Giverny: Restoring the Passion
My feelings are terribly hurt. I began this post over an hour ago and my web browser randomly decided return the previous page that I was visiting and it completely deleted the very spirited introduction to this entry. It took me some time to decide to return to the task and complete it because I had lost my motivation; but remembering the “awesomeness” of the events that I must share with you, my faithful audience, I have lifted myself from the funeral pyre of my lost document to relate the greatness of my most recent French adventure. Thus, I present the first installment of “Giverny: Restoring the Passion.”
Thursday Morning
The Melancholy.
6h is not a great time of morning in any country and frankly, neither is 7h but for our first excursion, we were instructed to be in the lobby of MPF by 7h sharp so that we could depart for the train station. There was particular urgency behind this summons as the train that we were to ride was the only train running that could get us to our destination on time. Of course, as good little U of C students, all of us were sitting in the lobby at the untainted hour of 7h, awaiting our designated chaperone selected from the Paris Center personnel. We were already annoyed that we had to leave for the station an entire hour and fourteen minutes before the departure time even though we knew it would not take half as long to get to the station but we became even more annoyed that our chaperone was 30 minutes late. In addition to this particularly disheartening start to our trip, we knew very little about what was to become of us in Giverny. Our instructors directed us to bring overcoats as the temperatures in Giverny are generally considerably lower than in Paris, which is quite warm for this time of year. We were told that all of our accommodations were covered but what were our accommodations? Where would we sleep? What does “dinner at the house” mean on our itinerary? These queries mixed with the morning’s events created a cesspool of melancholy and annoying uncertainty into which, I believe, we all drowsily dived headlong during the train ride.
…And the spell is broken!
After arriving at our destination, we met our art history instructor and loaded into two vehicles for a short ride to the museum at Giverny, where we would be staying. Giverny is a small village northwest of Paris that formerly contained a small artist community. The former location of the
artist community has been turned into a rather untraditional art history museum that highlights French as well as American artists. Our purpose was to learn about the history of the area, especially as it relates to French impressionist painter, Claude Monet.
Upon our arrival to Giverny, everything changed. Our first mission was to absorb as much caffeine as humanly possible to supplement the lack of sleep and prepare us for a two hour art history lecture. One of the caretakers of the museum led us to the ambiguous “accommodations” for Thursday night. We walked through a maze of bushes and trees down a small gravel path until we reached a beautiful area of land and the caretaker said, “This is your garden…” Whatever she said after that was lost in the whir of thoughts that rushed through my head. This was our what? We had a garden and an amazing one at that! It was huge and absolutely beautiful. The spell of melancholy was instantly broken; neglected digital cameras emerged from amongst the pouches of book bags and the beginning of feverish attempts to document the indescribable beauty of Giverny began…
Thursday Morning
The Melancholy.
6h is not a great time of morning in any country and frankly, neither is 7h but for our first excursion, we were instructed to be in the lobby of MPF by 7h sharp so that we could depart for the train station. There was particular urgency behind this summons as the train that we were to ride was the only train running that could get us to our destination on time. Of course, as good little U of C students, all of us were sitting in the lobby at the untainted hour of 7h, awaiting our designated chaperone selected from the Paris Center personnel. We were already annoyed that we had to leave for the station an entire hour and fourteen minutes before the departure time even though we knew it would not take half as long to get to the station but we became even more annoyed that our chaperone was 30 minutes late. In addition to this particularly disheartening start to our trip, we knew very little about what was to become of us in Giverny. Our instructors directed us to bring overcoats as the temperatures in Giverny are generally considerably lower than in Paris, which is quite warm for this time of year. We were told that all of our accommodations were covered but what were our accommodations? Where would we sleep? What does “dinner at the house” mean on our itinerary? These queries mixed with the morning’s events created a cesspool of melancholy and annoying uncertainty into which, I believe, we all drowsily dived headlong during the train ride.
…And the spell is broken!
After arriving at our destination, we met our art history instructor and loaded into two vehicles for a short ride to the museum at Giverny, where we would be staying. Giverny is a small village northwest of Paris that formerly contained a small artist community. The former location of the
artist community has been turned into a rather untraditional art history museum that highlights French as well as American artists. Our purpose was to learn about the history of the area, especially as it relates to French impressionist painter, Claude Monet. Upon our arrival to Giverny, everything changed. Our first mission was to absorb as much caffeine as humanly possible to supplement the lack of sleep and prepare us for a two hour art history lecture. One of the caretakers of the museum led us to the ambiguous “accommodations” for Thursday night. We walked through a maze of bushes and trees down a small gravel path until we reached a beautiful area of land and the caretaker said, “This is your garden…” Whatever she said after that was lost in the whir of thoughts that rushed through my head. This was our what? We had a garden and an amazing one at that! It was huge and absolutely beautiful. The spell of melancholy was instantly broken; neglected digital cameras emerged from amongst the pouches of book bags and the beginning of feverish attempts to document the indescribable beauty of Giverny began…
Our garden
posted by Stacy @ 01:27
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