Barbara Gardner

I was thrilled to be invited to go on this trip as one of only two sophomores. I had attended an academically rigorous public school outside Philadelphia and had been studying French since I was in sixth grade. However, my parents were not thrilled with the idea of the trip as they were not well traveled and were apprehensive about something bad happening while we were away. Fortunately, one of my favorite aunts was very supportive. She lent me some money and her favorite black sequined dress because she explained,” You never know when you might need it!”

I made a brown corduroy suit to wear on the plane with a long jacket and a short skirt—the quintessential English Carnaby look—very 60’s. We flew from New York to Iceland and then to Luxembourg followed by a bus trip to Paris. Economical but not speedy.

Professor Otten and his wife worked diligently to brief us in advance—with much required reading and many warnings for our safety and well-being, including the importance of not losing our passports!

Paris was pure magic. We went to the Church of Notre Dame on New Year’s Eve and then walked down the Champs- Elysées in total awe. Much to our amazement total strangers just started kissing each other in the street at the stroke of midnight.

The University of Montpellier is one of the oldest institutions of higher education in Europe. They have a renowned medical school. I remember meeting a student from Afghanistan whose father raised horses and whose government had paid for him to go to school in France to study medicine and bring his knowledge back to his village. He explained that he had lived in a house with no indoor plumbing or electricity and thought the dorms in France were pure luxury.

Our classes were all in French and we worked hard to keep up and to take notes in preparation for Prof. Otten’s mandate that we write a lengthy essay about what we had learned in our religion, history and philosophy classes.

Inadvertently, I violated an important university cultural norm by showing up in the school cafeteria still wearing my white fox winter hat (it does get cold even in southern France). Suddenly pieces of bread were tossed at my head—amidst shouts of “Chapeau! Chapeau! Chapeau!” My roommate and dear friend, Kat Van Marseveen, was mortified and promptly snatched the hat o my head—to a round of applause.

The other norm I violated was one imposed by Prof Otten and his wife related to a curfew. I had been invited to a wonderful party by some French students that the University held in one of the campus buildings. Every room was decorated in a different theme and different dance music was played in each space. I was in heaven and lost track of time until one of my new friends said, “Let’s go get some breakfast!” When I tried to nonchalantly walk back to our residence in high heels and my aunt’s black spangled out t, one of my fellow students up early in the lobby did not buy my story... that I was just coming back from the bakery. I was quite justifiably put on social probation. I am chagrined to say that I probably added to Prof Otten’s gray hairs!

By the end of the trip we were all speaking much more fluently and understanding the French language and history much better. It was horrifying to learn of the persecution of the French Protestants—the Huguenots—that has stayed with me and hopefully given me a level of compassion about others’ religious beliefs. I will also never forget the posters we saw in the streets of Paris protesting American imperialism—presaging the anti-war sentiment against the US incursion into Vietnam that led to the street riots that year in Paris and throughout France.

This inaugural interim trip will always be a cherished memory for which I will forever be grateful to Calvin and my fellow student travelers. It nurtured a love of the country and its people that has resulted in my taking more than a dozen trips to France. I started taking my son with me when he was only three years old. I will never forget the day he said as a ten year old to his much older step-sister, “Let me show you my favorite places in Paris”!

Remembering the first Calvin Interim Abroad

This story is one of three reflections by Calvin graduates about their experiences on the first Calvin Interim Abroad. Read the other accounts:

• Lucie Commeret Marsden '71
• Dorothea Berkhout ex'71