Inspiration

This blog post...
1. Involves a list, well, 2 lists, if you include this one. *Cue oohs and ahhs and cheering because lists are fun and exciting and a new thing I'm trying, and we like new things.* I'm really bad at keeping listed items short and to the point. I'm also pretty bad at keeping them separate from each other, so it's really not that much of a list, but more like my thoughts in a list-y format with numbers. However, this blog is mine all mine and I will do what I want here.
2. Is much more of a journal entry than my past few blogs. Read on, and you'll see into my mind.
3. Is an attempt to ignore the Arthurian Legends essay that I must finish before noon tomorrow.
4. May be titled "Inspiration," but holds no cheesy inspirational quotes. I promise.
5. Is fueled by some really bad coffee that I made in my french press, with grounds that were left over from the PERFECT french press I had previously made (with the very last of my coffee), and then promptly spilled. All this to say, this blog is fueled by caffeine and too-much-essaying-in-one-day.


Inspiration is a funny thing, I've been finding.

I think when I came to Europe, I had this idea that I was going to be inspired, by the sights I saw, by the people I met, and by the places I went. And I have been, but one thing I've noticed is that inspiration is fleeting, and it most definitely cannot be forced. You can walk along the Seine all day and all night, and if you are not in the right state of mind, it's just a dirty river (still prettier than the Thames, though).

Inspiration is so much harder to pin down than I used to think. Maybe it's just me, but I can't just look at something and feel automatically inspired. Even when I was in the "Water Lilies" rooms at Musée de l'Orangerie, surrounded by the most beautiful things I had ever seen that were created by the hands of man, I did not draw inspiration directly from it. The paintings made me feel awed, excited, proud to be a human, because Claude Monet was a human, and even almost made me cry because I had wanted to see them for so long. But rather than inspire me directly, I think they were just poured into a vast pool of things that I have seen and touched and experienced in my life, and from that pool of sensations and dreams and memories and words, comes everything good that I have ever created.

I had this idea about Paris… that I would be inspired there, because F. Scott Fitzgerald and Earnest Hemingway were. I dreamt that by walking along the banks of the Seine and popping into random bookshops, I would feel what T. S. Eliot felt. Maybe I did, who knows? I didn't find the magical Jazz Age Paris that I read about in Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, but I did have some pretty cool experiences of my own while I was there. Just because I was in the same places as these great writers-writers that I admire (I might even say my three favorite writers, who have shaped my own writing more than any others), does not mean I can produce what they produced, nor does it mean that I should. I do not want to produce things that have already been written. I do not want my work to be passé.

Even while I did not necessarily "feel inspired" while walking the streets of Paris, and hopping on trains, and seeing all kinds of new and exciting things, since I've been back home in Glasgow, I've been writing more than I've written all semester. Ruminating on my travels has certainly sparked something.


Here are a few of the things that I think inspire me most of all:

1. A sunny day, and a friend with whom I can walk the streets of my city, and just enjoy it together and marvel at things which, if we didn't take the time to marvel at them, could have become normal, every-day things by now. It inspires me to still find new things here, in a place that has become home.

2. Deadlines. No, this isn't what you think. It's actually kind of the opposite. Whenever I am forced to sit down at my computer and write an essay that is due very soon, I sit down, I get distracted, I start to type, and type, and then research a little, and then I type some more.

Then, invariably, something annoying, but also awesome happens. Ideas start to pop into my head. These ideas are not in any way related to the essay I'm writing, but instead, are related to whatever creative project I'm currently working on. If I'm not working on anything, they're great ideas for short stories or novels I could start working on. Then, I inevitably put the essay aside and write for hours, for the creative, non-school related project, because, in the end, isn't that why I'm going to school, why I'm writing essays and reading classical literature, and why I am sitting under the tutelage of people who are supposedly smarter and better at these things than I am, or at least have Doctorate degrees where I have no degrees?! Wow, long sentence. Seriously. I'm out of breath.

