside Plaza in Minneapolis — both constructions look like 3D Mondrian paintings that have been set out in the sun for a little too long.
Ended the day by getting drinks with some of Tristan’s classmates. I wish I could explain to them how much faster and funnier I am in my native tongue. But I can make French people laugh when I’m given at least two minutes of their time, but sometimes that’s still not enough. I just have to keep practicing!
February 25: Lounged around the morning before grabbing gifts for my trip to Scotland. Soaked up the sun by the Erdre with Tristan and a couple other friends and then headed back home for Manon’s birthday! It was me, Jocelyne and Roger, Manon and Charles (and a sleepy Maxence), and Manon’s nieces. I felt old trying to find topics of conversation with the two youngest, but by the end of the night they were asking me what “caca” is in English (poop, of course), so I think I Am Still Cool.
It felt really nice to be at a Family Event. I am eternally grateful for my French adoptive family, and whatever role I fit into with them, I am glad to have it.
February 26: Flew to Scotland! But first a layover at London Stansted Airport, which I think might be the worst airport I’ve ever been to, and I’ve been to Amsterdam Schiphol and Chicago O’Hare. I am so used to having to speak French to every stranger I encounter that I had to make a notable mental shift back to English, which felt surreal.
It was still unseasonably warm so I was in a tank top to balance out my flannel-lined jeans. I don’t think anyone there had ever seen a woman with tattoos before, especially not my chest tattoos. Sometimes I forget I have them, but definitely not in that moment. A little boy hid from me behind his mom in the women’s restroom, which did NOT feel good! The only place to rest was the upper level of the Wetherspoons, where I had some chicken nuggets with a BBQ sauce that behaved more like a paste and a teensy, tiny beer.
Then I got on my second flight and landed in EDINBURGH!!! My friend Ronan picked me up and I had completely forgotten that the Brits drive on the wrong side of the road, so I was a bit nauseous the whole ride. But we arrived to his flat in one piece, which is at the base of the castle. He told me him and his flatmates have a joke that you know the neighborhood’s about to get gentrified when a castle moves in next door. I laughed maybe a bit too hard at that.
Got Korean food for dinner and then a beer at a dive bar in the posh part of town. A man outside told us over a cigarette that there used to be a Jewish burial ground in the basement, and there’s still a skull downstairs that brings horrible luck to anyone who touches it. I asked him what kind of horrible luck — health, relationships, work, social status — but he couldn’t give an answer. I wasn’t going to risk it anyway.
February 27: Went to a coffee shop with Ronan and some of his flatmates that had the definition for “funky” plastered on its window. There was no counterspace separating the barista from the customers, creating an uncomfortably intimate environment. As we were walking over, some of the flatmates told me a story of seeing one of the baristas show a trainee the proper posture for tamping espresso. While we were at the shop, the barista working (unsure if it was the barista from the story or the trainee — doesn’t really matter) performed the exact pose the flatmates had recreated for me. I almost had to excuse myself from the shop. The coffee was really good, unfortunately.
Then I went to the National Museum of Scotland and saw Dolly! And cool clothes and ancient chess pieces and a signed copy of the Trainspotting script.
Then I went to the National Galleries of Scotland to see The Reverend Robert Walker Skating on Duddingston Loch by Henry Raeburn, a piece of Cultural Homework assigned to me by my father. Even more whimsical in person. The galleries also had an astonishing collection of masterful medieval works and wonderfully colorful modernist pieces. And then I called my mom, which is always the highlight of my day.
Lunch was a sausage roll and a flat white from Gregg’s, a meal so greasy it hurt the back of my throat. Ronan and I played with the synthesizers in his apartment before my friend Ali from high school came over!!!
Ronan made us spaghetti bolognese and boiled potatoes (underdone…) for dinner before we all went to a fish-themed party. I cheekily dressed as the drummer from the band Phish, Jon Fishman, as in I wore a fedora I found in the flat and carried around drumsticks the entire night. When we arrived, however, I was mortified to see that the supposed fish theme had been LARGELY IGNORED by my fellow attendees. And nobody would hold my fedora or my drumsticks for me, so I felt rather foolish. And it started spitting rain and we went home.
