Tag: 2025- Spring

Eating My Way Through Metz

Written by: Katherine Sanders

I take food VERY seriously. For me, experiencing a new country primarily means experiencing a new cuisine. In Germany I needed schnitzel, in Italy I needed gelato, and in Belgium I needed chocolate. My willingness to eat out on the weekends usually means that in Metz, I take advantage of all the free food opportunities I can get. 

Breakfast is catered by Paul. You can expect to get a different breakfast every day of the week, but there isn’t an assigned food for each day. It rotates between full size croissants and pain au chocolats; mini croissants, mini pain au chocolats and mini gourmandises; powdered jelly-filled beignets and nutella-filled chocolate-dipped beignets; and chocolate chip brioche with an assortment of breakfast cakes.

Coffee, orange juice, and apple juice are always provided. There is also a vending machine in the lounge that serves lattes, cappuccinos, americanos and potage “tomats” (tomato soup???).

As I’ve mentioned before, lunch at GTE is provided by the nearby high school, “Crous.” The lunch period for French high schools is very long. In French culture, lunch is a time to take a break and socialize. Working while eating is unacceptable and fortunately, I comply. 

Unlike in the U.S., where lunch is usually a grab-and-go situation, French organizations take their lunch seriously. The local cafeteria available to GTE students serves lunch consisting of a savory side, main, and sweet side. Students are allotted ten points. Five of those come from the main course and the other five come from two sides. You can mix and match however you like, but your plate cannot exceed ten points.

Sides are usually carrot, celeriac root, beetroot, green salad or potato salad. Depending on the size, these are usually worth two points. Sometimes, there’s fish, liver pâté or hard-boiled eggs. These sides are worth three points. Every day, a new type of cheese is given as a side for two points.

The main meal is typically a combination of meat (or substitute), grain, and vegetable stir fry. Students have a good amount of power in what they get on their plate. You can mix and match a single protein with different sides. There are two types of meats, one a vegetarian option and one chicken, turkey, or beef. Couscous, rice, or mashed potatoes are the grain, and the constant vegetable stir fry always has green beans and carrots. There are a few odd days where french fries, lasagna, or kebab are choices. If you tell the servers you are “grosse faim” (very hungry), they will give you “une grande portion” (a large portion). The same goes for if you are “petite faim.”

For dessert, fruit, coffee, flan and vanilla yogurts are always offered. Typically, there are one or two flavors of mousse or pudding. Since these desserts are prepackaged, they are worth two points. If students are lucky, there can be hazelnut fritters, crepes, tartes or cake. These are all three points. Fruits are always bananas, kiwis, apples and oranges. A large piece of fruit and two small pieces of fruit are two points.

At the end of the line, you place your prepaid “Izly” card on the scanner. I’ve seen some French students pay by card, and it looks like the total is only 3€. After paying, you offered a free “pain” (roll of bread.) I’ve described the cafeteria multiple times, but again, it’s like a high school cafeteria. Water pitchers are at the tables, and students fill them up with a pedal-powered water fountain. 

Even after weekends with nice meals and authentic European food, the cafeteria never disappoints me. 

P.S. I have a food account (@nibblesbitsandbytes on Instagram (it’s a play on terms for binary strings)) and write food reviews!!!

Katherine in Metz

Written by Katherine Sanders

Emily in Paris is a show you hate-watch. Flashy, funny and cliché. I watched the show with my mom every time a new season came out. We snarked at her crazy outfits and carelessness–yet I was Emily for Halloween in 2022. Emily finds herself in stereotypical “American in France” situations a lot. I dismissed these scenes, believing they were a lazy way to point out the differences between countries. For years, I laughed at Emily Cooper. I gawked at her poor decisions and her inability to conform to French culture. But now, I’m in France, and I’m getting deja vu. 

After our arrival at the dorms, my friend knew his room was on the second floor. He went up one flight of stairs, because the ground floor should be “1” and the next should be “2,” only to arrive at a door that was not his. In France, the first floor is floor zero. From there, it then goes to the first floor, second floor, etc. Emily made this same exact mistake in the pilot. She counted five flights of stairs before arriving at floor six, where her apartment should be, and trying to force open the door to Gabriel’s place. When I heard his story, I giggled at the thought of Emily. 

Maddie, Baran and I went to Carrefour the next day to get some essentials for our four month stay. The Costco-size store organized in a foreign way was overwhelming. We wandered through the aisles, squinting at French brands. After finally finding the skincare section, I didn’t want to spend any more time searching. I saw what looked like face wash, convinced myself it was face wash, grabbed it and moved on. That night, I opened up my “face wash” and it dripped into my hand like water. Maybe it was just the formula. I rubbed it in my hands but no bubbles were formed. I put it on my face and my skin grew dry and tight. The face wash I got was actually toner, a good skincare item, but definitely not the same. Emily bought dog shampoo instead of human shampoo in a later season of Emily in Paris. There was a dog on the bottle, too. My mistake was the same amount of silly. “Tonique” definitely means “toner.” I thought about Emily on the way back to Carrefour.