This is a problem that I've lamented about so much my friend Robin recently threatened to assign essays to me after I graduate, so that I'll have something to spur me into writing what I want to write. It seems like an okay way to get around writer's block; am I right?

3. Reminiscing. Reminiscing about the past, especially since I've been here in Glasgow, puts me in such a great mood. I'm not talking about the far distant past, I'm talking about stuff that happened, oh four or five months ago. I'm talking about things that are still happening, an ocean away in the little city of Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Going back home, to the people I love most, and seeing what has changed and what is still the same, excites me. This is ironic because a big part of the reason I want to travel the world is to pull inspiration from everything I see. While I'm over here, gallivanting about, the familiar things are the things that get to me.

4. My favorite authors. I think what I realized in my wee Parisian search for the things Hemingway, Pound, Fitzgerald, and Eliot were inspired by, is that they have already inspired me. Their works inspire me enough to want to see the things they saw. I'd say that's a pretty good measure of how awesome their work is. In the same way, I searched for James Joyce in his native Dublin, amidst the flurry of St. Paddy's Day festivities. Jack Kerouac made me want to strike out on a road trip across the west and I will probably go to The Eagle and the Child in Oxford, because C.S.Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien chilled there. I am even planning to go to the tourist trap that is Stratford-upon-Avon, the birthplace of one William Shakespeare. Their work is what makes these places exciting. That's why my one "big" souvenir from my backpacking trip was a gorgeous book of Fitzgerald short stories. It is not because of where he wrote them, but what he wrote.

5. A worship session. Being in church on Sunday for the first time in a few weeks actually had me near tears, it was so good to be back. The older I get, the more I have a tendency toward worrying, and yes, I know age is no excuse, but it happens. Just sitting down and delving into the Word, or singing worship songs in a church that already feels familiar, lifts that worry right off my shoulders and puts me in a much better state of mind. It's crazy how much I take on, completely forgetting to trust in God, but He is faithful in my life, again and again, no matter how faithless I am.

6. T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. I just recommended this poem to someone, and then of course read it again, and was struck by how much it has inspired me. If there is one poem I would force every millennial to read, it is this one. I look at my generation and see inactivity and passivity and the decay of society, but Eliot was writing it about his own generation a century ago, and I guess he saw the same thing.

I first remember reading this poem in one of my high school English classes, and I don't remember much, besides my teacher trying to explain the correlation between the questions "Do I dare disturb the universe?" and "Do I dare to eat a peach?" to us, and we all just stared back at him like he was crazy because it was easier to just make it through the 40 minutes without caring or really learning anything (ahem, passivity). I think I read the poem once more my freshman year of college and liked it a little more, but it was last year, in my favorite professor's class, that I read this poem and felt deeply convicted by it. I saw myself so clearly in Prufrock. One might say this poem is the reason studying abroad changed from being a dream/possibility into a reality. One might say this poem is the reason the novel I'm currently working on is actually being worked on, and not just sitting dejected and untouched, in a wee folder on my desktop.

If you read the poem and can't figure out what I'm talking about, read it again. If you read the poem and think the line "I have measured out my life with coffee spoons," is a good thing, or something that belongs on a cutsey sign, I will treat you to my loudest, most exasperated sigh. (I have seen this on Etsy and it makes me sad.)

7. Finding something I wrote months or years ago, that is good. The most exciting and inspiring feeling I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing, is finding a quote I jotted down somewhere, and then googling it to see who said it, and realizing no one said it. Or no one ever wrote it down in a blog, or published it, or said it in a movie. The thing that inspires me most of all is realizing a quote I thought was cool enough to look up, actually originated with me.

Now I have told you a few of the things that inspire me. What inspires you?

xx

Carrie Sue Wagler

Paris, France

Paris was lovely. 

In a lot of ways I think we had all romanticized it in our heads, so there was definitely the potential for disappointment. However, the city really delivered, and we packed a lot into 3.5 days there. 

