Dorothea Berkhout

I have a lot for which to thank the French Department at Calvin. My interim trip to France was very formative for me. I was 17 years old in the winter of 1968 when I travelled to France with about 20 other Calvin students for that interim course trip.  Professor Otten and his wife were great tour guides, and – looking back on it now, and having a bit more experience in travelling and organizing events – I am amazed at how much work must have gone into making all the arrangements for this trip.

Right at the beginning of the trip, I had a teachable moment—having my passport stolen and getting a replacement from the U.S. Embassy in Paris. The night we checked into our hotel in Paris, we all had to leave our passports at the front desk.  When I went to pick mine up the next morning, it was gone – apparently stolen (or sold) by someone else. Fortunately, we were in France for several weeks, which was the time it took to get a replacement. Since then, I never let my passport out of my sight on an international trip!

Other memories, however, were much more positive – of grand architecture, wonderful art and music, delicious food, French language acquisition, and interesting sites.

We visited several cathedrals and historic sites, most of which I had learned about from Calvin art history Professor Edgard Boeuvé during the prior fall semester: Notre Dame, Sacré-Coeur, Sainte-Chapelle in Paris, and La Maison Carré, Roman aqueduct, and colosseum in Nîmes.

We also visited several museums, including the Musée du Désert on the history of Protestantism in France, as well as the Palace of Versailles (a real high point because of the dramatic speaking ability of our guide who helped us feel like the inhabitants of the palace centuries ago), and art museums – the Louvre, Jeu de Paumes –(which held impressionist paintings now in the Musée d’Orsay) – and Musée National d'Art Moderne.

Lucie Commeret and I visited the Louvre a few days in a row and had an embarrassing incident one morning at the ticket office.  A New Yorker with a really strong accent asked the woman at the ticket booth, “So, what’s this big building that goes a-w-l-l the way around the block?”  Lucie was so embarrassed by this “ugly American” that she whispered to her “This is the Louvre.”  But then the women said, “Oh, but what is that building over there?”  Again, Lucie whispered to her “That’s the Jeu de Paume,” “Oh, what’s in there?”  “That’s where all the impressionist paintings are.” “Oh.”  I don’t recall if that women ever went into either museum, but I still remember how horrified we were that there was someone from the U.S. not even trying to speak French or being knowledgeable about the great cultural institutions of France.

Lucie and I also went to the opera and saw Birget Nilsson in Turandot.  We sat “in the rafters” – way on top and on the side.  I could only see half of the stage, and only Nilsson’s feet most of the performance, because most of her arias were sung from the landing on the top of a flight of stairs.  I remember that every time someone came in, moved, or caused creaking of the seat or floor in the balcony, everyone around loudly said “Sh-h-h,” making ten times more noise than what caused them to be bothered in the first place.

French food was excellent.  I recall our morning petits pains and croissants for breakfast with butter and raspberry jam, three-course lunches at l’université de Montpellier for the amazingly low cost of thirty centimes, and a special regional dinner in Aigues-Mortes that included a platter of small fried fish with their eyes staring up at me.  It was with some trepidation that I tried the fish, but they were good, and I realized that I may not have the opportunity to try a French meal like that again.

During the trip, we each had two dinners with a family.  Laura Huizinga and I went to visit a family where we had a delicious dinner, including rissoles – deep fried savory pastries, some filled with ground meat, and others with anchovy paste (I still have the recipe).    We watched some television with the three children, who were very polite during the meal, where we talked extensively about communism vs. capitalism, race in the U.S., the southern region of France, and fashion.   

I recall that speaking and understanding the French language was easier in informal settings – at cafés and in the homes with family dinners – but that the daily several-hour lectures by Professor Boisset at l’université de Montpellier were difficult to understand at first, but became easier with experience and with taking notes.  I was impressed that the students showed respect by rising when the professor entered and exited the classroom!

I also attended two French movies to help my understanding of French, not knowing these would be great classics:  Les Amants by Louis Malle and starring Jeanne Moreau, and Le Bonheur by Agnès Varda.

We also had great fun learning about the differences between Parisian French (langue d’oil) and that of Montpellier and the south of France (langue d’oc).  The southern dialect was characterized by pronouncing all of the consonants and vowels –  trente-sept was “trent-a seta.”  Mademoiselle was “madamoisell-a.”  Southern French people said that the Parisians had all of the same letters in their words, but that they just talked too fast.

Two memorable sites – one in Paris and one near Montpellier included the New Year’s eve celebration and a side trip to the city of Sête.   The New Year’s eve service at the Sacré Coeur cathedral had a wonderful performance of Bach music. Later that evening, it was great to experience La Place de l’étoile in a complete traffic jam as everyone jumped out of their cars to shout “Bonne année!” and kiss each other.

I really enjoyed our trip to Sête – a fishing port overlooking the Mediterranean Sea that looked a bit like San Francisco with its whitish buildings, steep streets, and fishing boats, nets, and wharfs.  The cemetery was terribly crowded and overly decorated, but it was thrilling to stand in the same place that Paul Valéry stood when he composed his poem on the hill beyond the cemetery. 

An unusual coincidence happened on the way back to the train station in Sête, where we saw and visited a store called “Michigan” that sold jeans.  The owner was pleased to meet us and told us she had a relative in Chicago and that she loved the U.S.

Recapping – the interim trip to France was great fun, and a real educational experience in learning the language, history, and culture of France, and also in learning more about myself and my interests. The memories have remained with me throughout my life, thanks to the French Department at Calvin, which was truly visionary in taking the initiative to expand our horizons.

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
• Barbara Gardner '70