Final Thoughts, Highlights, and Reflections

They say when you’re trying to learn a new language, the best (and fastest) way to become completely fluent is through immersion. Whether that’s moving to a different country, attending a school taught in another language, or surrounding yourself with native speakers, you need to immerse yourself, leaving your own language behind, to truly learn. I would argue, after this experience, that the same is true for literature. Head to the site where your story takes place, head to your classroom each morning, surround yourself with English majors and an endlessly knowledgeable professor, and leave behind your preconceptions and completely unrelated field of study.

Over the past month, I have been running around London and Paris, doing just that. Immersing myself. Now, as I wait for the flight I am absurdly early for at CDG, I finally have a chance to mentally unpack what this experience has taught me. For starters, I feel like I know London and Paris like the back of my hand. I am now a seasoned metro/underground user (if I do say so myself), and I have learned to embrace the art of the Flaneûr. I’m still not the biggest fan of museums, but my curiosity about each little thing I pass on the street has grown immensely. All it takes is a quick google search when you see an interesting building and all of a sudden you can dive into 200 years of history – amazing!

The Grand Canal of Versailles

If you told me a year ago that I would take a Bookpacking class, I’d tell you you were crazy. This is not to say that I didn’t like the idea of traveling to a new place and getting to enjoy a book through this intense lens, it’s more that I never thought I’d get the opportunity to do something like this. In my major, reading a book academically is a rarity, and during the year, I have to be very selective with the general ed classes I choose to take to allow for some leeway with my difficult course load. Without the Julymester option I probably would have fulfilled this requirement with something far more simple, and what a loss that would have been. Coming into this program, I was incredibly nervous about how I would perform in a class of this nature, and I was equally terrified that I might not make friends or enjoy my time as much as I had hoped. Honestly, I could not have been more wrong. I am leaving this program with a lot more confidence in literature, a deep understanding of A Tale of Two Cities and Les Misérables and the cities where they call home, and friendships that will last a lifetime. I am incredibly lucky to have had the opportunity to do this scary thing and find that it wasn’t so scary after all.

One of my favorite explorations was our trip to the Palace of Versailles, where I got to immerse myself in what it may have been like to be a royal in the 18th century. My friends and I walked the extensive gardens, both in disbelief at the scale of the whole place and excited to see what was around the next bend. We even rented a paddle boat and floated around the Grand Canal of Versailles. This was one of many moments where I found myself doing things I couldn’t have thought to plan in advance. Spontaneity in our free time was something I have thoroughly enjoyed.

Sophia in the Sewer Museum Gift Shop

Another exploration that I (in part) enjoyed was the Museum of the Sewers. I would have stayed down there in the sewer for much longer if it didn’t smell quite so unbearable. It was amazing to see the progression of the sewers over several decades, and imagining Jean Valjean carrying Marius through those gross passages gave me an all-new respect for him and his good deed. Hugo mentions that Valjean could hardly keep his head above the water in the sewers… are you kidding me? I would have passed out by then from the smell alone, let alone carrying someone through such disgusting conditions. Interestingly, though, the sewers museum is right by where the pair emerged (finally) back to fresh air. Oh, the joys of bookpacking! To know that you are standing exactly where Hugo’s filthy characters once were is truly a unique feeling.

Back in London, I enjoyed so many of our explorations. One day in particular stands out, the day when we got to go to Borough Market and visit Tellson’s bank (in its new location). At borough market, I got a chance to get a sense of contemporary culture in London. It was absolutely packed with locals, tourists, extensive food markets, and delicious cuisines. I got a Japanese rice bowl and the tiktok-famous chocolate strawberries, and both of them were so delicious. After that, we walked along the Thames to a couple of other sites, and we ended our exploration at Tellson’s bank, which has moved from its original position (after a quick detour to the countryside,` interestingly enough). It was a perfect day to blend the contemporary London I love so much to the London that Dickens’ characters experienced. 

The past month has been exhausting, enriching, challenging, and full of new experiences and a whole lot of laughter. I am so thankful to have had the opportunity to meet a whole group of new friends and get to explore London and Paris through such a close and unique lens, and I can’t wait to someday return and revisit the memories I’ve made. Thanks so much for following along! Now…onto my 14 hour flight and a brand new semester!