My cousin, Emily, and one of my best friends, Veronica, flew into Glasgow April 2nd and 1st, respectively. Saturday, the 4th, we flew from Glasgow to Paris CDG Airport, with Easy Jet. I was a little nervous flying with a budget airline after what just went down with Germanwings, but our flight was smooth and of course, fine, and after just an hour and 20 minutes, we found ourselves in Paris! 

I've divided our time in Paris into five categories. Transportation (the most exciting one should be first, obviously), hostel, food, sights, and people. 

Transportion:

After asking around for information at the airport, we were soon on an RER train to Gare du Nord train station. Paris has a complex web of both metro and RER trains. I much preferred metro so that is what we took for the most part. By the end I actually enjoyed hopping from metro to metro, and the last day and a half I didn't even need a map. 

Hostel: Located in Montmartre, our hostel, Perfect Hostel Paris, was just a short walk from Gare du Nord train station, and we settled in easily, happy to ditch our heavy hiking backpacks. We had a private room and we loved our wee balcony with its view of the narrow Montmartre streets and the quaint houses. The staff was friendly, and the people who worked the front desk spoke English. One lady in particular was helpful in answering all the questions I had when we first arrived. And one man was very lazy and unhelpful, but so it goes. A sweet old gentleman also served us a breakfast of pain au chocolat and baguettes, orange juice, and coffee every morning. That brings me to my next category.

Food: the FOOD. The food, the food, the food. We ate a lot, obviously. That's a big part of being in Paris. The thing about Paris is the restaurants are expensive (but yes, on a student budget, everything is expensive). However, the street food is relatively cheap, and there are patisseries and boulangeries all over selling all kinds of cheap fresh baked goods (often still warm), including baguettes as long as my arm for 1€. I can't count how many people I saw walking down the street with an armful of baguettes they'd just picked up from their favorite bakery. We had crepes in one of the bistros that are scattered across Montmartre, I had French onion soup in St. Germaine, and we ate a few times at our neighbourhood kebab shop, which was open until midnight. The kebab reminded me of döner, which I have craved ever since leaving Germany almost 4 years ago. The kebab man may have declared us family by the end of our stay. Another big thing we wanted to try was Ladurèe macarons. They are the original macaron, and, in my opinion, the best. My favorites were the salted caramel and the orange blossom, which tasted like springtime.

Sites:

We packed a lot into a few days. I hope I didn't rush the other girls TOO much, but I'm not one to sit around when there is a city to be explored!

Sacré Cœur was lovely, and only a 5 minute walk from our hostel. The stairs up to the top were intense, but well worth it. The first time we were there we entered the church and walked around it in a kind of cattle chute, elbow to elbow with thousands of other people. The last time, we went up early to watch the sunrise, and the interior was peaceful and nearly empty except for a few people praying. Basilicas are meant to be 24 hour places of prayer, so there were people there praying even at 6:30 a.m.

Notre-Dame Cathédrale: Walking out of the metro and seeing Notre-Dame right in front of my eyes may be my favorite moment from my time in Paris. We were there on Easter Sunday, and it was nothing short of breath-taking.

The River Seine: The river was lovely and the many bridges that crossed it each had their own unique design and character. I especially loved a wee park of an island we found as we walked along the banks. There were also many vendors who opened up their little shops alongside it.

The Louvre: We decided to skip this museum. I know, I know. But the queues were unending, and most people I've spoken to who've traveled in Paris tell me it simply wasn't worth it. Plus I'm not about to pay to see a room full of hands scrambling to get the best picture of Mona. I am a big fan of Impressionism, so there were two other museums I was more interested in seeing: Musée de l'Orangerie, and Musée d'Orsay. However, we did enjoy the Louvre's courtyards and the Tuilleries-the gardens that connect the Louvre to one of the other museums we went to.

Musée de l'Orangerie: The big draw here was "the water lilies room." The museum has 8 massive canvases from Monet's "Water Lilies" series, and they are beautifully displayed in two pristine sunlit oval rooms, just as Monet wanted them to be displayed. We started in the basement with the Paul Guillame collection, which included works by Monet, Manet, Cézzane, and Sisley. This collection should definitely not be overlooked when visiting the museum. But then we went upstairs, and I spent some time getting blissfully lost in Monet. 