Ronan cheffed it up again with some eggs on toast and we watched the deleted 9/11 episode of Airline, a British reality TV show from the early 2000s about employees at Luton Airport, before I fell asleep on the couch.
February 28: At this point the slightly sore throat I’ve been ignoring has grown much more painful and my nose will not stop leaking opaque snot. Nevertheless, I Persist, and we go to Glasgow. Me, Ronan, and Ronan’s friend who strongly looks like he could be a cousin of mine. First stop was an independent book arts press where we managed to make their card-reader system absolutely lose its shit, making us fifteen minutes late to our next stop, the Glasgow Library of Synthesized Sound (GLOSS). I don’t know the first thing about synthesizers or electronic music, but that place was fucking AWESOME. It was us, a couple pairs of middle-aged nerdy men, and the coolest lesbians I’ve ever seen supervising the space. I played around with a couple machines until I got bored/intimidated/frustrated and instead read some of the literature they had lying around. And then an Indian for dinner (butter chicken)!
Ronan and his flatmates hosted a ping pong tournament/party that night, complete with a DJ booth in one corner and projections of professional matches on YouTube in another. I had a lot of fun getting my ass whooped by a guy who brought his own paddle. I told myself the situation was way more embarrassing for him either way.
Eventually I was so tired that I excused myself to change into my pajamas, revisited the party to say my goodbyes, and fell asleep in Ronan’s bed. Ronan, if you’re reading this: it was fucking freezing in there. He graciously slept on the couch.
March 1: Woke up to some thick, thick mucus lodged in my nostrils, so I went to Boots to buy a spray decongestant and christened the bottle in front of the Edinburgh Castle. Walked around for a bit, popped my head into the Writers’ Museum, and bought some whiskies for Roger.
Went back to the flat to drop off The Goods and then went with flatmate Jacob to the Museum of Childhood. First floor seemed legitimate, all about the history of childhood and what was expected of children in Scotland through the centuries, but the next couple of floors were just some guy’s extensive doll collection. I loved it.
Ate in the basement of an African deli for lunch and FaceTimed my mom on the walk home. Played some ping pong and Generally Chilled at the flat before getting pizza for dinner with Ali! And then gelato for dessert and a brisk walk through the Meadows to see her student apartment. A lot of doors in there? Like, a lot of doors. Too many doors for the size of the place. I digress.
Returned to the flat to find Jacob and other flatmate Tom taking turns performing crooning karaoke (Sinatra and Armstrong impressions, unplugged mic, Spotify lyrics on a laptop). I took a crack at it with “That’s Life” and “Teenage Dirtbag” and accepted that I do not have the stage presence of a jazz club singer.
Noticed my right eye had started to hurt a bit but still went to get a Guinness with my face printed on it at a pub nearby with Ronan and Jacob. By the time we left my eye was getting pretty gunky, so I FaceTimed my dad who diagnosed me with pinkeye. GROSS!
Fell asleep on the couch after watching the “Paedogeddon” episode of Brass Eye with all the flatmates. True nostalgia.
March 2: Woke up with gunk-crusted eyes and sinuses so clogged I felt deaf in one ear. Looked up “flying with a sinus infection” and was horrified to see that most if not all results detailed “the worst pain of my life,” “I burst both my eardrums,” “I’ll never be the same person I was before.” Sprinted to Boots to buy eyedrops and a sinus rinse bottle and ibuprofen and Sudafed (which, it turns out, is a TOTAL HOAX!). Rinsed out my sinuses like a madwoman until my hearing returned and kept chewing on gum like a cow chews cud. I debated skipping my flights back to Nantes altogether and taking trains, but the best scenario I could find would’ve taken an almost twenty hour-long journey and be more expensive than my already non-refundable Ryanair tickets. So I sucked it up and Ronan drove me back to the Edinburgh Airport.