Borough Market Strawberries — yum!

THE BOYS (AND I) ON RUE ST-ANTOINE

When I read Les Misérables earlier this summer, I thoroughly enjoyed each of the characters’ stories and how they all intertwined. I loved Jean Valjean’s fierce dedication to Fantine in taking in her daughter as his own, I loved Marius’ love for Cosette, and I admired Bishop Myriel’s kindness. However, it wasn’t until we began our bookpacking experience that I found my favorite character: Gavroche.

While we were still in London a few weeks ago, we had the privilege of seeing Les Misérables on stage at Sondheim Theatre. Immediately, little Gavroche stole my heart. He was played by a young boy with an incredible voice and a commanding stage presence. Almost everything he said was met with an endearing “aww” or an eruption of laughter from the audience, making him extremely lovable from the get-go in a way that I didn’t pick up on quite as much when I was reading. 

When I got home from the theatre, I was eager to revisit some of Gavroche’s scenes that I initially didn't think much of, and now that we’re in Paris, I get to walk the same paths that his little legs triumphed in Hugo’s ever-famous tale. 

When Hugo introduces Gavroche, he describes him as “a little boy of eleven or twelve who would have quite accurately embodied the description of the archetypal gamin if, with the laughter of his age on his lips, his heart has not been totally bleak and empty.” He goes on, explaining that “his father gave no thought to him and his mother did not love him. He was one of those children, most deserving of all pity, who have both father and mother and who are orphans. This child never felt so happy as on the street. The pavements were less hard to him than his mother’s heart.”

“Liberty Leading the People” at the Louvre

With this striking introduction of little Gavroche’s character, it is natural to wonder where Hugo’s inspiration may have come from in creating him. While it is not confirmed, it is almost impossible to deny that he must have gotten some inspiration from Eugéne Delacroix’s “Liberty Leading the People.” This stunning and powerful depiction of the 1830 July Revolution hangs in the Louvre, a sight that I was lucky enough to see in person last Saturday. It is widely theorized that Gavroche is based on the young boy in the foreground of the painting, and I can say, looking into his eyes in real life solidified that conjecture for me. The little boy wears scruffy clothes and has suggestions of dirt on his face, but his brave wielding of the handguns and his prominence in the painting shows his bravery and commitment to the cause of the people. Much like the Gavroche we come to know and love, he seems to fight with a selfless and generous heart and is far beyond his years.

The Elephant of the Bastille

In Les Misérables, Gavroche does not live with his aforementioned hard-hearted mother, Madame Thénardier. Instead, he often sleeps in the Elephant of the Bastille, an iconic structure placed by Napoleon in the center of the Place de la Bastille. In a particular scene, Gavroche invites two gamins – aged five and seven – to join in his resourceful (but uncomfortable) sleeping arrangements. This was the first point at which I got to walk the paths of little Gavroche around Paris. 

“The two children set off again, in tears. In the meantime clouds had gathered. It began to rain. 

Young Gavroche ran after them and said, ‘What’s the matter with you brats?’ 

‘We’ve nowhere to sleep,’ replied the older one.

‘Is that all? said Gavroche. ‘As if that was a problem! Is that anything to cry about? What ninnies!’

And tempering with his rather facetious superiority by adopting a tone of kindly authority and gentle protectiveness, he said, ‘Come along with me, bratlings!’

‘Yes, monsieur,’ said the older one.

And the two children followed him as they would have followed an archbishop. They had stopped crying. Gavroche led them up Rue St-Antoine in the direction of the Bastille” (Part 4.Book 6.Chapter 2). 

