I can’t believe I’m only going to be living here for another week! Looking back, I got used to the nuances of living in Lacoste pretty quickly. The bell tower that chimes once on the hour and once five minutes past, the never-ending hill-and-stairs-climbing, the finicky water temperature in our shower, long, leisurely meals at regular hours (8, 12, and 7). I got used to passing sign after sign I could not comprehend and strangers carrying on conversations I could not hope to overhear. It will be strange to return to the U.S. and be able to understand everything spoken to me and to recognize most words and symbols I encounter. From our explorations I have gathered what certain words mean - sortie (exit), lavage (wash), piscine (pool). Yet I have hardly made a dent. Now I find myself wishing I had taken Spanish or French in high school. Latin is so… irrelevant. Only because not being able to speak it while learning it prevented any deep rooting of the language in my brain. Translating is not the same as holding a conversation. That is what I long to do the most: to have a conversation - to express myself in another language. That is the ultimate “other side” of this language struggle.

This week I have been absorbed in the finer details of my brother’s stay in Thailand and my stay in Lacoste: a massive Excel spreadsheet of data points, a file of pictures that signify identity, home, and place, and a Word document of stories. All for comparing our parallel and simultaneous international experiences (on opposite sides of the world). For my final book project in Book Arts. Fascinating. Soon I will be looking up at that familiar RDU airport ceiling, racing toward the exit (well, maybe not racing with all the baggage!) to find Mason, Mom, and Dad. I can’t even imagine. I can’t wait.

I wonder how things will be different. There is a faulty thought floating around in my brain: that when I return to the U.S., there will be nothing unexpected to experience. France is bursting at the seams with newness - when we drove to St. Saturnin, I stuck my head out the window, taking in the scent of freshly-cut grass, watching the afternoon sunlight on the gently waving fields of the richest green color. I am told it is wheat. It looks like water when the wind moves through it. I stuck my hand out the window and let the tall weeds give my fingers a momentary sting as we drove by. We passed big French houses tucked far away from the road at the intersections of fields, hidden behind walls of trimmed hedge. I saw a modest house with a front yard perfect for summertime fireflies and quiet afternoons spent on a quilt with a book. White laundry on the line.

Every time we go driving, the scenes that pass outside my window are discoveries. Stories spin in my head. Odd memories surface. When I saw the tall wheat blowing, I remembered one of the last adventures Mason and I had this summer, trekking through neighborhood yards (through the tall grass) - going nowhere in particular. So late in the day.

It is wrong for me to think there are no adventures left for me in the States. Everything in France is an adventure! But that doesn’t make everything back home mundane. Far from it. I’ll just have a new set of eyes I’ll be looking through. International-style.

I can’t wait to see how my time here affects the different facets of my life. My daily routines, my dreams for the future, little details like the narrow water glasses we use in the café and the lace that gracefully adds privacy to windows, my diet (the amount of fruit I’ve been eating!), and the way I interact with foreigners in my own country. My time living and studying in France, in a way, has carved this space for new adventures back home. Because nothing will ever be the same. Not since I’ve experienced life in another country so much different than my own.

Both images taken in St. Saturnin.

It’s another rainy day in Lacoste, and that means work time. Fortunately, blogging is a part of my work. So I get to share with you!

This week I found myself falling in love with what I photograph (and falling in love with photographing) once again. It’s been a while since I’ve felt its gentle pull. As always, I find myself down in the dirt.

The image above has some interesting stories attached to it - but you have no idea. This little metallic berry was on the moss of a wall enclosing an ancient gravesite in the middle of the forest at Oppéde Le Vieux. That’s not why I made the image, but I thought I’d share.

Our visit to Oppéde Le Vieux was surprisingly refreshing. The mountain air was thick and earthy in my lungs as we climbed up to the village. Unlike all the other villages-on-hills we’ve visited, Oppéde Le Vieux was abandoned around the turn of the 20th century up until the 90’s, when people started living there again. (So saith Professor McMullin.) So there is this shift up the mountain from inhabited to uninhabited. Or… so I’m told. I didn’t make it all the way up! My Rachel pace kept me wandering around the town at the base, where people still live.