At the terminal I anxiously snacked on some chicken fingers and a passion fruit lemonade, neither of which I could taste, until I realized my flight was already boarding and I should book it to the gate, which I did. The real discomfort started on the descent into London Stansted, and by the time we landed I couldn’t hear out of both ears again, like both canals were stuffed to the brim with cotton balls.
Tried to speedrun my way through security so I could flush out my sinuses and try to pop my ears back into place, but my bag got flagged and the agent checking my things tried to play hero cop for a coworker of his who was getting berated by a man who wanted to keep his water bottles to break fast for Ramadan. I couldn’t decide who to be more frustrated with, so I kept my mouth shut and chose to death stare at everyone in sight, indiscriminately.
Bought a bottle of water for the rinse and cut the extremely long line for the women’s toilets, since you needed a key for the handicapped bathrooms and there was an inebriated Eastern European man getting interrogated by airport police in front of the family-serving single stalls. Stood at the sink the furthest away from everyone — or the furthest I could try to get — and allowed myself to become an animal. The chunks that flew out of my nostrils… I involuntarily moaned multiple times once my ears popped. Then I had to book it again to my gate, since my smart ass thought an hour-long layover would be plenty of time when booking.
Second flight was definitely more uncomfortable, but thank god Europe is the size of my thigh so the trip only took an hour, max. Landed in Nantes with muffled ears and jaw pain but relieved to be back in familiar territory. Took the shuttle to the city center, where Tristan was waiting for me with an orange juice and a chocolate bar. I felt disheveled, like a tiny mutt finally taken off the street and given to a family who will name me Bella.
A long, hot shower was warranted.
March 3: Woke up feeling a little better! As in my eye gunk had mostly gone away and I felt not nearly as sore everywhere in my face. Sat outside in the sun for a bit, on another unseasonably warm day. Tried to buy real Sudafed from a pharmacy but was told I needed a prescription, and to buy some essential oil pills instead, which I did. I was desperate to feel better as soon as possible. Skipped my only class of the day and scrolled on my phone because this is how I choose to spend the one life I get to live.
March 4: Felt well enough to go to class and experienced only a few coughing fits! Remedied with water and ibuprofen and more water. Got fined $70 by the tram police for having an expired travel card, even after I tried to play my dumb American girl card. THOSE BASTARDS!!!
Went over to Tristan’s in the evening to watch Chris Fleming’s HBO special, but ended up being completely unable to breathe out of my nose (even after rinsing) and completely unable to stop coughing. I had forgotten how it felt to be taken care of by someone other than myself, my mom, and my dad, and felt embarrassed by how embarrassed I felt.
March 5: Had a telehealth appointment with a French physician in the morning and was prescribed some antibiotics for my infection, plus some more for my conjunctivitis. The appointment, plus all my meds, cost me less than $50. I could have cried at the pharmacy for nearly every reason.
I knew it was the last day for a while where the sun would be out, so I sat by the river and ate a plain croissant and a pain au chocolat, neither of which I could taste. Washed them down with water and orange juice. Went home and crawled into bed and stayed there almost the entire day, besides shuffling downstairs for a dinner of pasta with butter I could not taste and pasta with red sauce I could not taste. I did have a nice conversation with Roger, though, which helped!
Watched Chris Fleming’s special on my own during a coughing fit in the night, hoping that laughter really is the best medicine.
March 6: Woke up feeling much, much better compared to the days prior. Only scary bit was a bunch of bloody snot clots that kept dislodging from deep inside my nose, but they went away after a while. Knock on wood that the meds and time and rest are all working together nicely. Lounged in bed and then Tristan came over for a visit. Willed myself into the real world for a coffee and a cookie that was delightfully thick and slightly underbaked — theoretically yummy, as I could now taste every other bite instead of none at all. Ate some snacks for dinner with Jocelyne and Roger while watching the Paralympics opening ceremony.
And that’s it!
I’ve never been more entertained reading about a sinus infection 😂 your way with words is magical my dear