Our study center in Paris is on Rue du Faubourg St-Antoine, which is the Faubourg (suburb) continuation of Rue St-Antoine on the other side of the Place de la Bastille, so I am often in the perfect location to trace Gavroche’s path home with the little gamins. And, lucky for me, it’s rained every day for the past two weeks, so I got to feel a little closer to what those little boys felt in Hugo’s tale. During my lunch break, I decided to revisit the Rue St-Antoine, a place that we explored through the lens of A Tale of Two Cities a few weeks ago. Umbrella in hand, I looked for where Gavroche might have first encountered these two little boys, near Orme-St-Gervais. Typical contemporary Parisian storefronts line the streets. A Monoprix, a boulangerie, a patisserie, and endless townhomes and boutiques replace where the wig-maker’s shop once stood. I continued on my path, making my way to the Rue St-Antoine, then turning right and heading toward Bastille, just as Gavroche did. Just when I thought too much had changed to find any of the places that Hugo mentions along the road, I notice a man, sitting on a step, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette in true Parisian fashion. He sits under an archway, and I am reminded of the young teenage girl that Gavroche and the boys encounter.

“However, continuing up the street, he noticed, blue with cold under an archway, a beggar-girl of about thirteen or fourteen, so scantily clad that her bare knees showed.”

“‘Poor girl!’ said Gavroche. ‘Without even a pair of breeches, here, take this at least.’ And unwinding all that good woll he had round his neck, he threw it under the beggar-girl’s thin, purple shoulders…”

The man sitting on the step was far from a beggar-girl. In fact, he was the antithesis of her in many ways. He was well dressed, clean shaven, appeared comfortable under his umbrella, and seemed to be enjoying a leisurely smoke break outside. Even still, his presence under the archway made me question what it might have been like to be that young girl in far less comfortable conditions. In ill-fitting clothes, she sat there, shivering from cold and aching from hunger. Gavroche was like a savior to her when he offered his only source of warmth to help a stranger, even though he was suffering as well. This detail highlights Gavroche’s generosity and willingness to help those less fortunate than him – after all, he does have a place to sleep at night. 

The July Column

Finally, the boys (and I) continue along Rue St-Antoine, they bargain for a bite to eat at a bakery on the right side of the street, and I sip on my midday coffee. It’s almost as if I can hear their footsteps and little voices within the pitter-patter of the rain. Finally, the July Column is in view, signaling that I am a five minute walk from my classroom. For the boys, a 40 foot tall plaster elephant, which they will soon call home, marks the end of their journey down Rue St-Antoine. 

In this scene, though it is not Gavroche’s most heroic or significant moment in the novel, many of his lovable character traits come to life through his actions. He takes in the young boys with a mentor mentality (and a little bit of sass) and leads them to a place of shelter, and he gives up his own comfort to help a stranger.

Throughout the rest of his short life, Gavroche has several moments that speak to his valiance and selflessness, and even though his elephant-home and the cobblestone streets his little legs used to roam no longer look the same, his story still feels alive where the elephant once stood. By seeing him onstage in London and imagining him in real life as I roam Rue St-Antoine, I connected with this character more than I ever thought I would, and I think he is a great example of finding the joy in a less-than-ideal situation and putting others before himself. We can all be a little more like Gavroche.

Paris: An Anthology of Churches

If there’s one thing that Catholicism is known for, it’s the incredible grandeur and utter beauty of its churches. Why else would millions of travelers visit famous Basilicas and Cathedrals every year, regardless of their own religious tradition? The answer is simple: stained glass and staggering architecture.

I grew up in the Catholic Church, and before USC, my 13-year education was made up entirely of Catholic schooling, so I have been to my fair share of beautiful Catholic churches. A few notable ones include St. Peter’s Basilica and the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City, the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington D.C., several of the Catholic Missions in California, and many smaller local churches with beautiful gothic influence. Even with this background, I have never seen a place with a density of gorgeous churches that could ever compare to Paris. 

Saint Gervais and Saint Protais Church

Thus far, we have had 4 days of exploration in France. We are averaging about 1.5 churches per day, and as a result, my camera roll is growing by hundreds of photos a day. Clearly I, as well as millions of other tourists, cannot get enough of the gorgeous stained-glass storytelling that decorates the walls of every church I pass.