It was a charming town. The hugest climbing roses I’ve ever seen growing over doorways and windows, little potted plants everywhere, garden gates open for a person like me to peek in. The best part about this town was the presence of the people - everywhere! It was the perfect town for me to do a huge chunk of my shooting for my final photo project. I’m doing a series on the little details I’ve been finding everywhere - but specifically, ones that have a strong narrative feeling to them. I have to be drawn to the detail because it evokes a human presence in it - whether a shoestring tying a vine to a climbing frame or a bowl and spoon left in a garden.

What excited me most about this town was the approachability of the residences. In other towns the touristy areas are more distinctly separated from the areas people live in. I enjoy seeing homes and the details of daily living. Perhaps part of my frustration with not feeling connected to France comes from this fact. Sure, I’ve been living in France. But I am a student. I haven’t gotten a real taste of what it would be like to live in France, to work here, to build my life here. And all that is tied to not being able to fully engage with the culture. I am not French. I do not speak French. The constant smell of lavender and hot kebabs fills my nostrils in the towns we visit; the same postcards and the same lavender sachets clog my vision. Where is the heart of French life? Where do the children go to school? What do the back yards look like? Where do people work? Where do people go on vacation? What do people do on the weekends? The tourist front of France isn’t meant to answer those questions.

My wanderings through Oppéde Le Vieux satisfied some of those questions. I think that was my favorite trip we have taken. Not for the reasons you’d expect - for the monuments, the restaurants, the shopping, the history, the beauty, etc. For me all it took was connecting with the place. My artist self was fully engaged… and not with the same scenes any visitor to Provence is able to see. It felt so good.

Another thing we did this week was watch our first movie - the four of us. Susanna picked it, and it’s possible you know it - a French film called Caché. I’m surprised I do not completely regret watching it - given that if it had been just me, I would have turned it off within the first 30 minutes. Possibly 15. Yeah, parts of the movie really disturbed me (violent stuff). Yeah, it was incredibly slow in unfolding. But it was pretty unique. Not convinced on the cinematography. But I enjoyed hearing the French and seeing their home. It struck me as pretty authentic.

Our trip to Avignon yesterday was the opposite of Oppéde Le Vieux for me. Our morning was spent in the Palais des Papes (the residence of Pope Clement V during the Avignon Papacy) and the Musée du Petit Palais, where we saw floor upon floor of Renaissance paintings. I saw my first Botticelli. I dubbed it my favorite before I realized who painted it.

The rest of the day was largely spent wandering the city. I’m so relieved I wasn’t relying on it for shooting towards my final photo project, because it wouldn’t have been a good fit. Oppéde Le Vieux was truly perfect for that. Avignon was wonderful in other ways. I had some quality time with my girls, and we enjoyed our spontaneous wanderings. Not in the same category as Oppéde Le Vieux - the two aren’t really comparable.

However. If we hadn’t gone to Avignon, I wouldn’t have gotten these images.

This is my friend Susanna. And I would just like to let the world know how beautiful she is. Also, I happened to be be editing these images when half our faculty plus our program director came up the library stairs with two guests on a tour. Not only did they introduce me, but they all wanted to see what I was working on, and I was able to show them these images as well as my best work from Paris. Everyone marveled at how beautiful you are, Susanna. Professor Smith, Mary, and the guests. That is the note I would like to end on for today.

Massive Paris Blog #1: Versailles.

But first I would like to finally introduce you to my friends. (The above picture was taken in Arles.)

This is Carolyn. She is probably one of the most joyful people I have ever met. The first week we were here, I overheard countless people telling her how wonderful they felt talking to her - that she truly listened, that she cared, that she was so positive and encouraging. Carolyn lives in the same room that I do in our Murrier house. She whistles and sings all the time - often with Susanna, who you will meet in a minute. Her tub of Vaseline is always nearby. And she does the most hilarious yoga instructor impersonation when we all stretch together in the evenings.

This is Susanna. This girl has so much beauty and mystery surrounding her. I very much would like to see her paintings, her etchings, and hear her play the violin. (She almost went to Belmont University in Nashville, TN to study music, but changed her mind last minute and came to SCAD for painting!) She was enraptured by the orchestra ensemble we stumbled across randomly in the Metro in Paris. Susanna is out hiking a mountain today. If we don’t know where she is, that’s what we assume she’s doing. I love that she sings in the shower all the time. She has a beautiful voice.