Musée d'Orsay: We had a long queue here, but this museum, along with Musée de l'Orangerie, was free because it was the first Sunday of the month. Housed in a beautiful old train station, the architecture itself was enough to make the queue worth it. I especially loved the post-impressionist and neo-impressionist galleries, as well as the extensive impressionist gallery on the top floor. I've never seen so many Monets in my life. Okay, yes, I am a Monet fangirl, but I promise his name will not be mentioned again in this post.

The Eiffel Tower: We got off the Metro at Trocadéro where we had a beautiful view of the tower. The queue was already extensive even though we arrived before it opened. We walked up the stairs instead of taking the lift, though, so we queued for a much shorter time than the lazier people. The tower did not disappoint. I especially loved the first floor, where there are clear windows tilted inward that you can lean against and feel like you may fall forward at any moment. We had a beautiful sunny day for it too; the views were incredible. At nighttime we sat in Champ du Mars, the long park in front of the tower, and enjoyed the light show.

Avenue des Champs-Élysées: 

Coming out of the metro and seeing the Arc de Triomphe seperated from me only by a busy traffic circle was another surreal moment. We enjoyed walking down the avenue, especially because our time there ended with macarons and Café Viennois (coffee)!

Versailles: Versailles was a little bit disappointing, but only because of all the people inside the Chateau! The intricate design and endless gold filigree were still stunning.  The gardens were not quite at their prime, and some of the fountains weren't turned on yet, but we did find a nice pond with a fountain show set to classical music that was very nice. We spent nearly an hour sitting on the grass nearby, soaking up the sun and the music.

Shakespeare and Company Bookshop: I've wanted to go to this little bookshop (located just across the Seine from Notre Dame) for a long time. Somehow, in the excitement of being at Notre Dame, I completely forgot about the shop when we were there! I decided I needed to go back though, because I knew I would've regretted not going. The shop was quaint and just as I'd seen it pictured. The inside was crowded, but they still had some nice reading areas and a wee library upstairs. The black dog that's become a kind of mascot for the shop in recent years was running around inside, and the entire staff seemed to be British rather than French, which surprised me. I ended up breaking down and buying a really nice copy of F. Scott Fitzgerald's "Flappers and Philosophers," which has the Shakespeare and Company stamp inside it and is now my most prized possession. A big part of why I wanted to go to Paris was to see what it was that drew in Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Ezra Pound, T.S. Eliot, and more of my favorite authors, so it felt right to pick up one of their works while in the city. Hopefully I can draw new inspiration from it.

People:

The people were generally lovely. We'd heard so much about rude Parisians who hate tourists, but we had no experience with this. The people in the shops always tried their best to kindly explain things to us in English, even if they didn't speak it well. Maybe they moaned and groaned behind our backs, but as long as it stayed behind our backs I was fine with it. The elderly man at our hostel served us with a sweet "voilà!" every morning, and the kebab man loved us and ran out for hugs and high fives whenever we passed. One old lady rattled off a lot of brisk French when I asked her a question on the RER. I think she expected far too much of me, but I don't think she was trying to be rude.

That was our time in Paris, in a nutshell! We had fantastic weather, which was such a blessing. I did most of the planning for the trip, so I was nervous how everything would turn out, but the first leg of our journey was definitely a success.

I am currently sitting on a train bound for the wee city of Bruges, Belgium. We spent the last three nights in Brussels, where I ate mainly street food, and enjoyed some fantastic architecture and more clear blue skies–but more on that soon. We've been traveling with Eurail passes. We have a flexi-pass for the Benelux-France region, and so far have had no issues using it. I'm always nervous I'll wake up and we'll be in Frankfurt or Warsaw, which I might actually be fine with. But so far we've stayed on track. Keep us in your prayers!

Cheers, 

Carrie Wagler