On the first day, we visited a church in the 4th arrondissement called Saint Gervais and Saint Protais Church. (Note: arrondissement is like a district. Paris has 20 of them, and I am *finally* getting the hang of what’s where.) From the outside, this church looked large, but quiet and under-visited. There were hardly any people on the corner where it sat, and it had little-to-no signage that would indicate its significance, so naturally, I assumed it wouldn’t be very cool, because it’s hard to evade the grasp of Paris’ many tourists. As we entered the large red doors, I was blown away, not only by its high ceilings and beautiful stained glass, but the fact that a church this quiet and unassuming could be this beautiful. If anything, it made me anxiously excited to see what was to come in the higher-traffic churches ahead.

A scaffolded Notre Dame

The next day, we visited two absolutely amazing edifices: Notre Dame and Saint-Chapelle. Both sitting in the middle of the Seine, on the Île de la Cité, these churches have been visited by many for how gorgeous they are. Unfortunately, the devastating fire that engulfed Notre Dame’s roof in 2019 is still horribly felt in 2023. Several stories of scaffolding hide the flying buttresses and the spot where the gorgeous spire once stood. We could only take in this architectural masterpiece from afar under the circumstances, but its staggering face still draws dense crowds, happy to take a peek at whatever they can see through the construction. Across the Île stands a tiny chapel, incomparable to the side of Notre Dame, called Saint-Chapelle. I had never heard of this before, so I was completely surprised by what it had in store. I stepped into what used to be a private royal chapel and was met with the most incredible stained glass I have ever seen (and I mean EVER). In every direction, there was a Bible story depicted in extremely detailed glass, creating a kaleidoscope of a room when it is looked at from further back. Honestly, I was at a loss for words, and when I learned that it was built all the way back in 1248, I was all the more impressed. Also, for artwork this incredible to have been spared in all of the terrors and wars that have occurred in Paris over the last 800 years is absolutely remarkable. My least favorite part of the whole experience was having to leave. I could have stared at those vibrant, multicolored stories forever.

The breathtaking kaleidoscope of Saint-Chapelle

White flowers over unmarked graves

On Thursday, we made our way to the Chapelle Expiatoire. While this chapel could never measure up to Saint-Chapelle in its beauty, its history is uniquely poignant and powerful. The Chapelle Expiatoire sits humbly in the 8th arrondissement, looking almost like a typical Parisian corner, that is, until you step inside. A plot of beautiful white flowers separates two rows of largely-unmarked gravestones. This chapel was built on the site of a mass grave that was dug for the hundreds of beheaded casualties of the French Revolution, famously including Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette (who were eventually relocated to a more *exciting* place to be buried). On such an unassuming corner, it was haunting to walk over sites that housed horrific scenes of death without dignity only two centuries ago.

A large organ in the Church of Saint-Germain-des-Prais

Friday’s exploration treated us to yet another incredible church. In the 6th arrondissement, the Church of Saint-Germain-des-Prés stands under a considerable amount of scaffolding (which is kind of a trend, im noticing). The inside, however, was filled with gorgeous ceilings, domes, and of course, stained glass. There is so much that can be absorbed by a slow stroll around an old church, and the Church of Saint-Germain-des-Pres was no different. Around each corner, I found incredibly detailed windows and statues, with everything complemented by the vibrant ceiling. 

In these four days, we visited too many Cathedrals, Basilicas, Abbeys, and Chapels to adequately explain them all without sounding redundant, but in less than a week, I have come to appreciate Paris as a true anthology of churches. On every square, there is yet another edifice, full of beauty, ready to be explored by passers-by. Each has their own unique origin, purpose, and story to tell its visitors, and at the same time, they all feel as though they are connected, creating a timeline of the influence of Catholicism and its incredible architecture on this great city. 

If Dickens Took The Eurostar

*Warning: This blog contains spoilers for A Tale of Two Cities :)*

The Beautiful St. Pancras Station in London

I woke up at the early hour of about 6 o’clock on Monday morning. I hurried around my room, trying to gather every last belonging and scrambling to pack (as I should have done the night before) to be sure to arrive at St. Pancras Station at 7:54am. To my relief, my Uber came just in time and delivered me safely to the check in area for the Eurostar, with just enough time to grab a quick coffee and a ham and cheese croissant. To pass the time on the train, I read the TV monitor affixed to the cabin’s ceiling, which was proudly telling me all about the Eurostar’s record-smashing top speed of 347km/hr, and I listened to my 35 song country playlist from beginning to end. We dipped below the English Channel, and just like that, we surfaced in France and rolled into Gare du Nord, my very first introduction to Paris. It took a total of 3 hours (with reliable Wi-Fi and air conditioning, of course) from my first sip of my iced vanilla latte at St. Pancras to my first breath of Parisian air. 