This is Marissa. She has the prettiest blue eyes (here, looking green) and the best sense of humor. All my girls have such great humor - such great laughs. But I think Marissa pulls us all together in our silliness. She is so laid back and approachable. It was quite interesting meeting her the first week - I sat with her randomly on the bus ride to Lacoste and learned that before she came to SCAD she was at a school for missions - now she’s here for photography - just like me. Interesting connection & overlap of interests.

I did not expect to form such close friendships while in Lacoste. I expected to make friends… but not the kind I would want to continue hanging out with in Savannah! And three of them! A whole group, plus or minus a few extras depending on the occasion. But these are my girls. I love them. God brought us together for our time here in France, and I am so excited to see how He is working in each of them as our friendship grows stronger.

So - now that you know my people, I would like to share one big adventure from Paris: Versailles.

The inside of Versailles was gorgeous - but I had seen pictures before, so I had an idea of what to expect. However. No camera could ever capture what it felt like to walk through the Hall of Mirrors mid-afternoon. Golden sun poured in from the windows, golden objects catching the light, shiny decorations, mirrored surfaces, crystal, a light airiness abounding in the hall… yet grounded by walls decorated in the most delicate details. Regal. I could not stay inside myself - I was instantly transported to another time, another way of living - alternate definitions of femininity and honor and value. How strange to think that had this been my palace I would waddle (gracefully, of course) down that hall with all my petticoats, my dresses, my lace.

We were all especially eager to see the gardens. Within minutes our feet weren’t too happy.

I had pistachio ice cream for the first time. See my mustachio? Marissa documented our ice cream eating experiences.

After that we made one of the best decisions of the entire trip - at Susanna’s suggestion, of course. I had my doubts at first. But it was so incredibly worth it: riding bikes around Versailles. We took them out until closing time, and it only cost me £11. So worth it. My feet suffered a good deal from all the walking in Paris - so this afternoon was rather magical. A sudden weightlessness, a glorious afternoon breeze rushing past us, dancing sunlight shining through bright green leaves all around. We rested at the other end of the lake on the grass.

Dipped our toes in.

Marissa got creative with perspective.

So perfect - the light, the family, the buggy. I love how they faced their baby the same way they were sitting. That’s how it should be. There was quite a lot of romance going on around the gardens - many, many couples in the grass on blankets. Some with toddlers. Sweet families. I was extremely surprised to find all the park-like activity going on at Versailles! I mean, it’s a palace! But it felt put to good use as a modern-day place to spend a sunny afternoon - a picnic, a romantic date, playing with your kids, riding bikes, paddling across the lake, hiking through the woods, enjoying an ice cream or snack. There were many runners. All the activity beyond just visiting was a big shock to me - and I was glad to see it. I doubt we would have seen much of the gardens had we not rented the bikes. Best decision ever. So perfect.

After that we were nuts and rounded out the trip with the Eiffel Tower! Mega dose of touristy France for me, but it was worth it. I counted 671 steps down from the second platform - the line was just too slow and we got impatient. Seeing the Eiffel Tower in addition to Versailles in one day made for some super exhaustion.

Although at times the massive hoards of tourists tended to upset me and infringe upon my enjoyment of our visits… there’s no way I could ever regret going. That day - Saturday - in particular. The spontaneity of it all is what got me - what made the day so incredibly joyous. I hadn’t even planned on going to Versailles… earlier that day I didn’t even want to. Susanna and Marissa invited me last minute. I was feeling the pressure to spend some time wandering about - having some Rachel time in Paris, “Lost-walking,” taking photographs. Throughout my stay in Paris, much of how I spent my time was dictated by the required visits I had for each class - and my fear of missing one. Sure, I had free time. I guess I was just wanting to stake my claim on a whole day… decide how to spend it. Well, Versailles was the perfect solution. Sure, I made plans to go. But what happened - the whirlwind wonderfulness, the glory of the afternoon, time spent outdoors in the sunshine, relaxing, breathing, exercising, taking it all in - and not having expected how refreshing it would be! That was all God. I could not have planned something like that for myself. I could not have orchestrated, calculated, or configured such a wonderful afternoon - my internal desires corresponding with the warmth of sun, the beauty of light, the rush of air - being surrounded by adventure and complete peace. All at once.

(We stayed until the last bit of color had faded from the sky.)

Thank you Jesus, for one of the best days of my life.