In my Introduction to AI class, we looked at a binary tree together and discussed the different ways to search for an item. The nodes on the tree were labeled A, B, C, D… all the way to O. As we discussed the path of Depth First Search, my professor asked what the sixth node explored would be. “J,” I thought. She declared, “G.” Why was it G when it was obviously J? Did I learn these algorithms completely wrong last semester? When I stared at the tree and thought harder, I remembered back to French 2. “J” is pronounced like an American “G” in France.

My Computer Organization class experienced a similar confusion. As we discussed state machines, we created a table of State 1, State 2 and State “Prime.” They were written S1, S2 and S^ respectively.  Writing the state table out, I grew more and more confused as S^ took on the values I thought S1 was supposed to have. I looked around the room in hopes of finding other confused faces, but it seemed I was the only one lost. A student in my class soon raised their hand and asked what was going on with S1. My professor asked them to point to what they referred to, and they asked exactly what I wondered. The number “1” in French is written so similarly to the carrot (^) that they started to blend together. 

That weekend, my friends and I arrived at Gare de Metz bright and early for our train. We picked up breakfast at the café and we all tried to order in French. When it was my turn to order, I sounded more American than before. I ordered “un americano et un croissant.” The cashier first stared at me in horror, then smiled. She promptly corrected me: “UN americano et UN croissant.” Emily also tries ordering a pasty in an American accent, heavily pronouncing the “n” in “un,” making it sound closer to “une.” The baker corrects her: “UN pain au chocolat.”

With un americano and un croissant, I walked away from the café thinking about Emily Cooper. She used to seem so ridiculous–silly outfits, bad pronunciation and an inability to change. But I just got clogs in Amsterdam and I can’t pronounce “un croissant,” so maybe Emily isn’t that weird.

Suitcase

Written by Katherine Sanders

Spring Break at GTE was a test of patience and strength. Ten days, multiple cities and our suitcase named “Suitcase.” Maddie, Baran and I booked two flights for our break: one from Paris to Madrid, and one from Alicante to Rome. Ryanair may have cheap seats, but with the addition of only one small personal item and one 20 kilogram checked bag, we needed to pack strategically. 

We agreed to use my suitcase which we named “Suitcase” for our entire trip. Suitcase was filled to the brim with clothes, shoes and toiletries. We all agreed to bring a small amount of clothes, only one extra pair of shoes and a few communal toiletries (NOT toothbrushes). Spring break is  in February, so it’s still slightly chilly. This means our clothes were on the bulkier side, adding extra weight to Suitcase. 

Arriving at the depressing Beauvais airport, we found an empty scale and weighed Suitcase. Maddie guessed 25 kilograms. Baran guessed 22.7 kilograms. I guessed 23.5 kilograms. We hoisted Suitcase on the scale and it read 26 kilograms. If we didn’t get Suitcase down to 20 kilograms, we would have to pay 72€. We opened up Suitcase right there and started layering. We all put on an extra top and a cardigan. We each threw two pairs of jeans into our semi-empty backpacks and did NOT put them underneath our jackets. Stuffed into the small seats with no way of removing anything on my body, this was an uncomfortable two hours.

We took turns pulling Suitcase around. We called them Suitcase shifts. Each person would have to either take Suitcase from a hotel to a train station or a hotel to an airport. At each train, the person on shift would find Suitcase a spot. This was either on the seats of the train, in a compartment at the end of a car or with us in our seats. Trains in Spain were mostly empty, so Suitcase always had a seat or compartment to herself. 

After narrowly avoiding fines on our second flight, Suitcase didn’t have a weight restriction. We could remove our clothes from under our jackets and make Suitcase as heavy as we wanted. A lot of train stations in Italy didn’t have escalators, so in our moments of hurry, I hauled the nearly 30 kilogram bag up and down the stairs. 

Our train from Florence to La Spezia stopped in Pisa, and I was determined to make the most of it. We had a one hour layover, and the walk from Pisa Centrale to the tower was 25 minutes. With the addition of Suitcase and the cobblestone sidewalks, this was a challenge. Baran started lugging Suitcase before trading off with me. I got to the tower with real beads of sweat dripping down my face and my shirt damp. We spent two minutes at the tower before quickly walking back to Pisa Centrale. I dodged oncoming traffic so Suitcase could roll on the smooth cement of the streets. I lifted Suitcase on and off of curbs at the many intersections we crossed. At one crosswalk, a man told us that we must walk along the river to see the beautiful views of Pisa. He did not understand our predicament.

We arrived at Pisa Centrale with enough time to get a drink and a snack. With the help of a stranger, Baran and I hoisted Suitcase onto a seat that quickly became the suitcase seat for the other passengers. Leaving Pisa Centrale, the next stop was Pisa S. Rossore, right next to the tower.