The Arrival Platform in Paris

Unfortunately for Dickens’ characters, this 267 mile journey wasn’t so blissful. In the beginning of his novel, A Tale of Two Cities, one of the main characters, Mr. Lorry, is on his way to Paris to oversee the operations of the Parisian branch of Tellson’s Bank. He rides as one of three passengers on a mail coach, which already seems to me like a less-than-luxurious way of travel, but unfortunately, riding in a seat on that mail coach would have been the best case scenario. As these characters trudge down Dover road to Dover, where they will meet their boat to take them across the English Channel, they are met with particularly muddy circumstances. You see, they actually have to walk, step by step, through the mud because the horses cannot carry the weight of the people and the mail through the sinking, soaked-dirt road. 

Dickens writes “With drooping heads and tremulous tails, they mashed their way through the thick mud, floundering and stumbling between whiles, as if they were falling to pieces at the larger joints.” Doesn’t sound particularly enjoyable, if you ask me. He continues, “There was a steaming mist in all the hollows, and it has roamed in its forlornness up the hill, like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none.” 

Hearing this testimony in my head while also hearing the quiet snores of my fellow passengers on the Eurostar threw my perspective of the novel into a total time-warp. Obviously, I knew that Mr. Lorry and his co-travelers were not living in a time of automated vehicles or large reclined seats with drop-down footrests, but I failed to recognize the effects of the slow (and difficult) travel time on business proceedings at the time, as well as its effects on the French Revolution as a whole.

If Mr. Lorry could have made it from London to Paris in a matter of 136 minutes, the set-up of our story, which begins with a fateful piece of mail being brought to Mr. Lorry by means of interception on Dover road, would not exist. Also, the ease of travel that we take for granted now would have changed the speed of communication and the very connection of two of the most influential Western European cities, changing the history altogether, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Instead of letting this argument get out of hand, let's say, for instance, that everything else stays the same, but later in the novel, Charles Darnay could have taken the Eurostar instead of his painstaking journey to England. Would Carton have needed to take his place in the execution? Would he have made the decision to take his family to England and denounce his French surname if he knew going to England wasn’t really that far away? Would different lives have been saved? Or lost?

The Eurostar Information TV

Bookpacking has been an excellent environment to grapple with unanswerable questions like these. As we wander around places that held so much significance to both fictional and historical characters, we get to see the changes that have been made over the last 200+ years. On our journey from London to Paris, I found that speed is perhaps the most important thing that has changed since the days of A Tale of Two Cities (and indoor plumbing because…yuck), but the changes in communication and travel are of the utmost importance in the development and unfolding of a story as impactful as this one. 

Now, as I head off into the streets of Paris, I intend to find all the unique pieces of history that I can, while appreciating the speed at which I can do it.

London: A Synergy of Eras

I grew up between two cities. Huntington Beach, CA and Frisco, TX are the two towns that I have called home for each part of my childhood. While both are very different in culture, politics, and from my teenage perspective, things to keep me entertained (or lack thereof), these two cities are very alike in one way. In the grand scheme of things, they are new. Huntington Beach was established in 1909, meaning I was born there only 93 years after its founding, and it is known as a surfer’s paradise – a reputation that came after its initial boom in 1920 due to its the oil-rich soil. Frisco however, which was incorporated in 1908, feels far newer. Since 1990, Frisco’s population has grown from a mere 6,000 to well over 200,000, rendering 10 of our 13 high schools and the majority of our neighborhoods products of the 21st Century. This is not to say that my hometowns are lacking in history, in fact, they both have interesting origin stories that are indicative of America’s expansion out west. Rather, this is to say that I have never witnessed (or even pictured) a synergy of eras over 1000 years of history occupying the same physical space. That is, until I came to London. 

London gave me a nice, rainy welcome when I arrived here last Thursday. Traveling here was a whirlwind, to say the least, but I stepped out of Heathrow Airport, ready to explore this great city! For the first few days, I stayed in Kensington, which was my first encounter with the mashup of timelines that is London’s architecture. On one side of the street, a beautiful row of (nearly) identical white townhomes stood tall, reminding me of New York’s famous brownstones and overlooking the vibrant green space on the other side of the street. Just a few steps south, a staggeringly ugly Marriott that was built in 1969 adorns Cromwell road – a stark contrast to the classically beautiful townhomes. This was my first clue that I was in for a treat in comparing the many centuries of London’s architectural expression.

A street-view of the gorgeous Kensington townhomes.

The eyesore Marriott, directly across the street.

When the time came to begin my Bookpacking experience, I was anxiously awaiting the opportunity to explore London through the centuries, from my own perspective as well as Charles Dickens’ vivid descriptions in his novel A Tale of Two Cities. The next five days were a blend of following Dickens’ characters’ old stomping grounds around London as well as visits to many of the “touristy” parts of the city, both of which I thoroughly enjoyed. 

On the first day with the class, we began our journey to Piccadilly Circus, a hub for the West End of London. Many describe this busy roundabout as a London equivalent to Times Square, but to me, it felt unique. 

Piccadilly Circus

I wasn’t sure where to look when we emerged from the Underground. On my right, there was an 8500 square foot high-resolution electric billboard fastened to a 200 year old building. To the left, there was a hybrid-electric double decker red bus rounding the corner and an overwhelming amount of pedestrian traffic, jaywalking every which way (which is apparently legal here – who knew?). All of these moving parts swooshing around me made the circus a confusing blunder of new and old, yet a perfect stage to showcase London’s lively and tenacious culture. 

We meandered along and found ourselves on a road that brought us right back to a different time. All of a sudden, the street was quiet, and every shop was either an esteemed and royally endorsed tailoring shop or further around the bend, a gentlemen’s club that served the men of the 18th and 19th centuries with every libation and comfort that a noble man would expect. Additionally, they provided the perfect place for political discussions and proceedings to happen under the table, meaning many of Parliament’s legislations at the time were born among the smell of whiskey and cigar smoke. Here in the 21st century, those same establishments exist in their original state.  

Here we are, just a few hours into our first walking tour, and I am beginning to pick up on the intense commitment to tradition that exists here in London. The idea that Dickensian characters could have walked through the same streets that we did and could have been looking at the same tailor’s shops and gentlemen’s clubs with the same royal crests and elegant fonts made me think about the profound impact of English tradition, a tradition which dates back 1000 years. Soon, I began to notice blue plaques placed all around the city, all of which indicate a person or place of historical interest. While simple, this effort by the City of London to preserve historical tidbits of varying significance around the city for the public to indulge in is another example of their profound pride in tradition and preserving national history – an effort I, as a student and a tourist, appreciate very much.

Buckingham Palace

When it comes to England’s traditional tendencies, nothing is a more shining example than our next stop, Buckingham Palace. The palace is not only the King’s primary residence, but it is a symbol of the blend of modernity and antiquity in London. As an American, monarchies and royal families have always seemed like a thing of fairy tales. This is not to say that I think they are silly or childish, but more that they have always seemed like a thing of the past, and the British Royal family is an example of the “fairy tale” living on into the 21st Century. Pop culture has embraced many of the family’s prominent figures to be more like celebrities than rulers, with people obsessing over the breaking-news family drama or the color of Kate Middleton’s dress. As many countries in the world progressively move away from monarchy and toward democracy, the strength of tradition and the presence of the British Monarchy further feed into the blend of ages to be absorbed in London, as a somewhat antiquated form of government leads a contemporary society.

From my perspective as a person from a young suburban town, London is an overwhelmingly historically rich city, and it has way too many neighborhoods and intricate details to sum up into one post (or three). With that said, I have thoroughly enjoyed the deluge of information and historical knowledge that Bookpacking through London has given me thus far, and over the next few days and weeks, I am excited to absorb even more about what this amazing city has to offer.